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myaimistrue · 3 years

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del myaimistrue’s underrated destiel fic recs! (part 1)

these are all fics i’ve read and realllllllly enjoyed, and they’re all ones that i don't often see people discussing on here. bc of that they all either have less than 10k hits OR were published pre-2015 OR both. i hope you all like them, and if you do, please consider giving the authors some love and leaving a comment saying so. we fic writers live off that kinda stuff :)

list under the cut, organized by word count!

I Know! Straight Out of a Telenovela, Right? by @credentiast

quick 800ish word meta joke about y yo a ti. so sweet and domestic and lovely. i read this right after it was uploaded and have gone back to read it multiple times since then. always makes me smile!

strap the wing to me by a_good_soldier (aka @s11e17)

as i’m sure we all know, basically everything a_good_soldier writes is wonderful. this little 1.9k bit of sweetness is one of my personal favorites of theirs, and is sorely underrated. a bit of conversation between dean and cas about how much cas loves him. nothing like holy devotion to a human man!

The First Thing There Is by bendingsignposts

cas seals off dean's memories as part of the effort to stop michael, and amnesiac dean immediately realizes that cas loves him. 5k of really sweet, in-character moments and a healthy dose of humor.

Eyes Like the Texas Sky by RogueTranslator

do you hate john winchester? do you want to read about dean’s queer awakening and how that relates to his love of cowboys? do you love sweet stories about finding love and acceptance in places you didn’t expect? this 5.6k fic is for you! dean tells cas the story of the first guy he ever had feelings for, and boy is it sweet and heart-wrenching and wonderful.

Nothing Equals the Splendor by RurouniHime

7.8k fic in which 15x20 was all part of a djinn dream. perhaps my all-time favorite finale fix-it (which is why it’s on this list despite having like 12k hits shhh) featuring full-powered angelic cas blowing out all the lights in the bunker when he and dean have sex. beautifully written and so sweet. and the sequel is also great--highly recommended as well

Telemetry by scifive

DEAN STUDIES FIC!!! 9k set during the first seven episodes of season 4 that actually addresses and deals with dean’s ptsd and trauma from hell. dean’s voice is absolutely perfectly in-character. also it’s pre-relationship destiel but the moment with them at the very end is so tender and lovely.

the pie isn’t a metaphor (it’s just pie) by noviembre

9.3k post-canon fic in which dean and cas get comfortable with their relationship and bake some pies together. it’s a very soft little story that features dean being head over heels and cas being beautifully sarcastic.

Talk Therapy by shara

9.3k of dean figuring out what he wants from cas and how to be in a relationship with him. sex-focused, but intentional about what details are shared so it feels very natural and sweet. cas is so steadfast as dean tries to unlearn what he’s been taught his whole life.

it’s such a mystery (the way you know me) by fleeceframe

another memory loss fic, except it’s cas this time! 10k words about cas getting hit with a temporary memory loss spell and his rediscovery of love and friendship. straight up this one made me cry happy tears. fleeceframe writes beautiful stuff, and this one is no different--the language is just gorgeous.

killing time by orestespdf

11.2k post-canon fic. it’s kind of a day in the life of dean and cas in the lake house they’ve made their home that doubles as a cas character study. very cathartic and romantic.

Kingdom Come by ahurston

17.3k cas comes back from the empty fic featuring a road trip and lots of cas introspection. dean and cas’s interactions are so so so in-character the entire time, and the final moments of the story are absolutely perfect. one of my personal favorite fix-its.

a certain light by flightagain

24.3k au in which cas works at a gas-n-sip and dean’s a customer that comes in a lot, with a supernatural twist! this story is so gorgeous and gentle, and dean and cas’s relationship is portrayed beautifully. if you’re a cas fan, this story is his from pov and nails it in a way that i think is really hard to do in an au.

Peace And Good Luck to All Men by KismetJeska

31.3k human au in which dean is anna’s boyfriend she brings home for christmas, and he and cas immediately click. i am not a big au person, especially when it comes to angel characters, but this fic is so genuinely in character and still hilarious. also a long time fandom classic.

Everybody Needs the Light by opal_bullets

46.5k words of another banger by opal_bullets of poet dean fic fame! actually i might like this one just a little better which should tell how great this one is. it takes place pre-series. dean stops at an old motel in minnesota that cas is running, and something strange is going on… this fic has one of the most interesting conclusions i’ve read in a spn fic and there is such a cool atmosphere to the whole piece. highly recommended if you’re a fan of mysteries and/or supernatural’s angelic dynamics and/or pre-series dean.

Smells Like Roses by orphan_account :(

53.8k words. an absolute classic. seriously, if you haven’t read this, ESPECIALLY if you’re a dean girl, it’s a must-read. set in season 5, dean has a vivid djinn dream of an entire life he spends married in domestic bliss with cas. when he gets pulled out of it, he struggles to readjust and focus on the coming apocalypse. dean is so in-character and so heart-breaking. def a dean thesis fic with a healthy side of destiel sweetness.

The Hanged Man by ellispark

87.6k words. PARK RANGER CAS. literally need i say more?? if that alone hasn’t sold you, the story is that he finds dean out in the woods after someone has tried to kill him, and the mystery unfolds from there as the two of them grow closer. the plot is really interesting and in-character despite being an au. also, if non-verbal dean is something you like/find interesting, you will really love this fic. absolutely worth the read and frankly deserves more hits!

#there will definitely be more lists i after this one #i read a lot of fic #if anybody has any specific requests i can also look into that--i'm not afraid to brave the main spn tag on ao3 if need be #del's fic recs #is the tag i'll use ig #deancas #destiel #destiel fic rec #deancas fic rec

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1994sunflower · 3 years

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oh my gosh!! I can just imagine Michael being so worried when their kids get sick or him being so confused if the children ever have homework and y/n’s not there to help out lol

oh my gosh when they get sick — he’s a nervous wreck

when theyre coughing, sneezing and crying

he would have an internal freakout

like what is he supposed to do

he tries to get them to stop crying but it doesnt work which just makes everything worse

fumbles around and just hands them stuff to try to distract them or get them to smile, a phone, keys, their favorite toy, sometimes even the tv remote

wide stressed out eyes constantly as he tries to figure out what's wrong and what to do

if you’re working, he’ll call you immediately

“should i take them to the hospital?”

“mikey…it’s just a cold.”

“how are you so calm about this?”

“because it’s normal for children to get a cold, michael.”

who wouldve thought you'd be the calm one in that situation lol (but I mean not really, you were worried obviously but not as frantic)

you'd tell him to call you with any and all updates and he was very faithfully texting you like every 20 minutes

and when you told him what medicines to buy, he’d go overboard and buy like 5 packs of each

he’d just be doting on his children constantly

when you were able to actually be there to examine them he’d be looming over you shoulder the whole time to make sure everything was fine

like honestly would just force water down their throats with how much water he was getting them because he knew being hydrated was important lol

wouldnt even want them to leave the house because it could get worse

pretty overbearing just like he is when he’s worried about you

but somehow worse because these are his precious children which he would kill for and the fact that they’re anything less than happy and healthy right then bothered him so much - especially since he couldnt really prevent it or stop it since it wasnt physical

he would probably end up getting sick too because of how much time he was spending near them but he wouldnt care at all

and when they need help with homework

I think he’d be good with a few topics like if they needed help with some basic math, statistics, stuff like that

and he’d feel so happy that he was able to help them out especially when they grinned up at him

“thanks dad”

would feel like the smartrest man on earth….even if it was just fourth grade math

but once they got older and they were asking about science, advanced grammar…..

he’d really try

like he would sit with them

but then just stare blankly at the paper

his children would be like “….i can go figure it out myself.”

“shut up, let me think”

cue him pretending to be texting something but really looks up the answer

or he would kind of ramble an answer of putting together random tidbits of information he remembered or that he might have helped you out with in college when you asked him to help you study (which was usually just him pretending to listen to you saying the things you needed to know out loud)

which both he and his kids knew didnt really make sense

but they went with it anyway

it kind of gave him an excuse to feel like he did something so he could leave lol

sometimes he would look off into the distance contemplating his life choices lmao or wondering just how easier this would be if you were there instead

but he didnt want to call you because you were busy at work or out with friends or something like that

head scratches and annoyed sighs

maybe he should have paid more attention in school…

but he already graduated so why is he forced to learn this stuff again

he’d get frustrated and just be like “you know you’re old enough to do this yourself.”

or “aren’t you supposed to study to know this?”

cue his children giving him blank stares because they’ve all heard the story of his academic prowess (or lack thereof) and dedication to studying (or lack thereof) so could he really judge them?

no but that would just make him get all huffy

why did his children have to get some of his personality and look at him with the eyes he usually gave people to get them to back off

worse why did they have to be immune to his glares, just like their mother

#5sos #Michael clifford #Michael clifford x reader #Michael clifford fluff #5sos fluff #5sos imagines #bad boy michael #bad boy fluff #college au #ask #questions

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ziracona · 3 years

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On a scale of one to ten (one is your screwed and ten is your gonna destroy them) how would you do in a fight against the dead by daylight killers. First rules though. 1. No prep for either side (suck it Danny) 2. No guns! Only weapons found around your house. 3. It's to the death one being leaves an that's it. 4. No help from friends or pets. 5. Whether legion is four teens or just one combined is up to you.

Uhh, this depends drastically on if you mean I one v one every one of them, or if I’m trying to fight a mob. Because if it’s me vs all of them, I’d just die. Like I’m sure I’d have decent odds of killing at least one, maybe two, and taking them with me. But I’m not John Wick—I cant 1v23 a bunch of armed people with some degree of experience with their weapons given no prep time, allies, or special weapons to save me. I like basically anyone else die sadly to the mob.

If this is one v one though, bc it’d be hard to get them all to work together anyway, and that’s the only way like anyone stands a chance?

Evan: I give me 50-50 odds. He’s way bigger than me and his weapon has a longer reach than any known, even the swords. I’m pretty good at thinking on my feet though. I feel like I have about a 50% chance of living or dying (I’m getting gravely injured regardless), but if I die, I am taking him with me, 80% chance. I was not always proficient at winning fights, but I was very good at not losing them. I’ve been known for taking a sword to get a kill hit at cons a lot. I give me a 6 at simultaneous KO or victory.

Philip I refuse to kill. Even if he was trying to kill me. I would defend myself though. Much bigger threat than Evan to me because I /don’t/ want to hurt him at all, which puts me at disadvantage and liable to freeze up or make mistakes even trying to deal nonlethal damage, he’s bigger and taller than me so height and weight advantage, and I don’t have long enough weapons to help me overcome that, plus on top of that, he’s a tactical fighter, which is what I am. And I think it’s harder to beat someone at your and their own game than just to beat another style most of the time. I mean skill is skill in any area, but I’d take a really strong tank in a fight rather than a planner any day of the week. I think he’s smart, probably smarter than me under pressure, definitely more experienced, and would kick my ass tactically if his heart was in it. If it wasn’t though, I’d have a chance to catch him off guard. I think Vs Philip I get one chance to use a tricky move, and if I mess that up, I die. If I do it right, maybe I can knock him out. It’s a one shot long shot at disadvantage. I give me a 4 if his heart isn’t in it, 3 if it is.

Hillbilly has a chainsaw and hammer, but those are both unwieldy and slow weapons. I’m faster than him, and I’m willing to get hurt. Also he’s killed a lot, but he’s not a /fighter/, which gives me an edge. Being tactical works really well vs someone whose edge is brute force. And he doesn’t have as massive a height or strength advantage. I also have tricks and home court advantage. So long as I don’t fuck up, I give myself an 8.5.

Sally isn’t that scary. I would try to incapacitate her. I feel I could easily take her as a ghost or a person. I have good ghost fighting supplies, salt, chalk, talismans, knowledge. I’m prepared for this. I think I’m coming in for this one at a solid 10.

Michael Myers would kill me. I mean, he’s got like X-Man semi invincibility, good skills, and I don’t really want to kill him. I’d try to talk him down while defending myself. I’d probably fail, but I’d try. Best case scenario I get him to hesitate, but also I’m being generous and giving me a 12% chance of that. Realistically, best case is I pull out a rug, trip him, and temporarily escape. A fight in an enclosed space, most likely outcome is I try and fail to talk him down, and I die. I feel very sure I cannot take him in a fight unless Ishtar herself blesses me with god like abilities. I’m probably dead. At least it would be quick. I give me a 1.6.

Lisa is tiny and not that strong. I could easily break her little glass bones. I’m taller and stronger than her, and she had worse weapons than me. I would try not to kill her though—just incapacitate. I feel I could do this while sustaining only minor wounds. Not to give you a look beyond weird ghost shit into my personal arsenal, but I definitely have supplies for that. I give me a 10.

Herman is tall and strong but he’s not a fighter. He’s a scientist. I’ve been shocked before, and I know what to expect from him. He’s getting blasted by a power washer at range until his weird face apparatus comes off and he’s down and out. I have more precise weapons than him and can easily neutralize his abilities and turn them against him. Also have rubber to wear. He’s big though, so for that alone I give me a 9.6 in case I mess up.

Anna would destroy me. She’s good at ranged weapons, I am not. I would try to look as young as possible and convince her in my very bad but slowly improving baby Russian to please have mercy on me. We’re back to the Michael scenario where I know I have no chance of normal survival and would have to try and talk my way out. My odds are higher here though. I’m pretty cute and I know a little Russian. I give me a 4. But the 4 is not me winning it’s my odds of surviving through begging for my life. She’d kick my ass in a fight.

Bubba isn’t that good at fighting and has a big and cumbersome, if scary, weapon. I feel I could easily use terrain, weapons, and strategy to my advantage and kill him, unless I’m in a place with no terrain or furniture. In which case it’d be a lot worse for me. If I was not, though, I give me a solid 9.6 at owning that fight. I have a good throwing arm and plenty of stuff that can blind a foe, and a lot of weapons. A lot of weapons.

Freddy. Okay this is hard. I know how to kill him about as well as anyone does? So comparatively my odds are good? But. Also he’s a demon and a bit of a heavyweight in this arena. Sadly. If we’re in-realm rules, I have a /very/ good chance of kicking his ass. Give me a 10 to win, although I might not survive either. Probably would. If he’s like /film/ loadout? I give me more like a 6. It would be a battle, but I have a lot of knowledge and determination. Also I’m taller than him and bigger and could break his arms.

Amanda. Easy fam, that’s a 10. No, 11. Injured recently drugged Eric Matthews almost kicked her ass while toting a smashed foot. She’s like, 5 foot 1 and 30 pounds underweight. It’s not gonna be hard at all.

Kenneth I give me a 10 too. Easy fam. Even if he gets realm rules where he’s not tripping balls on his own drugs, I know what he’s got. I’ve got better weapons, I’m young, fast, strong, and smarter. I hold my breath, and run him through. Quick jabs from a dagger, take him down. Use my agility. He was never a fighter anyway—he used drugs to prey on people who couldn’t fight back. You know what? Give me another 11.

Rin? Uhhhh, I know as much as about anyone how to deal with her, but my odds of succeeding /before/ she killed me are...not great. And if we fought, there’s no way I have the ability to kill an Onryo. I put using my supernatural beings knowledge to hold her back long enough to stop her in the realm of improbably, but potentially doable, and give myself a 2.7. This is not to kill her though. Just to make her stop killing me. I have no way near the power or spiritual knowledge needed to kill something like that.

Legion I’d not really want to kill. They’re all teenagers or baby 20 year olds. I don’t want to wail fatally on kids, even ones who suck. That said, I think I could take them in a fight. If it was four and I got to fight them one at a time, easiest, four in one body back to back is medium, four at once is hard. First two options I could potentially fight to not kill. Third option only choice would be do everything I can to even /maybe/ have a shot. I have less experience stabbing people, but I’m more ready to take pain, and more motivated, so I give myself a 6, 5, and 3.5 to those scenarios respectively. I would be badly wounded regardless.

Adiris I don’t have healthy enough fear of dying of bubonic plague, and that would give me an edge. I think I have a good sword and shield combo to deal with the mace. She’s tall, but I have her beat in strength and stamina as well as agility bc she’s emaciated and dying. I would not want to kill her though. Might try to talk to her in my fucked Akkadian. Try to incapacitate if that failed. I give me a solid 8 if she’s treating this like a 9 to 5 or distracted by me, give me a 4 if she wants me /dead/. Either way, I probably have to run to the CDC and pray I survive scarred after.

Danny is just some sneaky dick with a knife. He doesn’t even know how to get stabbed. Slightly harder than a few other knife fighters bc he wears so much damn leather, but the eyes and mouth of that mask are vulnerable, and I feel sure I can drive a knife into them before sustaining any kind of fatal wound. He doesn’t have much edge on me in any area, I have him well beat in conviction, and I’m smarter than him by quite a bit. I give me a 9.

Uhhh, Demo isn’t that hard, and I love fire. Probably gonna get a little hurt, but I’m not worried about this one. Easy 10.

Kazan is interesting. He has me beat in size and strength, but his weapon is unwieldy and slow. I have quick weapons and am more agile, and I’m ready to fight dirty to save myself. 7 probably. It’s a luck thing. I have the edge, but if he really lands a hit on me even once, it’s all over. So. Not the /best/ of odds. Maybe a 6.8, actually.

You said no guns but I assume Caleb still gets his. He only gets one shot before being vulnerable though, and he’s much older than me. I’m faster and more agile, and stronger. He’s got really good endurance too though so I don’t have the edge there. It’s gonna be kind of a game of chicken to see who blinks. If he misses his one shot, I win. If he gets the shot, he wins. However, I think my odds of baiting the shot and getting my opening are decent. I give me a solid 7 here.

I still don’t even know which Pyramid Head he /is/. Why does any version exist here and want to kill me, can he smell, can I use that, can electricity hurt him, can he use my guilt against me? There are so many unknowns for both of us, I give us both a 5.

Talbot is an easy 10 unless he gets the jump on you. But you said no planning, so no surprise attacks, so I give me a 10. His body is literally falling apart, and all the blight serum in the world can’t save him from me forever. I have a bunch of tools at my disposal, and he’s fast, but he’s not accurate. Edge, me.

Victor and Charlotte. Interesting one here. Don’t want to kill them either, but I would to save myself I guess if I couldn’t stop them. Not scared of Victor. I bite too, and I go for the throat. Charlotte is more of a problem. Finally it’s a tall killer with a short range weapon though, so edge: me, in weapons. I think I have decent odds of beating them, but I would not get out unscathed. Give me a 7.5.

Jo-Woon. Depends wildly. He throws tiny knives that do too little damage. If he takes me seriously as a threat and tries to go for the throat before I can get close, edge: him, and I’m in for a really rough fight even with a shield. If he wants to fuck around with me though, I’ll win. Because I am prepared to suffer immensely to get a kill shot. If he was smart, I’d give the fight a 6, but I feel extremely confident he’d be cocky, so I give me a 9 to survive, a 10 to at worst get a simultaneous K.O.

#ask #anonymous #dead by daylight

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smallestclowninthecircus · 3 years

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Season 3 notes popping off

due to my desire to not completely fail all my classes this year i made myself slow down significantly while listening to this season, and the fact that the other person i'm listening along with had to catch up. We've managed to convert several other people to start listening and its pretty great.

ep 81: what does it even mean to be chosen by one of them? And if he was chosen by the eye. we know Gertrude wasnt? Because she cut the eyes out of the magazines?

ep 82: elias lmao. I understand why people like him so much bahshdhdk i thought he was gonna snitch on Jon but he didnt so he's fine. Ok but how do we think he knew all that stuff. Idk probably just institute connections. I love the fact that the recorder just wants to record stuff randomly bjahsjdhd. Elias feels a lot like Michael in the sense that he knows more than he should and talks in a way that implies he just wants to wait and see how things play out for his own benefit. I understand him knowing the things that happened but his description of her emotions implies something paranormal. Maybe he's connected to one of the entities. Which one I cannot guess.

ep 83: did a file get delivered randomly to the place he's staying at? Probably elias lmao. He thinks the mannequin is related to the stranger. Idk I would believe it.

ep 84: worms? I know he says earth worms but idk. Again? Is she making gordon golems out of trash? Martin popping off. You can tell the statements get to him more that they get to Jon. How come martin is so mad about it? I want to assume he just doesnt want her to get stuck there but idk. Jude Perry. The calliope organ. Jon heard a circus in one of the last episodes

ep 89: he's talking to perry? Like jude Perry? He says ... God? Is that what it is? Lmao. The Desolation. Jon is tired of ppl being vague and not telling him stuff lmao. Oh God Jon is so confused. Compel her? Is she assuming he has some kind of power? Does he have powers? Hmm. im agreeing with jon here please jesus christ why does everyone have to be so cryptic. Just say what you mean. "maybe you get an itchy eye" bahasjkdfklsjdf girl what. Agnes saved her? Oh this is the girl from the cafe story? So theres the Cult of the Lightless Flame? They worship whatever entity this is? The Desolation? Why do they all seem like they sorta worship her then? Is Gretchen gonna die oh god. fuckin michael. a different michael aaah. i see. dont do it shes gonna burn you. sir. please. sir dont you dare do- WHAT DID I SAY what did you think was gonna happen hhh.

ep 90: try to make it less obvious you're trying to get fired big T. Elias that doesnt sound like the most healthy thing to do. oh dear is this gonna be triggering for me. uuuuuh. uuuuuuuuuh. doesnt seem like it ok gonna keep listening. Jared. hmmmmm. Ok we've seen Keay and hotner or whatever his name was.

ep 91: Michael Crew. Oh is this the lightning scar guy. Mister jon sir did you just die. No? God everyone is so fuckin cryptic. Say normal things please. They all just like to go on about pain and agony and j e s u s c h r i s t we get it you got hurted by whatever thing. So theyre avatars? question mark? Jude Perry is an avatar of The Desolation? hhhh fractals. thats a spiral thing innit. Yup. messing with your perceptions. God they all talk about feeding their god and feeding that which feeds them and. hh what does that meann. Leave big J. please. uh oh. is it daisy? how come he has the web lighter still? the tape recorder just turns on sometimes you know how it is. So he can compel people? not that he knows it obviously but. a bit wack. powers go brr i guess? If the eye just wants knowledge i guess he feeds it by getting the statements? b/c i doubt it wants him to murder ppl or whatever.

ep 92: elias you all knowing fuck what do you know. (i guess all given what i just said) Lukas. Heard of them before. Mordecai Lukas. Loneliness. The lonely even. Jonah Magnus. Elias ur sounding like a bit of a dickhead rn. lmao jon's just like "i dont care" elias what is ur deal. Why does he want to tie her in. ohh i see. lmao theyre all just like "elias why" The Unknowing lol seems very much like something the eye wouldnt like. lol elias is gettin all philosophical. what does it really mean to be human. this still doesnt answer why gertrude wanted to destroy the archives tho.

ep 93: bahsjdfh he seems so dead inside rip. awww admiral. i love him already. ghh breacon and hope. purple mold. doesnt sound like anything we've seen so far. I think the funniest explanation for breacon and hope is that they dont actually serve the stranger they just kinda happen to be a random neutral party that cart around random spooky entity related stuff. ooooh. when we hear the slight static of the tape recorder it's cuz he's compelling ppl.

ep 94: the end! listen man they were all just grayed up for 4/13.

ep 95: the end also? death but also savagery/ animalistic shit. aww martin. lmao becerra. she's just been chillin in the corner.

ep 96: return to sender. haha minecraft go brr. prediction: breacon and hope? yup there we go. jon why is there an echo. are you in a stairwell? is he gonna eat it- yup. how did i call it. unsure abt what theyre talking about but ok. they kidnapped someone? Sarah Baldwin. ooooh that guy.

ok im just putting this here so i have notes for when nicholas gets to this part. It seems like (from jon's conversation with jude perry) that the desolation and the eye are kinda at odds with eachother? like i guess not directly but it seems like they dont really vibe? so how could be with both. Cuz if he has the heat powers and shit then we know he's an avatar of the desolation. but then why does he have so much eye imagery. also he got burned intentionally? like jude did when she went on her monologue about the feeling of burning? but then why did he wear the eye pendant. it stops him from being burned all the way which seems like he's not fully accepting the fire or whatever.

Nooooo I lost like a bunch of my notes rip. I keep forgetting to save.

Ep 104: tim gives a coherent statement without jon even being there. Ugh. Fucking robert smirk. Dont like him. Joey. Dont recognize the name. The show must go on. Clown. The spooky circus?

ep 105: total war... shogun 2? jon is just understanding languages again. "if i understood mandarin or cantonese" are you sure you dont big man?

ep 106: havent we heard this one already? mans in space? oh no this is just another episode in space. fairchild... uuuh. cant remember. oh! this is related to that! this is one of the ppl from the other side. sounds like a Vast thing. oh he's the one that the dude saw? but that guy didnt have a face... she's sorta like jon. wanting to dismiss the statements. lmao i love the workplace gossip. ace jon for the win! oh cmon elias dont be a dick. sunny meadows or whatever. thats the place we heard about.

ep 107: oh great is it jude perry again. Third Degree. bahahsdkfj she was arrested. sorry but imagining this old british lady getting arrested is funny. she was trying to resurrect him. using the skin book. he's not feeling well. jon take a nap. i wonder if this is what happens when he uses his powers too much. He gets into The Zone when he reads statements lol. didn't we have a burning train car in anothre statement? is it julia fairchild? bahahahs "kidnapped. Again." poor jon honestly. julia... about her dad. daughter of the murder shed guy? hunting like your dad liked to hunt or normal people hunting. oh hunting vampires!

ep 108: melanie has been suffering. poor martin peter lukas why do you have to be like this. can he not just use the front door? does he have to bother the ppl doing statements?

ep 109: how come he cut her off? kinda rude tbh. its either jon's influence or there was smth he didnt want her saying. is it gerard on the table? this sounds kinda like smth from one of the university episodes. is it the closed eye on the hand? yup. he's like one of the students! if the thing listening in is elias then... he can do that without the tape recorder yknow. plus who's to say it wont just turn itself on again

110: who wants to bet its a leitner?

111: Lukas related to The Lonely. I used to not like Gerard that much but i like him more now. but i thought there were 15? ohhh thats right isnt flesh newer? gerry for the win honestly. finally telling jon things.

112: lol "again" no one ever tells any of these ppl anything. tim and basira are just out of the loop constantly. music, like the war episodes. The hunt or the slaughter? probably the hunt. so Daisy is related to the hunt right? basira likes the reading, she's doing fine at the institute. daisy's getting worried...

113: it just turned on randomly. what is it lol. explossives! oh boy. why do they always assume he turned it on intentionally. melanie youre not making me like you that much. which entity is this about i cant tell. lol he was disappointed it was just the end. The title Breathing Room made me think it was gonna be about the buried but i guess not. So many of these entities deal with death but the end is one that deals in just death. it has no need for fancy deaths, just death is enough

114: more hilltop road statements? the tree. oh boy. ok the tree has 8 arms obviously theres the spider parallels. was she taken into an alternate universe? oh no. jon tries to phrase things so he's not asking questions. thats honestly good. "sometimes i was kidnapped" oh dear. they got gertrude. daisy ur so odd lmao. who wants to bet they dont know the tape recorder's running?

115: silaca? or whatever? antique man? meat grinder... related to the meat is meat episode? oh wow. they buy antiques from him. maybe dont antagonize this creature which can kill you?

116: lol theyre all just so done with elias. music? is it like the one band that if you hear them you die or wtvr. oh its chess? i am very much confused. mmm stranger go brr. gorilla skin? oh shit the dance. woah. this is so good. this is so gender. the words are wonderful. "you can just say tim" lmao trying to fool elias never feels like a good idea.

117: except elias lmaoo. oh shit. leitner getting some use for once idk. bruuh poor melanie she has been thru so much shit. martin you can just say youre worried about jon. lol he's so accurate in his jon impression. lol who was that. was that daisy? lmaoo. oop hi tim. oh god i hope tim doesnt die. i feel like i wouldve heard about that? but im not sure. destroying the source of knowledge is gonna be hard for jon. yay jon! you did a good thing. let him rest.

118: go off martin lmao. awww poor martin. oh god the tape gets that squealy quality and its awful.

119: woah. lots of things happening. uhh. POP OFF TIM!!

120: lmao elias giving a statement about jon's dreams lol. damn jon doesnt even get his own dreams? has to stay Watching even when he's asleep? f in the chat this man goes thru so much shit. oh boy its peter. lol martin my beloved. idk i dont trust peter.

#tma #neptune's tma notes #notes #tma season 3

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sahbibabe · 4 years

Text

A Mission For One

Soulmate AU

Sephiroth/Fem! Reader

You are given the details of your mission. It wasn't your intention to be crippling the last of the previous AVALANCHE's funding, nor was it to face the risk of seeing Hojo ever again.

RENO, JUST LIKE RUFUS had said, showed up the very next day, just shy of seven in the morning. He didn't have Rude with him, which was unusual, and instead had a lowly grunt with him. He had a briefcase in one hand and his weapon in the other, shooting you a grin when you opened the door.

"Ready to get started?" He asked, pushing past you to set up on one of the tables. He opened the briefcase with a flourish. "Might wanna sit down because I have a lot of stuff to tell you and not a whole lot of time."

You locked the shop door and sat down across from him, eyeing the grunt who positioned his back to it with a rifle in hand. "Was it necessary to bring the gun inside?"

"Him? Nah." Reno pulled out a file as thick as your fingers put together and set it aside. "Right, first thing I have to tell you is to hold out your arm."

You did so obediently. "What for?"

"This." Reno gave you no warning other than a smirk, and plunged what looked like a five gauge needle into your wrist. He injected a clear substance into you and, before you had time to jerk away, was done. "There. Your Shinra access chip. After the fiasco with keycards and AVALANCHE last year, we decided on these bad boys to secure the system. As long as you're alive, calm, and healthy, you can get anywhere you want to. I think the boss gave you B-Level clearance until you pass your physicals, then will up it to A-Level after that."

You felt dread settle in the pit of your gut. You had never owned anything as much as D-Level access in your entire life, and that was just to attend a small court session to set up your tea shop and legally sell tea from Shinra suppliers. B-Level was a high jump, and giving you A-Level access after? Those were the same permissions that only Rufus's seconds in command got, only less to Rufus himself.

"Reno," you asked slowly,"what the hell am I going to be doing that requires A-Level access?"

"A lot of things," he whistled, thumbing through a plastic card case and pulling out an ID card with your face plastered on it. "Assassination, murder, espionage, sabotage, take your pick. The things we Turks can't do and get away with easily."

The bad feeling in your stomach told you it was a bit more than that. You let it slide when he handed you the ID, noting the fluorescent finish on it and the expensive plastic it was made of, as well as the giant Shinra logo printed beside your head with a script reading 'VIP: DO NOT ENGAGE' along with your VIP permissions underneath, which extended to free hotel stays, you noticed.

"What's this?" You asked, watching it shine in the light. "I already have an ID."

"Yeah, but not one that's special like that." Reno then pulled out a manilla file almost as thick as the one he had brought out before, except this one had giant red confidential stamps all over it and was sealed with Rufus's personal seal. "It can get you anywhere and everywhere, just like the Turks, and more. Flash that thing and anyone will think twice about stopping you. Murder is easy with a card like that."

"I'd imagine," you said, a little choked. You had, quite literally, just gotten federal permission to commit murder. Freely. In an effort to distract yourself from the fact that you'd just been given a 'free for all' card, you tapped the first file he'd pulled out. "And these?"

"Paperwork for the doctor who does the exam." Reno shrugged when you gawked at the sheer size of it. "I know. It's a lot. But it only takes an hour. Drug tests and blood tests and all that. Even STD tests."

You placed it aside in favor of the packet he now held. "I'm guessing those are my mission details?"

"More like your trial targets," Reno supplied vaguely. "You won't officially start them until next week. You'll have a month to finish all of them. You can read up on them and memorize them until then."

In Reno's hands laid the lives of the people you were about to take forever. Permanently. And it wasn't even what you were being recruited for; they were tests. That was it.

He handed it to you and you broke the seal, pulling out one of the targets. A photo had been blown up to visible proportions, blurry and grainy, but you could make out the face well enough, recognized it even: one of AVALANCHE's older benefactors, a man by the name of Michael Dallien.

He had donated a total of three million gil to the cause shortly after the mako reactor went down, you read, and had been funneling smaller sums to them ever since under the guise of fundraisers. At the bottom, stamped in blue, was the price of his bounty: four million gil, plus a bonus for delivering visceral proof.

Which meant Rufus wanted his head. Literally.

"As you can see, you'll get paid more than the three million gil for whoever you kill," Reno explained, pointing to a section near the bottom. "There will be others competing with you, though, but they aren't doing it with the accesses that you have. They work for other corporations wanting to overthrow Shinra. If you get to them first, the other corporations won't be able to nab their resources and bam, you get paid and you move on to the next one."

The more people you found in the packet, the higher the bounties became, until you came upon a bounty on Rufus Shinra himself, priced right around one million gil.

"What the hell?" You breathed, showing Reno the picture. "What does this mean?"

"That leads me to your official assignment." The redhead plucked the paper from your hands and pointed to the list of mercs slated for the job; you weren't on it. "Our little Public Relations guy, Heidegger, put this up a few weeks ago. I doubt he knew we bugged his personal computer, but he's enlisted several attempts on the boss's life in the next couple of months. Now, the Turks aren't invincible, some are bound to slip through the cracks. That's where you will come in."

"You want me to protect Rufus Shinra," you deadpanned,"because the Turks can't."

"Hey, it isn't for lack of trying. He has so many enemies it's hard to keep track of. We keep eyes on the outside, you keep eyes on the internals. Simple."

"You mean people like Heidegger and Scarlet," you supplied, realization dawning on you. "It's not because you can't, it's because you can't do it without everyone knowing who did it."

Reno winked and pointed a finger at you. "Bingo. I knew you'd put it together. Rude owes me fifty gil."

"That explains the ID," you sighed, waving the card around flimsily. You tucked everything into a neat pile in front of you. "Anything else?"

"Yep. I took the liberty of pulling some strings and getting you a female doctor to perform your physical." Reno leaned back and crossed his arms, the grunt shifting nervously behind you. "Figured you wouldn't want Hojo snooping around in your insides again."

The sudden horror you felt had you speechless. Hojo was supposed to do your physical? Hojo had none of the specifications for that, last you had heard, and that was when he was injecting your eyeballs with some dark fluid. To have him examining you from head to toe, even for the gynecology exam because it had to be on there too, made you want to throw up at the idea.

"Other than that, though, all you have to do is get your Shinra tech fitted and your uniform. It's all unbranded so no one will be able to trace us if you get caught, and made with synthetic material that also can't be traced. You'll have to check with the boss about your weapons. Can't go to Scarlet." Reno seemed to be checking off some list and nodded to himself. "That's it, I think. Rude will drop by later and give you your rental keys."

You were still caught up on Hojo doing your physical exam, even after Reno dismissed himself and headed out of the shop. It disgusted you on so many levels that as soon as you tucked your files away into your floorboards and put your ID in your wallet, you went to the bathroom to hurl up your breakfast.

None of what Hojo did to you was memorable after the initial injection, but you recalled him speaking of something like,"Let Her see through your eyes," but it was muffled behind the wall of pain you felt. You remembered the pinch of an IV, trying to open your eyes and only feeling your eyelids as swollen as golf balls, and feeling nurses walk in and out to switch your dressing gown.

Hojo would check, occasionally, prying your swollen lids apart and testing the tears and occasional pus that would stream out, ignoring your crying and screaming indignantly. He pressed the swelling, irritated them, scraped samples from your waterline, and then fed tubes into them to drain the pus out. It never ended well, because it would soon grow clogged with that black material he had put in, like a coagulated gummy pile of rot. You never bled, but the sheer amount of tears you produced left you dehydrated and desperate for water.

You were one hundred percent certain he had also done something to your reproductive system, because after that, your cycles just became nightmares, even more so towards you leaving after he deemed you a failure. You never checked, though, too scared and poor to afford an exam, even when you now had the money and means to do so.

But now you had to because of the stupid physical exam. Hojo had ruined you in more ways than you could say, and it was no wonder you lied to everyone in your life. You were petrified of trust because you, once upon a time, had trusted him to help you. That had been a mistake.

Never again.

#final fantasy #final fantasy 7 remake #sephiroth x reader #soulmate au #soulmate

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fuzziemutt · 4 years

Note

Oooh, how does the whole family dynamcis work out on the Purp guy and the other guy that's his partner?

Okay so there's like 3 sections to how it worked out as it changes dramatically ! I'm focusing on will and henry since you said him and his partner (this is also written in like one go so i apologize for any nonsense)

First off tho: William and Henry married in my au. This is because I'm a gay trans man and i see will as being a gay man and henry as a gay trans man. I also thought it would be more devastating™ if will killed their shared children than it being his best friend's kid and his own kids personally

Also: Charlie is still Henry's bio daughter but Michael, Chris and Elizabeth are adopted (chris and eli are twins btw)

Also also: Henry isn't going to be an all rainbows and sunshines guy so beware that he does some pretty shitty things as well

Pre Murders and Deaths:

They were very happy ! Prior to everything Willy was actually a decent guy and husband ! Will used to be a more stick-up-the-ass type guy but Henry brought his more humerous and silly side out over the course of knowing and dating each other. Of course they'd sometimes have small petty fights but they were adults and would work it out and such. Pretty healthy of a dynamic and they had great communication skills so Henry knew when Willy was getting frustrated and Willy likewise with Henry. Henry was the more advice dad and dad™ personality such as bringing a bag of everything they'd need whenever they went on trips to the park and dad jokes. Henry was also referred to as 'papa' by the kids! Willy was more of the morals and teachings (yes i know quite ironic) for the kids and was more strict than henry on certain things but he also would play a lot with the kids too even after a long day of work. Will was referred to as 'dad'.

Post Chris death & Pre Murders:

This is when their relationship went from healthy to pretty toxic and abusive. Henry and Will coped with Chris' death in different manners. Henry would start heading out to the bar a lot while Will became more reclusive and hardly left the house as he became severely depressed. Their communication ? Tanked. Will would still insist he was fine no matter what despite everything clearly showing other wise. Henry became more i guess snappish in that he'd fight willy on everything. Like he'd get home and see will playing with the kids, even if it was less enthusiastic than before, and start yelling at him for it. He never physcially harmed will and was nicer to the kids but he def became emotionally abusive. There were times at first soon after the death that henry was still his old self and would help will with his depression and was very loving but as time went on those moments became more rare. Will clings onto those momente which is why he doesn't want to leave and would later desperately believe henry still loves him.

Post Murders and Deaths:

Elizabeth was the 2nd one to die as she was taken by Baby when Will started experimenting with the idea of souls bonding to the suits; Charlie followed the next year as he was testing if personal connection was the reason for the bond. Henry was already sus with Will when Eli "happened" to die via an animatronic and when he found Will's diaries that had all his ramblings about his theories and work he became more sus when noticing the pattern of "child soul" within it. It wasn't until Henry found one of their basement hammers hidden and spotted with black material and blood on one of Will's sweaters after Charlie's death did he realize what Will was doing. He then picks up Michael and a couple items and books it basically while ignoring will's cries to come back. After this Will and Henry stop all communication. Will believes henry left not because of the obvious child killing reason (he doesn't enjoy killing but sees it as a necessary evil for his "science") but rather because Will didn't have solid answers to his "scientific work", so he believes that if he just works hard enough Henry will return. Will does believe, however, that Henry betrayed him in a sense. Henry rightfully doesn't want anything to do with Willy after what happened. Even in my good ending (will doesn't get spring trapped) if henry ever saw will again, he'd have a very volatile reaction. Family wise: Will still keeps a lot of his fatherly instincts, even when he meets Michael again and internally blames him for "ruining" their lives, he still sometimes does father stuff™ subconsciously like stopping mike from crossing the street without looking. He's still a major bastard man tho don't worry ! Think like john mulaney's dad if he was also was like a murderer. Henry, however, became quite neglectful towards Mike and mainly mourns over Charlie's death alone.

Overall: *pats will and henry's head* these two bad boys can fit so much emotional constipation and poorly dealt with grief

They're both shitty and not shitty in their own rights like will arguably treats mike better than hen (ignoring the whole sl incident) but he still y'know is a murderer ???? And general bastard ??? Henry while he didn't kill their kids (or anyone), still became quite abusive towards Will and later towards michael.

This came out really long holy shit; if you want any further delving into anything specific just send another ask !

#i speak #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf william afton #william afton #fnaf henry emily #henry emily #willry #helliam #reunion au #abuse mention #child death tw #child death mention #ask to tag #long post

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zontiky · 5 years

Text

*trips and falls, headcanons spilling out of my pockets* yeah, these are- *tries to gather them up* im just- *they keep spilling* ok im just gonna- *one single headcanon keeps evading my grasp* ok ok i’ll just share the one-

“five and klaus draw together” ah i like this one okay cool, cool let’s go

u remember that piano ben post? yeah well while ben is learning piano five ALSO needs something to occupy himself with, or he keeps forgetting they saved the world and he’s not in the apocalypse anymore

he gets nightmares. all the time. after they go back to 2019 he’s like “alright my work here is done” and then he just crashes

he tries to sleep but all he can see is corpses and ash and more corpses and his siblings shouting at him for leaving even though he didn’t mean to, he tried to get back, and the handler with her touchy hands and everybody he’s killed and it’s so much

so five, being the resident genius, wisely decides to just. not. not to sleep. at all.

he lasts about two days and a half before he collapses walking to the dinner table, and all his siblings are immediately like “five what’s wrong what did you do”

so he explains his perfectly logical solution to nightmares, even though its not like it’s their business, fuck off.

and literally everybody is like five... that’s not.... that’s not healthy you can’t do that

so then klaus is like you know what, fieval, i found me a solution, now you’re gonna be soluting with me.

“klaus that’s not a word”

so klaus tells five that he has nightmares too. and honestly which one of them doesn’t.

but instead of avoiding his nightmares by not sleeping, he draws. he just sketches and paints and splatters and does whatever the hell he wants on any medium

and it helps! it actually helps to put the stuff he’s scared of on paper, or to just draw to get his mind off all the screaming corpses around him.

five decides that he’ll try it. fine. he knows he wouldn’t last more than a week anyway

so klaus takes five to michaels or something (even though michaels is expensive, like damn) and just says “pick a sketchbook and some pencils, also pens and brushes and paints if you want them”

“oh and markers you’re gonna need markers”

but because five knows absolutely nothing about art supplies klaus ends up having to drag him around the store and list off things and their qualities so five can choose

five tries to get the cheapest things and klaus is like “no five there is no way im buying you paper that thin”

they end up getting a multimedia sketchbook (hardcover because those are the best) and some standard pencils and also mechanical! and pens. klaus sneaks a pack of brush tip markers even though five didn’t want them

(five totally knows klaus grabbed them, but he secretly appreciates klaus doing this for him so if he wants to get them ok. but he’ll definitely try to find a way to pay him back later)

so then five has all these new drawing materials! which is very appealing to him, because of all the neat pencils and paper and it’s just so nice? basically that feeling you get when you go to an office supply store or the back to school section at target

once they get home it kinda hits five that he has... no clue how to draw.

klaus is like “here i’ll show you!” and just starts sketching?? but that makes no sense to five, like where does he start, which lines are the right ones, how?? what??

so then klaus explains that the whole point of this is to express his emotions. he asks five, “when you wake up from a nightmare, how do you feel?”

five has to think for a bit. “I don’t know,” he answers, and it’s honest. He doesn’t.

“Alright.” Klaus flips to a new page in his own sketchbook. “Then let’s start with this. What’s something you see right now?”

Five looks around Klaus’s room. “The flower pot,” he decides. It’s a new one, with bright flowers in it. Klaus has been sticking flowers left and right throughout the mansion, trying to “make this place less of a depressing hell-hole,” in his words.

“Okay. So now get your pencil, and try to draw it.” He holds up a hand, cutting off Five’s protest. “It doesn’t matter if you’re good or not. Just try to, how do you say this. Put the general shape of the flowers onto your paper. Just lines and shapes, how it makes you feel.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Five points out.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” Klaus agrees. “It doesn’t, not really. But try. Just try to draw out the flower pot.”

Five hesitantly reaches for a pencil. He hovers his hand over the blank paper, trying to figure out where to start. He gently lowers the sharp tip of the pencil onto the page.

Light gray lines cross over each other, each one adding a little bit to the flat likeliness of the pot. Soon enough Five has a messy outline of Klaus’s flowers.

“I don’t know.”

“Hey, no, it’s good! I mean, you’re obviously not Van Gogh, but it’s a start. Now how do you feel?” Klaus asks him, looking over his drawing.

“I...” He doesn’t really know. It’s like there’s been a small shift in something he doesn’t quite grasp. “Better, I think.”

Klaus claps his hands together. “That’s good. Now, do you know what you’re going to do, Five? You’re going to sleep with that sketchbook in your room, and if you wake up from a nightmare, you’re going to get up and draw out your feelings. Doesn’t have to make any sense, just get your emotions onto that page. You can add words if you want, too.”

“When,” reflexively corrects Five. “Not if, when. But okay.”

“I’m going to ignore that for now, but just know that you’re concerning. And if you try to skip out on sleep again, I’ll find you and beat you into unconsciousness with a dirty sock filled with pennies.”

“That’s very specific,” remarks Five, standing up and gathering his sketchbook and other stationery. “But sure. I’ll sleep.”

He flashes out of the room, and that’s that.

five has a nightmare that night. it’s not unexpected or anything, but he’s still upset. just as he’s getting out of the post terror funk his eyes catch on the sketchbook sitting on his desk.

he grabs it and starts sketching what he sees from his window, because why not? he may as well humor klaus.

he ends up drawing the moon. it’s the clearest thing he can see

he shows his drawing to luther in the morning. he tells five that it looks great! it’s really cool, how he can draw like that

and slowly five starts to draw more and more. eventually he’s just sitting around the house sketching. he never gets very good, but it’s nice. the scratching of the pencil on paper and the weight of the pen in his hand are comforting

at one point klaus just plops down next to him and starts drawing five. he’s using charcoal, not pens and pencils, and his sketchbook is different. when five moves to go get himself some coffee, klaus just goes “no. don’t move.”

at this point five understands how fucking hard drawing people is so he stays and just watches klaus draw him.

it becomes a sot of Thing they do, just going somewhere new or to the park or something and drawing. either each other or the things around them.

also five really enjoys markers! markers are really great for him, they’re so smooth and the different colors are very nice

five’s nightmares ease up after a while. some of both his and klaus’s pages in their sketchbooks are really dark, filled with things they just can’t stand and things that still scare them even after the danger’s gone

but there are other pages that are sloppy pictures of allison watching a movie, or diego throwing a knife, or vanya and luther trying to bake

eventually five and drawing just become something intertwined. he draws a lot with klaus, he goes to drawing classes sometimes to get himself out of the house

and slowly, things start looking up

(ben sometimes plays piano with klaus and five sitting in the same room sketching. klaus is humming along and five is just enjoying chilling with his bros)

#projecting again? you got me #i think five drawing is just... a really nice concept tbh #its good #i also just broke out into mini fic in the middle of this but whateverrrrrrr #five draws #hcs #misc #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #four #drawing #five draws au #tua #the umbrella academy #long post

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irageneveart · 5 years

Text

there are so many things a 16 years old person should be doing beside throwing hate, BUT HERE YOU ARE BEING A BRAT

@bfmyers I really can't take this anymore, are you really that full of hypocrisy to scream TOXIC left and right while you yourself use your free time to only spread hate? I don’t usually do this and I try to stay away from useless discourse but you're just kicking on my nerves way too much

under the cut cause boy I have a lot to say. (really, it’s long. I needed to point out everything)

I'm going to kindly tell you to fuck off artists' backs.

you have 0 fucking knowledge of what you're talking about yet you're making callouts and worse, people agree! the same people who supported the artists before by reblogging and liking their art are now shitting on them and "ihh no more reblogs from them" only because you write a lengthy shit in which not only that you threaten a human being, you don't even know how to argue. a link to a picture and screaming "toxic" ISN'T A GODDAMN ARGUMENT

people of this community, PLEASE use your fucking brains and don't bow your head to what every nameless kid has to say. you don't have to believe me either, just use your fucking brain and heart and do the decision making yourself

Now, you did a callout post on @dbd-omija pointing out how toxic they are!!! omg gasp animal death? abuse?? HOW IS THAT pOsSIbLe

where have you been until now because this is a horror community:

in the TCM universe inbreeding is mentioned multiple times

in the Halloween movies Michael kills two dogs and eats one of them

omija clearly stated they went with the 1978-2018 timeline BUT NO YOU KEPT SCREAMING BECAUSE HOW DARE THEY SAY SOMETHING AGAINST YOU

on that matter: in the halloween movies Michael's cult makes him rape his niece, in another movie Laurie, before jumping to what it seemed her death, kisses Michael's mask lips. GASP, when will you sue the directors?

after he escaped, Max literally slaughtered every living creature in that farm. put the DBD devs on your "I need to sue them cause I have something to say against this horror game!!!" list

If there’s something I can agree with you on, it’s about tags. Yes, these are triggers, yes tagging is important, but let’s not forget that being in this community IS about being surrounded by triggers. out of courtesy sure, we should tag our stuff accordingly, but to go all out to say “omija, if you’re reading this, i’m going to pee in your mouth.” HOW. IS. THIS. ACCEPTED?! HOW

HOW THE FUCK PEOPLE WHO REBLOGGED THAT CALLOUT THOUGHT YES THIS IS GOOD?!!?!

now you said that Omija's making all of these seem cute and that’s the real problem. this is where you are sooo wrong and let me explain:

a round head doesn't instantly make everything cute. there are many many details that the human eye perceives as cute, things that artists go to when they want their art to be seen as cute. from the color chosen to the way their eyes and mouths are drawn, to the very line work they’re using. yes, shapes count too, but this is not the case and we should get out of our tiny box and see the big picture. Their comics are not meant to be cute, actually much respect to them for being brave enough to approach well known subjects that are not explored. But that’s it. If YOU see it as cute then it’s your problem really. Art and fiction is prone to interpretation

If anything, how much cute stuff we have in the community should be the anomaly, not that someone draws anxious Bubba

omija's Amanda and Bubba art is problematic! someone asks why, you: because is toxic!!!

really? I actually think that, given their individual personalities, omija portraits the ship’s dynamic really well. Amanda is not dealing well with her feelings and with humans and Bubba has problems understanding things in general. they are two deranged people finding a way to cope and to accept another human presence nearby. "Amanda is picking on a disabled person how can you say it's well!!!!" let me remind you that his entire family is picking on his disabilities and the fact that he loves but also FEARS his family is a big theme in Leatherface's story and personality

Also, another argument of yours was about “the power play” and how that’s problematic. I’m...honestly surprised you even thought of this argument because the entire slasher fandom, the movies, everything slasher related IS BASED ON POWER PLAY. Have you read what they wrote for Laurie/Michael to say the ship is based on power play and it’s wrong? No, me neither, cause I don’t care, but you seem to care enough to vomit about it. Go read some things and tell me how problematic the writing is, you need to call out writers too after all

Btw, surprise! I don't ship neither of the mentioned ships, but I can use my brain enough to see what omija does is actually well made and well thought, sick, weird in some instances, but well thought. kudos to you artist. I can also see those who ship Laurie and Michael are still nice people

But just like you and many others I have my own morals (do you now? Exposing yourself like that to NSFW content while so many people are scared for their life because of people like you? hmmmm) and I can’t really stand explicit pedophilia. I’ve read so many books or seen so many movies where it was mentioned, it’s a trigger factor, it’s taboo, therefore is normal to be used in darker works. It all depends on the circumstances and the way it is presented, cause it’s a piece of fiction. Nobody attacked George R. R. Martin for the controversial things he had written in his books right? I wonder why

Because, another surprise, fiction is different than reality and only this argument alone should be enough, but some monkey brains out there will come to scream at me how fiction affects reality. Someone who writes a murder mystery isn’t actually killing people when they put pen to paper. People who play shooter games do not wish to shoot people in real life. Someone who writes about rape will not welcome the rapist in their arms nor do they wish to rape someone. So on, it’s simple, again, we just need to use our brains.

If you have bullying-related or a family related or any thing related trauma and you see a Michael/Laurie fic or Quentin/Freddy or whatever other ships or subjects you have seen around, and decide to click on it, and then you have a negative reaction, that fiction is not harming you. Your unresolved trauma is harming you. Your decision to read something when you know it triggers you is harming you. The past actions of yourself and those who inflicted harm upon you are harming you. All of those things – your trauma, your real-life bullies, your actions – are real, and have the ability to harm you. (the italic bits are from @dracfics who said it better than I ever could put in words. Thank you)

next on your "who am I going to shit on today" is @renlvbon

not gonna lie, for the omija callout I read everything searching to see whenever you are right or not. I don’t personally know either of the artists but I could read enough to see you’re just a self entitled person with something to say regarding everything. for ren's callout I simply skipped after I saw your argument.

you're not doing gods' work by opening people's' eyes that they can or should portray the characters the way they are, disabled and gross. no, you're just picking on someone's art style

Can we stop this toxic nonsense???

don't get me wrong, I agree that we shouldn't make them supermodels and we shouldn't erase what they are, fucking ugly and gross killers, but saying people who don't draw them a certain way are cowards or calling them out or whatever else shit is TOXIC and ANNOYING. We all change them more or less, we have to because none of us are the original creators! We’re just thirsty people making them to be what we want and what we imagine because they’re fucking fiction

I’ve seen people agreeing with you saying the artist should consider real people with disabilities or on the heavier side (“like me” they pointed out). I’m so sorry if this comes out as rude but if you search or need validation in a horror community that’s not a good thing at all! Body positivity and a healthy approach to disabilities should. not. be. searched. in. a. horror. community or any community on tumblr for that matter. You want some positivity on that? In a real case scenario with them we all would die, no matter how you look like

Going back to the artists, some people don't have experience/ are insecure/ are uncomfortable drawing body hair or fat bodies or whatever. That doesn’t make them fatphobic or whatever shit I saw you writing in your tags.

Drawing a black character less than the color YOU think is good? Have you ever tried to color skin? There are so many ways to do it, there are so so many colors you combine and you play around with + lighting and shading that alters everything. and yeah maybe some people pick a different color, a lighter one, or a more yellow one than they should for asiatic people, or whatever. but these tones are NOT easy to get well (you can always put a brown color down and to call it a day, but maybe people won’t want that. They don’t want to be disrespectful, exactly cause there are predators like you that don’t know how to help, only how to fucking scream). Or maybe they simply don’t know how. Every artist has their own range of comfort zone, be it about subject - composition - colors - etc. I don’t do well with neon colors for example, it happens. Hell even the screen you’re using alters the colors

How about giving actual tips, support and explanations instead of rude call outs? And don’t come at me with the “color picker” shit cause color picker from a real life photo is hell and if you don’t know some color theory your art is going to look dull and lifeless regardless

The only time I can agree that whitewashing is wrong is when white-supremacy, nazi and other ugly shits like these are coming into the topic. But it’s not the case here

some young artists don't have the skill to draw certain body shapes, or body hair, or even a non-anime face. some others think putting a scar on the character’s face make them 'uglier' and ‘scarier’ and for them that's enough AND THAT'S ALRIGHT

drawing something that's supposed to be ugly but still having anatomy and proportions and a functionable mouth or eyes placement or whatever ISN'T EASY. ofc, you can go all out if that's what you want, but personally I want things to still be working because at the end of the day every single one of them is human. I'm not drawing dark fantasy in this fandom, I'm drawing slashers

NO ONE IS DRAWING FOR YOU. NO ONE IS USING THEIR SKILL TO MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD. art and writing, especially when is made in the free time of the creator, is made FOR THEMSELVES. If there are people enjoying it? Yay, that’s a win, but no one expects everybody on this planet to like what they’re doing. We’re getting back to that golden rule, DON’T LIKE: MOVE THE FUCK ON/ BLOCK AND LIVE YOUR LIFE. EASY. no one uses these unnecessary callouts for anything, if you have something to say do so kindly, if you can’t, just vent to your friends

So now let’s wrap it up cause IDK how many of you even make it through this point

can we fucking stop making young artists and writers cowards for drawing or writing how they can and however they fucking want? Please and thank you

this shit going on with "the best artist/writer for x y z character" or "conventionally drawing ugly Bubba uwu" will just destroy the confidence of whoever wants to keep drawing or writing or joining the fandom. There’s no competition who draws Bubba the ugliest nor who writes Michael the best. if you can do things a certain way, do it, and let the rest draw and write whatever they can WITHOUT FEARING THEY'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

now I'm waiting for your very "well" argumented reply but I hope you'll understand that what you're doing is TOXIC and you should stop or at least change your way to address things. You’re talking to other human beings, not a void when you can throw any random thought you have in the morning. I don't care about you to be honest, but there are so many people out there following your words mindlessly and the creators are suffering and it's not fair.

don't forget to tell me to go kill myself. have a nice day

#ira talks #bfmyers callout #vent and triggers #this shit needs to stop #long post #my opinion #i won't put this in the main tags cause that's really useless #so I don't really know how to tag lol

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spaceskam · 5 years

Note

Could you maybe write about alex not being able to forget that the thing with maria happened? Like them finally getting back together but when things get steamy he sees michael and maria

ao3

Alex had never been in on a date.

In high school, that wasn’t actually an option. In the Air Force, there wasn’t exactly time or opportunity. Most of his experience with men was random hookups and, well, Michael Guerin. So, when he found himself getting ready for his first real date with Michael Guerin, it was nothing short of surreal.

Michael had spiraled downward after Caulfield, Noah, and Max dying. He stayed with Maria for four months before she dumped him because he was wasted almost every minute of the day and was getting arrested more times than he really should’ve. Isobel had come to Alex in a truly concerning state and had begged him for help. They needed Michael to get Max back, but Michael needed to have something on his mind other than anger and alcohol. Alex found it hard to say no.

So, with the help of Kyle and Liz, the four of them dedicated an absurd amount of time to helping Michael Guerin. Detox for an alien proved to be even worse than it was for humans. He’d gotten violent, he’d lost control, he’d spent more than one night crying on Isobel’s bathroom floor. Alex would be lying if he said it was easy to watch.

However, the Michael that came out of it was a Michael that made him lose all train of thought. He was softer without alcohol fueling him, he was somewhere between that teenage boy Alex had fallen in love with and the man that had insisted he wouldn’t look away. Michael had apologized more than once to Alex for all the wrong he’d done and it coaxed apologies out of Alex himself. They’d somehow managed to repair something between them without even thinking about it and it had Alex feeling more lost in love with him than before.

At first, that had scared the shit out of him. Michael had stood him up to go hook up with his friend and that was something that was extremely hard to forget. Even though he understood what had driven Michael to make that call, he still felt insanely insecure over being forgotten by the man who was at the forefront of his mind every single day since they were 16 and he’d seen Michael shirtless and sunbathing beside Isobel in the bed of his truck.

However, it got a little easier when Michael assured him that’s not exactly how it happened. Alex was on his mind, but agreeing to meet up with Alex hadn’t been. Them agreeing that had been a fleeting moment smashed in between so much life-altering bullshit that he’d forgotten what day it was, much less when he should’ve been back to talk. Michael had insisted that he’d literally just told Isobel that he loved him, it was just hard to process and he wanted something that didn’t feel like it might kill him if he lost it. Admittedly, it felt like a good lie, but Alex willingly bought anything that came from the sincere face Michael had been wearing for a long time now. He wanted Alex to know everything, no lies. Alex was his family, he deserved it all.

That made it significantly easier to be in love with him all over again. All that love was amplified when they started hanging out more and more, getting to know each other better than they ever had. Sober Michael was funny and playful and loud. He cooked a lot, he sang a lot, he worked out a lot. And, not-so-surprisingly, sober Michael was beautifully powerful. The control he’d managed to have over his abilities hadn’t even been considered before, but without shit tainting his system, it proved to be a lot more than that. In a good mind, Michael was gifted beyond understanding. He could move multiple things with little focus, he could feel people’s energies before they even walked through the door, he could fuck with the molecular structure of objects in a way that made it hard to even comprehend.

He could heal a bird with a broken wing.

Alex had been with him when he’d healed that bird outside the cabin. It was nothing more than a fledgling and Michael had taken to it like it was second nature. Alex had watched with blinding adoration as Michael cradled it to his chest and created some makeshift nest from pine needles, watching it for a moment before asking Alex for tweezers to which he complied. He came back with them only to see something on Michael’s face he didn’t recognize. Michael had picked up the bird and brought it to his chest once again. And then his hand began glowing. They were both more than a little speechless when the bird took flight. Alex had to rub his back when he threw up a few seconds later with tears rolling down his cheeks.

Within a month of building on those newfound abilities along with Isobel, they managed to work together and get Max back. For the first time probably ever, Michael was happy. Like, really happy. He was doing good in so many aspects of his life and Alex was more proud than he could even comprehend. So, when Michael had approached him saying that the only thing he was missing was them being together and asked him to go on a real date, Alex couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to say no. Finally, they were both in a place where they could be together and be healthy. Somehow, it felt new.

And, when Michael showed up at his door with a flower in hand, Alex was suddenly 17 and in a teen rom-com.

“Uh, hi,” Michael said, holding out the flower, “This is for you.”

Alex smiled, “Thanks.”

After putting the flower in a vase, they got into Michael’s truck and started heading towards the restaurant. It was weirdly tense as they sat there as if they hadn’t already seen each other naked or have emotional breakdowns. Of course, going on a date would feel like more pressure than, you know, dying.

“So, uh, anything new?” Alex asked once they finally got to the restaurant. Michael looked over with a sweet smile.

“Not much since I saw you yesterday,” he teased. Alex felt his face turn red and then silently cursed himself for acting like a teenage boy. “Oh! Max is going back to work tomorrow. They gave him his job back.”

“That’s awesome! I know he was worried he wouldn’t be able to,” Alex said, again fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves.

“Also,” Michael said tentatively, shifting in his seat, “I’m thinking about going to school.” Alex’s eyes widened.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I want to do something more with myself, you know? I know I’m smart, I could do it.” Michael said. He had such a sweet face that it made it hard for Alex to be upset at the idea of him leaving. They were just getting started.

“That-that’s amazing, Guerin, seriously. I hope it all works out. Where are you thinking of going?” Please say something nearby, please say something nearby.

“Uh, I don’t know yet. Probably just gonna start with like online classes and stuff, see if I like it. I don’t know, I haven’t thought it all through, I just know I want to do more. It feels good doing more.” Alex was almost convinced this was actually a dream. The man Michael had turned into was dreamy. “Obviously, I’ll still work on cars and shit. I like working with my hands. I’m good with them. But you knew that.” Yep, dreamy.

Things began to get a little easier as the night went on. They ordered separate plates but shared the food they’d ordered. They were able to laugh and smile and enjoy each other knowing this was the real deal. There was no confusion. They loved each other and, even though it took eleven years, they finally got to be together.

Driving back home, however, had Alex feeling anxious. Regardless of their history, this was technically their first date. Were they allowed to kiss? He hadn’t touched Michael in so long even though his body literally ached for him and the idea of leaving this night without a kiss was torture. Staring at Michael in the driver’s seat looking happy and healthy and good made him want even more than that. It’d been so long.

Michael walked him up to the door and they stared at each other, suddenly once again in a bad teen movie. Should he make the first move? Should he let Michael? Should they just hug or shake hands? This shouldn’t be so complicated.

“I had fun tonight,” Alex said, trying to make sure Michael wouldn’t leave when he was still trying to figure out what to do.

“Me too,” Michael said, giving that beautiful smile of his. Why was this so hard? They’d kissed and had sex a million times before and under way more confusing situations than this, so why was it suddenly hard? He didn’t want it to be hard. The whole point of working on them as people before they worked on them together was so it wouldn’t be so hard! It wasn’t fair, he’d spent so much time working on things only for it to‒ “Can I kiss you?”

Alex blinked hard, “What?”

“Can I kiss you? I didn’t know if, like, that’s what you want and I don’t want to assume and then go in for it and then be wrong and upset you. And-and I know sometimes when you get that spacey look in your eyes you don’t like when people touch you, so I was just asking. Because I really, really want to kiss you, but I don’t wanna like‒”

“Yes, absolutely, do that, kiss me,” Alex said, nodding his head as a stupid smile found his face. Michael relaxed with a sigh.

“Okay, good, good,” he said, taking one more big breath as his eyes did that dumb thing where he looked Alex up and down. Well, it wasn’t dumb, but it made Alex feel dumb. It was that type of look that made his brain short circuit.

Michael cupped his face in his hands as he moved in, leaving a short and sweet kiss on his lips that felt oddly reminiscent of their actual first kiss. He pulled back just enough to make sure it was okay and it really, really was, so Alex pulled him back. One kiss led to another, happy laughter spilling from them helplessly.

This was good. This was what he was waiting for.

That is until Alex’s back hit the door and all he could see was when Michael had done the same thing to Maria in the middle of the Wild Pony, right in front of him, a few months back.

Alex pulled away sharply, discomfort coursing through his veins as he stared at the man he loved. Michael furrowed his eyebrows in concern, tilting his head.

“You okay?” Michael asked softly. Alex shook off the image in his mind and nodded, bringing Michael back to his lips. He was a good kisser on a bad day, a good kisser when he was drunk and sloppy, but kissing a completely sober and of-sound-mind Michael was something he hadn’t actually done since high school. It was good. It should’ve been amazing.

Except Maria probably got it first.

“Wait,” Alex said, placing his hands firmly on Michael’s chest and pushing him away. Michael took even more voluntary steps back to give him space.

Alex was struggling and he didn’t know why. He’d fixed his relationship with Michael, he’d even sort of made up with Maria. They’d talked multiple times about why she did what she did. Not only had she promised she wouldn’t do it again and then did, but she dated him. She dated him for months in front of Alex, kissed him in front of Alex, stopped talking to Alex all together. She’d been a bad friend and she knew it. She had admitted on more than one occasion that Michael was the first decent guy she’d liked in a long time and she was hoping he would be worth it. But she also wasn’t aware of the history she was putting herself between. Alex said he couldn’t forget, but he promised to try to forgive. He thought he had.

He guessed he hadn’t.

“When’s the last time you kissed Maria?” Alex asked. Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“Huh? Alex, I haven’t even seen her in weeks, she won’t talk to me.” Michael told him. Alex was aware of what he meant, but god his word choice couldn’t have been worse.

“So you’ve reached out to her? You’ve, you’ve tried to get back with her when we were in the middle of fixing things?” Alex clarified. Michael’s eyes widened.

“No! No, I’ve been trying to apologize to her. I used her and I feel awful about it. I mean, I liked her, but I knew I wanted you and I just… I’ve tried to apologize. I swear I haven’t been with her.” Michael promised. Alex nodded slowly as he tried to push her out of his thoughts.

But he couldn’t. And that pissed him off. For months, Alex and Michael had been replacing their negative memories of each other with overwhelming positives. He no longer saw a mutilated teenager or a broken adult, he saw a genius who was kind to a fault. His Michael-centric dreams had gone from torture and misery to sweet domesticities and blush-worthy passion. A future with Michael was finally tangible and right there in his grasp‒but he couldn’t enjoy it. For a moment, he hated both Michael and Maria for it. At the end of the day, though, Alex could only blame himself. He couldn’t just let himself be happy.

“I think you should go,” Alex whispered. He kicked himself when Michael’s face collapsed into sheer panic.

“Wait, no, Alex, just tell me how to fix this. I’ll do whatever,” Michael insisted.

“I don’t know, Guerin! I-I can’t kiss you without seeing her. I don’t know how to make that go away,” Alex said, groaning as he let his head hit the door. “I… I just need some time to figure everything out.”

“Alex,” Michael whispered, “Did I ruin us for good?”

Alex breathed out slowly, “I honestly don’t know.”

Michael turned around, his hands covering his face. This was so fucking unfair. His whole body ached for Michael’s touch, every inch of his skin all but screaming to feel his. But his brain wouldn’t let him. If he couldn’t now after everything that had changed over the recent months, how would he ever?

Why couldn’t he ever win?

“Okay,” Michael sighed, turning back to face him, “I’ll give you time to figure out where to go from here. I’m sorry. I really hope… I hope I didn’t fuck us up,” Alex nodded curtly. Michael’s sad eyes looked over him a few times. “Alright, I’ll see you.”

Alex rested his head against the door, watching him walk away. It felt like a wild twist of events seeing him walk away, especially considering how utterly amazing the night had started out. But, seeing him so upset struck worry in Alex, quickly reminding him that regardless of what Michael had done, he was also a recovering addict.

“Michael,” Alex called. His head turned with that pained look all over his sweet face. “Don’t drink, okay? You’ve been doing amazing, don’t this stupid situation mess you up.” Michael gave a small smile, nodding before healing towards his truck.

Except, when he reached the door, he paused. Alex’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion and he was about to ask if he was alright before Michael swiftly turned and started coming back towards the cabin with a newfound determination.

“You know what?” Michael started as he stepped onto the porch, “We will figure this out‒but together. Almost every issue we’ve ever had could’ve been fixed if we’d just fucking talked, but we were always so bad at it. But, lately, we’ve gotten really good at the whole talking thing and we’re gonna fix this. I love you and you love me and we have literally gone through too much bullshit for something like this to be the end of us. Look, I’m gonna give you some time to yourself, but know I’m not giving up. This is only our first date, we don’t need to have sex or even make out. We’re gonna… gonna go slow and become a real ass couple until there’s no doubt in your gorgeous mind that you’re the only one in the world for me, Alex Manes. We’re gonna see shitty movies together and cuddle on the couch and I’m going to take you on picnics and shit. I’m gonna make you fall in love with me all over again so that our past doesn’t even matter.”

Michael had said a lot of romantic things in the time Alex had known him, but somehow this decision to communicate through the bump in the road of their relationship felt like the biggest moment in his life. Alex couldn’t even help but smile even though he knew that he still had shit to do before they actually fulfilled his promise.

“Okay. Let’s work through this together then,” Alex said softly. He wanted to kiss him so badly that it nearly hurt, but he wasn’t about to ruin another moment tonight on the off chance his brain was still doused in Michael’s tongue down Maria’s throat.

Michael took a step closer, “We’re fuckin’ cosmic, baby, the universe is gonna have to try harder.” Alex snorted, the smile still plastered on his face as Michael kissed his head and then his cheek before taking a step back. “You have a good night and you brainstorm some ways to get your mind full of Michael and Alex, not Michael and Maria. I will talk to you tomorrow, I love you, good night.”

“You brainstorm too, Guerin. Love you, night. Drive safe.” Alex said, grabbing his arm just long enough to place a chaste kiss on his lips. That he could take. That didn’t feel tainted. It was when shit got heavier which, again, was unfair. But he had a new wave of hope that they’d be able to work towards that again. Michael brought a fucking person back to life‒he could help bring back their relationship.

Alex watched as he walked away again, only this time there was a bit of a skip in his step. It was much better than him being sad. Actually, literally, anything was better than him being sad.

Whenever the truck was out of sight, fatigue hit Alex. He’d been on his prosthetic for way too many hours and the emotional roller coaster the last 30 minutes were had him feeling exhausted. He managed to drag himself to the bathroom and drew himself a bath, sinking into the hot water as he brainstormed. The longer he thought, the more it seemed like there was only one real place to start. It wasn’t a place he was excited to start, but he was willing to do what it took to be with Michael. So, when he got out of the bath, he grabbed his phone and sent a quick text to Maria.

Can we meet up tomorrow? I need to talk to you.

#i'm on a role with these 2 am posts #this is fluffier than expected but i was in a fluff mood #also i'm slightly inspired to do a part 2 but who knows #malex #malex fic #alex manes #alex manes fic #michael guerin #michael guerin fic #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rnm #rnm fic #request #3k word #alexs pov

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behardonyourself · 4 years

Text

I AM AN IRONMAN...

I don’t even know how long I have been waiting to write this post. I think I launched my website in March or so, and I remember thinking how cool it will be if I get to write this post a few days after Ironman Arizona.

The journey is well documented on my blog and my Facebook page. I think everyone gets it - I was in the worst shape of my life. A lot of people that haven’t seen me since I left San Antonio in 2013 may not get that, but I hadn’t touched a weight since October of that year. To be honest, I hadn’t done much of anything since then.

First off, I’m not completely crazy. I’m ultimately just some dude. Completely human. I’ve told my story about running in December and not being able to go 1/4 of a mile. That’s completely real. Now, I kept this one quiet, but it’s important to understand that I thought about making a change in October of 2018. I took off running and cramped IMMEDIATELY. It wasn’t 500 feet. It hurt so bad. I then started to convincing myself that “I’m not a runner”, that maybe I was too heavy, running wasn’t healthy, the injuries over the years have taken their toll, etc, excuse after excuse. This journey that happened almost never got started. I was ashamed and embarrassed, but still felt comfort in the idea that I’d figure another way out “to get back in shape”.

I mention that fateful five hundred feet because I know a few of my friends have decided that they wanted to run and felt that exact same feeling of excruciating agony and walked away from any idea that they would eventually find comfort in the most basic exercise that we do as humans.

Many of you are familiar with the struggles in my personal life - 10 days into me actually being committed, my wife fell off of a ladder and absolutely destroyed her tibia, fibula, and just about every other part of her leg. At that time, our daughter Ava was only 5 months old. A lot of people use kids as an excuse not to workout, and trust me, it was tempting. Lisa was immobile. Ava was a handful (all 5 months olds are). Peyton had to be driven to school 30 minutes away (and picked up). So finding time wasn’t an option - the only way to do what I needed to do was to make time. Again, all of these things are on my blog but I think they are important for context.

So my story isn’t that of a runner or a cyclist that had dabbled in a few triathlons and decided to take the next step. Actually, it’s the opposite. I had NEVER ridden a road bike until April. I hadn’t run since 2004. I hadn’t swam a lap in a pool since 1995.

I simply knew I had to do something that scared me and motivated me enough to make me change.

You know what? I did that - in December I signed up for a 5k Spartan race. Really. That was in June and I signed up for it thinking it was going to take me every damn bit of that 6 months to get ready. I’ve called it the race that changed my life. I started training like an actual Spartan. Funny thing is that the body responded quickly, and a few weeks later, I realized that I’d probably be ok to do Spartan by June. So I went absolutely insane, and in January, decided that I wanted something bigger. I was standing in the Bahamas with several co-workers, and they hadn’t seen me in a couple of months due to Lisa’s injury. Juan asked me “what are you training for” and I told him either an ultra marathon, or an Ironman, or “something”. I think he though I was crazy.

Yep, Ironman it is.

Now, if 6 months was plenty of time to get me ready for a 5k race, there’s no one in the world that would’ve believed that I could possibly do an Ironman by the end of 2019. Until about 9pm on November 24, I wasn’t sure that I could do it. I didn’t know the first thing about triathlons, much less Ironman.

Obviously, I did that tiny sprint tri in Denton - and with a 200 yard swim, I hesitate to even refer to it as a triathlon, but it was a “race” and it was a great experience and I met some awesome people - Jeff, Brad, Michael, and a few other people that I’ve actually become crazy close with.

In true Boyd fashion, I never hired a coach. Now, I had 400 people telling me how important it was to hire a coach and I had to hire a coach, and there’s no way to do it without a coach, and you are 10x more likely to succeed with a coach, and a coach, a coach, a coach, a coach, a coach. Every fucking day someone told me how important it was. And you know what? It probably was. So I chatted with people from every sport and talked to triathletes. Lisa was who I talked to about swimming. A guy I grew up with in the mountains of Harlan County, Jon Carroll - was my go-to for running. I discussed bike stuff with many different people. I was fortunate enough to have a few former Tri pros be willing to answer questions for me, but typically they told me that I was doing way too much, that I am hard headed, that I’d end up injured, that they’d suggest something different, etc. One told me to stop asking him for advice because I wasn’t following it. Hell, I even had a sherpa - my buddy Bart always offered to come pick me up when I broke down on my bike. Luckily, I figured out how to fix most things, but he always checked on me, always listened to my boring training stories, always encouraged me and he and his wife even prepared my food the night before I left because I SUCK at cooking.

So who attacks something like Ironman totally blind and without a clear cut plan? Yeah, I’m totally that guy.

But this was never about training my body - Ironman was my way to make my mind as hard as steel and I knew that if I put my body through it every single day and just refused to quit, that finishing Ironman would just be a formality. While other triathletes are worried about all of these stats and protocols, I was just worried about getting up and getting the fuck after it every single day. Completely pushing myself to the limit as many times as possible hoping to do my best to replicate what it would be like on that training course.

Was it the perfect way to train? No. Of course not. I wouldn’t suggest it, and most people would probably do better by paying someone with experience.

For me though? I wanted to shoulder every single bit. I wanted to risk the blame if I failed for the treasure when I crossed the line. I am a self-taught guy. I taught myself to bench press 600lbs. I didn’t pay someone else a dime to get my dead lift to 800lbs when that was my focus. I just went in every single day and spent hours upon hours of forcing myself to become strong. This was no difference. I ran until I couldn’t, and then ran some more. I just didn’t stop swimming. No distance was too far on my bike, and I always pushed harder and harder.

The funny shit is that I completely understand and am educated in the science behind the training. I completely get it. But I also knew that my body would follow my mind into the depths of hell if it was strong enough to go there.

In December, Ironman seemed ridiculous. That guy was 270lbs (I was 201 the day I left for Arizona). That guy was not doing an Ironman, but he had to become someone that could bare the crucible of 140.6 miles.

Whenever you’re putting yourself through the pressure cooker of a long ass training cycle, you’ll have distinct moments that will ultimately make you or break you. I remember mine vividly. Running was rarely “fun” or “easy” for me. It was “more fun than other times” and “easier”, but never EASY. I can think of times I would come to the intersection of where I could come to my house or I could go out for another lap and add another 1.5 to 2 miles if I turned left. I always turned away from my house when I had to make that decision. I can’t count how many times I decided “one more lap” in the pool and it turned into 1000 more yards. I’d cramp and keep swimming. I knew that something shitty could happen in Town Lake in Tempe so I wanted to be prepared. Something shitty did happen, and I conquered it. The bike? I fell in love with it immediately. It was never a task or a chore. It is my love and it’s something I’ll stick with for the rest of my life.

Now it’s time to be completely transparent here. I was totally overwhelmed with the idea of the swim. On the day before the race, we did our practice swim and I freaked the fuck out. I panicked. Now, I swam at a decent pace, but I knew that if I didn’t calm my mind, that shit would break me and I’d have to live with knowing I didn’t get through the first part of the race. Getting kicked in the face did not help. I was terrified all day Saturday and all morning Sunday. But I had to attack it - fear grows when you give it time and I knew that if I didn’t conquer that swim it would haunt me for the rest of my life.

On race day, I felt pretty good. I was nervous about the swim - not the distance. I had swam the distance a few times. Never in open water, and never with 3000 other people, but I knew I had the endurance.

Racing is a lot like life. You can be doing everything right and shit will happen. You can use it as an excuse and convince yourself that is why you didn’t succeed or you can use it for energy. I was given a gift of an excuse just a few minutes into the race when another racer and I were tangled up, and he completely pulled my goggles off. I remember thinking “you have got to be kidding me”. Of anything that could happen, I would’ve ranked this the absolute worst thing. I swam to a support canoe and told the guy “I’m not quitting, just calming my mind”. Again, I was freaked the fuck out but I knew that if I was going to swim this 2.4 mile race in 63 degree water, it was going to be without goggles - so I put my face in the water, and started banging the fuck out of that stuff.

My eyes were killing me - probably from the toxic waste that is Tempe Town Lake, and a bit from the cold water, but I kept trucking on. For much of the race, I had to utilize my backstroke out of necessity - not from an oxidative standpoint, but to give my eyes a break. Once my eyes cleared and I was able to see my Garmin, I realized that I was easily going to make time. Not the 1 hour 25 minutes I had expected, but under the 2 hour 20 minutes that are allowed from the time you entered the water - once my goggles came off, that was the target. Nothing else matters - survive the water, get to the bike.

The funny thing is that at one point in the lake, I just laughed. I thought “who the fuck loses their goggles that early and keeps going?” Me, motherfucker. I sang, smiled, and just kept moving forward.

The best story of the day came after the final turn. I had someone frantically yelling or grunting. Now, I had ear plugs in, so I wasn’t sure where it was coming from, so my first thought was that I had somehow missed a buoy and the support crew was going to send me back. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. Someone had actually caught my goggles and he recognized that they must be mine since I didn’t have any, and he gave them to me. Yes, they were my actual ROKAS. Kind of disoriented, I put them on my head. Funny thing is I actually pulled them over my eyes when I got out of the lake (the swim was over).

After that, I just savored the day. The bike course was great and I was very fast. I smiled, chatted with other riders, pounded the fuck out of the hills and cruised down them. At no point on that bike did I feel tired, dehydrated, or in any kind of pain or danger. Maintenance was always on my mind, but I didn’t focus on what I feared - I focused on what I wanted. And what I wanted was to become and Ironman on this day.

The run was much the same. I kept waiting to hurt or feel pain, but I didn’t. I was in great spirits. I met a guy Mike on the run course after he and I kept passing each other, and at one point, we just stayed together and talked the whole way. Funny that he is from San Antonio and we have a mutual friend on Facebook. My goal was finishing - I felt great, but at about the 13 mile mark, I caught a little twitch in my calf. I did not want that to become a cramp that could shut me down, so I went conservative, ignored time, and we just kept a simple, easy pace to get across the finish line. It was a great time, and I was excited to see that his fiancee also crossed the finish line to complete her first Ironman as well.

In the military, we used to say that you don’t rise to the level of your expectations, you fall to the level of your training. My training was the crucible that hardened me for that race. Race day was legitimately a formality that was standing between me and reaching a bucket list goal of becoming an Ironman.

Disclaimer, I hate stupid positive sayings that people that have never accomplished shit come up with. Laws of attraction bullshit, eat an elephant one bite at a time, etc. Motherfucker, thinking about being an Ironnman would’ve kept me fat and depressed. It took me breaking myself down and looking in the mirror and accepting that I had become a fat piece of shit to get this done. Man, fuck all of that happy thought nonsense. Attack, attack, attack. Figure out the bullshit details later. You tear 10 bites off that motherfucker if you are fortunate enough to get to that beast. Doing that shit on social media isn’t the same thing as kicking ass in real life. That “rise and grind” post at 4am doesn’t mean shit if you pull the covers back over your head. You have to go out and suffer. Your body will react to that invigorating workout on a machine in a nice gym, but your mind will only respond to going into the darkest cave that you can find. Calories burned doesn’t always mean that you’ve hardened the mind enough to make sure that you’re actually ready for what may come at you.

Race day was simply amazing. I took it in. I smiled. I thanked people. I encouraged people. I didn’t let one second pass me by. I was actually sad when I hit that red carpet, but to hear Mike Reilly say “Boyd Myers, you are an Ironman” was completely surreal. I can’t put it into words.

The crazy thing is that I don’t feel like I’ve arrived or that I’ve made it to anything. Hell, part of me thinks “Why have you squandered to much time? What else am I capable of?”

My official finish time was 15 hours and 3 minutes. Finishing under 17 hours is all that mattered to me - to become and Ironman.

What’s next? Haha, well, that’s where it gets fun. I’m looking at Ultraman. In short, it’s a 3 day race: -Day 1: 6.2 mile swim and 90 mile bike ride -Day 2: 170 mile bike ride -Day 3: 52.4 mile run

I am going to take a few days to weigh options and look at timing. I am considering taking a real season of training and prep, but I do know me, and I’ll just get back the fuck after it. No, don’t advise me on what I “should” do, because that’s not really how I’ve lived my life. I won’t listen.

Look, there is not a fucking thing in the world standing between you and your goals except the excuses that you keep selling yourself on as to why you can’t reach them. That’s it - we are capable of so much more than we know. People label me as uber-driven, obsessed, crazy, and a lot of other things, but I don’t have anything in me that isn’t in anyone else in the world. Whatever you’ve been thinking about, attack it. It doesn’t have to be Ironman. It doesn’t have to be fitness related. All that I know that is if I didn’t take those first steps, I would’ve never crossed that finish line. Fuck, in December of 2018, a 140.6 mile race was all but impossible. But now, I just know I can do so much more.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask!

#ironman #ironmanarizona #iamanironman #triathlete #swimbikerun #ultraendurance #motivation #goals #transformation #mybattles #xl

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goldmended-blog · 5 years

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hey lads, i’m neal and this is ryan!! this intro went in like a hundred different directions when i was writing it so i apologize for that...

[ lorenzo zurzolo, 20 ] did you see RYAN JACOBSON's snap story last night? how do you think he plans to get through his JUNIOR year doing stuff like that? i’m sure his parents don’t mind, though. especially since RYAN can be so OBSERVANT + RESOURCEFUL. then again, he can be WITHDRAWN + JUDGMENTAL, so maybe they will mind after all? by the way, did you know his DAD is THE CEO OF BOEING? fuck it, at least their son is hot, his THIRD year is treating him well enough i suppose… [ neal, they/them, 21, est]

HISTORY (cw. injury, accidents, broken bones)

ryan grew up believing he was going to be a star, dreaming of the day when arenas would scream his name and fans would have his number plastered on their backs. but he did not grow up in lavish wealth, OBLIVIOUS his entire childhood of the millions attached to his name in a hefty trust fund. instead he was raised by his mother arianna in a modest enough home --or at least as modest as you can get-- in a california suburb just north of the bay area. a well-respected aerospace engineer, arianna never spoke much about his father, nor were there any signs of him in ryan’s life save for the checks that came every month. he learned early on to not ask questions and came to the conclusion around age ten that his birth had been less than ideal. that was that. if only...

they lived three doors down from a family from minnesota who moved there when he was SIX, the boys around his age were a god-send for his mother who was able to ryan let off energy and steam playing street hockey. street hockey turned into ice hockey soon enough, and against the odds of california hockey ryan absolutely fell in love. his talent for the sport become quite obvious as he grew older, playing his way onto various teams and at 16, being invited to the USNTDP ( us national team development program ) camp. he was accepted into the program and lived the best two years of his life in plymouth, living with a billet family and playing for the ntdp. he played his way through the ranks, signing a letter of intent for boston university and being drafted in the first round of the 2017 draft by the san jose sharks -- practically a dream come true. he played one season at bu before disaster struck...

the summer of 2017 wasn’t just the summer ryan was drafted, but the summer his father michael bolding suddenly decided to take avid interest in him. the exact circumstances, ryan still doesn’t know, but he still vividly remembers that dinner in early may. a lot of truths came out that night, some probably better kept hidden and the least of which being michael bolding was the ceo of boeing. it made a terrifyingly great deal of sense, but even more terrifying was the clear intent : michael bolding expected his son to follow in his footsteps, no matter the fact he’d barely had a fingerprint in his life since birth -- unless you count a check. ryan, of course, refused : he thought he could see his future ahead of him and it didn’t involved millions from a trust fund from a manipulative and absent father. and so, may turned to june and he was drafted; june to september and he played ncaa hockey.

the summer of 2018 was supposed to be about pushing himself, about having a good off-season to come into training camp in september and winning a job. instead, he spent three weeks in icu in a medically induced coma after a horrific accident nearly killed him. his right leg was completely shattered, resulting in metal supports and several grafts and permanent splints in his leg --- the result in the end was simple : it would be unlikely he would skate again and if he did, nearly impossible for him to reach anywhere near his past talent. oh, ryan tried : months and months of physical therapy that while did end with him on skates, certainly never would be good enough to get him to the show when it would’ve been hard enough completely healthy.

michael bolding paid ryan’s medical bills because arianna couldn’t and paved the way for his future at adams university with a clinical efficiency that has convinced ryan of some ulterior motive. call him paranoid, but the details surrounding his accident seem a bit too circumstantial to him, especially since he can’t remember anything from that night after leaving a party -- just waking up in the hospital. so yeah, he’s suspicious. while he has come mostly to terms with this new future, he’s definitely not ready to become michael’s little pawn either.

even in his pre-accident days, ryan had a knack for photography and telling stories and this is the route he’s chosen to take at adams --- and hey, if those investigative journalism classes can teach him anything useful... well...

MISC

ryan plays golf at adams, mostly because he has to. he’s okay at it, but definitely doesn’t love it. he’s still trying to skate and practice his skills when he can -- it hurts less now almost a year and a half after the accident. he also can surf.

photography was a big part of his mental recovery after the accident ; it helped to calm him and gave him a direction to look in life ( much more than his so-called father anyway ).

he’s withdrawn and very observant, prefers to watch things from the outside, even moreso after the accident, but do not mistake that for shyness.

only very close friends can call him ry

he mostly does photography for the school bulletin, but he does write occasionally.

this is his SECOND semester at adams. he started last spring semester and earned his current junior status by taking summer courses.

he’s bi. he’s vaguely aware of this fact.

oh yeah, he was an undersized defenseman when he played ( two-way game, absolute excellent skater )

5′11″

that’s it for now, i think --- so let’s get things going!!

#adamsintro #usually i'm more of a stickler for realism but #this really wanted to go this direction so...#here we are #me @ me: consider... angsty athlete

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awed-frog · 6 years

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hi there! i dont tend to trust sdcc interviews but i figure i'd ask this so i could get your opinion! a big thing they were talking about was the aftermath of michael on dean.. if they do this right it could be SO good and SO interesting for his character.. so i was gonna ask what you think this means for his character? after he is done being possessed by michael?

Hi! I haven’t heard the spoilers, and to be honest my enthusiasm about the show is pretty much in free fall - under a cut and sort of bitter, okay?

So, the obvious parallels that come to mind are Dean coming back from Hell and Dean being freed from the Mark, and I think the time and energy the show spent of those aftermaths is very telling of what the narrative priorities are.

If you look at the post-Hell period - was intense. I haven’t rewatched that season in a while, but I seem to remember they spent a lot of time on how broken and not himself Dean was? And the whole thing, of course, was revealed to be even more tragic than what fans expected when Dean decided to tell Sam about how he’d chosen to torture others. Ouch. That was some truly powerful stuff, especially because in the pre-Hell period Dean had mostly pretended to be carefree - scarfing down burgers for breakfast, having threesomes, and generally trying to convince himself (and others) that since he never had much of a lifespan anyway, this death made complete sense. All of that, of course, was masterfully contrasted with how Dean actually died - he never got the hero death I’m sure many were expecting, the beautiful and sexy death main characters and pretty people are mostly gifted (or burdened) with. Instead, it was terrifying, base, humiliating affair - Dean was literally torn apart by dogs as his baby brother watched (not to mention he regretted his righteous decision as soon as he landed in Hell, and found himself calling for Sam like a frightened child instead of suffering his fate in manly silence). Jesus Sycamore Christ. That was beyond sobering, as was the whole post-Hell period - and especially how Dean wasn’t, in the end, all that happy to be alive again. Again: ouch.

What happened in S11 was rather different. On the whole, I enjoyed that season a lot, but while there were some tense and emotional moments for Dean (like his conversation with God), I found it very odd - and somewhat disappointing - that nobody ever mentioned the Mark again. After all, it was implied (or stated outright? I honestly don’t remember) that the Mark didn’t exactly change Dean; its power was preying on people, and taking their worst instincts to horrifying extremes. For instance, Dean kept hunting, but where he would normally give people a second chance, or find a solution that didn’t involve a full-out massacre, MoC!Dean never cared about that at all. However necessary it was for Dean to choose this burden (and even that is debatable), it led very directly to the death of a bunch of innocent people - Charlie, of course, but also the NoHomo hunter, knockoff Draco Malfoy and Rowena’s godchild (you’d think she’d mention him again at some point, or that Sam and Cas would bring him up in a kind of ‘Hey, remember when we slaughtered an innocent teen on the off chance his beating and bloodied heart could cure Dean? Good times’, but nope). To make matters worse, those four deaths happened in the space of a couple of days? And I get that Dean had other things on his mind soon after he was cured, but I still found it bizarre that they never came up at all. I mean - sure, there were subtextual clues and all that - when are there not, amirite - but to me, it was too weak. Honestly, it looked like Dean (and Sam, and Cas) just didn’t give a damn about the trail of destruction they’d left behind. Because this is what’s never acknowledged in S11: that those deaths were on them. Whoever got killed when Dean had the Mark: on them. And, more directly and unequivocally, all those people Amara killed: on them. That’s some powerful stuff, and yet it’s never explored at all, because it’s not what the current showrunner is interested in.

All this to say: in theory, post-Michael!Dean should be huge. The fact Dean took the decision so quickly was already a narrative blunder, considering how he’d been in exactly the same situation (and worse) in earlier seasons but had decided to say no to Michael. I mean - Dean’s free will and how it clashes with his need to help others - that’s the core of the character, and yet it took one line of dialogue to erase it into nothingness. Now, heading into S14 it looks pretty likely that Dean will rid himself of Michael very early - we’re talking two or three episodes, max, and apparently that’s our fault or something (don’t even get me started), which means this Very Meaningful and Earth-Shattering thing is already losing importance in favour of - I don’t know.

(More KFC demons? Lucifer’s cousin Throckmorton? Bobby and Mary’s budding romance and how that is finally the thing that turns Mary into a Tupperware wife and removes her from the boys’ lives in a believable way? I guess we’ll see.)

Will it have an effect on Dean? Obviously I can’t say for sure, but I doubt it.

Like, for one, Michael has no beef with Dean, and vice versa. These two characters are not connected in any emotional way. To Michael, Dean is just a random and contemptible human; to Dean, Michael is just another over-ambitious freak in need of a good beheading. As for archangel possession - that’s tricky. Some guys are left empty shells; Sam wasn’t, and Cas wasn’t (and Dean is another main character, so he can’t be hurt too badly). Sam suffered a lot, but that’s because Lucifer hated him and had a personal vendetta against him. As a comparison, when Lucifer possessed Cas, he basically gave Cas a nice TV and never bothered him again, and I think that’s a more accurate description of the connection between AU!Michael and Dean. Neither of them cares enough for this thing to escalate. So whatever happens between them (Michael dies; Michael is kicked back to the AU!world; Michael finds another suitable vessel; Michael is forced into an unsuitable vessel), I don’t think there’ll be a lot of focus on how that changes Dean.

On the plus side, there are solid narrative reasons for that lack of focus to make sense. For instance, Dean’s never been the emotionally stunted troll fanon keeps pretending he is, but over the last two seasons he’s really made an effort to make his feelings crystal clear, and he’s been berated and ignored every single time. So if I were him, I don’t think I’d be very eager to confide in Sam ‘What about MY feelings?’ Winchester, Mary ‘Ew, I don’t want to be your mom’ Winchester or Cas ‘You humans make everything so needlessly complicated’ Winchester (he’s a brother now, right? even if for some reason we’re seeing him less than Jack). No, Dean is likely to keep his feelings private - despite the fact this experience should, logically, be a turning point for him. We know Dean has big issues when it comes to giving up control, and possession is - inevitably - also a metaphor for rape, which is - canonically? - a part of Dean’s past (look at Alastair’s unnecessary queering, for God’s sake). So a post!Michael Dean - he could have less confidence in himself, especially if his decision ends up doing more harm than good for some reason, or he could develop PTSD and decide to retire because he’s got nothing left to give (narratively sound, but not a place the show can afford to go to) or he could become nihilistic and even more determined to get his blaze of glory ending, and sooner rather than later (after all, we know he gets suicidal when he feels he needs to atone, so).

From a RL perspective, I don’t know how much of that we’ll see. Considering how little they used post-MoC!Dean, I think maybe we can expect some new crisis which will keep the focus off Dean’s feelings and opinions. On the other hand, S13 was basically a ‘best of’ of the Kripke era, so it’s possible that S14 will revisit the post-Hell!Dean theme in some way. I don’t know. Lately, the show seems determined to prove our heroes are Good People Who’ve Done Nothing Wrong Ever, so from that perspective Dean saying yes to Michael should turned out to be a Big Mistake, because Dean saying no to Michael is basically half of what saved the world the first time around. Then again, I’m not seeing a lot of coherence on that front (I’m on team ‘Why was the AU!world even about Mary’, sorry about that), so, really - everything is anyone’s guess. At this point, the one thing we can predict about Supernatural is that if you’re interested in the characters’ inner lives and in them actually evolving in some healthy way, you’re better off with fanfiction.

I apologize. I know that was depressing and bitter. Here is a baby owl.

#ask #spn meta #spn season 14 #dean winchester #michael!dean #spn criticism #spn negativity #not a mary fan #also not a dabb fan #tbh not an anything fan atm #then again it's after midnight #and i'm having family problems again #so there's that #sorry this was so hopeless :/

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deeeelightfuldee · 3 years

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The person you had the strongest feelings for dies, do you care? I would be devastated. Even if we are no longer talking, it would destroy me to know they aren’t on this earth anymore.

Is there something you’re happy about at the moment? not really no. well, I mean I’m happy with a conversation thats happening.

Do you want someone dead? absolutely not

Do you ever wonder what your ex is up to? if it’s kile we are referring to, yeah. I’m getting a lot better putting it out of my mind. my other exes heckin no except for the other one I loved.

Have you ever fed or taken care of a stray animal? absolutely. we have adopted some from that method ahah

What is something you tend to worry about? people I care about. Like I worry that they’re safe, mentally OK, healthy, etc.

What is something you do that is unhealthy? hold on too long.

What is something you do that is good for you? I talk well about myself usually and I look for positives

What last caused you to force a smile? something in a video i thought was funny

What was the last video game you played? Was it fun? animal crossing. my controllers are SUPER whacked so it wasn’t too fun. I miss playing my games but I can’t afford new controllers yet

What is something not many people know about you? my assaults/history probably. I’m a very private person over all so i think most things people know about me are things they can see.

What word describes your basic style? classic

Have you ever been told you were going to Hell? oh a customer once told me that because they wanted a special ordered crib that day and it was a 12 week wait. so obvs a legit reason -.-

Have you ever wanted to kill yourself? .

If yes, what convinced you not to go through with it? ..

Have you ever rejected a guy, only to have him push the issue by asking “why?” and insisting that you just need to get to know him better? yessssss

Is there something that you believe everyone should do and you can’t believe that some people don’t do it (e.g., recycle or go to the dentist regularly)? brushing teeth or CHANGING THEIR SHEETS

Regarding the last good choice (healthy choice, kind choice, selfless choice, etc.) you made, what was your real motivation behind it? I made a choice to let go of a love that was destroying me. the motivation was like okay, i’m seeing he doesn’t love me, hes not going to love me. I’m spending my time, energy, and attentions to love him and I could be missing out on someone who loves me back.

What is something that you have had to practice at to get the hang of it? If you can’t think of anything, that’s okay, what’s something you are currently practicing at and trying to master? sewing

Have you ever gone to the store to buy something, like a video game, when it came out at midnight? never for me but I’ve gone with friends who were getting them -.- ridiculous

Regarding the last novel you read, was there a romance included? If so, was it central to the plot? yesssssssssssssssssssssssss and yes

Have you ever done relaxation meditations or listened to relaxation guides or positive-thinking/healing recordings? I’ve done that for school but not on my own personally

Do you have any interests that are also often shared by children? art, animated shows/movies, games

Is there something that could be a solitary activity but you really only like to do it with other people (e.g., watching movies, playing video games, etc.)? hmm, not really. I like going to tjmaxx & target better if I’m with someone.

Are you satisfied with the interior design or decoration in your home? Or do you think it needs a total home makeover? for the most part. because its not my money that pays the rent I def don’t get weird about it. but I like most ofit

Is there something that you’d like to own but you can’t find it anywhere? If not, can you a remember a time when you wanted something? Did you ever end up finding it or did you eventually stop wanting it? yes. I really want a particular type of coat but its hard to find.

Who makes you smile the most? hm. ummm... kile made me smile today he was bein a bit crass. it reminded me of how happy he used to make me. he used to be the one BY far that made me smile. these days its fairly even across the board.

What piercings do you want/have? I’d love to have my cartilage pierced again but it always gets infected because of my blood so i’m fine with what I have

What's your favorite website? probs tumblr.

Do you own a fish tank with fish? currently no

Do you like the movie 300? neverseen it.

Do you pop your knuckles? yup all the time

Do you have Photoshop? no its expensive

Do you use tinypic or photobucket? no

What’s your favourite song from the 1980s? if I had the effort I wouldlove to genuinely figure it out but I only have a quarter-butt effort rn

How about the 1990s? ^

Have you won anything recently? nerp.

How often do you make Excel tables? What for? pretty much never.

What was the last baby animal you saw in the wild? probably a bunny

Are you always available or online? I’m usually available

Do you have dietary restrictions? Or do you just eat what you like? gluten sensitivity and dairy sensitivity

Do you prefer gold, silver or steel jewelry? Or no jewelry at all? I always loved silver because I think it’s so attractive but it turns out gold is VERY nice with my skin tone and since I have had to replace all my fine jewelry from kile with cheap stuff i can afford, i buy pretty much all gold.

Have you been binge-watching any shows lately? If so, what? I was on a gilmore girls kick but right now im watching bobs burgers.

If you dye your hair, do you do it yourself or go to a salon? i loved when I used to get it done professionally but its literally several hundred dollars and I just don’t have that.

If you have any, do you like your in-laws? I don’t have any. < Same.

Would it bother you, if your partner had cut contact with their parents? yes and no. It would be hypocritical if I said omg yes, you should always be in contact with your parents --- because obviously I never ever ever talk to my dad. But for a lot of people I know.. they put so much blame on their parents for things that are fairly unjustified or unrealistic expectations for their parents to not be human-like and remain perfect. It destroys me because I have spent years crying and aching for a father figure in my life that to think some people just create unnecessary division is frustrating. However, if there is serious conflict and its a matter of safety (physical/mental) then absolutely no problem with boundaries.

Have you ever wondered whether you were adopted? hahahaha yes when I look like neither of my parents nor my siblings.

What’s the best physical feeling in the entire universe? honestly, loving and being loved.

Have you ever grown a berry bush? No

Have you done something new to your hair recently? I chopped about 15 inches off.

Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medication for it? no. anxiety really has never been a problem for me, thankfully.

One thing you’ve experienced that you thought you never would have? rape

What was the last thing someone said to you that kept repeating over & over in your head? i replay conversations from my split with kile despite my desire to forget it.

How often do you have late nights out? pretty much never lol its just not my scene. I’d kind of like one or two a month but I don’t know anyone that would go out with me and it can be unsafe as a female to do so alone.

If you could, would you work from home? Do you think that would make you more or less productive? yes. I’m oriented to pretty strict self-discipline so it wouldn’t be a problem for me.

If you had the ability to change the weather, what would you change it to right now? either a really strong thunderstorm or cooooooooold weather

Is there something that you really need to do, but can’t seem to get motivated to do it? my motivation is completely there but my health is not

Most disturbing movie you have ever seen? i never remember names of them because i legit tune it out in my head.

Has a life goal or dream ever come true for you yet? If yes, what is it? If no, do you think you’ll achieve it? I always dreamt of going to college and doing well. I accomplished that (and then some!) I got into my dream colleges. I always wanted to travel by myself and I did. I always wanted to be in love and I was.

Have you ever had food poisoning? Yup.

What are you listening to? the freakin’ funniest song ever in bobs burgers -- the derek dematopolus song

Do you think there will be a WWIII? I would not be surprised. there is a lot of animosity in this world

Has anyone ever asked you if you were emo? lol no. i’m a super smiley, happy person so it wouldn’t be expected of me.

Has someone ever liked you that you never thought would? definitely. Michael always throws me off my guard that he likes me.

In all honesty, can a person be too nice? people always say yes that they get taken advantage of but I think those are two separate things. I believe you can be endlessly nice even with boundaries. I wish people aired on the side of overly nice than the typical overly rude

Has one of your friend’s boyfriends ever tried to cheat on them with you? in HS Is mental abuse really as bad as physical abuse? absolutely. the effects are devastating

Do you shop at Sephora for make-up? once in a blue moon. but only online

Zelda: Twilight Princess or Ocarina of Time? i never really played either

Do you own a rosary? no,I’m not catholic

0 notes

scarpool-gmk · 3 years

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Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 5 (6/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings: N/A

"Where are we at, right now?" Annabeth sighed out.

Grover glanced at her, his pretend Boss, before quickly going back through the recorded security feed he was viewing along with Tim. Annabeth had instructed him to look over the tape specifically to look out for anything monster or divine related, trusting the mortals to find any suspicious happenings themselves. Guess she wasn't just pretending to be the Boss. A very tired one at that.

"BOLO's out on Marko Tarsibo," Agent DiNozzo reported, "Metro has been notified, and the local LEOs and highway patrol have been informed to look out for him and his fancy ride."

"McGee, Underwood," Gibbs called, a new cup of coffee steaming in his hand, "Where's Michael Kahale?"

"Getting it, Boss," Tim responded, "Tarsibo's security is just one long continuous feed. I'm having to rewind."

"Rewind faster."

"You know," Grover thought aloud as he watched the speed of the video increase to an hour per second, "He never really comes out of his office. He only came out when you guys were- wait! There!"

"I see it," Tim said, "Putting it on the screen, Boss."

Grover turned to watch as Marko Tarsibo sauntered out of his office to greet Michael.

"Is there audio on this?" Gibbs asked.

Tim shook his head. "No."

"Everything looks to be going all right," Percy commented as he watched the video.

Agent David hummed in disagreement. "Sergeant Kahale seems very tense."

It must have been something that Tarsibo said, but they couldn't hear. In an instant, Michael had a dagger at Tarsibo's throat. A celestial bronze dagger. It was a little blurrier than the rest of the video, but there was no hiding it. Well, there was the connection that Annabeth wanted Grover to find.

"Woah!" Agent DiNozzo exclaimed, "Bad deal? Shows us how the business can really be cutthroat."

The scene became less tense as whatever Tarsibo was saying, made Michael remove the dagger from the man's throat. A mistake that Grover recognized. Monsters could be incredible tricksters and could lay down some intense traps. Michael moved to take out a pouch from his pockets and dumped the contents on the counter.

"Gold coins?" David wondered.

"Whatever it is," DiNozzo said, observing as Michael was handed car keys and left, "He certainly didn't pay in cash. We thinking a gold smuggling ring, Boss?"

"I don't think so," Gibbs said and turned to Annabeth, "What did you get on the person Kahale called?"

"The phone was a burner, but the name of the contact was Annabeth Chase."

Grover tried not to look too conspicuous as he glanced at Annabeth.

"I spoke with her parents, who live in San Francisco," Annabeth continued. "They have not seen her for months."

"Get a BOLO out on her."

"Already did."

Grover was snapped back to his own assigned job as he saw a scene blur through the screen.

"Stop," Grover demanded, his heart skipping a beat.

The other discussions in the squad room stopped.

"What?" Tim asked.

"I said stop," Grover snapped, staring at the video, "Let it run."

Nothing happened on the screen for a while.

"What are we looking at, Underwood?" Agent Gibbs asked.

"They will come on any second, now," Grover murmured.

"They?" Agent David asked.

Shadows rippled across the rental as the door opened, and a couple walked in.

"Kids?" Tim said, surprised, "Wonder what they're doing here."

"Aw, look," Agent DiNozzo teased, "They're matching."

"Purple is a nice color, Tony," David said.

Grover didn't say anything. He didn't dare remove his eyes from the screen. He recognized the way the kids carried themselves. He recognized the battered and tired way the kids looked. He recognized the way they considered the room. He recognized the way the video blurred in specific areas to hide divine weapons. Grover wanted to yell at them to run away. They had no idea what they were about to walk into.

Grover's blood ran cold as he saw Tarsibo come out of the office, the smile masquerading on his face looking sleazier than usual. The conversation they had was short before Tarsibo made an obvious gesture towards his office.

"I don't like where this is going," Tim said. Agents David and DiNozzo made a sound of agreement. Gibbs and the demigods stayed silent.

The door closed behind the three of them, blocking them from the camera.

"You sure there wasn't any surveillance in that office?" Tim asked, worried.

"We're sure," David said.

The office door swung wide open, and one of the kids scrambled out. He was covered in blood spatters. He was running. But the boy didn't get to go far. Tarsibo came from behind him, a curved blade in hand, and gutted the boy. The tip of the sword gleamed from its place, sticking out of the boy's chest.

They watched as the man- no- as the monster dragged the dead boy back in the office.

"He…he killed them," Agent DiNozzo whispered.

"They couldn't have been older than thirteen," David stated.

"Get back over there and lock it down," Agent Gibbs ordered, "Bring anything you can to Abby. McGee, get an ID on those kids. Keep going through that security feed."

"Boss, check this out," Tim said. He brought up the recordings again. The time was a little under a week old. A day before the date of the murder of the kids.

"Don't tell me it's more kids," Agent DiNozzo said.

"No," David observed as the video played out. "It is Mrs. Kahale."

They watched as Mrs. Kahale interaction lasted less than three minutes and ended with handshakes.

"Well," DiNozzo commented, "She's still alive."

"Bring her in," Gibbs said and headed towards the elevator.

"I'll update Director Vance," Annabeth said, "Grover, can you go through the video?"

Grover nodded.

"Where are you going, Boss?" DiNozzo asked.

"Autopsy."

"Gibbs," Annabeth called, climbing up the stairs, "I'll meet you at Abby's after your visit to Ducky. I want to see those notes as well."

Gibbs lifted a hand in response.

DiNozzo gave a long sigh. "I guess someone is going to have to go back to the dealership."

"I'm already on the way to pick up the stepmom," Clarisse huffed, snatching her gear and hurrying her way out.

Tony stumbled to get his own stuff, but David beat him to it. "You've already paired up with Agent La Rue, Tony," she said, giving her excuses, "Besides, you already know the way there."

Grover shared a smirk with Tim as Tony stood there, betrayal written on his face. The smile fell of Grover's face as he got to work going through all of the tape.

"Come on," Grover heard Percy say, "Let them have their girl time. They should have a great time discussing um…"

"All the ways to kill and torture someone?" Tony supplied weakly.

"…Yeah…"

-Σαμεσ-

Jimmy was helping Dr. Mallard with the final stitches for the deceased Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale when Agent Gibbs strode in.

"Ah! Jethro! How good of you to come down. Ziva nor Anthony are injured?"

"Both okay and working, Doc. What have you got?"

"A time of death. Sometime from one o'clock in the morning to one thirty. I can also confirm that, although very healthy, the Staff Sergeant had been taking to consuming greasy food for the past couple of days."

"Bar food," Gibbs said.

"Yes," Dr. Mallard nodded, "I did a thorough autopsy. His internal organs were perfectly fine; I'd dare say this young man never drank a drop of alcohol in his life! But there were definitely tissue and muscle scars in numerous places."

"He's like an ancient Greek soldier," Jimmy mused. "Like in the stories. You know, Achilles…" He faltered as Gibbs turned to look at him, and he felt the nervous need to explain. "Well, Abby has the Greek notes you found, and like the knife which was Greek and stuff." Jimmy's face burned as he ended his stammering.

Dr. Mallard gave him a small smile, "Actually, Mr. Palmer is quite right to make such connections."

Really? Jimmy beamed with relief and admiration for his mentor.

"Besides all of the things that you found in the Sergeant's apartment," Dr. Mallard turned the head of the man to the side and pointed at the bullet hole, "What do you make of this?"

"Skilled shot," Gibbs said, "Went straight through, clean kill."

"Yes, skilled it may have been," Dr. Mallard said, "Or luck."

"Not a chance, Duck," Gibbs scoffed. "I don't believe in luck, especially not with a shot like that from the driver."

"Yes, but Abby found something that makes me believe that our killer certainly believed in luck and Fortune- Fortune with a capital F."

"Ah, Ducky, no more mythology stuff."

Dr. Mallard chuckled, "I believe that it is a prominent theme in this case. There were many times when I served where old mythologies and superstitions were practiced by the local soldiers or militia. And these scratches on his back, I believe, were placed there because of Hellhounds."

"Hellhounds?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes, in many religions, including sects of Christianity and many mythologies and folklore, Hellhounds were the hounds of the Devil or the underworld who sniffed out and dragged souls down to the fiery abyss."

"So, it's a message?" Gibbs questioned.

Ducky shrugged. "I'm not quite sure."

Gibbs groaned. "Alright, let me go see, Abby. And we might need you some more, Duck," Gibbs said, "I'll get McGee or Underwood to send you a video."

"Catch a murder on tape, did you? Who is the victim?"

Gibbs stopped right as the automatic doors hissed open and turned around. He held up two fingers. "Two kids, Ducky." He walked out.

Kids!? Jimmy looked at Dr. Mallard with wide eyes. Were they going to have to dissect kids!?

Dr. Mallard gave a long, sad sigh. "Mr. Palmer," he said, "Once you are done helping me with Staff Sergeant Kahale here, you may go home for the night."

Jimmy nodded. He trusted Dr. Mallard to know his assistant's limitations. While this would be a good teaching moment, Jimmy just wasn't ready for it yet.

-Ανναβετη-

Annabeth climbed the rest of the way down to the upper basement level at the same time as the elevator dinged, signaling Agent Gibbs's arrival.

Gibbs gave her a wary look. "Waiting for me?"

Annabeth smirked. It was always nice to know that she had calculated the timing perfectly. "Nope, I just came down." She frowned at the large drink the older man was carrying. "Should she really be having another one?"

Gibbs gave a shrug while shaking his head, before continuing into Abby's lab. Annabeth groaned at the assault on her ears. She hoped she wouldn't have to endure this for long.

"Gibbs!" Abby exclaimed. "Lima!" She gasped, her eyes shining, "And Caf-Pow!"

She went to grab it with both hands, but Gibbs held it away from her. "Abbs, the notes. And Ducky said you got something on the bullet."

Abby pouted but went straight to work. "So, bullet first because if I start talking about the notes, I will lose it. That guy was amazingly talented and the fact that-"

"Abby," Gibbs interrupted, "The bullet."

Abby took a breath to calm down. "Okay," she said with an excited smile, "The bullet has an engraving."

"An engraving?" Annabeth asked, "Of what?"

Abby pulled up the picture, blowing up the image of the bullet to show the engraving in detail.

"A wheel?" Gibbs said, an eyebrow raised.

"Not just a wheel," Abby corrected, "The wheel of fortune, the symbol of Fortuna."

"Tyche," Annabeth modified. Although that wasn't entirely correct. None of Tyche's symbols were of the wheel of fortune.

"No," Abby insisted, "The wheel is more a symbol of the Roman goddess, not the Greek one."

Oh. Well, Annabeth felt sheepish. While being steeped in the Greek world, she had barely touched upon the Roman myths. She should definitely brush up on that. It seems that the Roman myths may have some connection with the divine world.

"So, what are you saying," Gibbs asked, "That our killer was aided by a god?"

Annabeth shifted. Well, it was a possible scenario. And if that's what happened, this case just got more complicated. But why would Tyche help kill the son of Athena?

"Although, I'm sure that there are all sorts of supernatural beings around," Abby said earnestly, "That shot was made by one skilled shooter. No, the engraving is really cool, and I'm sure the story behind it is just as awesome, but I want to show you the equipment that made it."

A photo of a bulky machine came on the screen. "Ta-da! The Automotive-Plus Micro-Laser Engraver FZ-300™! Want to take a guess at who owns one of those?"

Annabeth gave out a tired sigh. "Marko Tarsibo."

"Ding! Ding! Ding!"

"Great," Annabeth said, "More evidence against this guy. We just need to find him."

"Not done yet, Lima," Gibbs said, "Not till we get it out of him."

Annabeth frowned at him. "Isn't a foolproof pile of evidence good enough?"

"Nah," Gibbs said, "I prefer getting a straight confession."

"Oh, is that how you do things? How's that been working for you?" Annabeth teased. No way would people just admit to hardcore crimes to this guy.

"Been working pretty well," Gibbs said with a self-satisfied nod.

Unbelievable.

"Anyway," Abby said, "Now that that's over with, let's move on to Michael's ridiculous brilliance."

"What do you got?" Gibbs said.

"Horrible grammar," Abby said in a weird tone.

Gibbs gave her an odd look. "What?"

Annabeth mirrored Gibbs. "What was wrong with his grammar?"

Abby gave a gratified smile. "It's Greek for 'Ancient Words.'"

Oh, Annabeth realized, Abby was speaking Greek. 'What she needs is a better translator.'

"McGee was right. This is no code – or maybe it's the best code!- I gave this to a dozen professors and researchers after our Greek consultant told me that it was just Greek to her."

Abby snickered. Annabeth ignored her but could feel the unimpressed aura Gibbs gave off. Annabeth shuffled through Michael's notes. They might have been gibberish to whoever this consultant was, but Annabeth could read it perfectly fine.

Words jumped out at her. 'Monsters.' 'Drowsy Owl.' 'Weapons.' 'Money.' 'Botsaris.' Annabeth frowned. Why did she recognize 'Botsaris'?

Annabeth tuned back into what Abby was saying. "This isn't just Greek. Michael was writing in Ancient Greek! Apparently, with such skill that he was able to use advanced abbreviations, conjugates, and contractions. He even used words that are unheard of.

"The professors that found this said that it would take some time; I'll call you when they give me anything new. I promised them a look at my findings of the possible Orichalcum to speed them up a bit. Currently, we know what was written in English and what the translators have already translated. This includes mentions of two known Mexican Cartels: the Sinaloa cartel and the Reynosa Cartel. There was also a mention of what the Ancient Greeks labeled as the Islamic Region or Middle East, but there is a bunch of side scribbles alongside that, we need to wait for translations."

Annabeth hastily searched through the pile for the mention of the Middle East, trying not to draw attention to her actions. She found it on a napkin.

'Idea: Business extends to Middle East

Get in on wars Terror Cells? Very Ambitious Botsaris is key Confirm hypothesis by tagging Botsaris'

There it was again. 'Botsaris.' What was it about that word that called out to her?

"There is also a note of a 'Something Owl Tavern' which we can interpret to mean the bar that he went to, Drowsy Owl," Abby continued, "And there is a whole bunch of mentions about monsters, like something about 'Monster Donuts'; I would love me a mean doughnut."

Annabeth was roughly brought back to reality, disbelieving her ears. "What did you say about doughnuts?" She asked. Because no way was that particular chain involved.

"I would love some."

"No, the shop."

"Monster Donuts?" Abby said.

"Shop?" Gibbs asked.

Annabeth froze. Uh-oh. She slipped up. Annabeth cleared her throat. "Um, yeah. Monster Donuts. It's a fast-food chain that serves, er, doughnuts."

"Really?" Abby pressed, "I've never heard of them. Are they any good? I should totally check them out!"

"No!" Annabeth yelped, startling the two government employees. "I mean, they're pretty bad," Annabeth played off, "Gross, even. Besides, who knows what sort of trouble they've been getting themselves into?"

Annabeth coughed awkwardly. "What else do you have, Abby?"

Abby continued her report, telling who she gave the information to and listing their credentials.

Annabeth paid no mind, her head wheeling over this new material. They had, thus far, no encounters with any monster besides Marko Tarsibo. But if Monster Donuts was involved, then there should be monsters crawling everywhere in the city. Suspicious.

"Abby," Annabeth said when the forensic scientist was done giving all she had, "Can you please send me copies of those notes as well? Thanks."

Annabeth turned to go up the stairs but didn't make it to the second step.

"Lima."

Annabeth cringed. It wasn't like she was trying to run away from the man.

"Yeah, Gibbs?" Annabeth said, expecting to be grilled on her display in the lab.

"What did you get on the missing person file that the Kahales submitted?"

What? Annabeth was disoriented. Oh, that! Right. "Um, it was a dead-end," she sputtered out, "Didn't lead anywhere."

Gibbs nodded and entered the elevator, leaving her to breathe out a sigh of relief on her own.

-Κλαρίς-

Ziva and Clarisse sat in the observation room, watching Patricia Kahale shift in interrogation.

"What is it with this woman? I cannot believe that she is involved," Ziva said.

"We don't know that for sure," Clarisse grunted, "It would seem straightforward to have Tarsibo be the murderer, and that's what I would prefer it to be."

"I would have preferred there to be no murder at all!" Ziva retorted.

"Well, we can't have everything," Clarisse mumbled.

The door opened, and Gibbs and Annabeth walked in.

"She call for a lawyer?" Gibbs asked.

"No," Ziva answered.

"Alright, let's go get some answers," Gibbs said.

"I can go in there if you want," Clarisse offered. "I'm pretty good at interrogation," she adds after Gibbs gave her a dubious look.

"What are we thinking?" Gibbs asked with a light, joking smirk, "Good cop, bad cop?"

Clarisse shrugged and brushed passed him. "As long as I'm not good cop."

She didn't wait to see if he would follow and entered the interrogation room.

"Agent La Rue," Mrs. Kahale said, "What a wonderful room you have here."

Clarisse grunted as she sat down and regarded the woman. She leaned in. "Your eyeliner is smudged," Clarisse mocked, pointing to her own face for emphasis. "Just there."

Patricia's lips turned into a thin line as she glowered at Clarisse.

Gibbs strode in with a file under his arm. Clarisse ignored his lifted eyebrow as she gave up her chair for him. He was the old man in the room, after all.

"Good evening, Mrs. Kahale," Gibbs greeted, "I am Special Agent Gibbs."

"Do you know why you're here?" Clarisse cut off, impatient.

"You think I had something to do with Michael's death."

Right on the money.

"You are just here for some basic questions," Gibbs reassured. He put the file on the edge of the table after grabbing a notation pamphlet from it. Clarisse took the hint and grabbed the file, rifling through it. She frowned. Not how she would have preferred, but she could definitely work with this.

"Where were you last night?" Gibbs opened up, starting his interrogation.

"Last night?"

"Hm, around one to two in the morning."

"I was asleep with my husband."

Gibbs dedicatedly wrote her words down. Clarisse decided that she would also start on her part of the interrogation. She placed two photos down. She tried not to let her smirk show as Kahale's eyes widened at the change of direction.

"These are some interesting pictures, aren't they?" Clarisse noted, referring to two shots of Michael's body at the scene of the crime. One was a headshot highlighting the, well, headshot.

Mrs. Kahale shifted uncomfortably.

"How long did you know Michael, Mrs. Kahale?" Gibbs asked, unfazed by Clarisse's actions.

"About five or four years before he left," she answered.

"See," Clarisse explained, "The bullet went from the driver's side of another car, through the window of Michael's car, straight through his head." She lightly poked Mrs. Kahale's head.

Kahale threw daggers with the glare she sent Clarisse's way. Pretty good, but not even close to the level Clarisse was used to.

"What was he like back then?" Gibbs continued.

"Troublesome," Kahale responded, but her words sounded carefully placed. She paused, "He was just attracted to trouble. You know how some kids can get." She offered a smile. Gibbs gave a small one of his own and continued to write on his pad.

Not to be deterred by being ignored, Clarisse pressed on. "A nice clean kill. Amazing shot. Shooter had some incredible skill."

Kahale didn't spare her a glance but did try to defend herself. "I've never used-"

"Or luck," Gibbs commented, interrupting whatever it was that Kahale was going to say.

Clarisse frowned at him. What was he talking about?

"Killer had some great fortune. Must have spun the wheel and landed lucky."

Gibbs seemed to hit a spot. Clarisse saw Kahale's carotid artery pulsate rapidly. She didn't know where the old man was going with this, but she silently encouraged him to keep pressing this button.

"Hit any jackpots lately, Mrs. Kahale?" Clarisse asked with a grin.

Kahale stayed silent.

"Do you need something to drink?" Gibbs asked, with a look of concern. "I know the air in here can be really dry…"

"No, and I don't know what you are talking about," the woman said stiffly.

Gibbs smiled and held out his hand to Clarisse. She handed him the files and went to lean on the wall. Gibbs placed a photo of Marko Tarsibo down.

"Do you know this man?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes," Mrs. Kahale affirmed. Clarisse raised an eyebrow at the honesty. "Mr. Tarsibo is a client for the company I'm under."

Gibbs made a note of that.

"You know what your client did besides rent out luxury cars?" Clarisse questioned.

"His life outside the business was none of my concern," Kahale stated.

Gibbs pulled out more profiles, this time of the two kids, the unknown demigods.

This time, Clarisse didn't have to wait for Gibbs to even ask if she recognized them. The way the lady immediately averted her gaze and furled her fists were confirming enough.

"No," Kahale said to Gibbs's question, "I don't know them."

"Really?" Clarisse said, "You hardly took a glance; take a closer look."

Kahale grabbed the photos and made a show of inspecting each one. "So sorry," she asserted, looking straight into Clarisse's hardening eyes, "but I really don't recognize them."

Clarisse clenched her jaw. This infuriating piece of cyclops spit! "So sorry," Clarisse sneered back, "but I think you're lying."

"Well, too bad!" Patricia Kahale yelled and slammed her hands on the table. Clarisse grinned as she coaxed the feelings of anger to rise. "I don't care what you so happen to think! You have no idea what I've been through! What I've had to endure and do for my-

Kahale stopped abruptly, choking on her words. Her face slackened into a look of shock. And then a wave of rage, a real fury that Clarisse hadn't drawn, rolled off the woman. "You," she spat towards Clarisse. "How dare you, you brat! How dare you use that against me!" She pulled her composure, breathing heavily. "I'll need a lawyer if you wish to proceed to keep me here."

Gibbs nodded slightly, his eyes seeming to bore into Clarisse. "You'll be free to go, Mrs. Kahale."

Clarisse turned to go. She didn't wish to stay any longer. She silently cursed to herself. Well, if Mrs. Kahale didn't know demigods had infiltrated into federal agencies, she sure as Hades did now.

But, before she could leave, she had to say the final word. "He was a good soldier. A good man. You should be proud."

-Ανναβετη-

Annabeth walked out of the interrogation room, mind set on rebuking Clarisse, just to find Agent McGee waiting outside.

"Agent Lima!" the nerdy agent awkwardly greeted, "Is Gibbs in there with you?"

"He's finishing it up with Mrs. Kahale. What's up?"

"Abby made some progress and wanted to share before she leaves for the day."

They waited for both Clarisse and Gibbs to come out. McGee escorted Mrs. Kahale out while Clarisse and Agent David tagged along with Annabeth and Agent Gibbs.

They found Abby with Percy and Agent DiNozzo in the garage. A whole bunch of bits and bobs littered a scene that Annabeth deduced was to mimic Marko's High-Performance Cars of East Maryland.

"Oh, hey guys," Abby greeted with a quick glance, though she did a swift double take. "Woah, I love your shoes!" She exclaimed, "And epic hair!"

"Um, thanks?"

Wow. Annabeth had never heard someone compliment Clarisse's fashion style.

"You look killer! Like an MMA fighter. Sweet!" Abby's eyes were practically sparkling.

"Don't go stroking her already inflated ego," Percy told Abby.

"Shut it, Prissy! No one asked your pencil-thin form!"

"Hey! I'll have you know…"

"What have you got, Abbs?" Gibbs asked as the two demigods continued to squabble in the background.

"Okay, I IDed the kids." She pressed some keys on a laptop. "Meet Jeremy Swaller, an orphaned and missing twelve-year-old from Wisconsin, and Natasha Hibashira, a fourteen-year-old, Japanese-American from California. She disappeared from school records a couple months ago, and her only family connection is her mother. No father is mentioned."

Annabeth did not recognize the names or faces. She glanced at Clarisse, who had thankfully stopped her argument with Percy. But Annabeth only got a small shake of the head.

"McGee also cleaned up the images of their weapons. Now, I can't really say for sure, but I don't think the composition of their swords is the same as Michael Kahale's dagger. Theirs seems more golden."

"I also have got the crazy guy's things set up in here. I'm going to test and search for blood samples tomorrow after I take a field trip to his evil lair. You gotta get this horrible man, Gibbs!"

Gibbs started to reassure Abby, but Annabeth wasn't really paying attention as some things from Tarsibo's place grabbed her interest. And things suddenly made sense.

Annabeth picked up a flag. Freedom. Religion. Country. She knew this flag. How many times did she read about the Greek Revolution, the fight for independence against the Ottoman Empire? How many times did she try to teach all the information to bored demigods? She knew Botsaris. General Markos Botsaris.

"Marko Tarsibo…" How could she not have seen it before? It was glaring at her the entire time!

"What was that, Agent Lima?" Gibbs asked.

"Huh? Oh, nothing!"

Gibbs quirked an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"So, what's our next move?" David asked Gibbs.

Gibbs released a breath. "Can't do anything more for today. Go home."

"Will do, Boss," DiNozzo said enthusiastically.

"Do all of you have arrangements for your stay?" David asked, directing her words towards the Long Islanders.

"Yeah," Annabeth answered, "We're good."

She saw Clarisse cross her arms.

Well, they'll find somewhere.

After saying their goodbyes, Annabeth's team moved out. They shared all the info they had each found. Annabeth took the initiative to scold Clarisse on manipulating Mrs. Kahale's negative emotions in front of the mortal investigators.

"You did what!?"

"Shut up and keep eating your shirt, Goat boy!"

And, after moving on to another hotel since they had an incident with a couple dracanae clerks in the first one, Annabeth ordered Grover and Clarisse to get some rest. Before she could get some much-needed rest of her own, she wanted to go somewhere. She asked Percy to drive her to a specific address.

"You sure you don't want me to go in with you?" Percy said as he rolled to a stop.

"I'll be fine. I'm sure he's not a monster in disguise."

"If you're sure…"

Annabeth kissed him. "I'll be right back."

'Famous last words.' Annabeth shook the thought out of her head as she moved towards the entrance.

Annabeth knocked. She waited a bit before steeling herself and opening the door. It was open just like she knew it would be. A creak in the next room made her freeze in her tracks.

"Gibbs?"

A light flickered on. Gibbs was there on a couch, with a meager, ragged blanket and a depressing looking pillow.

Annabeth hesitated. "I'm sorry. Were you sleeping?"

The older man shook his head with a sigh. "No."

"I asked Director Vance where I could find you for a talk. He said that your door was always open."

Gibbs lightly scoffed. Hopefully, the Director wouldn't get too mad at Annabeth for giving him up like that, but she felt that Gibbs would appreciate honesty. He motioned for her to sit as he shuffled into his kitchen.

"I know you don't really trust me, and that's fine. Really. I'm okay with having to earn trust. But with everything that happened today, between the rental car guy and Mrs. Kahale, I wanted to see if I could help mend our relationship."

"Nothing broken to fix."

Annabeth would have to disagree.

He came back with a bottle of beer in each hand.

"No, thank you," Annabeth declined.

"Driving?"

"No, Percy is. I'd just rather not."

Gibbs shrugged and took a sip from his bottle, getting comfortable on his couch again.

"What's your relationship with him?"

"He's my boyfriend."

"Already breaking my rules."

"Really? Which one?"

"Rule 12."

"Rule 12?"

"Never date a co-worker."

"Good thing that he was just a friend that just happened to work with me."

Gibbs chortled and lightly shook his head.

Annabeth grinned. "How many of these rules do you have?"

"Oh, about 50."

"You have them written down somewhere?"

"Nope."

"Guess I'll just have to write them on my pillow, then," Annabeth joked, "Learn via diffusion."

Annabeth didn't know if she imagined the chuckle Gibbs gave turn a little flat.

Gibbs fiddled with the bottle. "What did you gather from Abby?"

Annabeth exhaled. "I was going through Michael's notes and found the name 'Botsaris.'"

"Know him?"

"Not exactly, Markos Botsaris was a General during the Greek War of Independence in 1821. I recognized the flags that Tarsibo had in his office. They were Greek flags. The one that represents Greece today, the one from the First Hellenic Republic, the Freedom or Death flag, and most importantly, the flag of Saint George slaying a drakon."

"Most importantly?"

"The General was a revolutionary. He raised the St. George flag in Western Greece before the war really started."

"And how are Marko the businessman and Markos the General related?"

"Just a theory," Annabeth said, although she was almost certain.

"I'll hear it."

"If you take an 'S' away from 'Markos,' it becomes 'Marko.' And if you take an 'S' away from 'Botsaris'…"

"Then you can rearrange it to make 'Tarsibo,'" Gibbs finished. "An anagram."

Gibbs took a deep breath. "Ancient Greek heroes and flags; the freaking writing; Roman goddesses and symbols; Mexican cartels. What is going on?"

Annabeth took a look at the scene before her. Dimly lit room, beer bottles, and a lived-in couch. It's a big place to live by yourself. Especially if you're an old man who seems to have nothing except his occupation.

"Hey," Annabeth asked nervously, "Do you need any company tonight?"

He looked over to her. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. "Nah, I'm fine, kid. Go get some sleep. You'll need it."

"So will you," Annabeth retorted. She softened up. "I'm glad I was able to have this talk, Gibbs."

"My door's always open, Lima."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

"And Lima," Gibbs called, "How old are you, really?"

Annabeth looked him in the eye. "Twenty-six. Have a nice night, Gibbs. See you tomorrow."

"…Yeah."

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#scarpool #fanfic #fanfiction #Godly Marine: Killed #NCIS #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #PJO #Crossover #gen fic #PG/K+#Writing #Complete

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willelbyers · 7 years

Text

As The Seasons Change (we do, too)

Summary: Spring turns to summer and Mike falls out of love. Summer turns to autumn and he falls right back in—but it’s with the wrong person. Three years later, autumn turns to winter and he knows that everything is different. Pairings: Will/Mike, past Mike/El Notes: It’s post-season 2, about 4,300 words, with a healthy dose of Will & Max and Mike & El friendship on the side

So this is dedicated to Mishi @biwheelers because she’s amazing and a byeler shipper and so many of my ideas are from conversations with her and I couldn’t be more grateful! (Read her writing, too, because it’s awesome!)

This is posted on Ao3 here as well as written out below the cut. Enjoy!

It’s April. They’re almost in high school now, the two months left of school leading into the summer before freshmen year looming over them, thirteen turning fourteen years old and counting, and Mike knows that everything is different, or at least is going to be different—and not just because of the monsters.

Even now, four months after the Snowball, he remembers the feeling of his stomach flipping and his eyes going wide as El walked through the school’s doors in her new dress. He remembers how electric she made him feel when they kissed. He knows that he loved her, because she’s dazzling and bright and so, so beautiful. It almost burns. And he knows that they’re barely teenagers, and he knows that it’s a little early to experience love, but that doesn’t change that it is what it is.

He visits her in the (new) Hopper family’s hidden cabin once a week, usually accompanied by the others. They hold hands, sometimes, and on the rare occasion they’re left alone, Mike will indulge himself in more of that electricity he finds himself chasing after all the time. Her hair curls as her vocabulary expands, and her wardrobe slowly evolves with the help of their friends into something that’s a mix of what the Chief had been giving her, more of Nancy’s old clothes, and whatever she’d been wearing when she showed up at Will’s doorstep.

El is the wind and smoke and lightning, shifting and changing as she feels like it, and Mike loves her for it. They all do.

But then spring turns to summer and Mike falls out of love.

It happens all at once and he doesn’t understand: he sees Eleven now and he still loves her—because how could he not?—but the burning feeling is gone. There are no more butterflies, no more eyes-wide-open moments. The memory of electricity has dulled—he hasn’t kissed her in a while, and he thinks with a thrill of fear that she must have noticed.

So one day in June, he grabs his bike and pedals into the woods even though it’s four in the afternoon on a Tuesday and not a visiting day. He moves as though he isn’t in control of his own body anymore, and as he knocks on the door he feels another tingle of fear because though the pain isn’t comparable, this is what Will must have felt like when He was here.

El lets him in, confused because she knows no one scheduled this. Mike looks at her, with her hair curling around her ears and one of Max’s sweatshirts layered on top of Nancy’s old pale yellow T-shirt paired with some of Will’s jeans and black combat boots he doesn’t recognize, and he doesn’t know how to tell her that he doesn’t think he can kiss her anymore and he doesn’t know why.

So he tries, instead. He leans forward with every intent to meet her mouth, but he just… can’t. He can’t. He turns his head at the last minute and kisses her cheek instead before hugging her. A surge of guilt wells up in his chest and he can’t quite pinpoint why, because it’s not like he’s hurting her by not kissing her.

“I love you,” he says instead, and it doesn’t feel like a lie at all.

Her arms come up to wind around his shoulders, and he feels her mouth turn up into a small smile—the only kind she knows how to make. “Thank you, Mike. I love you, too.”

There’s something in her voice that should give Mike pause, but he ignores it because maybe reality won’t exist if he pretends it isn’t there.

Spring turns to summer, and Mike pretends that he’s still in love.

Summer break rolls right on by, and the high school building looms in the mind of every incoming freshman—including Mike.

So he does what every sane kid would do: he ignores it. He fills the dull spaces between waking and sleeping with friends (and less with family), with day trips to a nearby lake, with visits to the Hopper House, with absolutely anything. It goes by in a flash, his basement blurring in with Will’s room and then the park, every time they watch Max as she skates mixing up with playing with Dustin’s new cat and chasing Lucas’ sister down for stealing their stuff. Mike thinks that maybe next year, he should try to slow down, because summer is gone far too quickly for his liking and it feels like he’s done nothing at all.

That feeling comes to a complete stop, however, one day in September. School has been in session for a few weeks already, and the leaves are turning red and yellow. Mike walks through the forest with Will (and only him) at his side, taking careful steps that crunch on every brown leaf and coordinate with Will’s smaller strides.

They walk in circles for a while before Will takes an abrupt turn. Mike follows him because he’s too trusting, because even though this is the same forest where everything has gone wrong in the past and Will tried to kill him a year ago, Mike would die for him.

And it wasn’t even Will, then, he reminds himself. It’s hard to shake the memory of Will’s shattered eyes and broken screams, the emptiness of a slate wiped clean and the horrendous thrashing and the pure hatred in his face, but Mike knows it wasn’t Will at all.

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but as Castle Byers comes into view and they fall back into step with each other, Mike grabs Will’s hand. He’s only fourteen years old, but he knows what love is. He knows that electricity El used to give him, and he knows that Will’s hand gives him that, too.

They settle down inside the fort, Mike so tall that his head brushes the ceiling as they sit. He realizes that Will hasn’t let go of his hand, and he still doesn’t as his right one picks up a sketchbook. He flips it open and Mike watches as each page presents a face—some in deft strokes of black marker on white, some loose sketches in pencil, but most in strange monochromatic color pencil pallets that are almost ethereally beautiful. He sees exactly one self-portrait of Will, in indigo. His lips are tilted down into a frown, but he doesn’t look sad—maybe just focused. Mike notices Max in orange, her face taking up the whole page with hair seemingly spilling off the edges—Will really does seem to be making the effort to help her integrate into the party. Even if Mike still isn’t thrilled about it, he recognizes that she helps Will, and that Lucas likes her, and they all deserve it. Lucas himself is in a pale red, looking challengingly out at the figurative audience with his bandana on. Dustin is in a bright, sunshine yellow, grinning at someone out of the metaphorical frame. There’s El in green, one page with her face just as he knows Will first remembers seeing her—shaved head, Nancy’s dress with the neat collar, determined stare. The page directly opposite has more of El in the same color, but smaller, different angles and hairstyles and outfits, one sketch of her wrist with the tattoo, some full-body silhouettes. Mike supposes that Will probably gets El to model for him a lot—they’ve been spending a lot more time with each other since Jim and Joyce started dating.

There’s one of Mrs. Byers herself in some dark shade of pink, with a bright smile Mike can’t really ever remember seeing on her—and he’s known the woman for ten years, so that says a lot. There’s Jonathan in turquoise, camera raised just up to his shoulder. There’s one of Steve in purple, bat over his shoulder. Nancy makes the cut as well, a gray-blue color tracing her as she looks over her shoulder. Even Chief gets a sketch, though it’s not done—Mike can only make out the vague shape of his hat and face in a mustard yellow before the page turns.

He spots himself, too, on more than one occasion. His face takes up several pages in light shades of blue, soft smile on his face as his hair falls into his eyes no matter the angle or pose, and his stomach swoops because in that moment he understands how Will sees him.

When summer arrived he knew he wasn’t in love anymore, but as autumn storms past he knows that he’s fallen right back in.

Senior year is crazy even within the first month. El is working overtime already, managing the lighting booth for the theater club and taking a job at the local diner as a waitress during the evenings. Lucas is on the football team and Dustin joins band. Max works the afternoon shifts at the skate shop across the street from the diner—she hasn’t lived with her mom or stepdad or stepbrother in over a year, hopping between her friends’ houses; she needs the money.

Will joins in with El, volunteering on weekends to paint the backdrop for the school plays and working as a waiter at the same diner. Will and El do everything together, now, because Joyce Byers is now Joyce Hopper, El has a family after a lifetime without one, and Will finally has the sister he needs and has a mutual understanding with. They finally have all the things they deserve.

Mike, on the other hand, doesn’t even have a job because his parents insist he doesn’t need one.

“You need to focus on your studies, Michael,” his mother tells him when he hesitantly proposes the idea of him finding a job—at the grocer, maybe, or the music store that opened right next door to the skate shop. “College is coming up fast, and you don’t have time to be away from your schoolwork.”

“Besides,” his father says through a mouthful of roast beef. “We have all the money you need. Once you have a degree and a real job, you can support yourself, but until then, just let us handle it.”

And it makes Mike feel bad, because his dad talks like he doesn’t know that Will and El and Max need the money from their apparently “not real jobs”. It makes him feel bad because he sees their name tags, the tiny silver pins that read Will and Jane, the lanyard with the card that said Maxine M. until Max took a sharpie to it, the uniform with Sinclair and the feathered hat with Henderson, and Mike wants to do something. It makes him feel bad because he feels useless all the time, because he might not need to support himself but he wants to. He wants to know that he can do it.

He sulks in his room a lot, alone, turning the pages in his textbooks without reading anything at all, and it just so happens that one Wednesday in November the temperature plummets. That day at half past four, he hears his supercom buzz on his bedside table, and he turns to frown at it. None of them really use it to communicate anymore. But he sets aside his homework to pick it up and listens as Will’s voice floods through, staticky, telling him to come downstairs.

Mike instantly flies out into the hallway, pulling on his jacket over his thick sweater. He thunders past Nancy’s empty room, which is slowly accumulating new layers of dust once again—even just in the two months since she’d gone back to college.

“I’m going out, Mom,” he says, slowing down in the kitchen just enough to get the words out coherently. She says something after him, but he’s already out the door.

“Mike,” Will sighs as the front door closes behind him. He’s wearing a puffy coat that has a distinct “this used to be Jonathan's” look, and there’s a hat pulled over his hair. He has a small bag slung over his shoulder. Mike notices the goosebumps on the back of Will’s exposed neck—the result of cool air interacting with a haircut from junior year that Will has maintained. Before Mike can reply, Will’s arms are wrapped tightly around him. “I’m so glad you were home.”

“Like I would be anywhere else,” he replies, somewhat bitterly. Then he frowns. “I thought you were supposed to be working at the diner with El tonight. It’s Wednesday.”

“Called in sick,” Will mumbles. “Technically not lying.”

The alarms go off in Mike’s head. “Anniversary effect?” he asks, and Will just nods, burying his face into Mike’s shoulder. Static crackles in Mike’s ear, and he suddenly realizes how Will called him on his radio when Will’s own comm is nowhere in sight.

The anniversary effect, Mike knows, is a very real thing. Will really does have PTSD, it’s just that the inter-dimensional visions thrown in make it hard to differentiate what’s what. But it’s November, and it’s finally getting—

“Cold,” Will says, finishing Mike’s thought. “Yeah. That’s what set it off. It’s cold.”

Mike blinks for a moment—he’ll never get used to Will cluing into his thoughts. But the cold has never had the same connotations for any of them since the Mind Flayer, and Mike knows it’s the worst for Will. “Okay. Well… what do you want to do? Where do you want to go?”

“Quarry,” Will answers immediately. “The quarry.” Mike tenses up, because Will’s suggested it before but they've never actually gone through with it, and now he really sounds certain and Mike’s not sure he can do it. “If that’s okay with you,” Will adds, tugging the strap of his bag so Mike can feel it. “I… I can’t draw, not right now, but I brought Jonath—my camera.”

Mike feels Will breathe against him for a moment and eyelashes flutter by his neck, making him shiver. He can’t draw, it always turns into maps and vines and dark versions of what he starts out with. It’s November.

Will deserves this—to make his art, to get a grip on his fears, and if Mike can help then he will. “Yeah. It’s fine. Let’s go.” Then he pauses, because Will and El’s shared car (a gift from Dr. Owens they hadn’t wanted until they realized how practical it was) is nowhere in sight. “Wait. How did you get here? How are we getting there? My parents would never let me take the car.”

Will pulls away, smiling slightly. He picks up a skateboard leaning against the side of Mike’s house—right, of course. Will and Max are really close, now, due to shared trauma and shared interests, and she’s been teaching him to skate. Honestly, he’s not bad. “We both know you’re terrible, though,” Will teases halfheartedly. “And there’s no way we’re skating all the way out there anyway. El needs our car at six, Lucas is at practice and Dustin is in rehearsal so we can’t take theirs, but Max is working late tonight and when I called she said we could borrow hers until half past eleven.”

Mike groans dramatically, and Will laughs softly (and that’s why Mike does it). Max’s car is a really old secondhand one, fixed up with parts cobbled together from the junkyard with help from Dustin, Lucas, and Steve, and it always smells like burnt onion rings. Mike hates it, and everyone knows it—but it drives (even if it doesn’t go much over twenty-five miles per hour). And, anyway, if it’s to help Will, then Mike will do anything.

Will tucks the board under his arm, a silent signal that tells Mike that they’re walking. Mike watches Will carefully, sees how the small smile on his face falls almost instantly after their laughter is done. Without thinking, Mike takes Will’s free hand, ungloved, tangling their fingers. Will’s breath catches for a moment, and Mike pretends not to notice. They walk like that until they get within the vicinity of the shops, and then Will reluctantly drops Mike’s hand and shoves his own into his pocket. Mike pretends that his heart doesn’t also fall.

His watch beeps the hour—five o’clock—as they wave at Max through the window, keeping their heads low so Will’s supervisors at the diner across the street don’t see him skipping out. She grins at them, quickly scurrying to the door and tossing Will her car keys.

“Have fun, boys,” their Zoomer—Rogue, during campaigns, but in their hearts she’ll always be a Zoomer—grins. Mike can’t believe he ever hated her—she’s fiery and funny and she cares, and even if she’s still annoying, well, Mike has been putting up with Dustin for five years and arguing with Lucas for ten (and Holly, jeez, as soon as she started talking she just didn’t stop). Max really is a force of nature, and Mike knows he’s always going to care about her no matter what the end of high school brings.

“Thanks again, Max,” Will says as he twirls the keyring around his finger. His smile is weak, as it always tends to be, but the redhead’s presence seems to loosen him up at least a little bit.

“No problem,” Max waves it off. “Just be back by—”

“Eleven-thirty,” Mike interrupts, grinning smugly. She knows he’s not really being mean. “We got it, MadMax.”

“Whatever, Bike Wheels,” she retorts, nickname sparking a wicked glint in her eyes before it fades. “Just… you know, come back safe. We all know how this town gets.”

Will makes a little noise of agreement in the back of his throat, and Mike knows it’s because Will really does know how Hawkins gets. He knows because Will has told him that he can sense the town itself, as it lives and breathes.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “Yeah. Sure. See you later.” He grabs Will’s elbow as they walk around the corner to the staff parking lot. Will makes a beeline for the driver’s seat, and Mike doesn’t protest like he usually would because it seems like Will could benefit from focused driving. Instead, he just clambers up into the passenger’s seat and rolls down the window before the burnt onion ring smell can get to him. Will turns the key and the car splutters to life, hacking in a way that makes Mike grimace nervously. He takes Will’s hand again and Will doesn’t startle—which is good, since he’s driving. They drive the rest of the way in silence, Will’s left hand on the wheel and Mike’s on his right.

Will slows to a stop as the quarry comes into view just as Mike’s watch beeps the hour once again—six o’clock. Mike lets his thumb brush over Will’s knuckles before he lets go and jumps out. Will does the same, bringing out his camera bag but leaving his skateboard in the backseat.

Mike watches Will for a moment as he looks around, hefting the camera contemplatively as if considering taking a picture. After a moment he lowers it frowning slightly. Mike wants to walk over, to ask what’s wrong, but at this point everything feels wrong so he looks away. He wanders down to the cliff’s edge, staring down into the water for a moment before he sits, legs dangling over the side. He finally hears the sound of the camera clicking before Will walks over to join him.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asks as he sits, setting the camera down behind them, warmth pressing into Mike’s side. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong? and Mike loves him for it.

Mike shrugs, eyes fixed on the horizon, light rapidly fading. “You know what happened here.” He remembers, so vividly, the feeling of plummeting past rock toward deadly hard water. He remembers how he hadn’t screamed until he stopped falling. He remembers thinking, this is it. This is how I die. We’ll never find Will. I’ll never see him again.

He remembers watching the firemen pulling Will’s body out of the water, too, the plummeting of his heart and hope. He remembers how hard he had cried that night—only rivaled by the night El disappeared. He remembers how awful this place feels.

Will’s hand presses between his shoulder blades, over his coat, firm and grounding in a way that Mike finds so ironic for the boy who never goes a month without slipping into another dimension. “Yeah. I know.” He’s silent for a moment. Then the hand comes away from Mike’s back and he takes his hand. “That’s why I wanted to come here.”

And Mike already knows. He knows that this is the place that he thought he’d lost Will forever, that this is the place he thought he’d die in. He knows that the stories give Will nightmares—normal ones, not visions, but they’re just as bad. He already knows why Will brought him here, because Will always knows how to take something ugly and turn it into something beautiful.

So Mike squeezes Will’s hand. It’s comfortable, familiar, and something shifts in his chest because everyone around them seems to think that it shouldn’t be. They’ve been like this for at least three years, probably much longer. But there isn’t a clear “like this”, they just… are. It doesn’t make any sense, and the question pops into his head, unbidden: What are we?

He’s not going to ask it; he doesn’t want to burden Will with anything else. It’s not the same as him and El were—it can’t be. And Mike knows that he loves Will, thinks he loves him like that, but Will’s the one who can read minds, not the other way around. And the way Will acts around him, Mike sometimes thinks he feels the same, though he can’t be sure. But Will hears him.

“I don’t know,” he says out loud. His grip tightens on Mike’s hand. “I don’t know what we are.” He looks at Mike, and Mike can see the fear shining in his green eyes. “Do you?”

Mike thinks about lying—but Will would know, anyway, and Mike doesn’t need to lie to him anymore. “No. But we can figure it out.”

“Figure it out,” Will repeats, and suddenly Mike sees it: he recognizes the feeling of his stomach flipping and his eyes going wide when Will grabs his hand. He recognizes how electric Will makes him feel when he just walks nearby. He recognizes that he loves Will, because he’s dazzling and bright and so brilliant. He’s brilliant, and it burns. It burns and burns until the darkness is forced out and the heat settles until it’s a comfortable warmth. And he recognizes that they’re teenagers, that it’s still a little early to experience love, especially for the second time around, but that doesn’t change that it is what it is. This is El all over again but different, because this is a boy, this is Will, and it’s beautiful—he’s beautiful.

“Yeah,” Mike says. “But if it changes anything, I think I love you.”

Will’s eyes still look afraid, but he smiles. I’m not in your head all the time, he tells Mike. I don’t like it. It reminds me of Him. So I wasn’t sure. “It changes a lot of things,” he says out loud. “Because I know I love you.”

Mike’s not sure who initiates it, but then they kiss, legs dangling off the cliff—and isn’t that a great metaphor? Just a little past crazy, but they’re crazy together—as their fingers clutch onto collars and sleeves. Mike’s hands come up to the back of Will’s neck, sliding into his hair, pulling him even closer. Something about this kiss feels different from electric, almost more like pure ozone has settled over his skin, and he’s buzzing with it. He’s warmed to the bone, and he hopes, in a part of his brain not lost in a fog, that Will feels it too. He doesn’t deserve to be cold. Will fumbles with something behind him for a moment before lifting the camera, somehow managing to take a picture without dropping it or pulling away from Mike. And, hell, if Mike doesn’t love him.

I still don’t know what we are, Mike thinks, opening the doors and letting Will into his head. He doesn’t know because he doesn’t know what they can be, what they’re allowed to be. But then Will pulls back an infinitesimal amount, his heavy breath tickling Mike’s lips.

“We can be whatever we want,” he says, barely a whisper. “We don’t need permission. We can do anything we want.”

Mike kisses him again, short and sweet. “Anything,” he echoes, smiling, hand still on Will’s neck and pulling him in again. “I like that.”

They keep on like that for so long that they end up only having two pictures from that night— one of Mike, from behind, sitting on the cliff’s edge as the light fades, and one of them kissing as the stars come out, angle tilted—but it’s enough to know that Mike doesn’t hate the quarry as much as he used to. Like he said, Will has always turned terrible things beautiful.

It’s November, autumn is turning to winter, Mike’s in love, and he knows that everything is different.

I hope everyone enjoyed! Reviews are, as always, appreciated. Find me on Ao3 here (and again, go read Mishi's stuff because it's awesome!)

Thanks for reading, everyone!

~Logan

#stranger things #stranger things season 2 #byeler #byler #mileven #mike wheeler #will byers #eleven #max mayfield #jane hopper #el hopper #jane ives #fanfic #fanfiction #long post #biwheelers #logan writes stranger things stuff

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