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#none of the producers are exactly bad at it
mynameismckenziemae · 4 hours
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Unbroken
Part 8
(previous part here, next part here)
Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x You
Summary: You fall for Bradley more and more with every day that passes. Someone from your past shows up.
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Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, p in v, brief oral (m receiving), fooling around while driving (again), asshole ex-boyfriend, a sprinkle of violence, fluff, etc.
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Days turn into weeks and the weeks pass quickly. Soon the days get shorter as summer fades to fall. Your feelings for Bradley keep growing stronger with every moment spent together; which isn’t nearly as much as you’d like with your packed schedule and Bradley’s early mornings.
You’ve only been able to spend the night together once since the night of the rodeo with you being on-call and Bradley on the carrier training, so to say you’re excited for the long Thanksgiving weekend off is an understatement.
Charlie: You and Bradley want to go to Buck Wild tonight with us? There’s a band.
Emma: I suppose. You do realize it’s going to be a high school reunion, right? Everybody’s home for Thanksgiving and everybody goes out the night before. 🙄
Charlie: Perfect time to show off your hot boyfriend 😉
Emma: Oh. That’s true 😏 What time?
Charlie: 7ish.
Emma: Perfect. Just a heads up-I’m blaming you if I’m hungover tomorrow.
Charlie: That’s fine. Ruth loves me, you know it’ll somehow be Jake’s fault though, right?
Emma: Exactly 🙂
Charlie: Being the only child wasn’t always so bad.
You laugh and get back to work.
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“Hey sweetheart, sorry I’m late,” Bradley says, giving you a quick kiss before opening the door to the Bronco for you. “The last hop went longer than expected.”
“It’s okay, I was none too early, I just finished getting ready a few minutes ago,” you reply, pausing as you buckle in. “You know, we could just take my truck,” you smirk, unable to resist teasing him.
He scoffs, taking your seatbelt to finish buckling you in. “Nope. The Bronco is just fine. I still don’t get what you have against her.”
“It’s a Ford, Bradley,” you reply with disgust. “Back in the day, driving a Ford was a dealbreaker for me. You’re lucky I’ve gotten lenient in my old age.”
“I am pretty lucky,” he chuckles as he reaches for your hand to place a kiss on the back.
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The place is packed as expected but Jake and Charlie snagged a table in the corner.
“How’d you manage to get a table?” You ask over the noise once you make your way over, drinks waiting.
“Willie gave us a reserved one when I told him you were coming,” Jake responds with an eye roll as he hands you both a beer.
You catch Willie’s eye behind the bar and blow him a kiss, laughing when he catches it before placing it on his cheek.
“Must be terrible not being anyone’s favorite,” you tease, jabbing Jake with your elbow.
“Whatever,” he huffs. “I’m Charlie’s favorite,” he says as he puts his arms around her.
“Ehhhh…I don’t know about that. You were until your socks missed the hamper-hey! I’m kidding!” Charlie laughs when he tickles her sides.
“Drinking tonight?” You ask when you count four whiskey shots on the table.
“Yeah, the last pregnancy test was negative but I figured it would be since Jake was on the carrier this month when I was the most fertile, according to the app at least,” she replies as she pushes a shot glass over to you then Bradley. “I’m not worried though, it hasn’t even been 2 months. We’re also having a lot of fun trying.”
“Gross,” you blanch before clinking your glasses together. “Cheers.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Charlie tells Bradley when he sets his glass down, shuddering at that burn of the whiskey.
“Hope so,” he laughs.
“Almost forgot,” Jake says, producing a cowboy hat from the chair beside him and handing it to Bradley. “Gotta have one of these if you’re gonna live in Texas.”
“Thanks,” Bradley smiles, putting it on and turning to you. “What do ya think?”
“You look good,” you reply before leaning in. “Might steal it later.”
“Oh yeah?” He asks as heat flashes in his eyes.
You bite your lip as you nod. You both have been so desperate for one another that you haven’t tried many positions yet, always so eager to get him inside you. But with Bradley taking the lead you were getting more comfortable and confident.
Taking him for a ride in nothing but his new hat sounds like a great idea.
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Just as you’d expected, it’s like a reunion in the packed bar. Thankfully, you’re able to avoid a lot of the small talk when the music starts
Soon you’re feeling good; drinks are flowing and the band is playing songs everyone knows.
“I’m stealing Emma to pee!” Charlie yells to Bradley as she grabs your hand.
“Girls can’t pee alone,” you explain when he gives you both a puzzled look.
He looks to Jake who’s just as confused as he is but they just shrug before following you off the dance floor to head back to the table.
“Oh my gosh, Emma! Hi!”
“Hey Britt,” you say, turning around with a fake smile. “Go agreed, I’ll be there in a minute,” you tell a dancing Charlie.
You nod as the old frenemy prattles on, not letting you get a word in edgewise before she leaves you to find someone more interesting to talk to.
The men’s room door swings opens as you walk past and you bump into the person coming out
“Oops, sorr-“
“Hey Em,” the man interrupts and your blood runs at his voice.
“Chet,” you nod curtly as you move around him but he grabs your arm.
“Too good to say hi?” He says, pulling you close. Close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath.
He’s drunk, and he’s always been mean when he’s drunk.
“Yeah, Chet. I am. I’ve always been too good for you,” you spit, trying to pull your arm free.
But he’s stronger and he pushes you against the wall before crowding you against it.
“That’s rich,” he chuckles darkly, “weren’t good enough to keep our baby alive.”
Your eyes close as the weight of his words sink in. While it hurts, it doesn’t crush you like it would’ve in the past.
You’re healing.
Before you can respond, he’s on the ground, knocked out cold.
“Ow,” Charlie mutters with a grimace, shaking out the hand she just clocked Chet with.
“Holy shit, Char,” you gape at her.
“I’m sorry-he was in your face, and then he said that about you not-about the baby,” she stutters. “I just saw red. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Don’t be sorry, he deserved it,” you say, holding your arm out for her to take while she steps over his snoring body. “Let’s go before he wakes up.”
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“Tabs paid?” You ask when you reach the table.
Jake nods.
“Okay good. ‘Cause we have to go. Like right now,” Charlie says, turning for the door.
“Everything okay?” Bradley asks as he follows them out.
“Uh…,” you stall until you get outside in the fresh air, feeling like you can finally breathe. “Yeah, we’re okay.”
“What happened in there? You look like you saw a ghost,” Jake asks, leaning against the bumper of his truck.
“I ran into a girl I knew from high school on the way and told Charlie to go ahead while we talked for a minute. I was headed to the bathroom and ran into Chet as he was coming out,” you sigh. “He’s drunk and he started saying stupid shit-“
“It was awful. He said she wasn’t good enough to keep the baby alive,” Charlie says quietly, tears heavy in her voice.
“Oh Em,” Bradley says, wrapping you in his arms.
“He’s fucking dead,” Jake growls, rising to head back in, but you stop him.
“I’m okay. I promise. I know it’s not my fault. He’s drunk and gets off on hurting me,” you say. “He’s gonna be the one hurting tomorrow though.”
“I dunno, I might too,” Charlie laughs, looking down at her hand. “It’s not broken but it’s gonna hurt for a few days.”
Jake rushes to her side to check her hand out. “What the fuck happened?”
“I came out of the bathroom and heard the horrible things he was saying…the next thing I knew he was on the ground,” Charlie explains, as if she can’t believe it either. “I’ve never punched anyone before. I must’ve gotten got lucky and hit him in just the right spot in the jaw.”
“Well, you did something right. He was out cold,” you say, leaving Bradley’s arms to hug her. “Thank you.”
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat, Em. I love you,” she murmurs.
“I love you too,” you reply with a sniffle.
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“I’m sorry for tonight,” Bradley says on the way home after saying goodnight.
“Why are you sorry? It wasn’t your fault,” you reply.
“I know, I just feel bad that you had to see him and that he’s still trying to hurt you. I should’ve gone with you,” he sighs as he puts his hand on your knee.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” you say. “If you would’ve hit him, he would’ve pressed charges and you’d be in trouble. There’s no chance in hell he’s going to tell anyone he got knocked out by a woman; if he even remembers it in the morning,” you laugh. “I’m not gonna lie; what he said hurt. But it didn’t suffocate me like it would have in the past.”
You can tell he’s still beating himself up when he nods, so you reach over to pluck his hat off and place it on your head.
His lip quirks and his hand on your knee slides up your thigh. “Still wanna give me a ride tonight?”
“Mhmm,” you reply, placing your hand over his to guide him between your legs. Your head drops back with a sigh when he rubs over the seam of your jeans. “Been thinking about it all night.”
“Me too,” he admits. “Hell, I’ve been thinking about it since the last time we were there and you rode the bull.”
“When you hid to the bathroom ‘cause you got hard?” You tease breathily.
He nods, fingers still rubbing you through your pants. “You looked so good up there. Then the way you kissed me outside after? Fuck, I couldn’t think straight until I back to the hotel and finally jerked off in the shower.”
“God,” you sigh as you picture him. “That’s so hot.”
By the time he pulls into your driveway, you’re soaked.
Inside your bedroom, you help him out of his clothes first, nipping and sucking at the flesh you expose.
“W-wait,” He chokes, hands flying to your hair to pull you off when you suck on the head of his cock. “I’m too-I don’t wanna cum yet.”
You smile as you straighten up and gently push him onto the bed, keeping your eyes on his as you strip down to nothing but his hat.
You grab a condom and crawl over him, tipping the hat back to kiss him deeply, pulling back with a bite to his lip to tear open the condom.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he breathes as he watches you put it on.
“So are you,” you murmur as you line him up to your entrance.
You mean it too as you look down at him laid out beneath you; skin flushed, chest heaving, desire in his eyes.
The sounds of your harmonized pleasure fill the room as you sink down on him.
“You’re so big,” you whimper when he bottoms out.
“Doing so good, sweetheart,” he praises, bringing his hand between your legs to circle your clit while you take a second to adjust, grunting when you clench around him.
“Keep-keep going, I’m close,” you gasp when you feel your orgasm approaching rapidly.
His free hand reaches up to pinch a nipple and that little bite of pain pushes you over the edge with a surprised cry.
“Fuckkkkk,” he groans desperately, trying not to thrust his hips up, “you’re squeezing me so tight.”
He’s still trembling with restraint when you come to.
You plant your hands on his shoulders and begin to move your hips; tentative at first but quickly growing confident.
“Feels so good,” you whimper before you lean down for a filthy kiss, murmuring against his lips. “You’re so good, Bradley.”
His eyes close and his hips stutter at your words; he likes being praised too.
You bite your lip to not smile as you tuck that information away to use later.
You’re getting close and you can tell he is too by his breathy sounds and the way his fingers on your clit are getting sloppy.
The hat falls off your head and is quickly forgotten as you lean down to kiss him while your fingers trace over his chest as you toe the edge.
When your fingers find his nipples and pinch without warning, he groans shamelessly against your lips, filling the condom.
A satisfied moan leaves you when his release triggers yours and to shiver at the overstimulated whimper he lets out as you contract around him.
He presses a kiss to your hair as you recover on his chest.
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Not long after, you fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat in the same position.
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A/N: Can you tell I hate Fords? 😂 Chet had it coming and I couldn’t resist letting Charlie bring the one to give it to him.
Also…I wrote the majority and edited this from 2 AM to 5 AM when I couldn’t sleep 🥴 so if something doesn’t make sense or there’s errors, let me know!
As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs!
Tagging (please let me know if you want to be added/removed!):
@mamamaystbr
@its-the-pilot
@dizzybee03
@sweetwhispersofchaos
@shanimallina87
@blindedbythelightt
@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth
@lexixstewart
@phoenix-rising-starbird-one
@mrsrobertfloyd5
@charmedkim
@k-k0129
@bellaireland1981
@hookslove1592
@amiets2
@nero4te
@eli2447
@atarmychick007
@vixenobrian
@86laura11
@hisredheadedgoddess28
@dempy
@angelbabyyy99
@buckysteveloki-me
@djs8891
@mizzzpink
@daggerspare-standingby
@mrsevans90
@littlezee80
@emma8895eb
@jessicab1991
@devil-angel-winchester
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Forcing your computer to rat you out
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Powerful people imprisoned by the cluelessness of their own isolation, locked up with their own motivated reasoning: “It’s impossible to get a CEO to understand something when his quarterly earnings call depends on him not understanding it.”
Take Mark Zuckerberg. Zuckerberg insists that anyone who wanted to use a pseudonym online is “two-faced,” engaged in dishonest social behavior. The Zuckerberg Doctrine claims that forcing people to use their own names is a way to ensure civility. This is an idea so radioactively wrong, it can be spotted from orbit.
From the very beginning, social scientists (both inside and outside Facebook) told Zuckerberg that he was wrong. People have lots of reasons to hide their identities online, both good and bad, but a Real Names Policy affects different people differently:
https://memex.craphound.com/2018/01/22/social-scientists-have-warned-zuck-all-along-that-the-facebook-theory-of-interaction-would-make-people-angry-and-miserable/
For marginalized and at-risk people, there are plenty of reasons to want to have more than one online identity — say, because you are a #MeToo whistleblower hoping that Harvey Weinstein won’t sic his ex-Mossad mercenaries on you:
https://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/harvey-weinsteins-army-of-spies
Or maybe you’re a Rohingya Muslim hoping to avoid the genocidal attentions of the troll army that used Facebook to organize — under their real, legal names — to rape and murder you and everyone you love:
https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2022/09/myanmar-facebooks-systems-promoted-violence-against-rohingya-meta-owes-reparations-new-report/
But even if no one is looking to destroy your life or kill you and your family, there are plenty of good reasons to present different facets of your identity to different people. No one talks to their lover, their boss and their toddler in exactly the same way, or reveals the same facts about their lives to those people. Maintaining different facets to your identity is normal and healthy — and the opposite, presenting the same face to everyone in your life, is a wildly terrible way to live.
None of this is controversial among social scientists, nor is it hard to grasp. But Zuckerberg stubbornly stuck to this anonymity-breeds-incivility doctrine, even as dictators used the fact that Facebook forced dissidents to use their real names to retain power through the threat (and reality) of arrest and torture:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/25/nationalize-moderna/#hun-sen
Why did Zuck cling to this dangerous and obvious fallacy? Because the more he could collapse your identity into one unitary whole, the better he could target you with ads. Truly, it is impossible to get a billionaire to understand something when his mega-yacht depends on his not understanding it.
This motivated reasoning ripples through all of Silicon Valley’s top brass, producing what Anil Dash calls “VC QAnon,” the collection of conspiratorial, debunked and absurd beliefs embraced by powerful people who hold the digital lives of billions of us in their quivering grasp:
https://www.anildash.com/2023/07/07/vc-qanon/
These fallacy-ridden autocrats like to disguise their demands as observations, as though wanting something to be true was the same as making it true. Think of when Eric Schmidt — then the CEO of Google — dismissed online privacy concerns, stating “If you have something that you don’t want anyone to know, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place”:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2009/12/google-ceo-eric-schmidt-dismisses-privacy
Schmidt was echoing the sentiments of his old co-conspirator, Sun Microsystems CEO Scott McNealy: “You have zero privacy anyway. Get over it”:
https://www.wired.com/1999/01/sun-on-privacy-get-over-it/
Both men knew better. Schmidt, in particular, is very jealous of his own privacy. When Cnet reporters used Google to uncover and publish public (but intimate and personal) facts about Schmidt, Schmidt ordered Google PR to ignore all future requests for comment from Cnet reporters:
https://www.cnet.com/tech/tech-industry/how-cnet-got-banned-by-google/
(Like everything else he does, Elon Musk’s policy of responding to media questions about Twitter with a poop emoji is just him copying things other people thought up, making them worse, and taking credit for them:)
https://www.theverge.com/23815634/tesla-elon-musk-origin-founder-twitter-land-of-the-giants
Schmidt’s actions do not reflect an attitude of “If you have something that you don’t want anyone to know, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place.” Rather, they are the normal response that we all have to getting doxed.
When Schmidt and McNealy and Zuck tell us that we don’t have privacy, or we don’t want privacy, or that privacy is bad for us, they’re disguising a demand as an observation. “Privacy is dead” actually means, “When privacy is dead, I will be richer than you can imagine, so stop trying to save it, goddamnit.”
We are all prone to believing our own bullshit, but when a tech baron gets high on his own supply, his mental contortions have broad implications for all of us. A couple years after Schmidt’s anti-privacy manifesto, Google launched Google Plus, a social network where everyone was required to use their “real name.”
This decision — justified as a means of ensuring civility and a transparent ruse to improve ad targeting — kicked off the Nym Wars:
https://epeus.blogspot.com/2011/08/google-plus-must-stop-this-identity.html
One of the best documents to come out of that ugly conflict is “Falsehoods Programmers Believe About Names,” a profound and surprising enumeration of all the ways that the experiences of tech bros in Silicon Valley are the real edge-cases, unreflective of the reality of billions of their users:
https://www.kalzumeus.com/2010/06/17/falsehoods-programmers-believe-about-names/
This, in turn, spawned a whole genre of programmer-fallacy catalogs, falsehoods programmers believe about time, currency, birthdays, timezones, email addresses, national borders, nations, biometrics, gender, language, alphabets, phone numbers, addresses, systems of measurement, and, of course, families:
https://github.com/kdeldycke/awesome-falsehood
But humility is in short supply in tech. It’s impossible to get a programmer to understand something when their boss requires them not to understand it. A programmer will happily insist that ordering you to remove your “mask” is for your own good — and not even notice that they’re taking your skin off with it.
There are so many ways that tech executives could improve their profits if only we would abandon our stubborn attachment to being so goddamned complicated. Think of Netflix and its anti-passsword-sharing holy war, which is really a demand that we redefine “family” to be legible and profitable for Netflix:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/02/nonbinary-families/#red-envelopes
But despite the entreaties of tech companies to collapse our identities, our families, and our online lives into streamlined, computably hard-edged shapes that fit neatly into their database structures, we continue to live fuzzy, complicated lives that only glancingly resemble those of the executives seeking to shape them.
Now, the rich, powerful people making these demands don’t plan on being constrained by them. They are conservatives, in the tradition of #FrankWilhoit, believers in a system of “in-groups whom the law protects but does not bind, alongside out-groups whom the law binds but does not protect”:
https://crookedtimber.org/2018/03/21/liberals-against-progressives/#comment-729288
As with Schmidt’s desire to spy on you from asshole to appetite for his own personal gain, and his violent aversion to having his own personal life made public, the tech millionaires and billionaires who made their fortune from the flexibility of general purpose computers would like to end that flexibility. They insist that the time for general purpose computers has passed, and that today, “consumers” crave the simplicity of appliances:
https://memex.craphound.com/2012/01/10/lockdown-the-coming-war-on-general-purpose-computing/
It is in the War On General Purpose Computing that we find the cheapest and flimsiest rhetoric. Companies like Apple — and their apologists — insist that no one wants to use third-party app stores, or seek out independent repair depots — and then spend millions to make sure that it’s illegal to jailbreak your phone or get it fixed outside of their own official channel:
https://doctorow.medium.com/apples-cement-overshoes-329856288d13
The cognitive dissonance of “no one wants this,” and “we must make it illegal to get this” is powerful, but the motivated reasoning is more powerful still. It is impossible to get Tim Cook to understand something when his $49 million paycheck depends on him not understanding it.
The War on General Purpose Computing has been underway for decades. Computers, like the people who use them, stubbornly insist on being reality-based, and the reality of computers is that they are general purpose. Every computer is a Turing complete, universal Von Neumann machine, which means that it can run every valid program. There is no way to get a computer to be almost Turing Complete, only capable of running programs that don’t upset your shareholders’ fragile emotional state.
There is no such thing as a printer that will only run the “reject third-party ink” program. There is no such thing as a phone that will only run the “reject third-party apps” program. There are only laws, like the Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, that make writing and distributing those programs a felony punishable by a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine (for a first offense).
That is to say, the War On General Purpose Computing is only incidentally a technical fight: it is primarily a legal fight. When Apple says, “You can’t install a third party app store on your phone,” what they means is, “it’s illegal to install that third party app store.” It’s not a technical countermeasure that stands between you and technological self-determination, it’s a legal doctrine we can call “felony contempt of business model”:
https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/
But the mighty US government will not step in to protect a company’s business model unless it at least gestures towards the technical. To invoke DMCA 1201, a company must first add the thinnest skin of digital rights management to their product. Since 1201 makes removing DRM illegal, a company can use this molecule-thick scrim of DRM to felonize any activity that the DRM prevents.
More than 20 years ago, technologists started to tinker with ways to combine the legal and technical to tame the wild general purpose computer. Starting with Microsoft’s Palladium project, they theorized a new “Secure Computing” model for allowing companies to reach into your computer long after you had paid for it and brought it home, in order to discipline you for using it in ways that undermined its shareholders’ interest.
Secure Computing began with the idea of shipping every computer with two CPUs. The first one was the normal CPU, the one you interacted with when you booted it up, loaded your OS, and ran programs. The second CPU would be a Trusted Platform Module, a brute-simple system-on-a-chip designed to be off-limits to modification, even by its owner (that is, you).
The TPM would ship with a limited suite of simple programs it could run, each thoroughly audited for bugs, as well as secret cryptographic signing keys that you were not permitted to extract. The original plan called for some truly exotic physical security measures for that TPM, like an acid-filled cavity that would melt the chip if you tried to decap it or run it through an electron-tunneling microscope:
https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/05/trusting-trust/#thompsons-devil
This second computer represented a crack in the otherwise perfectly smooth wall of a computer’s general purposeness; and Trusted Computing proposed to hammer a piton into that crack and use it to anchor a whole superstructure that could observe — and limited — the activity of your computer.
This would start with observation: the TPM would observe every step of your computer’s boot sequence, creating cryptographic hashes of each block of code as it loaded and executed. Each stage of the boot-up could be compared to “known good” versions of those programs. If your computer did something unexpected, the TPM could halt it in its tracks, blocking the boot cycle.
What kind of unexpected things do computers do during their boot cycle? Well, if your computer is infected with malware, it might load poisoned versions of its operating system. Once your OS is poisoned, it’s very hard to detect its malicious conduct, since normal antivirus programs rely on the OS to faithfully report what your computer is doing. When the AV program asks the OS to tell it which programs are running, or which files are on the drive, it has no choice but to trust the OS’s response. When the OS is compromised, it can feed a stream of lies to users’ programs, assuring these apps that everything is fine.
That’s a very beneficial use for a TPM, but there’s a sinister flipside: the TPM can also watch your boot sequence to make sure that there aren’t beneficial modifications present in your operating system. If you modify your OS to let you do things the manufacturer wants to prevent — like loading apps from a third-party app-store — the TPM can spot this and block it.
Now, these beneficial and sinister uses can be teased apart. When the Palladium team first presented its research, my colleague Seth Schoen proposed an “owner override”: a modification of Trusted Computing that would let the computer’s owner override the TPM:
https://web.archive.org/web/20021004125515/http://vitanuova.loyalty.org/2002-07-05.html
This override would introduce its own risks, of course. A user who was tricked into overriding the TPM might expose themselves to malicious software, which could harm that user, as well as attacking other computers on the user’s network and the other users whose data were on the compromised computer’s drive.
But an override would also provide serious benefits: it would rule out the monopolistic abuse of a TPM to force users to run malicious code that the manufacturer insisted on — code that prevented the user from doing things that benefited the user, even if it harmed the manufacturer’s shareholders. For example, with owner override, Microsoft couldn’t force you to use its official MS Office programs rather than third-party compatible programs like Apple’s iWork or Google Docs or LibreOffice.
Owner override also completely changed the calculus for another, even more dangerous part of Trusted Computing: remote attestation.
Remote Attestation is a way for third parties to request a reliable, cryptographically secured assurances about which operating system and programs your computer is running. In Remote Attestation, the TPM in your computer observes every stage of your computer’s boot, gathers information about all the programs you’re running, and cryptographically signs them, using the signing keys the manufacturer installed during fabrication.
You can send this “attestation” to other people on the internet. If they trust that your computer’s TPM is truly secure, then they know that you have sent them a true picture of your computer’s working (the actual protocol is a little more complicated and involves the remote party sending you a random number to cryptographically hash with the attestation, to prevent out-of-date attestations).
Now, this is also potentially beneficial. If you want to make sure that your technologically unsophisticated friend is running an uncompromised computer before you transmit sensitive data to it, you can ask them for an attestation that will tell you whether they’ve been infected with malware.
But it’s also potentially very sinister. Your government can require all the computers in its borders to send a daily attestation to confirm that you’re still running the mandatory spyware. Your abusive spouse — or abusive boss — can do the same for their own disciplinary technologies. Such a tool could prevent you from connecting to a service using a VPN, and make it impossible to use Tor Browser to protect your privacy when interacting with someone who wishes you harm.
The thing is, it’s completely normal and good for computers to lie to other computers on behalf of their owners. Like, if your IoT ebike’s manufacturer goes out of business and all their bikes get bricked because they can no longer talk to their servers, you can run an app that tricks the bike into thinking that it’s still talking to the mothership:
https://nltimes.nl/2023/07/15/alternative-app-can-unlock-vanmoof-bikes-popular-amid-bankruptcy-fears
Or if you’re connecting to a webserver that tries to track you by fingerprinting you based on your computer’s RAM, screen size, fonts, etc, you can order your browser to send random data about this stuff:
https://jshelter.org/fingerprinting/
Or if you’re connecting to a site that wants to track you and nonconsensually cram ads into your eyeballs, you can run an adblocker that doesn’t show you the ads, but tells the site that it did:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah
Owner override leaves some of the beneficial uses of remote attestation intact. If you’re asking a friend to remotely confirm that your computer is secure, you’re not going to use an override to send them bad data about about your computer’s configuration.
And owner override also sweeps all of the malicious uses of remote attestation off the board. With owner override, you can tell any lie about your computer to a webserver, a site, your boss, your abusive spouse, or your government, and they can’t spot the lie.
But owner override also eliminates some beneficial uses of remote attestation. For example, owner override rules out remote attestation as a way for strangers to play multiplayer video games while confirming that none of them are using cheat programs (like aimhack). It also means that you can’t use remote attestation to verify the configuration of a cloud server you’re renting in order to assure yourself that it’s not stealing your data or serving malware to your users.
This is a tradeoff, and it’s a tradeoff that’s similar to lots of other tradeoffs we make online, between the freedom to do something good and the freedom to do something bad. Participating anonymously, contributing to free software, distributing penetration testing tools, or providing a speech platform that’s open to the public all represent the same tradeoff.
We have lots of experience with making the tradeoff in favor of restrictions rather than freedom: powerful bad actors are happy to attach their names to their cruel speech and incitement to violence. Their victims are silenced for fear of that retaliation.
When we tell security researchers they can’t disclose defects in software without the manufacturer’s permission, the manufacturers use this as a club to silence their critics, not as a way to ensure orderly updates.
When we let corporations decide who is allowed to speak, they act with a mixture of carelessness and self-interest, becoming off-the-books deputies of authoritarian regimes and corrupt, powerful elites.
Alas, we made the wrong tradeoff with Trusted Computing. For the past twenty years, Trusted Computing has been creeping into our devices, albeit in somewhat denatured form. The original vision of acid-filled secondary processors has been replaced with less exotic (and expensive) alternatives, like “secure enclaves.” With a secure enclave, the manufacturer saves on the expense of installing a whole second computer, and instead, they draw a notional rectangle around a region of your computer’s main chip and try really hard to make sure that it can only perform a very constrained set of tasks.
This gives us the worst of all worlds. When secure enclaves are compromised, we not only lose the benefit of cryptographic certainty, knowing for sure that our computers are only booting up trusted, unalterted versions of the OS, but those compromised enclaves run malicious software that is essentially impossible to detect or remove:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/28/descartes-was-an-optimist/#uh-oh
But while Trusted Computing has wormed its way into boot-restrictions — preventing you from jailbreaking your computer so it will run the OS and apps of your choosing — there’s been very little work on remote attestation…until now.
Web Environment Integrity is Google’s proposal to integrate remote attestation into everyday web-browsing. The idea is to allow web-servers to verify what OS, extensions, browser, and add-ons your computer is using before the server will communicate with you:
https://github.com/RupertBenWiser/Web-Environment-Integrity/blob/main/explainer.md
Even by the thin standards of the remote attestation imaginaries, there are precious few beneficial uses for this. The googlers behind the proposal have a couple of laughable suggestions, like, maybe if ad-supported sites can comprehensively refuse to serve ad-blocking browsers, they will invest the extra profits in making things you like. Or: letting websites block scriptable browsers will make it harder for bad people to auto-post fake reviews and comments, giving users more assurances about the products they buy.
But foundationally, WEI is about compelling you to disclose true facts about yourself to people who you want to keep those facts from. It is a Real Names Policy for your browser. Google wants to add a new capability to the internet: the ability of people who have the power to force you to tell them things to know for sure that you’re not lying.
The fact that the authors assume this will be beneficial is just another “falsehood programmers believe”: there is no good reason to hide the truth from other people. Squint a little and we’re back to McNealy’s “Privacy is dead, get over it.” Or Schmidt’s “If you have something that you don’t want anyone to know, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place.”
And like those men, the programmers behind this harebrained scheme don’t imagine that it will ever apply to them. As Chris Palmer — who worked on Chromium — points out, this is not compatible with normal developer tools or debuggers, which are “incalculably valuable and not really negotiable”:
https://groups.google.com/a/chromium.org/g/blink-dev/c/Ux5h_kGO22g/m/5Lt5cnkLCwAJ
This proposal is still obscure in the mainstream, but in tech circles, it has precipitated a flood of righteous fury:
https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2023/07/googles-web-integrity-api-sounds-like-drm-for-the-web/
As I wrote last week, giving manufacturers the power to decide how your computer is configured, overriding your own choices, is a bad tradeoff — the worst tradeoff, a greased slide into terminal enshittification:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon
This is how you get Unauthorized Bread:
https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/
All of which leads to the question: what now? What should be done about WEI and remote attestation?
Let me start by saying: I don’t think it should be illegal for programmers to design and release these tools. Code is speech, and we can’t understand how this stuff works if we can’t study it.
But programmers shouldn’t deploy it in production code, in the same way that programmers should be allowed to make pen-testing tools, but shouldn’t use them to attack production systems and harm their users. Programmers who do this should be criticized and excluded from the society of their ethical, user-respecting peers.
Corporations that use remote attestation should face legal restrictions: privacy law should prevent the use of remote attestation to compel the production of true facts about users or the exclusion of users who refuse to produce those facts. Unfair competition law should prevent companies from using remote attestation to block interoperability or tie their products to related products and services.
Finally, we must withdraw the laws that prevent users and programmers from overriding TPMs, secure enclaves and remote attestations. You should have the right to study and modify your computer to produce false attestations, or run any code of your choosing. Felony contempt of business model is an outrage. We should alter or strike down DMCA 1201, the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, and other laws (like contract law’s “tortious interference”) that stand between you and “sole and despotic dominion” over your own computer. All of that applies not just to users who want to reconfigure their own computers, but also toolsmiths who want to help them do so, by offering information, code, products or services to jailbreak and alter your devices.
Tech giants will squeal at this, insisting that they serve your interests when they prevent rivals from opening up their products. After all, those rivals might be bad guys who want to hurt you. That’s 100% true. What is likewise true is that no tech giant will defend you from its own bad impulses, and if you can’t alter your device, you are powerless to stop them:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar
Companies should be stopped from harming you, but the right place to decide whether a business is doing something nefarious isn’t in the boardroom of that company’s chief competitor: it’s in the halls of democratically accountable governments:
https://www.eff.org/wp/interoperability-and-privacy
So how do we get there? Well, that’s another matter. In my next book, The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation (Verso Books, Sept 5), I lay out a detailed program, describing which policies will disenshittify the internet, and how to get those policies:
https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con
Predictably, there are challenges getting this kind of book out into the world via our concentrated tech sector. Amazon refuses to carry the audio edition on its monopoly audiobook platform, Audible, unless it is locked to Amazon forever with mandatory DRM. That’s left me self-financing my own DRM-free audio edition, which is currently available for pre-order via this Kickstarter:
http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org
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I’m kickstarting the audiobook for “The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation,” a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It’s a DRM-free book, which means Audible won’t carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation
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If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai
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[Image ID: An anatomical drawing of a flayed human head; it has been altered to give it a wide-stretched mouth revealing a gadget nestled in the back of the figure's throat, connected by a probe whose two coiled wires stretch to an old fashioned electronic box. The head's eyes have been replaced by the red, menacing eye of HAL 9000 from Stanley Kubrick's '2001: A Space Odyssey.' Behind the head is a code waterfall effect as seen in the credits of the Wachowskis' 'The Matrix.']
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Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg
CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en
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lucidlivi · 8 months
Text
Never Been You
Requested: @hzllxhoundxx
Everything Tag List: @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @perpetualabsurdity @antisocialcorrupt @heavenlyackles @anixiiee @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @deans-spinster-witch @k-slla @alternativeprincess @spnbaby-67 (if you'd like added to my everything tag list, please indicate by saying "please tag me in everything Jensen/Dean")
Warnings: Angst, Demon Dean, Kidnapping, Violence, Mature Themes, Demon Dean Being an Absolute Dick
Following S10 E2, S10 E3 (of course with my twist!)
I got carried away so this is a hella long one for you guys!
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"you need to get to Beulah North Dakota now!" I rushed out to Castiel who was on the other end of the phone call.
"I do?"
"yes, Crowley and Dean were there, we have to pick up their trail."
I looked over to see Sam in the truck hunched over in pain.
"good, great."
I felt the emotions wash over me for what felt like the thousandth time since seeing the footage of Dean, our Dean, sporting black eyes. Castiel has no idea.
"Not exactly, Cas, Dean's a Demon." I said feeling the unshed tears slip from my eyes.
"Dean's a Demon? How?"
"It's the mark Cas, it messed him up, I don't know." I cried.
"that's a vast understatement." Castiel grumbled.
"look Cas, I know you're not feeling so hot right now, but I need you, it’s sort of an all hands on deck situation, so…"
"so I'll be there."
I hopped back in the truck I had rescued Sam in and continued to drive to North Dakota. I played through every scenario in mind of how this could go, and none of them ended well.
I needed to find Dean, I needed to help him.
"I got a lead, disturbance at a night club, a rowdy patron beat a security guard senseless. It sounds like a demon thing to do." Sam said looking at his phone.
"I guess let's check it out then."
It was still daytime when we were pulling up to the strip club.
Of course Dean would end up here.
"think that's the guy?" I asked Sam, looking at a muscular security guard who was wearing a sling identical to Sam's and had two black eyes.
"I would say it's a safe bet."
I stopped the truck hopping out, followed by Sam.
"excuse me sir, is this the guy who attacked you last night?" Sam asked straight forward, showing a picture of Dean.
"that's the guy, I called 911 but he was gone before they showed up."
Damn.
I didn't expect him to still be here, but it felt like a blow to the gut to actually hear it.
"that dude get to you too?" He asked Sam referencing his sling.
"uh no, this uh is just a hunting accident." Sam responded.
"would you do us a favor, if this guy shows back up, please give us a call." I said producing a fake FBI business card with my number on it.
"you bet."
"thanks."
I ran a hand through my hair with a huff before getting back in the truck.
"what now?" I asked, feeling the tears prick at my eyes again.
I couldn't bare the thought of Dean actually being a demon.
"I don't know." Sam said in defeat.
I drove the truck to a nearby motel, renting us a room. Sam had been through hell, he needed to rest. I helped him lay down on the bed, noticing his eyes get instantly heavy.
"I'll be right back, I'm just going to get something out of the truck." I told him, rushing outside.
As soon as I stepped outside, I heard a voice that made my blood boil with anger.
"hello there love."
I turned around to see Crowley with a smirk on his face.
"did ya miss me?"
I huffed in anger, reaching behind me to pull a blade from my belt loop.
"oh so much." I growled.
"easy now, I know you're here for Dean, and I'm here to give him to you."
Is this a trick?
I could never truly trust Crowley.
"I don't understand."
"you see he's bad for business, he's.. he's become uncontrollable, must be the mark.." Crowley trails off with a smirk.
"anywho Dean's your problem now, again, forever." Crowley added.
"then where the hell is he?" I snapped, not being able to contain my anger towards the king of hell.
"ah ah, first there's a small matter of my finders fee."
"nothing ever comes free with you, wouldn't have expected anything less."
****************************************************
I hesitantly walk in to the bar not knowing what to expect. I didn't even tell Sam where I was going. I knew he didn't have the strength to fight, and I didn't want him to get hurt.
"hiya angel." Dean said looking up at me with a smirk.
I felt my breathing get heavy as I looked at him. It was Dean in the flesh, but this thing was so far from Dean. Dean was brave, he was kind, Dean cared.
"I told you to let me go." Dean said picking up his glass of whiskey and sipping it.
"you know I can't do that Dean."
He smirked, taking another sip.
"by the way, your pal Crowley, he sold you out, didn't take him much." I said stepping a bit closer.
"sounds like him."
"Dean, we can cure demons, don't you remember that?" I asked taking another step closer.
Dean picked up the first blade, walking past me in a threatening manner.
"a little latin, lot of blood, yeah it rings a bell. but did you ever stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn't have bailed."
"Dean that was Crowley, you don't know what you're doing."
"that's what you think." Dean said pouring himself another glass of whiskey.
"well it doesn't matter Dean, whatever happened, whatever went down, we will fix it." I said cautiously taking another step towards him.
"Oh will we? Meanwhile I'm doing all I can to not come over there and rip your throat out."
"Dean you don't mean that."
"I'm giving you a chance to run sweetheart, better take it." Dean threatened.
"I'll pass." I said quickly.
“I'm not walking out that door with you, I'm just not, so what are you going to do angel, huh? Are you going to kill me?" Dean asked.
I felt a chill run down my spine at the way he called me angel. It was laced with venom.
"I didn't come here to kill you."
"why? you have no idea what I've done, in fact I might have it coming."
"I don't care Dean, you're my best friend, and I'm here to take you home. I'm here to save you."
I wanted to admit so much more to him.
I wanted to tell him that it's because I was in love with him and couldn't imagine my life without him in it. I was worried now that I wouldn't get the chance too.
I heard Dean start to chuckle.
"save me? why would you want to save me? it's never been you, you know." Dean said taking a sip.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Dean got up sauntering his way over to me. I instinctively took a step back, not trusting him. I soon found out though, the more distance I tried to put between us the closer he got. I raised my hand up putting it on his chest to stop him from getting any closer.
Dean smirked at me before twisting my arm and bringing his hand up to my throat. He pinned me to the wall a twisted look in his eyes. I felt a chill run down my spine, he was getting pleasure out of this.
"I see the way you look at me, the way you lust for me, you want me." Dean smirked.
I glared at him, trying to turn my face away, his hold on my throat getting tighter.
"you don't want to kill me because you're in love with me, and you have been for quite some time, haven't you?"
I couldn't speak, Dean's hold on me was too tight. I furrowed my eyebrows as if to convey he wasn't right, even though he was.
"and its never been you for me.. you see while you've been trying to find me, trying to save me, i've been fucking everything with a heartbeat." Dean growled.
I could feel the tears brim my eyes as his words cut in to me. I knew he was just trying to hurt me, but part of me wondered if that's how Dean actually felt.
He let go of my throat, shoving me to the floor. I instantly stood back up taking out the handcuffs from my back pocket.
"you really think those are going to work sweetheart?" Dean asked with a smirk.
"well there's one way to find out."
As I took a step forward, the window shattered and the entire room started filling with smoke. I looked to my left to see someone had threw a smoke grenade. I felt the air rush from my lungs as I breathed in the smoke. I put my shirt over my mouth and nose, trying to find an exit. I started to cough, as my vision got blurry.
I finally found the emergency exit, pushing it open. I saw the silhouette of a man on the other side as I collapsed from smoke inhalation. He struck me across the face hard, causing me to fall back to the ground, hitting my head in the process.
I was seeing stars as I sat clutching my bleeding head. Dean came out glaring the man down. I heard them exchange some words, but couldn't make out exactly what they were saying.
I noticed myself start to slip in and out of consciousness.
I saw them start to fight, Dean clearly having the upper hand.
I felt like my head was on fire, as I glanced up seeing Dean holding the first blade to the guys neck. He was going to kill him. I was surprised when he dropped him, tucking the blade back in to his pocket. I tried to muster up any strength I could to get up, but my body was betraying me. Dean walked over to me, a sick grin etched on to his face as he swayed his hips.
"Dean please." I choked out.
"time to sleep now baby."
Dean raised his hand striking me, and that's the last thing I remember before my world went dark.
****************************************************
I was in agonizing pain as I fluttered my eyelashes open. I panicked as I couldn't move my body. I looked down to see my arms and legs were bound to a wooden chair. I gathered from my surroundings that I was in some kind of warehouse, but I didn't recognize where.
"oh good, you're awake."
Dean came over crouching in front of me so we were eye level.
"let me go." I growled.
"can't do that angel." He said caressing my cheek.
I quickly moved my head away, causing his hand to fall.
"you don't want to provoke me." Dean growled.
"or what? you're going to kill me?"
Dean gave a sickly sweet smile. He leaned in close whispering in my ear.
"or you're going to wish you were dead."
"I'm not scared of you Dean." I snapped.
Dean lets out a chuckle, standing to his feet.
"I knew there was a reason I liked you so much, feisty little thing."
"why don't you let me out of these ropes and I'll show you just how feisty I can be."
Dean chuckled again, grabbing a bottle of whiskey taking a sip.
"I don't even know why I'm talking to you, this isn't even the real you." I scoffed.
"oh it's the real me alright, the new real me, the me who sees things for what they actually are."
I scoffed again rolling my eyes at his words.
"hunters, do-gooders, fighting the natural order, well let me tell you something sweetheart people like me, we are the natural order."
"yeah well people like me still gotta do what we can." I growled.
Dean smirked as he crouched back down to my eye level.
"oh don't be so full of yourself baby, cause you see from where I'm sitting, there ain't much difference from what I turned in to, to what you already are." Dean smirked.
"and what is that supposed to mean?" I growled.
Dean took one hand resting on my cheek, the other on the back of my neck so I couldn't move away from him again.
"I know what you did when you went looking for me, how far you went." Dean whispered, dangerously close to my face.
I felt the guilt sink back in.
I just kept telling myself I did what I had to in order to find Dean. I felt my breathing quicken as Dean came in closer, practically brushing his lips against mine.
"so let me ask you baby, which one of us is really the monster?"
I felt the tears brimming my lashes as Dean stared at me. Dean smirked as he stood back up.
"Now you and Sammy were trying to get a twenty on Crowley and me from any demon you could snag, but Crowley didn't want to be found, and no one showed when you summoned. But you my angel, you found your own way didn't you?"
I was ridden with guilt as I remembered how I tricked Lester in to summoning a demon to make a deal.
"You would've liked to have gotten there before the deal went down but you didn't really care about poor ol' Lester did you? Oh and just so you know, I uh killed Lester myself." Dean smirked as if it were funny.
"I never meant.." I started to choke out but Dean cut me off.
"who cares what you meant, that line that we thought was so clear between us and the things we hunted, ain't so clear is it?" Dean yelled.
I bit my lip to stop the tears from falling.
"wow, you know, you might actually be worse then me. I mean you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life and his soul, nice work baby." Dean said crouching back down.
I spit in his face, the anger I was feeling towards him boiling over. Dean angrily wiped his face off with the hem of his shirt.
"there's no point in trying to bring your best friend back now." Dean growled.
"oh I’ll bring him back, if it's the last thing I do." I growled.
"In fact, your uh guilt ridden, weight-of-the-world best friend, has been M.I.A. for quite some time now. I have to say though, I'm loving the new model, lean, mean, Dean."
I rolled my eyes turning my head away from him.
"I can't believe you're still trying! I mean, I couldn't wait to get away from you. I chose the king of hell over you! I guess I was just tired of having to coddle you, always having to yank your ass out of the fire. Do you ever stop to think that just your very existence sucks the life out of my life?" Dean said.
I could feel the tears run down my cheeks as he spoke.
"this isn't my best friend talking, he would never say those things." I spoke, more for my benefit than for his.
"you never had a best friend, just an excuse for wimping out, and guess what angel, I quit."
"no, you don't get to quit, we don't quit, okay you and me Dean we're bonded whether you like it or not, and this bond is all that we've got." I cried.
"well then we've got nothing." Dean smirked.
I looked down at the floor, praying that Sam had noticed I was gone. I was praying to Castiel to come find me. I knew if it came down to it, I couldn't kill Dean, even if it meant he'd kill me. I was praying for another solution.
I heard the door open and the sound of heeled footsteps against the floor.
"you brought us a play thing?"
I looked up to see a female, she wore black eyes similar to Deans.
"not us, mine." Dean growled at the girl who took a step closer to me.
"but I want to play too." she smirked coming over to me, brushing a piece of hair off my bare shoulder.
I shivered at her touch, trying to move away with what limited space I had.
"I said no." Dean growled.
I glanced up meeting Dean's eyes and for a second, just a second, I could see he wasn't totally gone.
"have you gone soft on us Winchester?"
"ha, not even, but you see that one's kind of a special project of mine, and I want to kill her myself." Dean smirked staring at me.
"okay, then I won't kill her."
As she said this, she shoved the chair back, causing me to hit my head on the concrete below. I grunted as the air was knocked out of my lungs.
"I'll just hurt her." she laughed.
"Dean please." I pleaded, struggling to breathe.
"Dean's gone." the woman whispered, running a hand through my hair.
"Dean I know you're in there. I'm begging you. I always rely on you because I know I can. Dean you're the most selfless person I know. I know that somewhere inside you still care. I know you don't want to hurt me Dean." I cried.
As I was putting on my show, I managed to wiggle one of my arms free. I reached around to grab my blade that was hidden in my belt loop, but I didn't feel anything.
"are you looking for this?" she smirked, inspecting the demon blade.
"go back to hell where you belong." I snapped.
"nice show, even almost had me fooled for a second." I heard her laugh.
She held the blade to my cheek. I could feel my breathing quicken as she ran the blade down my cheek towards my neck. She pressed in just enough to draw a small trickle of blood. I looked past her to try to reason with Dean again but I didn't see him.
I suddenly felt blood splatter on my face. It was coming from the woman's mouth as Dean plunged the first blade deeper in to her spine. I watched the life leave her eyes in an instant. Dean grunted as he ripped the blade out, her now lifeless body slumping over my own. He threw her body off of me, picking the chair back up.
He started to pace around the room as if he wasn’t sure what just happened.
"look what you made me do!" Dean yelled.
"Dean, let me go, and then I can help you." I whimpered weakly.
Dean glared at me, his eyes going black before flashing back to his normal green ones. Dean growled, opening the door to the room before slamming it shut leaving me alone.
I had to get out of here. I noticed my blade still on the ground, just a few feet from where I sat. If I can get to it, I can cut myself free.
I leaned over as far as I could, causing the chair to tip over sideways. I once again smacked my head on the concrete as I fell. I groaned at the impact but shook it off, using my free arm to pull myself closer to the knife. I reached out my arm, my fingers just barely grazing the handle.
"come on!" I exclaimed, trying to grip it again.
I finally managed to wrap my fingers around the handle of the blade. I breathed a momentary sigh of relief, cutting my other arm free from the ropes than cutting my ankles free. I stood up weakly looking for an exit. I took my sleeve, wiping the blood off my face.
I wasn't sure how much of it was hers, and how much of it was my own.
I finally saw a red exit sign. I mustered up all my strength sprinting over to it. I put my hand on the door, but suddenly stopped.
I couldn't leave him.
I wouldn't.
I was debating with myself when I heard a loud growl. Dean must've come back and noticed I was gone.
"you're coming home whether you like it or not." I whispered, running through the warehouse.
I could hear Dean walking after me, opening doors as he went. It was eery how calm he walked.
"come on baby, don't you want to hang out with me, spend a little quality time." Dean yelled.
I quieted my breathing as I found the keys to the electrical room. I moved quietly against the walls towards the room.
I heard Dean kick down some doors, growling every time I wasn't behind one of them. I managed to get to the electrical room. I fumbled with the keys trying to unlock the door.
"fuck" I muttered in frustration.
I finally got in, and immediately pulled every switch I could, killing the power.
"that's smart angel, but now I know where to find you." Dean growled as he rushed towards where I was.
I hid against the wall waiting for him. I heard him enter quietly, looking around for me.
"come on out angel, you're just making things worse for yourself." Dean growled.
I rushed over to the door, just as Dean threw the switches back, restarting the power.
"now this is me yanking your ass out of the fire." I spit slamming the door and locking him inside.
I heard Dean chuckle.
"this is your big plan, locking me in?"
"Dean, just please come with me and we can cure you." I said holding out my demon blade.
It was completely silent.
"Dean?"
I jumped in fright as Dean banged on the door, slowly splitting the wood.
"you act like I wanna be cured, personally I like the disease." Dean growled, using a hammer he found to break the door down.
"Dean stop! I don't want to use this blade on you!" I yelled holding it out further in front of my body.
"that sucks for you doesn't it angel, cause you really mean that." Dean smirked, hitting the door with the hammer again.
"Dean if you come out of that room, I won't have a choice." I whimpered, choking back tears.
"oh sure you will, and I know which one you'll make, isn't that right baby?" Dean growled smacking the door harder.
I knew the door wouldn't hold him much longer.
"I'm lucky though, cause there's just enough demon left in me that killing you, ain't gonna be a choice at all." Dean growled continuing to break the door down.
I felt the tears streaming down my face at this point. I could see the door giving way. I turned around sprinting away before it broke completely. I heard one last loud bang before the door gave way. Dean's heavy footsteps were once again behind me.
"come on angel, lets kiss and make up. I'm tired of playing let's finish this game." Dean growled.
I leaned against the wall taking a deep breath. I didn't have the strength to continue. I knew I was no match for him.
I glanced down the corridor where I thought Dean was coming from. I didn't see him though.
I turned around just in time to see a hammer flying towards my head. I ducked quickly, pushing my demon blade against Dean's throat. I could hear Dean chuckle as he looked at me, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"well, well look at you baby, go on do it." Dean growled leaning in to the knife.
I felt the tears cloud my vision as I slowly dropped the knife.
I couldn't kill him.
I watched as Dean's eyes went black. He gripped my throat throwing me against the wall before slamming me on the ground. I watched him take out the first blade, bringing it above his head.
"Dean I love you."
I closed my eyes, waiting for death to come.
But it didn't.
I opened my eyes to see Dean growling, as if he was fighting an inner battle with himself, a battle for his soul. I caught sight of Castiel sneaking up behind Dean, wrapping him in his arms. Dean growled, trying to get out of his grasp.
"Dean it's over." Cas said his eyes flashing their beautiful blue.
Dean collapsed in CastieI's arms, before I slapped the demon cuffs on him. I felt myself relax as I saw Sam rushing to my side.
****************************************************
"I'll meet you guys soon, just one thing left to do." I said holding the first blade in my hand.
"Be careful." Sam said placing a kiss on my forehead.
I gave him a nod, watching him get in the impala with Castiel and a still unconscious Dean. I sighed as they pulled away from me.
"you can stop hiding now." I called.
I saw Crowley emerge from the shadows, a smirk on his face as he eyed the blade.
"pleasure doing business with you." He spoke reaching his hand out.
I quickly pulled it out of his reach.
"what are you going to do with it?" I inquired.
"oh toss it in a volcano, leave it on the moon, i'll get creative." He laughed.
I hesitantly eyed him.
"believe me love, I don't want Dean getting his hands on the precious any more than you do. he knows I've ratted and he tends to hold a grudge....I don't want to get how you say boned."
I rolled my eyes at him.
"besides a deals a deal."
I huffed before handing the blade over to him.
"I hope you know this doesn't make us square, quite the opposite actually, I swear Crowley if I see you again.." I started but he cut me off.
"oh stop it love, no one likes a tease."
I glared at him one last time before hopping in the truck, starting the drive back to Kansas.
I felt like my head was going to explode from everything that had happened in such a short time. Dean's words replayed in my head on a continuous loop.
It wasn't him, I know that. It didn't make anything he said any less hurtful though.
It's never been you.
You see while you've been trying to find me, trying to save me, I've been fucking everything with a heartbeat.
Do you ever stop to think that just your very existence sucks the life out of my life?
I felt the tears cloud my vision, making the road harder to see. I pulled over to the side of the road and cried. I let out every emotion I'd been holding in.
I cried for Dean, I cried for what he went through. I cried for me. I cried for the strain that this was going to put on our relationship. I just cried.
I didn't know how long I'd been crying but I finally collected myself enough to start driving again. I knew that Sam and Castiel could handle Dean. I'm sure they were already back in Kansas, starting the purified blood cure on Dean.
I didn't even know if I was ready to face him again. I spilled my darkest secret to Dean, fearing that I would be dead and never having the chance to tell him.
Dean didn't kill me though.
He could have very easily, I didn't put up much of a fight.
But he didn't.
I was praying that maybe some part of him felt something for me too.
I managed to make the rest of the drive to Kansas. I pulled up to the bunker, hearing Dean growl as the demon was expelled from his body. I hesitantly walked over seeing him slumped over in a chair, much like I was hours ago. Sam injected another syringe of purified blood in to his arm.
"what the hell are we doing to him guys? I mean even after everything he said he didn't want to be cured, that he didn't want to be human." I spoke, feeling the tears that I was sure I had cried all out, start to rim my eyes once again.
"well, I can see his point, you know, only humans can feel real joy, but also such profound pain." Castiel said staring directly at me while talking about pain.
"I guess this is easier." Sam added.
I was about to respond when Dean groaned, trying to move. He raised his head, showing us his black eyes, before they returned to their shade of green.
Dean groaned hoarsely before exhaling a big breath. He looked at the three of us confused, as if everything was coming back to him.
"you look worried guys." Dean spoke up.
I could feel Dean's eyes stay on me. He stared at me intently. I just hoped I didn't look as broken as I felt.
Castiel, Sam, and I gave each other a look, all wondering the same thing. Was Dean back?
Sam uncapped the holy water throwing it on to Dean's face. I sighed with relief when he didn't have a reaction to it. Sam smiled at us. I was still a little apprehensive as was Castiel.
"Dean, we've missed you." Sam said.
Castiel and Sam unchained Dean, helping him to his feet. I felt like every word I wanted to say was stuck in my throat. Dean stared at me as the boys led him to his room. He was weak, the blood cure taking a lot out of him.
How was I even supposed to talk to him about this?
Castiel and Sam returned quickly after getting Dean settled.
"how's he doing?" I asked the boys.
"he's still a little out of it, but better. I mean I think the blood cure, all of it, it really wrecked him you know." Sam said giving me an apologetic look.
It was silent for a moment.
"on the plus side, he's hungry again so I'm going to go pick us up some food, you guys mind keeping an eye?" Sam added grabbing the keys to the impala.
I nodded my head as he walked out. Castiel was unnaturally quiet.
"what is it Cas?"
"one problem is solved, but one still remains. Dean is no longer a demon, that's true, but the mark of cain, that he still has, and sooner or later that's going to become an issue.”
I knew he was right, Castiel always was.
"one battle at a time Cas." I half smiled.
Castiel looked at me with a sad face. It was no use hiding my emotions from him because the angel always figured it out. Castiel stepped up, wrapping his arms around me in a hug. I felt a tear cascade down my cheek as I sunk in his embrace.
"I'm uh, going to get cleaned up." I whispered.
I felt every muscle in my body aching as I walked to the bathroom. I cringed when I saw my reflection in the mirror. I looked like hell.
I sported a hand shaped bruise around my throat, along with a cut from my knife. I had a gash on my head, and my face was still crimson colored from the blood. I could see various other bruises forming all over. I licked over my lip that was busted from being thrown against the wall by Dean.
I definitely looked as broken as I felt.
I sighed as I stepped in to the steady stream of water, the sound of the water slapping against my skin drowned out my sobs. I scrubbed my skin until it felt raw.
I got out wrapping the towel tightly around my body. I tiptoed past Deans room. I couldn't help my curiosity as I heard Dean and Castiel talking.
"thank you, for stepping in when you did... has uh she talked to you? what does she say, does she want anything to do with me?" Dean asked.
I could hear the hurt in his voice. It made me hurt more.
"I'm sure she knows whatever you said, whatever you did, that wasn't really you, I mean it certainly wasn't all of you." Castiel reassured.
"Cas, I tried to kill her. Did you see her? I did that! I can't take back the things I said Cas." Dean said.
"Dean I feel I can be honest with you. You two have been through so much together, you're bonded. It'll take a lot more than you trying to kill her with a hammer to get her to walk away." Castiel said.
"you realize how screwed up our lives are that, that even makes sense?" Dean says causing Cas to chuckle.
"I think you should talk to her, and then maybe you should uh take some time, allow both of you to heal."
I heard Castiel exit Dean's room, closing the door. He gave me a wordless look as he passed, signifying that his words were just as much meant for me as they were for Dean.
Castiel the wise.
Of course I couldn't walk away from Dean.
I sighed as I walked to my room, quickly throwing on some clothes. As soon as I lay in my soft bed, I realize how burnt out I was. I heard a soft knock on my door.
"yeah?" I called out hesitantly.
"it's me, the real me."
I felt the air get caught in my throat.
"come in."
Dean opened the door slowly. I could see the hurt flashing in his eyes at he looked at me. I sat up not meeting his eyes. Dean walked over, sitting on the edge of my bed.
"(y/n), I.."
"you don't have to apologize Dean, I know that wasn't you." I spoke.
"it doesn't make it any less shitty though." He said through gritted teeth.
"or hurt any less." I admitted.
Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration. I could see that this was really hurting him.
"but you could've killed me, and you didn't, you saved me, you stopped yourself." I said finally meeting his eyes.
"I couldn't kill you. I feel for you too much, even as a demon." Dean whispered, hesitantly looking at me.
I felt my heart swell up at his words.
"what I said, it wasn't true." Dean said, sliding just a bit closer to my body.
"it's okay if part of it was, it's never been me and that's okay." I said feeling my heartache.
Dean looked at me as if I had three heads.
"never been you? It's always been you."
I felt the tears run down my cheeks as Dean put a hand up, caressing one of them.
"Dean I don't know how we move on from this." I cried.
"I don't know either, but we're going to do it, together, just like always."
I smiled at Dean for the first time.
"there's my Dean." I whispered.
Dean leaned in slowly, leaning his forehead against mine.
"did you mean what you said?" Dean asked hesitantly.
I gave him a confused look.
"that you love me, did you mean it?"
I swallowed nervously as I stared at him. I slowly nodded my head adverting my eyes from his gaze. Dean grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.
I gasped as Dean crashed his lips on to mine. I was shocked so naturally I was still. Once my brain processed what was happening I pressed my lips against his, kissing him as if my life depended on it. He pulled away slowly, keeping his forehead pressed to mine.
“I love you too, I always have.” Dean spoke.
I felt the tears well in my eyes again, but these tears were different. These weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of pure love.
Dean smiled as he reconnected our lips together in a heated kiss. It was lustful, neither one of use being able to contain the passion we had felt for each other for far too long.
Dean slid his hands under my shirt, gripping on to my hips as he deepened the kiss. I was so caught up in the moment I ignored my muscles screaming at me to stop. Dean brought my shirt over my head, breaking the kiss just long enough to do so. I felt insecure as my bare chest was now exposed for him. I panted as he brought his lips down to my neck gently kissing over the bruise.
“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Dean said in between kisses.
I grabbed the hem of his shirt taking it off. I saw the mark of cain glistening on his forearm. I brought his arm to my lips, slowly kissing over the mark. Dean pushed me back on the bed so he was hovering over me. I gasped as his hands slid there way down my body to my shorts.
It was slow and passionate. I felt like my skin was on fire every time his fingertips met my skin. Dean dragged my shorts down my legs, his fingers brushing against my sensitive heat.
I wasted no time putting my hands in his pants yanking them down over his butt and down his legs. I was surprised to feel that he was already fully erect.
“do you want this?” Dean asked kissing my lips.
“more than i’ve ever wanted anything.”
Dean, with my consent slowly slid himself in to me. I groaned as my body adjusted to his large girth. He started to move at a slow pace, savoring the feeling of finally being together so intimately.
“It’s always been you.” Dean said as he thrusted deeply.
I don’t think either of us had the energy for the sex we really wanted to have but this sex was sweet, and full of love. I moaned as Dean picked up the pace, but still savoring the feeling of every thrust inside of me. I brought my hips up matching his thrusts. I was a moaning mess as we thrusted against each other, our lips crashing with each thrust.
“Dean” I moaned signifying that I was close.
Dean thrusted some more, softly but at a steady rhythm. I moaned one last time as I felt myself spilling over the edge. I was gripping him so hard, it cause him to release his arousal too. Dean’s body gave out as he collapsed beside me.
“hey guys I got the… oh god really Dean?” Sam said dropping the bag of food and covering his eyes.
I laughed at him, joined by Dean.
“not even back twenty four hours and this is how you’re spending your time.” Sam groaned in embarrassment.
“blame Cas, he’s the one that told us we should talk.” Dean laughed.
Sam backed out of my room, shutting the door behind him. I gazed at Dean but found out he was already staring at me.
“I didn’t save you, you saved me.” Dean whispered tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I’ll always save you Dean.”
“Always?”
“Always.”
Author Note:
I really hope you guys like it! If you feel so inclined please leave a heart, comment, reblog or a follow! I appreciate it!
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leclerc-s · 2 months
Text
the blue - part eight
series masterlist // previous // next
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zendaya amelia grace holland be honest. how many songs ave you written about oscar?
amelia holland
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sam holland the better question is how many songs have you written about fake scenarios in your head?
amelia holland oh that one's easy at least five. this month. i've got a really good one called i should hate you, i wrote that one with aaron.
tuwaine barrett DID CHARLES HELP PRODUCE THIS AGAIN??
amelia holland i think he almost shit himself when he found out aaron was also producing this one. tuwaine barrett CHAMELIA MY BELOVED! GET THIS MAN ON STAGE WITH TAYLOR FOR A SURPRISE SONG! amelia holland he's been on my ass about that to. did you team up with him or something? tuwaine barrett why? did he say someting?
harry holland speaking of charles, how's texas? is it fun?
amelia holland it's hot as fuck.
amelia holland you're in texas now? any plans on coming home?
amelia holland kinda promised oscar and lando that i'd stick around for the triple header. there's a week off in between vegas and brazil but lando's birthday is a few days before vegas and abu dhabi is the next weekend. so i'm not sure. might be home for a couple days at most.
harrison osterfield it's almost like oscar's career is monopolizing all of your time
sam holland for the record none of us have problem with it. this is the first time in a long time we've seen you happy. if traveling with oscar makes you happy, do it. harrison's being a dick, ignore him. but like also please come home for the holidays?
amelia holland is that his default setting? - danny ric
amelia holland sorry about that, the fake american took my phone.
amelia holland real american here, is that his default setting? - logan sargeant
amelia holland charles here! is that his default?
amelia holland this group is tragic. ours is much more fun - max
amelia holland I CAN FINALLY STOPPED BE CALLED NORIZZ BECAUSE CLEARLY THE SECOND STRING LOSER HAS LESS THAN ME! - LANDO
amelia holland i would never piss a songwriter off because you'll be branded as the second string loser for the rest of your life. - pierre
amelia holland i swear they’re normally house-trained - oscar
amelia holland he's lying - alex
tom holland YOU HAVE A GROUPCHAT WITH THEM??
amelia holland it's quite fun. murder is threatened at least 3 times a day and lestappen is in full force. it is no just for the camera, i genuinely think they're in love with each other
amelia holland yuki’s quite violent, in case anyone was wondering. he may be pocket sized but he holds a lot of rage
harry holland and who exactly is in this group chat and why haven’t we been invited?
amelia holland the twitch quartet, max, daniel, yukierre, estie bestie and his two husbands, twinkclaren, and me
harrison osterfield you call your boyfriend a twink?
amelia holland it’s a term of endearment - lando
amelia holland she calls lando a fucking weenie and she called someone a weird second string loser, so i’m okay with twink - oscar
amelia holland WE'RE KIDNAPPING AMELIA! WE'RE IN TEXAS BABY! - DANNY RIC
amelia holland SAVE US! - CHARLES & MAX
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ameliaholland posted new stories
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someone's super excited to be back in texas COTA! pre-quali look with oscaroo. he's not happy at the moment, says it's too hot to be in texas. i agree. :) logan said he knew a place and took us to cane's. clearly one of them is happy to be here.
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ameliaholland the plans made it out of the group chat, so when in texas...
tagged: oscarpiastri, lilymhe, francesca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, danielricciardo, landonorris, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, alex_albon, logansargeant, yukitsunoda, pierregasly, georgerussell63, estebanocon, mickschumacher, lancestroll
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tuwaine I HAVE NEVER WANTED TO BE IN TEXAS SO BAD
↳ ameliaholland you're missing out so bad tuwaine
tomholland2013 AMELIA GRACE HOLLAND YOU BETTER NOT BE DRINKING!
↳ ameliaholland i'm not? there's a heineken in my hand? it's non alcoholic.
↳ landonorris she literally had shots with max. she's a liar.
↳ ameliaholland shut the fuck up norizz.
username oh god, i've never wanted to be apart of a friend group this bad
username thank goodness someone put boots on the correct way. if i saw another picture or video of the drivers with their jeans tucked into their boots i would riot.
↳ username i hope daniel scolded them for doing so.
samholland1999 PUT SOME PANTS ON AMELIA!
↳ ameliaholland I AM WEARING PANTS! IT'S CALLED SHORTS DINGBAT! IT'S HOT IN TEXAS
username now this is a group i never thought i would see hanging out. at least not all of them together.
username this is so iconic of them wtf?
georgerussell63 i have never met someone who can out drink max, please join us the next time we go out.
↳ harryholland64 did not know my little sister can out drink max verstappen but i'm somehow proud?
↳ username this just in, something max verstappen is not good at doing, out drinking amelia holland.
lilymhe we have to do this again!
↳ francesca.cgomes we do!
↳ alexandrasaintmleux oh, we should
↳ ameliaholland give me a time a place and i'll be there!
↳ carmenmundt count me in too! i would love to meet amelia.
↳ username icons meeting other icons, love to see it.
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finish the lyrics with lando norris and oscar piastri
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comments
user we were robbed of cowboy oscar!
user lando and the holland brothers being the captains of the oscar x amelia ship is so funny to me
user but who did lando call a dick and why?
↳ user probably harrison, if the context clues we've been provided are anything to go by.
↳ user lando has been their biggest defender since day 1 and i stand by that
user was i the only one who caught that brocedes reference?
↳ user lando knew what he was doing making that joke.
user lando casually wanted to remind everyone that oscar's brother-in-law is spider-man.
↳ user had to quickly flex on spidey's biggest fan, estie.
user and to think this whole joke started because of a taylor song.
user HE CALLED HIM A MUPPET!! THIS IS MONUMENTAL!
user lando is oscar and amelia's biggest defender, you can't change my mind.
↳ user it's oscmelia girl, get it right.
↳ user you're right my bad, terribly sorry.
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harrison osterfield i don't exactly appreciate your friend and boyfriend calling me a dick online.
amelia holland and i didn't appreciate being strung along for almost 2 years...
sam holland HOW LONG?
tom holland but he was with his ex for almost a year?
tuwaine barrett oh damn
harry holland you have got to be fucking kidding me harrison.
zendaya never trust blonde men with blue eyes
amelia holland what about max and logan? zendaya never trust blonde men with blue eyes whose name starts with an h or a j. those two you can trust.
tom holland by the way how's oscar doing? we watched the race.
amelia holland a bit bummed about the dnf but that's the way things go in this sport. besides it's not like it can get any worse than this.
TWO HOURS LATER
amelia holland HOW COULD I BE SO FUCKING WRONG?!
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ameliaholland posted new stories
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💋 i'm totally going to lose tonight... you're looking at the winner of the bowling tournament. it was luck really, but operation cheer up charles and oscar was a success.
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taglist: @six-call @1nt3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @skynel09 @arieltwvdtohamflash @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @woozarts @dear-fifi @tygecjjd @cataf1 @nothaqks @caipng @nataliambc @formulaal @lichterfee @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @hobiismyhopeu @melissayalene @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @nichmeddar @namgification @anniemae299
strikethrough means i couldn't tag you
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¡leclerc-s speaks! just when you think he can't get any worse, he does! i have very strong opinions about texas, in case that wasn't obvious. texas was my breaking point + brazil, in case you couldn't tell who my favorite drivers were, you do now.
¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!
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its-time-to-write · 8 months
Text
i know now it’ll pass - ch. 1
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still me here
You have to understand, working at Nelson Road isn’t what everyone thinks it is. It’s a job. You’re not best friends with Ms. Welton, you don’t share inside jokes with Coach Lasso, and not a single member of the team could pick you out from a crowd. You talked to Keeley Jones exactly one time when she stumbled upon your office, lost in a hunt for Roy.
And none of that is bad. It’s not a bad thing. What it is is  good money and security to get your own one-bedroom flat as well as food on the table and whatever else you might need. You have a few friends there and your direct supervisor is nice and overall it’s a great environment. You’re not sure you could ask for anything more.
It’s just not as glamorous as people believe. 
Your friends think it’s great that you work in the same building as AFC Richmond legends like Roy Kent and Dani Rojas. They bombard you with questions every girls’ night, which you indulge with a laugh. 
As you sip your drink on the couch, surrounded by friends and giggles, you decide you live a pretty great life.
You don’t sleep well. You never have, and you’re concerned you never will. You’ve taken to sitting on your front steps with a blanket and a cup of tea in the hopes that it will cause your body to produce melatonin so you can get enough sleep to get through the day. Your “tea time” is usually anywhere from 2am-5am, and you’ve woken up many a morning curled up on the steps.
There are two good things that come out of tea time: the sunrise and your increased ability to cover up the bags under your eyes.
This Monday is different in that it’s worse. Much worse.
You’ve been on the porch for three goddamn hours, since 1am, and nothing is helping. You’re so tired that your eyes feel like little weights, and yet you can’t fall asleep. 
You’re leaning against a support beam with the realization that your work day is going to suck, when you see Jamie run by in the street. He doesn’t see you, what with it being 4:15am and all. Roy jogs by a few minutes later. You wince. You can tell his knee’s killing him by the way he’s running. He’ll probably take it out on the lads at training, and you find strange comfort in the knowledge that you’re not the only one who will be suffering at Nelson Road.
Oh god, you’re going to die. This is it, this is the end, death is imminent and you’re going to let the Grim Reaper snatch you with his scythe or whatever the hell he does with that thing. 
See, Mondays are when you get all your steps in because you’re walking all up and down Nelson Road collecting signatures and passing around documents. It’s usually pretty nice and culminates in a stop at Higgins’ office, who will offer you whatever candy he has at his desk or sometimes a cup of tea.
(He has a knack for offering the tea when you’re especially tired. You’re not sure how he can tell, but chalk it up to the plethora of sons he has.)
Anyway, this Monday you’re on your way to meet Higgins with a bundle of papers in your arms and you must have blacked out ever so slightly because you rammed straight into the team coming in from the pitch for lunch.
Documents are flying and you’re wobbly on your feet and now there’s like twenty beefy footballers helping you scramble to pick everything up while you say, “Sorry, sorry,” on repeat. 
“Not a problem, love,” says Jamie Tartt, handing you the completed stack. It’s a little wrinkled and haphazard, but all you can think about is the fact that you revealed yourself to be a klutz to the whole team. 
Girls’ night is about to get embarrassing. Especially because Jamie’s hand brushed yours for a millisecond and it caused literal sparks to shoot up your arm.
You’re frozen as they walk away, silently cursing your stupid screwed up sleep patterns. You had better get some sleep tonight.
You don’t. Your mind keeps replaying that touch like you’re a middle school girl who’s just discovered boys don’t have cooties. You wrestle a few hours in between 11 and 3, but find yourself on the steps again by 4, definitely not hoping Jamie runs by again.
He doesn’t.
Tuesday is not worse, but it’s not better. You’re eating lunch at your desk because you’ve decided never to leave it again, but unfortunately Jim in HR needs a signature and you’re the one who has to get up so he can collect it. You sigh and close your laptop. 
You’re padding to the other side of the building and congratulating yourself on the decision to wear flats today when you turn a corner and smack into something solid.
You stumble back but catch yourself before you hit the ground.
“God, I’m so sorry,” you say to Jamie Tartt’s blue eyes.
He half-grins. “Little wobbly there, innit?” he says before he’s gone.
Rats.
Tuesday night means you’re awake due to sheer humiliation. It’s bad enough that your celebrity crush is now Jamie Tartt, but the fact that you’ve literally talked to him twice and both times have been because you weren’t watching where you were going?
You have half a mind to email in your resignation, but as you put the kettle on for 3am tea you realize you need the stability Nelson Road provides. You’re not sure you can go back to living with three other flatmates.
Your only consolation is that there’s no way Jamie Tartt knows who you are or that his damn blue eyes are seared into your brain. 
You’ve snatched five hours of sleep this time, and you’re hoping you’ll be asleep again before the sunrise, but the odds are not looking good. It’s Wednesday, and you’re going to need all the help you can get in order to make it through the longest day of the week.
Jamie runs by again. Roy notices you under the porch light and gives a two-finger salute as he hobbles by. You raise your cup in return, grateful that he at least will have no idea who you are, much less that you work in the same building.
Wednesday is fine except you’re exhausted, and Laughing Liam’s goddamn laugh is making your head pound. You set a timer and fall asleep on your lunch break.
You take a breath. Then another. And another. Deep breaths, you remind yourself. It’s not that big of a deal. 
You skipped the porch in favor of staying in bed, with the hopes that maybe a softer environment would be more conducive for sleep. It wasn’t, and the bags under your eyes are not good. They are so not good that you can’t completely cover them. You feel so awful that you forgo tea in favor of coffee, extra strong. You down it in three burning gulps and head out the door, ready to face Thursday.
It gives you a headache, but you’re awake. You’re trying to kill the dull, persistent pain with some water but it’s not helping. You rest your forehead on the community water jug for a moment as footsteps walk past you, slow down, then backtrack.
“Porch girl,” says Roy Kent, recognition in his voice. 
You turn your head, still on the jug, and nod. Roy Kent nods back and grunts, “You’re up fucking early,” then keeps walking.
Ah shit.
Friday. It’s Friday. It’s Friday and you held off from sitting on the steps until exactly 2:37 at which point you felt that if you stayed in bed any longer, you would suffocate or go crazy. Maybe both.
You set down an empty cup of chamomile and pull your blanket closer as you inhale the crisp air. You feel something like sleep creeping up on you, so you close your eyes and finally succumb to the call.
You wake to someone shaking your shoulder and an urgent voice saying, “Oi, you dead? Can you hear me?”
You blink groggily, aware of the fact that you’ve just gotten maybe an hour of sleep and it isn’t going to be enough to get you through the day. Tears begin to slide down your face, unbidden, as you try to control your sheer frustration at being woken up.
“Oh shit,” says the voice, then Roy Kent says, “You fucking broke her,” and you think maybe you actually are still asleep and this is all a dream.
But it can’t be because the hand is still on your shoulder, and it’s warm and solid and there’s no way your subconscious would be so cruel as to have Jamie Tartt and Roy Kent find you passed out on your front steps.
Your subconscious wouldn’t be so cruel, but the universe apparently is.
You force your eyes open. Jamie and Roy look concerned.
“You alright?” Jamie asks. “Thought you were proper dead.”
“Jesus Christ,” Roy mutters, turning back to you. “Look, we’re sorry for waking you. We’ll get out of your fucking hair.”
You nod mutely as they turn and jog off. It’s not until they’re well out of sight that you realize they didn’t even ask your name.
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sexhaver · 19 days
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me n bailey marathoned the first season of this show over the last few days. some thoughts:
Alan Cumming, specifically his accent and wardrobe, are by far the highlights of this show. i sincerely hope someone has made an edit compiling all of his outfits without any of the actual gameplay, because he is consistently serving cunt
like just look at this
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that being said i did keep seeing him as Fegan Floop from Spy Kids
oh right there's an actual game/competition component to this
im just gonna get this out of the way: the entire premise of the show is fundamentally flawed. they keep trying to make it sound like the three Traitors in the group are "backstabbing" and "working against" the Faithful (non-Traitors), but, like, everyone on the show (Traitor or Faithful) is competing for the exact same prize pool. it's not like The Mole (or any other social deduction game), where the secret evil team actually has different goals diametrically opposed to those of the good team and has to complete them without having anyone notice. here, the evil team just... votes on someone to "murder" every night. that's it.
to emphasize this point: the literal only thing that can ever give you away as a Traitor is being bad at lying/concealing guilt. there are ZERO gameplay differences between the goals of a Traitor and the goals of a Faithful, which means the arguments over who to vote for banishing are based entirely on "gut feelings"
nobody on the show has ever played a social deduction game before. late into the season, there's a day where all 3 Traitors are alive and it's down to 6 people total (so 3v3). anyone who has played Mafia/Werewolf/ToS/etc knows what this means: barring bullshit last-minute rules from the producers, it is quite literally impossible for the Traitors to lose, because none of them can be voted up. it takes 4 out of 6 votes to exile someone, and there are only 3 Faithful left. if no Traitor votes for another Traitor, then it is, again, literally impossible for a Traitor to be exiled. furthermore, if they all coordinate their votes on one Faithful, all they have to do is convince one of the remaining two Faithfuls to vote with them, and they instantly win $180k (split three ways). and hey, wouldn't you know it, one of the Faithfuls (Kate) was already really suspicious, and another one of the Faithfuls (Quentin) said out loud multiple times that he was voting for her!
so what do you think the Traitors did?
god this part pissed me off so much im having to pause for breathe while typing this. okay. so.
two of the Traitors voted for the third Traitor, who got voted off.
after being voted off, youre supposed to walk up to the Circle of Truth and reveal if you were a Traitor or not. the guy who got eliminated (Christian) was entirely too nice and gracious about it. me n bailey discussed this and came to the conclusion that we would either a) out the other Traitors on the stand and explain, using game theory and math, exactly how fucking stupid they are, completely ruining the game for them, or b) pretend to cry a little while walking up to the Circle of Truth but as soon as you walk behind the first other Traitor's chair you flip it over backwards and elbow drop their nose into their face while screaming "YOU STOLE $60K FROM ME YOU SON OF A BITCH"
also the guy who got eliminated (Christian) was very clearly autistic and Every Single Reason the other traitors gave for not liking him was like straight out of the DSM V diagnostic criteria ("he talks too loud and laughs weird", "he's got way too much energy all the time", "his emotional responses don't make sense")
apparently there's a season 2 but i cannot bring myself to watch it after seeing Christian thrown to the lions (ayyy Sunday school reference)
also at one point a Faithful has to leave because of COVID (this was filmed in 2020) so the producers don't let the Traitors murder anyone that night for balance reasons, but to compensate, they tell them they can like. write down three names that will be publicly revealed to everyone the next morning, and then one of those people dies the next night. so obviously this is mostly a nerf for the Traitors because they miss a night of killing someone, but the intention was clearly to give the Traitors an opportunity to sow confusion by putting one or two of their OWN names onto the list to make them seem like Faithfuls. and they even had an extra objective during that day's game where one of the three people could earn a "shield" to protect them that night, so if a Traitor was on the list, they could basically "steal" the shield from the other 2 (since they obviously weren't getting killed no matter what). but i think the Traitors heard "write down three names" and "kill" and had all the blood rush to their respective dicks because they just wrote three Faithfuls lmao. deeply unserious show
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chanswifey · 8 months
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Seventeen as your boyfriend | Jun
The best friend
You two have that kind of relationship that started as a friendship but at some point you became lovers and no one knows exactly when or how it happened
None of the members noticed until they saw the two of you actively kissing
And even then some of them were a bit confused cause "best friends kiss on the mouth?? 🤔🤔🤔"
You two roast each other so much, especially on game night. Uno became a forbidden game after he refused to talk to you for three days because you kept giving him +4s and you kept calling him a baby
He's not very into going out for date nights, he prefers to order something and eat in bed, under the cover while watching tv
He immediately cuddles into you as soon as he finishes eating and traps you in his embrace
Not even five minutes later and he's asleep, leaving you to watch TV alone
But you are not really paying attention either, you are too busy admiring your boyfriend's peaceful expression
He will go out though, if you want to. I feel like he is one of those boyfriends that will do whatever you want just because you asked him to
Very clingy, please don't say no to him when he asks for cuddles, he may pass away if you do 😔
That or he will lay all his weight on top of you to force you to cuddle him
"Why are you refusing my love????" He says, his voice muffled from having his face buried in your neck.
"Wen Junhui, I'm trying to work!!!!" You answer trying not to suffocate in the process
Very into couples' outfits. VERY.
If you dare to disagree to wear those he will whine like a baby until you do, then he turns into the happiest dude on earth
Doesn't care if anyone else thinks it's embarrassing
Also a big fan of skincare, loves doing spa days, sitting in the bathtub with a face mask on and all that stuff
Refuses to use his own products, he says they don't smell as good as yours but in reality, it's because they smell like you
Buys you your favorite food when you have a bad day and texts you funny videos to try to make you laugh
He loves to keep you updated on everything he does at work, sends pictures of the whole process
A selfie of him in the recording booth, one of him with the producers, another one for lunchtime, and so on
The happiest day ever is when he manages to take you to a schedule with him and shows off a lot on those days
Keeps asking you if you're enjoying or if you want to leave, please assure him you will never get bored with him around 🙏
×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××
2023 © chanswifey — do not repost or translate
author's note: not my favorite I have ever done, not gonna lie, but I think it came out alright. Hope everyone likes it 💖 please remember to like and reblog 💖
mlist | request here | what I write
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justwritedreams · 1 year
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Now you know | Chanyeol
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Idol!Chanyeol x Idol!Reader Word count: 2035 Genre: fluff, kinda crack Author: maari  Warnings: none Note: I loved writing this so much oh my god 😫 thank you ateez for giving me the perfect scenario lol Request: may i request a fluffy chanyeol fic where his s/o is also an idol (94L) and theyre “secretly” dating but theyre bad at acting subtle so the fans know whats up + ships them lol ⫷ Exo Masterlist
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"So, what do you think?" Y/N asked her boyfriend curiously, she was lying on his chest, the two of them in bed spending the weekend doing what they so deserved, resting.
After all, both would have long weeks ahead of them and they would hardly have the chance to see each other or be together.
She was holding her cell phone, after showing him one of the intro tracks from her upcoming album.
"I loved it, it has a very cinematic fantasy vibe." he replied, with a proud smile as he stroked her hair.
"I told you the concept of this comeback is going to be like this, right?" the boyfriend nodded in agreement. "And we're going to have a collaboration with that American producer."
"You seem quite excited." he concluded, he didn't look at her face because his position wouldn't allow it, as she huddled in his embrace like a koala, but he could imagine the glint in her eyes. “I’m!” she said, raising her head to look at him better, as he predicted there was the sparkle in her eyes of pure pride and happiness. "It will be the first time I get to show my more mature side to fans."
Chanyeol laughed and the hand that was stroking her hair went to his girlfriend's arm. "Should I be jealous?" he raised an eyebrow and she laughed softly.
Y/N held the phone with one hand and the other brought it to Chanyeol's cheek, stroking his skin slowly.
"No, you're the only one who knows all of my sides."
He lifted his chin, a rather proud look knowing he was the only one and Y/N smiled before she leaned closer to kiss him, she had been doing this all day but it wasn't enough, when the lips were a centimeter away from touching, Chaneyol even had his eyes closed Y/N's phone vibrated not just once or twice but five times. She complained and threw her head on her boyfriend's chest who still had his pout to kiss her. Y/N took her head off Chanyeol's chest and brought her phone closer, seeing what was going on through the notification bar.
"Is my leader." she said "Why does it seem like she always does it on purpose?"
Chanyeol laughed heartily and his girlfriend wanted to bite his cheek but she held back and unlocked the phone. "You shouldn't talk about your leader like that." Chanyeol joked.
"I'm older than she is, have you forgotten?" Y/N glanced at her boyfriend, Chanyeol now resting his arm behind his head, his biceps got bigger in the black t-shirt he was wearing.
She opened the twitter link that was sent in the message, along with the phrase 'you have to see this. ASAP'.
Y/N felt her jaw drop when she saw the tweet and tensed up all of a sudden, this didn't go unnoticed by her boyfriend who now wiped the smile off his face and frowned.
"What?" he asked, analyzing his girlfriend's expression.
"Look at this." she turned the phone screen towards Chanyeol who focused his attention on the tweet, he gulped when he saw the picture of him and his girlfriend.
There was nothing much but from what they wrote, the suspicions were there.
Chanyeol and Y/N had gone to NCT 127's concert the night before, to support the boys from the same company and because she was a huge fan of the boys, they hadn't gone alone of course. Two members of Y/N's group were on her right side while Chanyeol, Sehun and Baekhyun were on her right side, exactly in that order.
In one photo they were just looking at the stage while in the other Chanyeol had his arm around Y/N's neck and the other was up. They were just enjoying the show, nothing else.
But fan comments came to the same conclusion: they were dating.
"Oh come on, it's not even that compromising!" he said and Y/N turned the phone's screen towards her, while bringing her other hand to her mouth to bite the nail. "We were just singing Dreams Come True."
"But it's not what the fans think, there's even a video of you hugging me." Y/N said, watching on her phone.
It really wasn't compromising, mainly because afterwards, Chanyeol hugged Sehun in the same way.
"Oh give me that." he took his arm behind his head to grab his girlfriend's phone.
"Hey!" she complained but he started swiping the screen. "Look, there are a lot of people thinking I was just being me." he glanced at Y/N who eyed him suspiciously. "I'll read it to you: 'lol he literally leans on Sehun afterwards, so they're dating', ew no!" Chanyeol stuck his tongue out in disgust and Y/N chuckled lightly.
"Good thing they were at an NCT show because if it was a comedy Y/N would probably be without an arm"
"Yeah, you do that with people when you laugh."
"But hey, there are a lot of people who shipp us."
"Really?" Y/N asked curiously and tried to snoop through the phone.
"They even made a thread about the two of us." he replied calmly and Y/N widened her eyes.
"What? You're kidding!" she said and slipped between her boyfriend's arm to see the phone too, he hugged her while opening the tweet.
The compilation had photos, videos, gifs of interactions between the two in events of all kinds. 
Y/N was never subtle in hiding what she felt for Chanyeol, it was no wonder he discovered the not-so-secret crush she had for him.
So the pictures of them looking at each other meant more than it should, she always smiled broadly when she saw him, it wasn't common to do that with anyone. 
And a photo in particular that she never actually explained, taken by a fan with low resolution, Y/N holding her phone and her backpack at the airport, accidentally her phone had been unlocked by fingerprint and it was possible to see that her boyfriend was the wallpaper, although couldn't quite see his face the fans had found similarities.
Chanyeol was always looking for her at SM concerts, whether to bow when greeting her - even though he had seen her backstage before - or to hold her hand at the end.
At award shows, they always seemed to talk with their eyes when they were at nearby tables. And they always danced and sang louder when one was performing.
She repeatedly praised the group's songs on her social media just as he did, and although it was vague, fans took it as a sign.
The interviews where she described her ideal type, someone like him.
The similar clothing and accessories. Which in their case wasn't similar, the hoodies Y/N took were actually Chanyeol's but no one could prove it. Anyone on the internet could buy the same model and size.
"Nothing that hasn't happened to other idols." Y/N spoke after a while.
If they didn't deny it and didn't confirm it, it would just be internet theory. Right?
"Ah, but this is interesting." Chanyeol stopped at one of the tweets with a wide smile.
"Oh no."
"Oh yes!" he chuckled before reading it aloud. "Y/N bubble update: 'I'm watching Descendants of the Sun again. Oh what? How many times have I watched it? Probably like 5 lol I really like this genre. And Dr. Kang is right, girls really fantasizes about the army uniform.' You said that the day I sent you my uniform picture." Chanyeol accused and she felt her cheeks burn.
That comment had been days before official photos of Chanyeol serving it were released on the internet, another clue for fans.
"I told you that on that video call." she tapped him lightly on the chest and he laughed.
Chanyeol dropped her phone on the bed and rolled over her, resting his elbows on either side of her body and glaring at her mischievously as she brought her hands to his shoulder.
"Actually you said something a lot worse, do you want me to repeat it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and she laughed shyly.
"It's not necessary!" he nodded and leaned down to kiss her forehead, making her sigh at the contact.
Chanyeol then kissed Y/N's nose, cheek and chin, she just laughed lightly as she caressed his shoulder.
With her eyes already closed from the previous caresses, Y/N felt her boyfriend gently place his lips on hers, it was enough to melt her completely, no matter how many times they kissed even after so much time together, she felt the same things from the beginning, as if she were that dreamy little girl.
One of Chanyeol's hands went to her face, the big warm palm caressing her skin as they kept the same slow rhythm. Y/N took the opportunity to bring a hand to the back of his neck and caress the short strands of hair.
She felt him smile between the kiss and pulled away, causing her to complain.
"Hey, baby." he spoke softly and she opened her eyes, staring at him. "Don't worry, we'll be able to hide our relationship long enough."
[...]
Chanyeol was live in his study on Instagram just over 15 minutes ago. He talked to the fans, answered questions, sang, showed some demos of songs he was working on.
All because he was bored that afternoon, his girlfriend was too busy with her own schedule and would probably be late, it was enough time to interact with the fans for a while.
A week had passed since the leaked photos of the concert they went to together and some fans were still asking about Y/N in the chat, he smiled sideways but pretended not to see.
They had agreed to hold back the relationship news for a longer time, for the sake of Y/N's group promotions, anyway the company had already released both of them to announce it whenever they wanted but Chanyeol wanted it to be special, they had been together for a long time it was true, but he wanted to take a new step with her.
He was so busy with his guitar, playing as he always did in his spare time, that he didn't hear the studio door open.
Y/N walked on tiptoe so as not to make any noise, smiling mischievously without noticing that the camera was on.
"Hi, love. I'm home." she hummed and the boyfriend turned around completely shocked, his eyes looked like they were going to pop out.
She didn't understand why he stood there with the guitar in his lap, usually he always dropped everything and ran to hug her and kiss her all over her face.
However all he did was point his head back to where the camera was and Y/N followed with her eyes, feeling her heart race when she saw her boyfriend's screen.
"Is it live?" she asked quietly and shyly as she saw the chat going crazy.
"Yes." he replied, laughing nervously.
"Huh… I'll leave then, I'll let you do what you're doing." She stuttered and a nervous laugh came out. Chanyeol chuckled, scratching his head and looked at the screen. He could even keep track of the comments because they came in so quickly. "I'm so sorry! Oh my God."
"It's okay, babe." he chuckled again and looked back to see Y/N shake her head in disbelief and she clumsily closed the door.
He took a deep breath before looking back at the camera, his eyes lowered to the comments and he chuckled at the comments. Most were freaking out over Y/N's surprise appearance, but the other half were all the same 'Are they dating??'.
"Yeah guys, I guess now you know." he shrugged, and propped his elbow on the table and put his face in his hand, moving closer to the screen to read better, and to hide his huge smile.
Chanyeol laughed when he read a comment and had to agree.
They suck at hiding lol that's what makes them perfect for each other.
Note: I just wanted to say this is the face I pictured him making when Y/N walked in the room 👇🏻 BYE
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cursedcola · 1 year
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Synopsis: After attending NRC, our beloved characters suddenly find themselves transported to your world! The thing is, they have no idea where you are and have to make a life for themselves in the meantime. How would they adapt to life on earth? Characters: Everyone! Mix of Sentient AU! and Modern AU! Warnings: None lol. This is for my own enjoyment. Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasmonia You are here!: Ignihyde
Note: Spoilers for Idia’s background.
Nothing could have prepared the students of NRC for what lied beyond the mirror. A world unlike any of them ever known with magic being virtually non-existent ( or so it appears to the general public). With nothing but the clothes on their backs, falsified basic identification, personal items, and the small bits of knowledge gathered from your vessel Yuu; these young adults have one mission-find the player and stay out of prison. It was time to split up, cover as much ground as possible, and make a life in this unknown world.
Let us see how these fresh minds conform to life on earth, yes?
Ignihyde Residence: Greece!
(I have an obvious bias for this as it is my heritage. No, I don't feel bad about it)
Idia Shroud
Residence: Lipsi, Greece
Owns multiple small properties across the Greek islands. He has a preference for the locations with less tourism and more agricultural life.
Hence why his favorite place to stay is in Lipsi. A small island where at most he has the comfort of seeing the same faces every week when grabbing groceries. His diet has also improved immensely from all the locally produced goods. Well, disregarding all the junk food he sources on his own.
On the island, Idia owns a small "farmhouse" that he built himself. To the average person, it blends in perfectly with the rest of the local homes. He's buried himself deep into the island as well, so his home cannot be found by tourists. No, you physically have to go looking for it.
The outside has the traditional blue and white exterior, but inside? Decked out with the most advanced technological gear. Do NOT underestimate this man's ability to get what he needs. He has his own WIFI service up and running. Everything from the Heating/Cooling system to the stairs that automatically fold inward (to save space) were built and programmed by him. Even his trashcan!
Secluded Island? Check. Best tech? Check. Ortho is happy? Checkaroo. Idia has everything he needs to survive happily.
His house is not the tidiest though. It's not like anyone ever visits him, but still. What if you appear at his door one day? Sucks to suck, because you will be walking over so much sand that he has dragged in yet not cleaned. Also energy drinks, clothes, etc. It's horrible. One time one of the local Yiayia's came to deliver him some baked bread and spanokopita. He nearly had a heart attack when she saw the hovel known as his home and started to lecture him as if he was her own grandson
Something he learned to deal with over time. Ortho was not kidding when he said that Greece values community
Idia wasn't on board with going to Greece in the beginning. Heat? Beaches? Community? Pah. Why couldn't he be placed somewhere more westernized, where he could hide away in a high-rise building somewhere and never come out. If anyone should be surrounded by saltwater it should be the Octavinelle trio - not him!
Which...is exactly why Idia was sent to Greece. Ortho thought this would be the perfect opportunity for his big brother to get out of his shell, and the internet shows that countries in the Mediterranean are highly community oriented! Idia wouldn't be caught dead dancing zorba at a festival or having wine with the local theos and theas as they gossip. But? Perhaps seeing him do his work on the terrace while sipping frappe isn't far out of reach?
Occupation: Software Developer
There is another reason Idia agreed to go to Greece. Out of everyone, he is the best suited to do remote work. The nitty gritty of trying to use technology to locate you. Things that could get him put in jail if caught for privacy violations and data theft. To do this he needs absolute privacy.
He tries to make things quick and track the phone you used to play Twisted Wonderland with. Sadly, life is not that easy and your data is unreachable. Almost like some unspoken force (me. the one writing this) is keeping him from reaching his goal for the sake of their entertainment
There is also the matter of his and Ortho's...'special' features. Crowded places likely will not accept someone with flames for hair. Even if he passes it off as cosplay, what if something is set on fire? Or an idiot tries to touch his hair thinking it is fake? He could be denied access to facilities in highly populated places from the risk. It simply isn't worth it. Not when he can go somewhere tucked away and still be helpful.
Idia blows all tech gurus on earth away. He becomes one of the most sought after hackers, and no one is able to trace his location. To make a living, he only does short-term contract work. He only communicates through warped audio and no one knows of his identity. In all honesty, he becomes filthy rich from the amount of employers throwing contracts at him despite his strict terms. The hush-hush market is strong with this one.
When he first moved into his "farmhouse," he planned on doing his job and never socializing. Food can be ordered in bulk online, and he could pay off one of the locals to leave the packages at his doorstep. He wanted Ortho to stay home with him as well, since the chances of villagers running away and screaming in terror were high. Then the island church would likely get involved and y'know...evil demons yada yada yada because they have pointy teeth and can use their hair to roast a lamb. He watched The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Froyo man convinced him that everyone is close minded.
This does not work out. At all. Unfortunately, people become curious about the new residents that never seem to leave their secluded house to greet their neighbors. It's unheard of! Then they begin to talk, the local children grow curious, and Ortho gets spotted while he's tending to the goat he insisted on keeping as a pet
Surprisingly, they aren't outcasted. The people just view their hair as a weird costume, and label the brothers as interesting foreigners. It's the 21st century, and it takes more than that to frighten someone here. Not the worst outcome? And now they can go walk around the outdoor shops (I.E Ortho drags Idia)
Idia doesn't know when it exactly happened, but he became the island's handy man. It might have been when he installed security cameras for one of the local shops? Anyways, he is always getting requests and accepting them since Ortho insists on being a good neighbor. Yadayada ‘they welcomed us with open arms’ yadayada ‘we have to play nice’ yadayada
Deep down, Idia has begun to like this way of life. He gets is peace, and the people aren't too bad. He becomes a favorite of the elders and is always being sent home with baskets of food whenever he steps into town. It's nice...in moderation
He still dresses very conservatively despite the hot weather, which normally earns him a resounding "what's the matter with you? are you crazy?". He has a large collection of turtle necks, gaming t-shirts, blue jeans, and a singular pair of worn out sneakers. On rare occasions he'll swap the sneakers for sandals (like Birkenstocks) , but that's only if Ortho drags him to walk the coast at night. One of the blacksmiths in the area welds him a metal hairband; which is concerning because don't they think his hair is a costume? He uses it regardless and occasionally ties his hair back.
While living in your world, he takes the opportunity to play all the games you might have experienced growing up. He sources all of the retro systems in attempt to try things that aren't similar to what he sees back in Twisted Wonderland. At one point he notices Ortho start to invite his new friends over. He actually doesn't mind since his brother is beginning to adjust to this new way of living, and he has an entire collection of consoles, board games, etc for them to choose from when hanging out in his home.
It’s easy being in your world. Magicless. It’s boring, but with no magical energy to eat at then his curse is essentially null. Believe it, he has spent so many nights trying to use his magestone with out any luck. Everyone here is equal (at least in being human y’know. No one can fly on a broom) - a normie. He is a normie.
And it’s not as bad as he thought it would be. It’s dull but no one has expectations of him. He can do whatever he wants whenever he wants.
He wonders if things could have different if he was born here. If Ortho…yeah. It’s better that he doesn’t let the thoughts linger or else jealousy might overcome his need to see you. What matters is that his brother has never looked happier than on earth. It’s almost like the boy has found his own family and place (sparking another tinge of jealousy in his older brother)
Over time he becomes less desperate to get off the “forsaken saltwater hell,” and instead hopes that you might be open to letting himself and Ortho stay on earth. With you. As a family.
But not like one of those sickeningly cringeworthy families he’s been forced to see in those telenovas all the yiayia’s watch. Seriously. He is tired of fixing their TVs and getting yelled at if he isn’t on time for their show’s slot on cable
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rocksibblingsau · 24 days
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Can I hear your Bergen thoughts and headcannons?
Absolutely! Keep in mind these will be poorly organized and jump around a bit.
So I know with the first movie there's a lot of 'trolls are drugs' jokes, but the thing is I like exploring this from a serious standpoint. In nature there are lots of plants that naturally have these effects or can gain these effects (think those videos of squirrels eating rotting jack o lanterns that have fermented into alcohol).
It's also not uncommon for some animals to have immunity to the effects of a plant, but consuming that animal would give you that effect. The possibilities of Trolls either just 1. naturally producing a chemical that produces the effects or 2. interacting with something that, while they have immunity to its effects, Bergens don't is VERY fascinating.
So we know Bergens falsely believe they can't be happy, which leads to a lot of questions. How had none of them ever noticed they were happy? Does love not fall under the 'happy emotion' umbrella? How can they tell likes from dislikes if they don't believe anything can make them happy? We know Bridget and Gristle misinterpreted that feeling (which I'll share more thoughts on in a bit), but I think we should consider the likelihood of misinformation.
Chef was doing whatever she could to ensure the continuation of Trollstice to cling to her power and title of minister of happiness. Let's consider what effects a Troll might give a Bergen that they would mistake it for 'true happiness'. Euphoria, lowering stress, mild and pleasant hallucinations, possibly dilating the pupils which might make the world seem 'brighter'. Those things wouldn't accompany REAL happiness, so they would seem like two different things. If you're a random Bergen and the royal chef and minister of happiness feeds you a troll and tells you THATS what happiness feels like, you wouldn't ever assume any other feeling is happiness.
A side note, I like to think that as a side effect, falls, stumbles and accidents go up 300% on Trollstice and it's not really looked into.
Believing Trollstice was the only chance to be happy would be very beneficial to royalty as well. You'd be risking a lot to go against the very people who could make you happy, and you'd likely agree to a lot of things you wouldn't normally as long as Trollstice was on the line.
I think things go further than 'trolls are drugs' and 'government conspiracy theory' though. Emotions are weird things. Happiness can feel like the urge to jump up and down, run around, flap your hands, the list goes on. I noticed that for Bergens to be called 'miserable', a lot of the time they just seem overly apathetic?
Consider this. You feel hungry. It's a feeling your body has that compels you to eat. You eat, and the feeling goes away. Same with thirst, tiredness, etc. These are feelings that give you an urge, you perform the urge and the feeling goes away. Every day you feel those things and do the things they tell you to do.
Then one day you get the urge to jump up and down. You do, but the feeling doesn't go away. It's annoying. It's like a buzzing sound in a previously quiet room. You want that feeling to go away.
What if Bergens 'default' is a sort of empty state? Any emotions they attempt to work through relatively quickly to make the unfamiliar feeling go away, but under the effects of Trolls, they likely wouldn't be bothered by the euphoric feeling. Gristle's first assumption about the happiness he felt was that it was his body trying to tell him about it's physical state.
Part of them 'learning' to be happy would be teaching them what emotions felt like, and not to lean away from them just because feeling them might be new and uncomfortable. Which considering the target audience is of the age where emotions ARE very big and scary and overwhelming could have been a very cool inclusion.
This was very messy, as I'm tired and so bad at organizing my thoughts sometimes, but this is my take on how Trolls exactly effect Bergens and a bit on why Bergens never figured happiness out on their own.
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astrojulia · 11 months
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PAC - Messages to improve your Summer/Winter Season
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DISCLAIMER. These general free readings are made in good faith for entertainment purpose. This reading was done in mind with Summer for people in the Northern Hemisphere and Winter for the Southern Hemisphere.
How to pick a pile
When you have different cards to choose from in pile 1,2,3… look at each of those cards. Wait until someone reminds you of a memory. Perhaps a character’s outfit resembles one of your own. It is this pile that has its message. What if they all remind me of something? Go for the one with the strongest memory, one might look like her earring but another might be the favorite candy you got from your grandma when you vacationed at her house. But what if none reminds me of something? Take a deep breath and wait a little longer, without charging yourself or creating worries. Relax, some will awaken some memory in you, I promise! ..
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Pile 1 - Kuromi
(Eight of Coins - Ships - 10 of Wands - Moon - The Moon - Lillies - Nightingale)
What you've been working on since the beginning of the year has been your work and your career, and that's why you've already made great progress in this regard. You've completed many plans and projects because I see here a person who engages in independent and primarily artistic work (if this doesn't apply to you, skip this part). You've already made significant changes to the way you approach your projects, perfecting them and improving their efficiency in terms of time and cost.
Your strength today lies primarily with women and the female audience. It seems that you make their work much easier by delivering practically everything ready. So far, this description has been quite general, but let me delve deeper. You have the ability to take sketches and text that people create and turn them into highly detailed images. You can deliver exactly what they want, even when they don't fully understand their own desires.
In the remainder of the year, you need to focus on enhancing your creativity, intuition, and subconscious. It appears that you have concentrated on improving the theoretical and logical aspects of your art, such as techniques. However, now it's time to reestablish your focus on the practical and emotional dimensions of your craft. Understand the messages behind your work without needing explanations or logical reasoning, as there are certain aspects that are purely emotional and not rational.
Pile 2 -My Melody
(The Fool - Mices - Two of Cups - Tree - The Hierophant - Whip - Turkey)
What you've been working on since the beginning of the year is exploring the possibilities at your disposal. You haven't limited yourself to a single plan or envisioned a fixed future; instead, you've been experimenting and getting to know a little bit of everything. You have conducted extensive research, seeking out both the purest and darkest aspects of each subject. During this period, you haven't settled for anything less—you have immersed yourself in the topic and then moved on. This research and exploration are closely connected to the magical, religious, and alchemical aspects of things.
Your strength lies in your ability to transform situations like turning water into wine. You have a knack for converting adversity into productivity and fruitful outcomes. For you, there is no such thing as a bad time. This ability is particularly evident when it comes to your parents and ancestors—you have a way of making their influence more adaptable.
In the remaining part of the year, it is important to focus and commit to a specific area. Although you have conducted extensive research, it's time to concentrate on a particular subject to delve deeper and produce something that can benefit you in the long-term future. You need to create a ritual, something you can talk about and engage with every day, starting from the moment you wake up in the morning.
Pile 3 - Hello Kitty
(Ace of Pentacles - Child - The Chariot - Bear - Four of Pentacles - Dog - Skunk)
You have been focusing on personal growth and the experiences that money can afford you. You have been meeting your child's wants and basic needs to a certain extent. For instance, if you can buy a snack, you go ahead and purchase it without holding back. However, you have imposed significant restrictions on yourself, and now you are starting to loosen up a bit. Additionally, you have been rediscovering and utilizing skills from your childhood that were once set aside due to financial constraints, but now you have the means to pursue them.
Your greatest strength today lies in your audacity and courage. Nothing and no one can stand in your way. You are also deeply connected to spirituality, particularly embracing a feminine and motherly energy. Your inner light and unwavering faith that everything will eventually fall into place are your sources of strength.
As you move forward in the remaining part of the year, it is important to focus on your economy and practice saving. Cultivate a greater appreciation and care for the possessions you already have. Lately, you have been driven by instinct, and it would be beneficial to incorporate a bit more rationality into your decision-making for the remainder of the year.
(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved
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zillasvilla · 16 days
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Beyond the Lights
0. Prologue
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Disclaimer: All original characters are credited to the author of this content. Please do not repost on any other platform as your own. All media used is credited to the original owner.
Warnings: Implied Domestic Violence. Drug use. Addiction
Summary: Sariah is a RnB Artist in a rocky relationship with a trap artist by the name of Dame. The relationship goes downhill when she takes a family trip without him.
I. Six months Earlier “Happy Birthday, to you. Happy Birthday to you.” The sounds of multiple people echoed across the small, blue and white decorated kitchen. She sits in front of a small, beautifully designed cake. In her favorite colors. Blue and and a lavender purple. In black glittery icing, spelled out her name and the current age she was turning. Twenty-One.” She was officially a legal adult.   “Happy Birthday dear Sariah. Happy Birthday to you.” The singing stops as the lights go out. The number twenty-one candle dimly lit, bringing a fluorescent glow in the room, but only showcasing her face as she made a wish and blew out the candle. “What did you wish for?” Her sister asks, using her own boyfriend as support, as she was tipsy and was ready for her sister to finally be able to join her in her hood-rat activities tonight. “If I tell you; it won’t come true.” They laugh at her superstition. Ever since she was a little girl she believed a spoken wish would never come true. So far none have came true. Although, she was still hopeful. She goes to cut the cake, wanting a slice before her forced high kicked in. “Fuck the cake, you can drink now bitch!”  Her cousin says from next to her, pouring shots forever. “Like hell she will though.” He speaks from the couch. “She good without it.” “I am, it’s my birthday.” Sariah speaks up for herself. He was good at trying to tell her what to do like she was his child. He shrugs. “Pick up a drink if you want to. You don’t need to get addicted to that shit.” “Oh like you did.”  That was a quick comeback. She didn’t realize what he said until it came out. It was quick the way he got up and got in her face. He wouldn’t dare try it here. Not when her brothers are right there. Granted he didn’t get close enough as one of her brothers pushed him back. “Try that shit again, and see if I won’t fuck you up.” Dame looks between him and her.  “My bad man.” Sariah could see the whiteness caked inside his nose, and she was sure if she noticed; everyone else noticed to. “Yeah aight.” He crosses his arms, blocking his path to Sariah. “you gotta go.” “Sariah let’s go.” Dame looks at her. Sariah doesn’t move. It was her birthday. She wanted to go out and she was going to and she was going to have fun. Dame wasn’t going to stop her either. “I’ll see you tonight.” she tells him. She could see something shift in his demeanor. Dame nods, looking at her with looks that could kill as he left. She was completely messed up went she got home. They went to a bar downtown. She had lost count on the amount of drinks she had. She wasn’t sure if she drove or not, but Jonathan, her cousin’s boyfriend and his brother got her home. Dame just so happened to be gone and she was glad. She finds her way to the bedroom, only to be stopped by a woman coming out. “The fuck?” She pushes her way in and there he was in her bed with two other women. That just sobered her up and he had no care in the world that his girlfriend just caught him in the act. 
II. Present Day
“What Dame.” Sariah wasn’t in the mood to talk when he called her. She wasn’t paying attention to the ringer when she answered assuming it was her cousin asking her where she was. Her mind focused on trying to produce this last song for a wedding soundtrack and was in a hurry. She wanted to have this finished before her cousin got married. They trusted her with something so special to them and she wanted it to be perfect.
“I was just seeing if you were home. I need you.”He wasn’t exactly subtle. She could hear his labored breathing and sniffles in the background. She knew what he wanted; she just wasn’t in the mood. She was tired, hungry and had to be at the airport before they leave her. She gave herself another hour in the studio then she was going home to get her stuff and race to the airport. Dame was no where in that time frame.
“I’m busy tonight, plus you know I have Trinity and Jimmy’s thing to go to. I’m only going to be home long enough to get my things.”
Sariah hears the frustration in his sighs. The beat playing in the background as she tried to focus, brows furrowed while lining up the lyrics she recorded to the beat she produced.
“Damn, fuck me then.” He disconnects the call. She didn’t hear him end the call as she had finally finished the chorus and was to busy celebrating, that she almost missed trinity’s call., she found her phone and answered it quickly.
“Hey Trin.”
“Girl, are you in the studio?”
Sariah hums. She was indeed still in the studio, and she had finally finished her song, and the soundtrack was complete. I mean she was a perfectionist and this was a masterpiece.
“Bitch, everyone is at the airport waiting for you. Can you hurry along please.” Bianca had taken the phone from Trinity. She loved the music her best friend makes, but the girl had serious time blindness.
Sariah looks down at the time and it was eight-thirty. She was supposed to meet them at the airport at eight. She curses and quickly saves everything to her computer and gathering all her stuff.
“My bad, lost track of time. Give me thirty minutes and I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up.” The call ends. Sariah was grateful to have a studio next to her apartment. It wasn’t long before she was running up the stairs to her apartment. She rushed around her room throwing her SHEIN packed bags into her suitcases. She had mentally thanked herself for doing this the night before. She really should’ve pack before today, but she was in the studio late again. This was her own downfall. She could hear her door open. It was Dame. He was the only one who had a key to her apartment. 
“I thought your flight was at eight.” His voice echoed through her ears. 
“It was, I ran late at the studio. So now I’m rushing.” she zips her bag up. Whatever she forgot she could just buy when she gets there.
He comes up to her. “Do you have to go?” He reaches to grab her, but she moves just as quickly as he got close.
“I’m her maid of honor. I helped plan this trip. It would be a bad look if I don’t go.” That was partially a lie. She suggested the location, since it was a family favorite for trips. She did create the itinerary. It was just being funded by Jonathan’s dad and uncles.
“You never make time for me.” It’s been a while since they’v been intimate, is what she knew he meant. She sighs going to her closet, putting on a love galore hoodie. A gift from a fan.
“Let’s not start this now. I don’t have time.” She grabs her bags, watching him block the door.
“Fuck, you never have time. do I need to show you how to make time.” He stares her down. Usually she would give and cancel her plans. This was a long waited trip, and she was going bruised or not.
“If you’re going to hit me, then do. Regardless. I’m leaving.”
The eye contact between the two never wavered. She was getting tired of everything and was starting to stand her ground. Using some peens up frustration she pushed past him.
“So, you’re really about to go huh?” 
“Yeah. See you when I get back.” She grabs her keys.
Dame watches her leave. “I got something for that ass” He mutters. Sariah managed to get an Uber, and to the airport just in time. In the midst of all that she managed to avoid fans, who recognized her. She sucked at keeping a low profile.
Trinity, and Jonathan stood from their seats, seeing her rush up to them. Trinity squeals, rushing to hug her cousin.
“The RnB princess has finally graced us with her presence.” Jonathan jokes.
“Ha ha.” She rolls her eyes with a smile, dropping her bags to hug Trinity.
“Sorry guys, just lost track of time in the studio.”  She told them the partial truth, she also didn’t want to tell them about the argument she had with Dame that was actually the reason for her being late. She wanted to get over that and just have a good time with her friends.
“It’s all cool. We understand girl, the music doesn’t stop.” Trinity speaks, reaching for her carry on, but Jonathan had already grabbed it. Bianca, Montez and Roman had already made their way through the gates. Sariah had reach down to grab her bag, but another hand was grabbing it
“I got it.” The voice was deep, and raspy. The arm in question was littered in tribal tattoos. She knew all too well who it was. I mean, how could she forget.
“Shit. You okay mamas?” She sat in his car. A busted lip, bruised cheek and a popped vessel in her eye that was sure to be causing her immense pain. He wanted to go in there and fuck him up, but her health was her main concern. ”Don’t tell anyone please.” That would be hard considering she looked like she got into a bear fight. “Where do you want to go?” ”Trinity’s.”
Joshua  
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hotluncheddie · 1 year
Text
stop being a goblin and let me kiss you
part 5
˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ⁎⁺˳✧༚
‘fucking steveeeee harrington. fucking i just like hearing you talk about it eddie. i like listening to you eddie. i’m actually amazing and perfect in every way eddie. no no don’t mind me i’ll just make your heart melt out of your ass with how sweet i am and then give you a boner like it’s nothing and then act like these are all none issues for you and you’ll live to see another day!’ eddie grumbles, kicking a rock into the dark recesses of the trailers underbelly.
he shoves his toe into the hole the rock left and glances back at steve’s idling car.
steve is looking somewhere distinctly below eddies eye-line, mouth a little slack. but when he notices eddie looking he perks up, waves like they haven't just spent the last four hours together, like eddie didn't just get out of his car.
fucking dork. you’ve fallen for a dork munson what is this? who are you?.. a fucking ex jock dork.. who listens… and is kind and hot.. and was just looking at your ass.
ugh. ugh!!
eddie stomps closer to the trailer.
the little angel version of himself appears on his shoulder. christ not this guy, always bad advice with this one. 'he likes you, you like him, what's the problem?' little angel eddies little white wings flutter, his little halo glints. eddie growls to himself, yeah what is the problem? maybe the problem is that it’s steve. it’s steve and we’re eddie and that just isn’t gonna fly!
thankfully the little devil version is on the other shoulder. now this is the guy he normally gets good advice from, stuff he can follow.
'the problem is that this is steve harrington'
exactly little devil eddie! 'exactly!'
'and he probably has a big dick and you do not know how to handle that.'
oh my god.
'oh my god' eddie mumbles, scrubbing and hand over his face, tugs at his hair. little devil eddie leans on his little pitchfork, making a very obscene hand and cheek gesture.
'better to big dick than not dick at all right?' angel eddie is not helping. not helping!! ‘plus it’s steve! we know steve! he’s nice!’
and eddie softens, arms slack at his side because yeah, steve is nice.
he thinks about how steve would come see him at the trailer all the time because he was always over at max’s helping. about how he really did mean it when eddie could rent on his employee account so they could watch together and save eddie the money. or how when eddie was in the hospital, all tubed up feeling like day old baloney, steve managed to pull a little smile out of wayne, asking him about eddie as a kid and who he’s rooting for in the series.
god, fucking, damn it!!
eddie takes a deep breath. rubs at his eyes so he sees the red goo of his brain.
…come on munson. we promised ourself. no more running.
whirling around eddie bounces on his toes, fist gripping the front of his tee. says a little too loud and a little strangled. ‘you don’t, uh, you don’t wanna come in for a bit do you?’
steve jumps, getting out the car and locking it quick, dipping to smooth his hair down in the side mirror before strolling over to eddie. he spins his keys around on one finger and follows eddie up the little stairs to the trailer door.
lifting one arm up to lean on the doorframe steve looks at eddie who is very interested in his shoes actually, could do with a clean soon.
‘this where the magic happens ed’s?’
that makes eddie look at him.
dumb, pretty boy.
eddie lifts his hand, flourishing it so it looks like he produced the door key from behind steve’s ear. ‘you were here two days ago steve.’
steve stands up straight, looking at the key in eddies hand. ‘how did u do that?’ he looks so serious eddie can’t help but snort.
‘cute.’ poking steve in the chest eddie opens the door, holding it open and sweeping his arm to let steve through first.
little angel eddie and devil eddie fly in front of his nose and high five. disappearing with a cartoon 'poof'.
eddie sighs. follows steve fucking Harrington inside.
˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ⁎⁺˳✧༚
part 1 (eddie) part 2 (steve) part 3 (eddie) part 4 (steve) part 6 (steve) part 7 (eddie)
(ty everyone who read this!! sorry that they won't be coming out consistently i am very much treating this as a fun thing to write when it comes to me so yeah. luv u mwah!)
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headspace-hotel · 1 year
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Personally as someone who experiences much more daily suffering than the average person I am deeply uncomfortable with the mere idea of "eliminating suffering" because it treats "positive" experiences like love and joy and happiness as more meaningful. In my experience this is done pretty much exclusively to the detriment of people like me.
Because by acting like suffering inherently decreases the value of someone's life you are implying that lives like mine aren't worth living. And maybe it's just me but I take offense to that! Sure my life isn't perfect and there are a lot of things I wish I didnt have to deal with but this life is mine and I'll be damned if I let other people tell me it's not good enough!
Humans weren't designed to exclusively experience pleasant things. Suffering is part of being alive! And I would not trade that for anything!
Ultimately its a facet of toxic positivity, and it makes me very very nervous. Because the people who are suffering the most always seem to be the ones thrown to the wayside for fancy little hypothetical "innovations" like this. Getting rid of suffering is quite likely impossible but that doesn't mean the people backing the idea won't just put on some horse blinders and pretend they don't see the people who would prove it didn't work.
I was about 12 years old the first time somebody told me I was too depressed to be around and it was catastrophic for my mental health. I just don't think that applying that on a worldwide scale is exactly revolutionary ya know?
The ultimate manifestation of this idea is in anti-natalism (people who think it's actively bad and wrong to have children) and people who believe in this idea are often actively pro-eugenics and just...anti-human.
"eliminate suffering" inevitably ends up at calling for extinction of all life, or at least extinction of human life, and there are people out there who think we should go extinct!...and I think we need to be firmer about calling this extremist and harmful, instead of treating it as a philosophical position to be considered seriously
like, even if voluntary human extinction just involved humans choosing not to reproduce, it's still going to fuck you up to go around looking at other humans and believing that it's bad that they're alive. yes, "existence is bad" I guess is one of the basic possible options to come to when asking questions about life and meaning, and I see how people start feeling like there is a "pro-natalist agenda" or some shit because it's something we don't really talk about.
but...believing that a universal genocide would be a good thing isn't that different from believing a genocide of one specific group would be a good thing.
And "no one should reproduce" is not really any better than "everyone should reproduce," because both violate the basic principle that other people reproducing is none of your damn business.
I am generally really uncomfortable with how so many environmentalism and climate change mitigation proposals focus on human population growth as a main cause of climate change.
There's no real evidential basis for the numbers that get cited as the ideal population for Earth, like supposedly 2-4 billion is the max the Earth can support if everyone lives a "comfortable middle class lifestyle"—What The Fuck Does That Mean? Where does it come from? Is it something we actually need or want? The vast majority of humans on Earth aren't living a "middle class lifestyle."
I want to see breakdowns of complex simulations explaining how much biomass the Earth can actually support, instead of arbitrary bullshit like that.
But from everything I've read, producing enough food for the world population is not even remotely a problem. Capitalism is the problem. Huge companies controlling the food supply and keeping the countries that produce food in poverty is the problem. Technological solutions are important but they will not fix the current problems, just like Eli Whitney's cotton gin didn't eliminate slavery.
Everyone assumes that the system is working as efficiently as it possibly can to meet the material needs of people, and that is so terribly wrong.
Anyway much of that was off topic but yeah, I'm not a fan of this line of thought and where it leads
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The Rookie Wins
Haas team, general  f1 x reader
Summary: y/n is a rookie to F1 signing with Haas but under FIA rules, they weren’t allowed to state a woman was driving in F1, for fear of public reaction to them allowing a woman race, but what happens when Gunther doesn’t care.
warnings: none. (Maybe a swear word?), sexism.
Word count: 2231 words
Authors note: The only note here will be that my toxic trait is thinking I’d be able to win an F1 grand prix while never ever having driven an F1 car before and being scared of driving too fast.
______________________________________________________________
2 days before your first Grand Prix
“Okay, so here are the rules Princess, no one can find out that you’re a woman, the FIA is willing to make the announcement at a later date maybe, depending on your performance” Gunther, your team principle explained to you, a few days before your first ever Grand Prix weekend.
“Gunther, there are no words to express how many times you have explained this to me” you pointedly said, staring at Gunther.
“I just need you to know that it’s not because I don’t believe in you, if I didn’t, you wouldn’t be part of my team. I think the rule is just as unfair and sexist as anyone, but we play by their rules and then prove why you deserve to be here yes?” Gunther replied softly, stopping everything he was doing to look at you, to make sure you knew exactly how serious he was.
“Yes boss, trust me, I’m going to do you proud” you smiled at the team principle.
Qualifiers
Having to hide in your drivers room, kitted out in full racing gear was getting tiresome and hot, how long were you going to have to do this? As you paced up and down your drivers room, getting more and more frustrated at this stupid rule imposed on you, forcing you to hide from other teams, media and drivers,  your trainer knocked on your door to let you know it was time to begin qualifiers.
You all but ran to your car, eager to finally show what you were capable of doing. Your team, the small few who knew you were a woman, laughing at your jittery energy, excited to see the woman that they’ve grown to adore, finally be able to show what she can do on the track.
Your excitement was short lived though when as you were pulling out of the garage, testing your radio, your race engineer informed you that the FIA had placed a new rule on you.
“Princess, we got some bad news on our side” Dom, your race engineer said with disappointment laced in his voice.
“Jesus, am I retiring the car already?” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
“FIA said that no matter how good the car is and no matter how good the driving is, you aren’t allowed to quali in the top 10, don’t want to make the other drivers look bad in the first race” Dom blankly stated, trying to not let himself get too angry at this clearly unfair rule.
“I think I’m more flattered than angry that they think I even would qualify in the top 10 in my debut quali session” you sarcastically said, trying to mask your anger at the clearly sexist treatment.
“Your time will come princess, I promise, we just got to play by the rules for now” you heard Gunther speak up over the radio.
“Gunther, saying I’d even be capable, would the FIA allow me to finish in points in the race” you suddenly ask as you were heating up your cars tyres on your first lap
The silence was too long for your liking.
“I’m sorry princess, it’s just until we prove that you deserve to be here” Gunther sadly states, “Good luck in Quali, at least try get to Q2” and with that, Dom’s voice filtered through your radio again.
Race Day
You sat in your car on the grid, waiting for the red lights to go out and you could begin racing. In those few minutes sitting on the grid though, you couldn’t help but get into your head about the entire ordeal.
How could they not allow you to finish in points? Haas was finally in a position where they could put up a solid fight, the team has been working on the car for months, finally producing something that could challenge the ‘big dogs’ of F1, and all because you were a woman, your entire team would have to suffer. Who cares what a few fans thought, surely as a woman you would bring in a whole new group of fans? Or maybe you wouldn’t be liked by the fans at all, and the FIA was right about everything? Maybe you shouldn’t be in F1 at all.
“Princess” Gunther’s voice suddenly pulled you out your own thoughts, “so, I’ve been thinking about it and, quite frankly, fuck the FIA. Race your goddamn little heart out, you’re in a Haas, and a rookie, no offence, but realistically, what’s the best you can actually do? Get p10? If that’s it, then get the P10, I’ll fight the FIA for you, your team, no, your new family will protect you, but whatever you do today, I want you to fight and I want you to race as hard as you can, the princess deserves to be on the podium, you got it?” Gunther speaks quickly, hoping to get the message across to you before the lights go out.
A smug smile graces your face, and your fingers tighten around your steering wheel, “yes boss”.
______
 “It’s halfway through this race and we are seeing some amazing things from the new Haas driver. This is their rookie year and their debut race, and we are seeing this driver fight for their life on this track. Having started P14, they have already made their way up to P6 and seemed determined as ever to continue climbing in positions” Croftys voice beamed out, thoroughly surprised, and impressed by the new driver.
“We are still not sure who the new driver is, Haas keeping them very hush hush. Rumours being that their seat isn’t secured, and they simply want to test them out, and if that is the case, they are clearly proving their worth to the team, having doing better than the team has experienced in years before.”
“This new driver clearly fits the new Haas car, pushing the car to extremes that we have yet to see from the team, they truly worked magic on their car since the last season as it is finally looking like it may be a competitor for the constructors if this performance is anything to go by”
“I am amazed at this new driver, jumping up another two positions to P4 in the debut race?? This is unheard of.”
“We are on the final two laps of this race and it looks like our little Haas driver is going to make an attempt to over take the Mercedes of George Russell, can he adequately defend his P3 position from this feisty new driver?”
“This is unheard of! The Haas attempting to overtake all three top positions in one go and THEY DO IT!!!! THEY PERFOM AN OVERTAKE MANOUVER THAT WOULD BRING A TEAR TO DANIEL RICCIARDO’S EYE!!! THIS IS UNBELIAVABLE!!!! THE CROWD IS LITERALLY ON THEIR FEET WATCHING THESE DRIVERS FIGHT FOR THE PODIUM”
“IT’S THE FINAL STRAIGHT BEFORE THE FLAG, CAN THE HAAS KEEP VERSTAPPEN AT BAY OR ARE THE GOING TO TAKE P2! NO, THEY TAKE P1 ON THEIR DEBUT RACE! THIS HAS TO BE A RECORD!”
“I am shocked, how did a rookie driver manage to take p1 on their debut race, this has been the opening race of a lifetime. I am truly in awe, who is this miracle driver that Haas has been hiding from the world?”
___________
“Dom, did I really just get P1?” You ask after crossing the line, beginning to do your cool down lap.
“Y/n, in the nicest way possible, how the fuck did you manage that?” Dom’s equally as shocked voice comes over the radio, leaving both of you silent.
You park your car in the P1 position, the Haas decals showing on the screen in lieu of the driver images. You slowly remove the steering wheel and climb out of the car that carried you to P1, still not quite believing what just happened. You briefly noticed your team shouting praises from behind the barrier, you having secured the first ever win for your team.
You can’t quite manage to move over to them though, still shaking from the adrenaline of the win. You instead sat down just in front of your car, head between your knees, trying to get your breathing under control and attempting, and failing, at keeping the tears at bay.
‘Oh God. You are going to be in so much trouble. The FIA are going to ban you from F1 aren’t they?’
‘What do you do now?’
‘Do you take your helmet off?’
‘Do you politely excuse yourself from media? Would they fine you if you’re meant to be hiding?’
‘Do you collect your trophy on the podium, or do you just leave it?’
‘Do you take your helmet off for the podium?’
‘That first-place cap is going to look really weird sitting on your helmet.’
You could feel the anxiety of the entire situation taking over, the full weight of what just happened finally hitting you like a ton of bricks.
Your life was about to change completely, for better AND for worse. - maybe the anonymity wasn’t all that bad after all.
Suddenly you see two feet in front of you, you lift your head as Gunther crouches down, lifting your visor to see your puffy read eyes filled with tears, he gives you a small sympathetic smile, almost as though he can hear the chaos going on inside your head.
“You did it Princess, you proved to everyone why you deserve to be here, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Now, when you’re ready, I’m going to need you to take that helmet off and go and hurl yourself at your team so they can properly congratulate you and we can all celebrate” Gunther softly said to you, firmly, so you know how serious he is, but gently because he could see the great distress you were under.
“What if they all hate me?” You quietly whisper, unsure if Gunther was able to hear you at all.
“Honestly Princess, there will be some who do, you’re about to change the sport forever, and they’ll be even angrier because they know that you deserve to be here, but the truth is, you will always be the bad guy in someone’s story, so let them hate you, because even more will love you, and even out of those, your team, no, your family, will love you the most, and that’s what matters, now, go be with your team” Gunther says softly, a tear rolling down his own cheek.
You throw yourself at Gunther hugging him, nearly knocking him off his feet as you wrap your arms around his neck, him hugging you back just as tightly. This moment between the team principle and rookie driver causing the crowd to go wild. Next minute Gunther was pulling you up so you were standing next to him, you gave him a brief look and he just nodded, silently letting you know that no matter what he would be standing by your side, protecting you and fighting for your right to be in F1.
You slowly begin taking off your helmet and balaclava and the tension is palpable as the entire F1 world waited to see who the rookie Haas driver was.
The second your face and hair was in view, the crowd was suddenly screaming and going wild with excitement, you couldn’t help the tears streaming down your face at their reception of you into F1, so firmly believing that no one would accept you, yet here the fans all were, shouting your praises for winning your first race regardless. Gunther, with his own tears adoring his cheeks, grabbed your hand and lifted in above your head, prompting another cheer from the crowd, causing you to throw your head back laughing from happiness, feeling the goodness bubbling out of you without any way to stop it.
Next thing you know, you’re throwing yourself into the sea that is your team, and they are all hugging you, letting you know how proud they are of you, Dom screaming his congratulations at you, all the goodness and words all to overwhelming for you to comprehend.
You turn back to look at the other two podium winners, Charles and Max, both watching you with their own smiles, nodding their respect towards you, causing another wave of tears to fall.
You eventually made your way over to them, suddenly nerves kicking in again, hoping the drivers would take you seriously and respect you as a driver instead of immediately dismissing you.
“Well Princess, you do know that we aren’t going to be taking it easy on you right?” Max says first
“Jesus mate, can you not start with a congratulations first? Secondly, Princess? Really?” Charles immediately admonishes his friend.
“She’s the new princess of the paddock”, Max shrugs, “or are you upset someone is going to be taking that title away from you, with your way too done skin care routine?”
“You know we have to take care of our skin if we’re sweating this much in the helmets mate!” Charles begins to defend himself
You do nothing but giggle, thinking that there was no other place you belong as you listened to the two old friend’s bicker.
The princess of the Paddock, this was a title you could get used to having.
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obsidiancreates · 28 days
Text
One Undead To Another (Chapter 16)
(Trigger warnings for graphic depictions of injury/dying, blood, nightmares)
Gus tips the delivery person and walks back into the main room of the office with two still-steaming burritos in a bag. Shawn feels the memory of salivating at that same smell– god, not even a week ago. Somehow it feels like it’s been years since he woke up cold and starving, but at the same time it’s been seconds. Is that a vampire thing, an ADHD thing, or a trauma thing? Is it worth figuring out? Not right now.
His mouth is bone-dry as he accepts the burrito. It smells good, great, and the way the warmth of it seeps through the tinfoil into his hands is heavenly. He feels no excitement to bite into it. 
“Alright.” Gus sits down at his desk. “Test number one– garlic.”
“I dunno about this, man. I told you I get hungry after I get hurt.”
“Shawn, we need to figure out your supernatural weaknesses before going back to taking cases.”
“I think we can consider garlic a lock!”
“Sunlight isn’t.”
“... Fair. … Fine. But only if you make some posters to hang around so we get some more private cases.”
“Why? Are you hungry again already?”
“...”
“Do I need to pull out the pencil rosary again?”
“Maybe? It’s not… bad. It’s just kind of… there. Can we just– I’m taking a bite, if I burst into flames or turn into a pile of ash just know my text about my Tears for Fears vinyls still applies.”
“Shawn.”
“Just making sure.” Shawn unwraps the burrito. It’s weird, to know something smells so delicious and know it should be making your mouth water and know you should be excited to eat it, but none of that matters. It’s like the whole experience is hitting a glass wall, clearly there, just barely out of reach to him. 
He takes a bite. Shredded pork, salsa, guac, there’s even roasted corn in this one. It’s loaded, incredible, and he can’t really enjoy it because even though it all tastes exactly like it did when he was human it doesn’t mean anything. Nothing is satisfied by it. In fact, the pang of hunger sharpens as the taste of the pork specifically floods his mouth.
It’s meat, and it’s wrong. Close, so close to what he needs, but not right.
“So?”
Shawn swallows. “Didn’t even burn.”
“Alright, garlic is a no.” Gus crosses it off his list. “We’ve gotta find some garlic flowers next and see if those do anything.”
“Garlic flowers? Don’t be silly, Gus.”
“Garlic flowers are another classic vampire ward, Shawn! They’re used in the original Dracula novel!”
“It’s a novel?” 
“We had to read it in the seventh grade, remember?!”
“Not really. I do remember watching one of those old uh, black-and-white movies with Count Dookie.”
“Count Dooku, Shawn.”
“Gus, he was one of the bad guys, let’s not sweat over his name.”
“You’re trying to distract me.”
“Am not.”
“You are! You’re deflecting again!”
“Deflecting? Please.”
“We agreed, last night, that if you got uncomfortable with focusing on the vampire stuff or the psychic stuff you’d say it outright and we’d switch gears.”
“... Alright. Alright, yes, I’m… wanting to change the subject for a while.”
“Fine. Psychic stuff still fine, or no supernatural stuff at all?”
“None at all, man, I just… let’s watch a movie or something. Least that won’t be different.”
“Alright. Hey, I think American Duos is on.”
“Really? … Wow. Their ratings must be terrible, it’s the middle of the afternoon on a weekday.”
“The guy they replaced Zappato with is kind of lacking, and they had to replace Emilina last season and she’s not great either. I think it’s only still on because the producers are afraid of telling Nigel St Nigel he’s off the air.”
“Really? It sounds awful. Let’s watch the entire season.”
“You know that’s right.”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Nice of you to join us today, detectives.”
They both freeze in their tracks. Lassiter turns around first, adjusting his tie nervously. “Ready to get back to work, Chief. It was just a 24 hour thing, and I’m firing on cylinders today.”
“We both are,” Jules jumps in.
“Good, because your homicide case wrapped up the other night and we need a few closing details from you both. You’ll find the paperwork on your desks–”
“Chief!” Buzz jogs over. “We just got a report on the wire, body pulled out of a lake. Looks like drowning.”
Jules makes eye contact with Lassiter. Shawn’s abilities really have evolved. 
“Oh, detectives!” Buzz grins at them both. “I’m glad you guys are feeling better today! Oh, um, Detective Lassiter, I put any remains of journals or anything we found from the mansion in a box and left it by your desk.”
The Chief turns to Lassiter with a disbelieving, you-better-explain threatening smile. “Uh, detective, when did you ask Officer McNab to do this?”
Crap. “Uh, over the phone yesterday, Chief.”
“And you heard about the mansion burning down… how?”
“... Well, uh… Spencer! Yes, Spencer called me in the middle of the night, said he had a vision. Normally I would’ve told him to screw off but I… humored, him, when he asked me to tell McNab… that.”
“You… humored… Mr. Spencer?”
“I blame the fever, Chief.”
“Well, then… I’ll blame it as well. If Mr. Spencer thinks something additionally important is in those journals, I’ll let you hold onto them for the moment, but it’s looking like this case is pretty much completely shut, at this point in time. Right now I want this drowning case to be your top priority.”
“You got it, Chief,” Jules says, giving a too-wide smile and overly enthusiastic thumbs-up. The Chief eyes her oddly for a moment, and then walks back to her office.
“Keep it together, O’Hara, you’re the one who convinced me to play along with this crap,” Lassiter whispers as they quickly walk to his desk.
“I’m trying! The bigger the secret, the harder time I have keeping it!”
“Then why in god’s name are we doing this?!”
“Because Shawn doesn’t deserve to go to jail or a mental facility for something he had no control over!”
“You do realize–”
“As soon as I said it. But Shawn’s not one of the the bad guys, Carlton. It’s different. He’s one of us.”
“... Yeah, alright.” Lassiter tries to sound unconvinced as he agrees. They reach his desk and he takes the lid off the box, frowning as he looks inside. “This is what McNab considers salvageable? He’s more off than I was before the divorce.”
“Oh, Carlton.”
“... My therapist says turning the situation into humor could help me move past it.”
“Alright… well, if you think it’s helping.”
Lassiter looks back into the box, slightly flushed with embarrassment now, and carefully looks through. “I don’t know that we’ll get anything helpful from this.”
“Well, maybe they’ll trigger some kind of… psychic revelation for Shawn.”
“We’re bringing him evidence now?”
“He’ll probably steal it out of evidence if we don’t.”
“You finally caught him doing that?”
“No, but, we both know he does.”
“... Fine. At least this way we can ask for it back. … Let’s focus on this drowning thing instead. You were lying when you said you’d call him, right?”
“No, I was not.”
“O’hara, you saw him this morning. He’s not even close to ready to work on a serious case.”
“... Fine. I’ll wait until we have evidence of foul play. If nothing suggests that, I’ll just tell him it was an accidental drowning case tomorrow.”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Henry closes the door to the security room and gives himself a moment to chuckle, tossing his badge up once and tucking it back into his suit pocket. He forgot how much he enjoyed flashing the badge to get into places.
He pulls up the security feed from outside the store on the night in question. He scrubs through, trying to pick out any suspicious details.
There. 
Just before 3 AM, a motorcycle is caught speeding by. It’s too blurry an image to tell if it’s Shawn’s bike, but Henry’s always considered ‘confirmation bias’ to be something that applies to other people. His investigations have never suffered from such a thing.
He scrubs through some more. Cars, cars, it’s too dark and blurry on the camera to tell them apart by make or model, much less license plates. The motorcycle is all he’s getting from this. 
He stands up, straightens his suit, and leaves. Maybe he’ll get something better from a more expensive store’s security feed. 
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shawn scoots a little further away as Gus lets out a snore and mumbles something flirtatious in his sleep. He thinks he’s getting an okay handle on the hunger thing– his throat is shot to hell again already, the temptation of Gus’s blood a little bit like that time his dad put a marshmallow on a plate and told him if he didn’t touch it for fifteen minutes he could have two. Comparisons keep drifting through his head, all the different things he can taste from having Gus so close, even when he does his best to stop breathing it in. 
Again, the movie snacks aren’t helping whatsoever. He keeps eating them anyway.
His mouth aches again. Pulses with pain in time with Gus’s heartbeat. He should really stop setting up situations where he’s alone with one or more of them.
He leans his head back on the couch and closes his eyes. The sound of the movie is sharp against his ears, just adding to the headache, getting less and less comprehensible as he slowly drifts off to sleep.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Juliet doesn’t have Thornburg.
Juliet doesn’t have Thornburg.
So why is she dying?
Shawn is holding her hand, trying to confess, but the words are stuck in his throat. Jules is wheezing, her eyes bleeding, looking into his with a fear dulled by a thick glaze of illness. Jules is dying. Jules is dying.
Lassie doesn’t get shot in the graveyard.
Lassie doesn’t get shot in the graveyard.
So why is he dying?
Shawn is holding Lassie as he bleeds out– no, he’s holding Mary Light, no, he’s holding Lassie, no, he’s–
Lassie’s blood is spilling out of his chest. He’s looking at Shawn with a level of terror that Shawn never ever wants to see from the detective, never should see from him.
He’s holding Mary again. “Wake up, Shawn.”
Lassie is dying in Shawn’s arms.
Lassie is dying in Shawn’s arms.
Gus doesn’t fall off a cliff when he grabs onto the extreme sports murderer.
Gus doesn’t fall off a cliff when he grabs onto the extreme sports murderer. 
So why is he dying?
Shawn holds Gus at the bottom of the cliff. Gus’s blood coats the rock beneath them. His eyes are completely sightless, his mouth trying to form words that will never come, not with a head injury like this. Gus’s hand grips Shawn’s so tight it hurts, a silent plea to save him.
Gus is dying and Shawn can’t save him.
Gus is dying and Shawn can’t save him.
Henry is not the victim of a plane crash.
Henry is not the victim of a plane crash.
So why is he dying?
Shawn struggles to keep his father’s head straight with one hand as he tries to get the radio working with the other. Henry is barely awake, wheezing, mumbling incoherently. Shawn can’t make the radio work. He can’t call for help.
He looks at his dad and sees regret shining in his bloodshot eyes. Henry reaches out with one bloodied arm and grabs Shawn’s bicep. There’s a tree branch impaled through his abdomen. He looks Shawn in the eye and opens his mouth–
“Wake up!”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Shawn sits up with a gasp! His grandmother’s voice screaming through his father’s mouth echoes in his head as he pushes off the couch and runs to the bathroom, splashing cold–
No, no, he’s colder than it is, he switches the tap and splashes warm water on his face. It’s unnatural, it’s wrong, it’s not something his skin should be anymore– the warmth shocks him into full wakefulness.
“Shawn?!” Gus’s footsteps are like hammers against his skull, his quickened heartbeat like a jackhammer. Shawn presses his hands over his ears.
“Shawn!” Gus’s hands are so warm, so warm, warm warm warm blood spilling into Shawn’s jeans from Gus’s skull at the bottom of a cliff–
“WHAT THE–!”
Shawn finds himself presses against the bathroom wall, Gus standing in the doorway with the makeshift rosary held up, wet handprints on his shirt. Gus is shaking. Shawn realizes he feels fangs poking his lip.
He gulps in a breath, pressing his hands to his torso, then his face, holding them out– he repeats until he feels like he’s in his own body again. Gus watches, poised to run.
Shawn shakes his head, trying to knock the last echoes of the nightmare out. They won’t ever go away. They won’t ever go away.
Something clicks. He looks up. “Oh, god. I didn’t–”
“You lunged right for my neck.”
“I- Gus, I’m so– I didn’t–”
“I could tell.” Gus relaxes a little. His heart is still pounding. Shawn realizes belatedly that his voice has gone raspy again. Gus keeps the rosary held up. “What was that?”
“I-I… don’t…” Shawn swallows. They agreed he’d be honest. They agree he had to be honest, at least between the two of them. “I had a nightmare.”
“... About?”
“I don’t… want to talk about it.” If he talks about it he’ll relive it, he’ll have the images take over the real world again and if that happens he’s not sure he won’t try to–
“... Okay. Okay, but– Shawn, that was terrifying.”
“Yeah.”
“And your voice is all messed up again.”
“Noticed that too.”
“... You know, when I went out with Willow–”
“You guys actually went out?”
“Yes! A couple times! Anyway, she told me about this vampire bar place for people who pretend to be vampires.”
“So?”
“So… do you think you could handle just having a little from someone, uh… consenting for their own reasons?”
Flash of white, film grain, stalking up behind the burglar, covering his mouth, sinking his aching fangs into warm soft flesh and drinking–
Shawn shudders– he wishes it was because he disliked the feeling of the memory– vision? … Memory. God, he wishes he disliked it.
“Not doing that, Gus. First of all that’s not my kind of kinky business–”
“Eugh! I was trying not to say it outright, Shawn!”
“I know you were, that’s why I did. Anyway, second, that’s… too, vampire. Way too vampire.”
“... I could see if someone there is willing to donate blood.”
“Gus. You’ll pass out just trying to get the bag here.”
“I can handle it.”
“You don’t want to.”
“It’s that or you drinking me!”
“I won’t drink you!” Shawn doesn’t mean for it to come out panicked– but the way Gus tenses and raises the cross a bit more shows it did, in a bad way. Shawn shakes his head again, looking down and trying to regain some composure. “You– you just shouldn’t have to do that, buddy.”
“You shouldn’t have to be undead. It’s not a fair situation to any of us, Shawn.”
Jules, Lassie, Gus, Henry, bleeding bleeding bleeding dying dying dying Dying And Leaving Shawn Along FOREVER–
“I’m going.” Shawn is snapped out of it by Gus digging his car keys out of his pocket. “You just zoned out again and started shaking. If you don’t get blood, one of us is going to be in big trouble, and either way it goes it’ll be bad.”
“Gus–”
“I’ll just close my eyes or something! I’m putting this in front of the door on my way out, I’ll be back as soon as I can. And I’m letting Lassie and Jules know what I’m doing.”
“... Could you uh, leave out the–”
“Don’t even have to ask. Just… try to relax a little while I’m gone, okay?”
Shawn doesn’t agree or disagree. Gus leaves, and Shawn splashes his face a few more times before going back to the couch. He sits in the spot Gus had fallen asleep in. Maybe he’s imagining it because he’s so cold, but the spot still feels a little warm.
His cell rings a moment later. Crap. He lets it go to voicemail.
“Shawn, call me back, would you? What’s the point of these damn things if you just ignore it all the time? Look, I got a letter about your bike insurance and they’re raising the monthly payments. You put the damn bike on my card so I think I’m entitled to know how well you’re taking care of the thing if I’m going to keep paying for it.”
Shawn groans. He tosses his phone to the other side of the couch. He’ll reply later– or maybe never. 
Henry wheezing, staring with dull bloodshot eyes, reaching out–
He’ll reply later.
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