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rosemary-morgan · 1 year

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Connor(RK800) X F.Reader - Safe heaven (Part 1)

(Pictures are not mine! Found on Pinterest/Google - Collage made by myself. OC Steven belongs to me.)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

Warning: mention of domestic violance! hurt and comfort, angst, reader is very affraid!

Summary: Connor always made you feel safe and protected. Oh, but if only Connor had seen the signs earlier, he could have gotten you out of your hell faster...

👉Read part 2

Connor(RK800) X F.Reader - Safe heaven (Part 1)

Detroit Police Department

19 May 2040 - 22:45

Michigan, Detroit

"How does that feel, you piece of shit?"

Hank looked at the young man in front of him, his nose already smeared with blood. Handcuffed, he sat in the interrogation room and Hank was more than determined to make this bastards life miserable.

"Well, talk!"

But Hank was only met with a hateful glare and Hank was losing his patience!

"You picked the wrong girl, asshole! Sucks when she's got cop in the family, huh? Son of a bitch!"

Hank wasn't shy about getting physical. Who was going to do anything about it? For Hank, there were no rules at the moment. Besides, rules were made to be broken. Especially since he had already given Steven a bloody nose even before he brought him to the police station.

"I don't know what that crazy bitch told you! I didn't do anything..."

Without warning, Hank punched him right in the face and this time the man groaned loudly.

"FUCK!"

"You're not getting out of here alive, Steven. I know for a fact that you did this to her. You fucking scumbag!"

"The whore has started! She provoked me!"

And another punch in the face! Hank could go on like this all night long. Steven had just confessed that he had attacked Y/N.

"Just give me one reason, and I'll blow your fucking brain out!"

And when Hank Anderson was pissed, he was capable of anything! Especially when it came to protecting his loved ones and Y/N was very important to him.

"ANDERSON!"

And just as it was starting to get fun for Hank, his boss interrupted him. Unlike Hank, Fowler kept strictly to the rules. However, this one didn't know anything about this particular case yet...

Anderons looked at Y/N tormentor with hatred, leaning out towards him.

"You won’t escape me," he whispered threateningly, making Steven visibly nervous.

At the same time in Hank's apartment...

"Y/N?"

The young woman was completely beside herself, not even hearing Connor at first. The android had been very careful not to startle her, making his voice sound melancholic, so that she knew she was safe here. Here, with him. Connor looked at the young woman with concern as she sat huddled on the sofa, staring off into space. She was chewing on her fingers; her gaze seeming so blank, but at the same time you could see the countless tears running down her cheeks. Probably everything was playing out in her mind's eye at the moment. Her body was trembling and Connor feared that Y/N would not forget so easily. Inwardly, the android sighed, wondering over and over why people hurt each other. The android approached her carefully, kneeling on the ground in front of her, so as not to startle her.

"Y/N?"

This time she responded. Her gaze sought his. His warm, loving gaze that she had always liked.

"You don't have to be afraid. He can't hurt you anymore."

Not as long as Connor was with her. And Hank would never let anything happen to the young woman either. Y/N let out a sob, but nodded before her face turned back to sadness and finally burst into tears. She let herself fall forward, right into Connor's shoulder, seeking comfort from him. Carefully, Connor wrapped his arms around her delicate body, trying to soothe her by stroking her back and letting her cry on his shoulder, until she would calm down.

Here they sat now, in Hank's apartment, while the lieutenant at the station was giving hell to the man that had hurt Y/N.

"You were very brave today, Y/N," Connor whispered to her as he gently stroke through her hair. She moved a bit away from him, to look at him. Into his brown doe eyes that radiated so much warmth.

"I-I'm so glad you guys are here!"

She sobbed softly, wiping tears from her cheeks as she clung to Connor's gray jacket with her other hand. The android smiled warmly at her, nodding. Hank and he would always be there for her.

Connor stayed seated with her until she calmed down a bit.

"Would you like some tea, Y/N? Or would you like something to eat? Do you want me to order something to eat?"

But the young woman wasn't hungry. She just shook her head, smiling weakly. It was sweet how much Connor cared about her.

"No, thanks. I don't want anything right now."

Suddenly Sumo, Hank's big dog, came over, sniffing at Y/N first before nudging her with his nose and eventually resting his head on her lap. Loving as the young woman was, she stroked his thick, soft fur and sighed contentedly. Connor stroked him as well, and the dog couldn't be more comfortable at the moment. However, Sumo felt her pain and that made him sad too.

"When is Hank coming?" the young woman asked. Hank was like family to her. He had known her father well, always remembering Hank's countless visits when she was a child. After all, she was almost like a daughter to him.

"Hank's still at the office. I don't think he'll be back so soon."

Connor knew what Hank would do to Y/N's tormentor, and honestly, Connor would love to keep him company and beat some manners into Steven. Is that how you treat a woman? When Connor had found her an hour ago, her face had been streaked with tears and her nose had been smeared with blood, her top completely torn... Clearly she had been abused by her boyfriend and Connor was very glad that Y/N had asked Hank for help. She was very lucky they were both nearby. Worse things could have happened.

"Is he going to jail, Connor?"

The desperate look on her face nearly killed Connor. She was terrified of Steven and he could understand that. The android sensed an increased heart rate from her. Her body temperature changed, and when Connor reached for her hands, her fingers were so cold.

"Hey... It's going to be okay. You're safe with me."

Carefully, he lifted her chin, searching the look in her eyes that held so much fear and pain. What had this man done to her? How many days and months had she gone through this now? Connor wished he had realized all of this sooner.

"Hank and I will make sure he stays locked up!"

Hank and Connor had arrested Steven while still on the scene. Steven had been carrying a knife, had been yelling like a madman, threatening Y/N. This was clear evidence that would lead to Steven's arrest.

"I'm so scared. What if..."

Connor knew exactly what she was about to say and he interrupted her immediately.

"No, Y/N. He won't dare come near you and he will be condemned. However, you must agree to testify against him."

Connor could imagine how difficult this would be for the young woman.

"I-I... oh God, Connor..."

How was she going to do this? All she wanted was to forget and live a normal life! To have her old life back, before she had met Steven. Why had this demon come into her life? Why hadn't she noticed the red flags right away?

Y/N's whole body started to shake and Connor sat down with her on the sofa, gently pulling her into his arms, something Y/N appreciated at the moment. While burying her face deep into his chest, she could sense the fragrance of his aftershave. Aftershave? Certainly unusual for an android, but a lot had changed in the last two years. Especially after the revolution of the machines. Connor was no longer a programmed android who only took orders. No, he was an individual person who could feel emotions like sadness and love. Fears and worries; and right now, all his worry was on Y/N.

Connor was a little surprised when Y/N laid her head on his lap while stretching the rest of her body on the sofa. Connor's eyes were completely on her as he gently stroked through her soft hair, silently being there for her. It wasn't long before Y/N fell asleep from exhaustion. Finally, after so many months, she could sleep again. Without having to fear that she would be harmed in her sleep. She knew Connor was with her, and on top of that, she was in Hank's home. Her safe place was right here. Connor watched over her and he imagined all she had been through with Steven. She was so exhausted, completely broken down, and in the last few weeks she had laughed less and less. Connor hadn't known her like this. When he had first met her two years ago, she had been full of life. Her beautiful smile, her friendly nature was special in this cold world. And then Steven had taken this from her piece by piece. He was so infinitely sorry to see her in this condition.

"Don't be afraid. I will always be with you."

He was her angel who would protect her...

Careful not to wake her, Connor disengaged from her, only to gently pick her up in his arms, taking her to the guest room. She was fast asleep, the android could tell by her breathing. He laid her down in bed, covering her so she wouldn't get cold.

"Good night, Y/N..."

He bent down to her, gently kissed her forehead and stayed with her for quite a while...

As the first rays of sunlight fell through the window and warmed Y/N's skin, the young woman gently sighed as she slowly awoke from her sleep. At first, she didn't know where she was and her eyes searched the room, yet she was deeply wrapped in the sheets and she wouldn't dare get out of bed so quickly before she understood where she actually was. But when the memories came up so slowly, she understood immediately. She was more than relieved to be at Hank place.

"Thank God," she whispered as she threw herself on her back and stroked her hair. "Dear Lord, thank you..."

Instantly, Steven crept into her thoughts and fear overcame her again. What if he sought her out? What if Hank had to let him go again after all? She felt sick, her stomach tightening painfully at the thought. She pulled the blanket over her again and hid under the sheets, seeking shelter and protection as she began to cry.

"Connor..."

Was he still here?

"Connor? Connor!"

A few seconds later, the android was standing at the door, looking anxiously at the young woman who was looking at him for help. His LED glowed a deep yellow. Had she had a nightmare? Usually, after traumatic experiences, people tend to relive many things in their sleep.

"Y/N? What's wrong?"

The android sat down with her and the young woman instantly snuggled against his chest, sighing in relief as she felt Connor's strong arms around her.

"It's all right now", she whispered. Connor smiled at her words, his LED glowing a bright blue again.

"Did you have a bad dream, Y/N?"

"No", she whispered as Connor gently stroked through her hair. "I was just afraid you wouldn't be around..."

"I'll always be there," he replied softly, hugging her a little tighter to give his words even more expression. The young woman felt very comfortable around the android and she didn't feel any fear at the moment either.

"Are you hungry, Y/N?" Connor asked her after a while, but the young woman just shook her head. She had no appetite. Connor didn't think this was a good idea, but he couldn't force her to eat anything. Still, he tried to reason with her, because eventually a hot meal certainly wouldn't go amiss.

"I know you don't have any appetite. But maybe try some fruit and yogurt first? Or maybe even some pancakes?"

The young woman seemed to think about it before sighing deeply and finally agreeing to his suggestion.

"Okay, Connor."

Satisfied with her answer, the android smiled.

"Okay, then I'll prepare some for you quickly!"

The young woman ran a few recipes through her head, because pancakes with fruit and fresh yogurt sounded really good! Fluffy and delicious! Just comfort food! Wait, Connor would make them? She had to smile at the thought, because the fact that he was going to the effort to do this for her was sweet.

Then Connor rose to leave before Y/N gently grabbed his hand and looked up at him.

"Thank you, Connor. For caring so much."

And in his eyes she suddenly saw that gleam, that look of affection, which made her heart beat faster for a moment.

"No need to mention it, Y/N."

Because she was incredibly important to him, and he wanted her to be okay. Most of all, that she felt safe and secure around him. Connor would really do anything to see her smile again.

"Connor! Y/N?"

Hank brought the android out of his thoughts. The lieutenant must have been done with the interrogation and was certainly tired. After all, he had been out all night.

"Over here, Hank!" called Connor to the man. Y/N rose from her spot and met Hank halfway. She immediately wrapped her arms around him and he held her close.

"Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?"

Hank sounded tired and exhausted.

"Connor's with me. I'm fine with him," she whispered, and those were the exact words Hank had wanted to hear.

"Good. Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Not yet. But Connor's about to make some pancakes."

At that, the lieutenant raised a brow.

"'Him? Pancakes? Are you sure, Y/N?"

"You want some, too, Lieutenant?"

"Sure, Connor! There's nothing like having to spend all day in the shithouse, after eating your pancakes!"

It was meant as a joke, and it didn't miss its mark, as the young woman laughed. Hank really couldn't imagine Connor cooking up something like that. But what could he say? He trusted the android as he had surprised him so many times in many ways. Probably this would be the best pancakes Hank would ever have.

But for Y/N now, of course, was interested to know what would happen to Steven now.

"Hank?"

Her serious and, at the same time, worried expression, made the smile on Hank's face slowly but surely disappear.

"Come. Let's sit down, Y/N."

Hank gently took her by the hand and led the young woman to the sofa, where he sat down with her. She looked at him with curiosity and her heart hammered madly, her hands getting cold all over again as she got all nervous. Hopefully Hank would have some good news for her.

"Y/N, we need your report."

"B-But... I don't have to see him, do I?"

The lieutenant shook her head. She wouldn't cross his path, he had made sure of that.

"No. But you have to tell us... everything," he said softly, before running a hand through his hair. He didn't like the idea of the young woman being pressured into telling the police everything in detail either. He was afraid to hear what had happened. What that bastard had done to her. But Hank knew that it could help to put Steven in jail for several years.

Connor listened to the conversation while he took care of breakfast. Sumo was not far from his feet, dozing off. Connor's LED lit up yellow again when he thought of Steven. This guy had been suspicious to him from the beginning and he cursed himself for not noticing sooner what an asshole this guy was. But he was all the more proud of Y/N for being such a brave woman.

"Okay, Hank. But I'm only going to talk to you and Connor..."

Hank nodded as he put his hand on her shoulder. Just Connor and him.

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clemanime · 4 years

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Phone Calls and Blindfolds

HEARING

A/N: Hi... I’m here. I’m alive. I haven’t been motivated. I just wanted to put something out today. Hope you enjoy some Dean Winchester... hehehe

WARNING: smut, unprotected sex, spanking?, and a blindfold

"I’m sorry for missing your call. I’m either busy studying or working. Please leave a short message and I’ll try to get back to you. Thank you.”

Dean’s leg bounced as he sat in his bedroom, calling again and waiting patiently for her to answer the phone. He missed her voice. Hunts were becoming more difficult because every sound made reminded him of the night before. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t weak to her voice. No answer. “Shit.” He sighed, shaking his head.

His eyes glanced over to the blindfold that sat on his bed, shaking his head before taking it and placing it in his bedside dresser. Just as he closed the small dresser, his cellphone rang. He quickly answered, placing the phone to his ear.

There was a silence before she finally spoke. “Dean?” She questioned. “What did I tell you about calling me constantly?” Her voice was soft but stern.

“I’m s-sorry.” Dean fumbled. “I just thought...”

“You may be a hunter but remember I’ve knocked you on your ass before.” There was a smile on her voice. “What is it that you want to tell me?”

Dean looked over to the dresser, rubbing his face before opening his mouth. “I bought one.” He stated.

“Bought what?” She teased.

“Don’t make me say it.” Dean scoffed as she laughed.

“How am I supposed to know what it is if you don’t tell me Dean.”

Dean shivered, blinking for a moment before pulling the fabric from the dresser. “A blindfold.” He mumbled.

“Oh?” She smirked, moving around for a moment. “Who’s it for? Me or you?” Dean became flustered at her question.

“It’s for either of us.”

Her chuckled send a chill through him. “I think it’s for you Dean.” She spoke, letting out of relaxed sigh. “As tough as you want to appear... I think you want me to dominate you.” When he didn’t speak she continued. “Something about a strong woman turns you on doesn’t it?” There was a audible gulp. “Good to know.”

Dean moved the phone from his ear, shaking his head as he looked down at his hard member. He could hear her singing his name through the phone. “When are you getting back?” He asked, laying down in bed. He undid his belt and the button of his jeans.

“Slow down there cowboy.” She purred. “Take your time. And I should be back Saturday.” He slowly unzipped his pants, staring down at the bulge hidden by his boxers. “Finals aren’t easy and before you say it... being in the bunker with you makes it hard to concentrate. Especially when you want to touch me.”

“Your skin is so soft.” Dean groaned, palming himself.

“Oh Dean.” She whispered. “You flatter me.”

“I’m serious.” His voice deepened as he watched his own hand moving, wanting it to be replaced with hers.

“Dean.” The way she said his name made him melt, his body heating up with need. “Are you touching what’s mine?”

“I couldn’t wait.” Dean spoke quickly. “It’s been a week.”

“It’s not even close to Saturday and you’re already breaking.” She chuckled. “You’re weaker than I expected you to be cowboy. The big and bad Dean Winchester can take out a Vamp or a werewolf... but can’t keep from touching himself whenever he’s on the phone with me. His Mistress.”

Dean groaned in response.

“If you’re going to start something...” She let out a soft moan, knowing it would send his body into a frenzy. “Then finish it.”

“Yes Mistress.” Dean went to reach in his boxers but stopped.

“I can hear the hesitation.” Dean groaned. “You’re probably laying there with your hand right at the edge of your boxers, wanting so badly to touch it. Am I right?”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes, swallowing hard as the dull pain from being extremely hard started to set in.

“You know what you need to do then.”

Dean huffed and opened his eyes again, imagining her sitting at the edge of the bed, her eyes watching him closely. That enticing smirk on her soft lips as she spoke to him, instructing him on what he needed to do. A simple procedure that would allow him access to his own pleasure. “It hurts Mistress.” He started. “I’m sorry for starting without asking but please let me continue and I promise I’ll ask first.” He stiffened the more he spoke. “Please Mistress I need to cum tonight. I’ve missed you so much that everything reminds me of you. It’s so fucking difficult concentrating on a case when you’re not here to put me in check.” Dean watched a small damp spot appeared on his boxers, surprising himself as precum continued to leak. “Shit.” He whispered.

“How far did you get?” She questioned. “Is it out?”

“No. I’ve still got my boxers on.”

“What are you waiting for?” She questioned.

He pushed his boxers down, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. His stiff member stood at attention, waiting for further instructions. “Do I start?” He panted.

“Wait for a second.” She whispered, rummaging around on the other end of the call. Dean waited in anticipation and excitement, he knew she was grabbing her vibrator, smirking when he heard the silent vibration before it disappeared. “Start slow and don’t pick up speed until I tell you to.”

“Yes ma’am.” Dean wrapped his large hand around his cock, slowly stroking it as he let out a groan.

“Fuck.” She gasped in his ear.

“S-so good.”

Dean tried his hardest to keep a steady pace but he wanted to go faster, the need to release growing every time his finger passed over the head of his cock. “Dean.” She moaned out. His grip tightened slightly, pumping faster. His eyes closed, mouth falling open as he thrust his hips. She could hear him getting closer, a primal-like growl erupting from his throat. “Not yet.” She says quickly.

Dean stopped, shaking his head. “Just let me cum woman.” He said through gritted teeth.

“What?” She questioned. “Wanna try that one again Dean?”

“Don’t do this to me.” Dean groaned. “I’ve been waiting all day and I need to cum before I’ll lose my mind.”

“Cute but I’m the one in control Dean. Remember?”

He groaned.

“Good boy.” She moaned out. “Now... I’ll talk to you later Dean.”

“What?” Dean sat up, shocked.

“Dean you called me while I was in the middle of something.” She said quickly. “If you really want to finish go ahead.” She hung up, leaving him high and dry.

“Son of a bitch!”

Sam looked up from his book, watching Dean storming through the library. He was in the process of putting his jacket on, keys in hand. “I’ll be back in a week.” He said. The younger Winchester chuckled and went back to his reading.

Dean sped down the highway like a bat out of Hell, avoiding accidents, and slowing down when there was a cop around. He was determined to make the four hour trip in less than half that. When he arrived, the clock read 1 in the morning. She wasn’t going to expect and he didn’t care if she was going to give him an ear full for it.

He knocked on the door, pacing back and forth on the porch before banging on it. “Y/n!” He yelled. “Open the door before I kick it down!”

“Kick it down and I’ll fucking kill you Dean Winchester!” He could hear her yell back.

She yanked her front door open, looking up at the extremely frustrated and tired looking Winchester. Sighing, she let him in, closing the door. Before she could question him, Deans lips were pressed against hers. She accepted his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck, only to have them removed and placed behind her back. “We made a deal. No part of it mentioned you leaving me high and dry.”

“But it was fun.” She teased. “I had a feeling you’d drive all the way here. But you got here faster than I expected to I’m not ready.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll do it for you.” He pulled her up the stairs, kicking her bedroom door open.

“You’re pushing it Dean.” She warned, but he didn’t care, pushing her to sit on the edge of her bed. He dug in his back pocket and pulled out the blindfold. “Is that for you or me?”

“You tell me.” His voice, low and seductive.

“Then what are you waiting for Cowboy? Put it on me.” She bit her bottom lip, knowing what would set him off.

Dean put the blindfold over her eyes, tying it tight so it wouldn’t come loose. He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his other pocket and grabbed her wrists. He handcuffed her to one of the bars of her platform framed bed, putting her in a position that allowed him access. “Comfortable?” He pulled down her pajama bottoms, giving one of her cheeks a hard smack. She yelped, body jerking from the pain.

She grew needy when he disappeared from behind her, leaving her handcuffed to her own bed in a compromising position. ��Dean?” She questioned.

“Right here baby cakes.” He whispered in her ear, sending a visible shiver through her. “Open.” She opened her mouth, gagging when he shoved his fingers down her throat. “Get them nice and wet for me.” She sucked and licked on his fingers, swirling her tongue around and between his middle and ring finger. “Good girl.” He disappeared again, moving in silence. She could only hear silence, until his fingers inserted themselves inside of her tight cunt.

She mewled, body writhing with need as he fingered her relentlessly. “Dean.” She cried out, circling her hips.

He stopped, smacking the same cheek to stop her. “Don’t move.” He continued his movement., pumping his fingers in and out. “I’m not making anymore deals with you.” He leaned over so that his lips were to her ear. “I said you can dom only if I get to cum. Yet you go back on that part.”

“Dean.” She trembled as his finger tips brushed against her sweet spot.

“What do you say?” He questioned.

“I’m sorry Sir.” She whimpered, gasping when he pulled his fingers out and rubbed them against her clit. “Please!” She cried out.

“Begging to cum?” He asked, chuckling. “Why should I let you cum after what you did.”

“I won’t do it again! I promise!” She felt herself dancing on the edge.

When he pushed his fingers in deeper, she climaxed. “See how easy that was?” Dean pulled his fingers out, licking her release off of his fingers. “As sweet as ever.”

“Can you take the blindfold off?” She questioned.

“No.” He said, far from her now. “I’m not done with you yet.”

She heard a small click and the soft hum of her vibrator. “Open.” He said, in front of her. “You know what to do.” She opened her mouth, sucking on the small device. Dean pulled it out of her mouth and moved around her, smirking to himself as he probed her ass with it. She gasped, balding her hands into fists. “Relax.” He ran the back of his hand down her back. He pushed the vibrator in, watching as she whimpered and arched. “Just like that.” She trembled, climaxing again. “Felt that good?” He questioned.

She groaned in response, body still recovering from her release. “No more.” She receiving silence as a response. “Dean? Please?”

“I’m right here darling.” He rubbed his thumb along her slit, humming at the wetness that collected on his thumb. “You get this wet for me.” He moved so that he was behind her again, rubbing the head of his cock against her slick folds.

Dean relentlessly pounded into her, holding her hips as he pulled her back against him with every thrust. She called his name, back arching. She bit her bottom lip, hands gripping her mattress, trying to ground herself. She felt her climax building again, letting out a cry of pleasure. “Fuck!”

“Not yet.” He pulled out, slapping her ass. “You’re a mess aren’t you. This must be torture for you huh?” She whimpered, shaking her head in response. “No? Want me to keep going?” She nodded quickly. “It’s not punishment if you like it.” He slammed back into her. Thrusting quickly to build her up again only to take it away from her.

She was losing her grip, eyes watering as she bit hard on her bottom lip. Her moans were growing weaker due to her losing her voice. “Please Sir! I need to cum!” She hollered. “I can’t hold it in anymore!”

Dean kept up the pace, moving one of his hands so that he could rub his middle fingers against her clit. She shivered, mouth falling open but no sound coming out. She tightened around him, releasing a groan as he spilled inside of her. She relaxed, her body going limp. Dean kissed her shoulder blade and climbed off the bed, walking around and uncuffing her wrists. He kissed them and rubbed his thumb across the bruises that were beginning to form.

“Are you okay?” His voice was soft when he spoke.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I’m okay.”

Dean pulled the blindfold off and looked into her eyes, smirking at the euphoric look in her eyes. “Again?” He quesitoned.

“Again.” She nodded.

#dean winchester #dean smut #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #smut #5 senses fanfics #main masterlist

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Popcorn and Podcasts (Part of the Cuffed Universe Series)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Remus/Virgil (a bit more Logan/Virgil focus)

Characters: Logan, Virgil, Remus

Summary: Logan has a little reunion with some people while doing his job at Target.

This is a Cuffed Universe fic.

Previous fics in this series:

Tea, Cookies, and Handcuffs

Matboards and Subway Sandwiches

Espionage and Iced Coffee

Extras:

Moving Day

Notes: Non-consensual drug use mentioned, morally grey Logan, cop Remus, fighting, biting, being restrained

Logan’s eyes scanned over the security camera footage. He knew this was just a Target and did not need perfect security, but…this was a horrible set up, honestly. He itched to fix it. He wanted to rewire camera 9 to get a clearer picture and to tilt camera 6 slightly to the left so there were fewer blind spots. There also really should be another camera by the food area and one near the computers if they wanted true coverage. Really, just one by the popcorn maker and another near the gaming shelf would completely… He shook himself. It was good that there wasn’t another camera near the gaming shelf. He wanted them to have a blind spot… even if the inadequacy made his eye twitch.

He checked his watch and turned to the laptop he’d brought. He’d have to wipe it after this because he was using the store’s wi-fi, but it was annoyingly slow anyway. At least he was only using it to track the hacked into correspondence about the drop. Nothing seemed to be amiss in the conversation there, so he turned back to the security cameras. Everything seemed fine, but he couldn’t help but be anxious about the blind spots made by their system. Perhaps he should do another walk around just to be sure. He already had enough popcorn to sustain him for a week from his last trip out, but perhaps he could get something to drink.

He glanced once again at his laptop before standing from the rolling chair and grabbing the security guard’s keys. This Target had extremely poor security. None of the minimum wage employees had questioned him being the new security guard in the last three days despite the fact that he had not been hired. He exited the security office and turned back to lock the door behind him. As he was doing so, a man opened the door to the employees only section of the store where the security guard office was located. Logan could see a red shirt out of the corner of his eye; it was likely an employee trying to get to the break room.

“Hey, dude,” the voice greeted mildly as he went to pass by. Logan turned on instinct at the sound of the very familiar voice. They locked eyes. “Lo-?” Virgil started, clearly surprised, but Logan jerked forward and shoved a hand over his mouth before he could finish. He made a muffled yelping noise and only Logan’s knowledge of the man’s 2am got-surprised-in-the-kitchen instincts kept Logan from getting a knee slammed into his groin. He swiped Virgil’s legs out from under him and rotated so that he was at the man’s back. His free arm came up to restrain him in a hug to keep his arms at his side.

An unhappy growling sound rumbled under Logan’s hand as Virgil jerked against the hold. Logan paused to think. After a couple of seconds, he made a decision and pulled back with his grip around his waist, causing him to lose his footing a bit. Teeth comped down on Logan’s palm. He winced, but it didn’t stop him from dragging the man back into the security office. He slammed the door closed behind him with his foot and then struggled to force Virgil into the chair Logan had been sitting in before.

Virgil was cursing him quite inventively by the time Logan managed to cuff both of his wrists to the armrests.

They stared at each other for a few long moments. Then Virgil kicked him.

It was a stupid endeavor considering he was restrained to a chair on wheels. The impact of the kick was rather gentle, and the man himself went flying across the office, almost toppling over backwards except that Logan lunged for him and managed to keep him from falling.

“That was a rather foolish venture.”

Virgil stared at him for a moment and then kicked him again. Logan winced as that kick hit a bit harder because Logan refused to let him go. Logan quickly turned him around and slammed the button with his foot to keep him from rolling anymore.

Logan rounded him, careful to stay out of kicking range and took a seat on the desk to look at him. “Hello Virgil,” Logan said. “It’s nice to see you again.” And it was. He had missed Virgil far more then he’d anticipated. He was not a stranger to leaving people behind, but it had taken much more effort to smother his melancholy over never seeing Virgil again than it usually did. Looking at him now, those smothered feelings came back, smarting far worse than the kick a couple of moments before.

“Seriously?” Virgil asked. “What the hell?! Why me?”

“I assure you this has nothing to do with you.”

“I still got tangled up in it again.”

“And I apologize for that, however you will have to stay here until I am through with my job.”

“What job?” Virgil asked. Logan just raised an eyebrow and refused to respond. “Why is the security guard office of Target your supervillain base anyway?”

“That does not concern you,” Logan said.

“It does if you’re going to handcuff me to a chair!”

Logan just hummed and turned back to glance at the security camera footage again.

He heard Virgil shifting around and testing his restraints behind him for a few minutes. “Please, Logan, just let me go,” he pleaded. “I won’t go to the police, I swear.” Logan picked up on a bit of a distressed Virgil tone. It should be easy to ignore. He didn’t need to make sure Virgil was content anymore. They didn’t live together, and Logan would face none of the future consequences of his discontent.

Logan blamed the fact that he turned around to face him on years of habit. He did not know what to blame for the way he felt his face soften when he looked at him. “I will be finished in about an hour, Virgil,” he said. “I just can’t have you interfering.”

“Yeah, and then after that are you going to leave me tied up here so I can hope someone happens to come by soon?”

Logan tilted his head at him. “You are upset about being left restrained last time.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“You were never in any danger. The drug truly wasn’t harmful, and Remus was bound to wake up, and I would have sent an anonymous tip to the police station if I didn’t hear anything through police traffic within a few hours.”

“Yeah, well, I have anxiety,” Virgil shot back.

Logan blinked at him. “My apologizes for any undue distress.”

“You can stick your apologies up your ass, Logan or whoever the fuck you are.” His eyes looked hurt, and Logan felt a strong impulse to reach out and touch, but considering Logan was the source of said hurt, he doubted it’d be welcome.

“I will be sure to arrange your release by 5pm,” Logan said. He tapped on the digital clock on the desk. “There is no need to worry until then.”

Virgil just frowned at him.

“How about one of your podcast shows to pass the time,” Logan suggested. He minimized the window with the chat on the laptop so he could pull up the podcast application he’d installed. “I have been keeping up with that one about North American cryptids. It is still just illogical pseudoscience. I believe a new episode was set to come out today.” He scrolled down to the newest episode of the podcast. “It seems to be about the ‘Skunk Ape’.”

“I… you still listen to that?” Virgil asked. “You hated that show.” And he still did. He had just… found himself listening to it anyway, especially on days where he couldn’t sleep.

“You liked it,” Logan said. They stared at each other for a long moment. “S-so, it should afford you some measure of calm until you are released.”

“How kind of you,” Virgil said darkly. Logan looked away from him and pressed play on the podcast. Logan ended up feeding him some of the copious amounts of popcorn he’d gotten from the food area earlier, but other than that, they didn’t interact much. The silence was not nearly as companionable as it had once been, and Logan became hyperaware of the angry glares Virgil kept throwing him.

About three quarters of the way through the episode, Logan looked over at the security feeds and cursed. “How the hell?” he asked.

“What?” Virgil asked through a mouthful of popcorn. Logan had set the large bag of popcorn on a table next to Virgil and had apparently been too slow in his hand feeding, because Virgil had chosen to lean over and pick up a few pieces of popcorn himself with his mouth. It was not the first time he’d seen Virgil eat popcorn like a horse eating from a morral, and it was just as disgustingly adorable as always.

Logan reached over to wipe his buttery mouth off with the handkerchief he kept in his pocket even as he was distracted by Detective Remus Royal’s dumb face which had been caught on camera near the entrance. He watched as Remus walked up to the help desk and showed his badge to the woman standing there.

“Is that Remus?” Virgil asked.

“First name basis?” Logan inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“You left me handcuffed to a kitchen table with his drugged ass,” Virgil said dryly. “I think I’ve moved past using his last name and title. Not to mention I got to know him pretty well because he spent a couple of months interrogating me while trying to find you… Oh. Is he here looking for you?”

Probably, and damn him for getting this close. The bastard has never gotten close. The one time he’d caught Logan had been a complete fluke because they happened to book a room at the same motel. “Dammit,” he hissed when after a few moments of talking, the woman at the front desk nodded and let him behind the desk so he could enter the employees only door…

Logan and Virgil locked eyes briefly and then Virgil opened his mouth, readying to scream. Logan jumped forward and stuck the handkerchief in his mouth. “Apologies,” he mumbled. Virgil very clearly did not forgive him. In fact, Logan would have to make this quick because Virgil was already working the handkerchief out of his mouth when there was a knock on the door.

Logan turned to the door and flung it open. Remus seemed surprised that the door had opened so quickly and then even more surprised when he managed to process Logan’s face. Logan grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him inside before he could react, using momentum to throw him to the ground and shove a knee into his back.

“Ow! Shit!” Remus said as Logan kicked the door closed again. “Oh no you don’t!” Remus yelped when Logan’s hand went for the handcuffs on his waist. He rolled, managing to throw Logan off, but Logan was on him again in the next moment. He kneeled on one of his wrists to keep it pinned, but the other was free. Remus aimed a punch at Logan’s face, but Logan managed to block it. The second time he tried to punch Logan, Logan ducked out of the way and grabbed his wrist. Remus tugged roughly, but Logan still managed to reach over with his other hand and grab the handcuffs of his waist. “Damn you,” Remus said, trying his hardest to wiggle away and bucking. Logan ended up throwing one knee over his stomach to keep him in place so he could snap one of the cuffs on his wrist and the other on the leg of the heavy desk.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. “You know,” Remus said and clicked his tongue. “If you wanted to be on top that badly, you could have just asked.”

Logan blinked at him. “I highly doubt being cordial about handcuffing you would have resulted in the desired position.”

A spit covered handkerchief fell on the top of Logan’s head the next moment as Virgil finally managed to work it all the way out with his tongue. “Life is a nightmare,” Virgil contributed.

Remus’s eyes flickered up to Virgil. “Hey, Virgil, what are you doing here?”

“He saw me while going to the employee breakroom,” Logan explained.

“Since when have you worked at Target?”

“Since you got me fired from my last job, you dick,” Virgil said.

“Right,” Remus said with a wince. “Sorry about that again.” He looked back at Logan. “Not that I’m complaining,” he drawled, “but are you planning on getting off of me any time soon?”

“Give me a moment,” Logan said. “I need to find something to do with your free hand.”

Remus gave him a wide smile. “…Well.”

“Don’t,” Virgil hissed. “Please, just don’t. Not in front of me at least.”

Logan looked up at him in confusion, but he just rolled his eyes, so Logan dismissed it as unimportant. He carefully got off Remus and stood. He cast his eyes around for something that would work as restraints.

“You could just leave that hand free,” Remus said, innocently. “I promise I’ll be good.”

He found an extension cord in a box in the back of the office. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” he said dryly.

Remus gave him an impressive pout, but Logan was unmoved. He walked over and started using the extension cord to secure Remus’s other arm to a different leg of the desk.

“So, what’s it today?” Remus asked. “Hacking into Target rewards accounts to steal data? Stealing a couple computers? Ooo! Are you going to go to the make a bomb out of cleaning supplies and blow us all up?”

Logan heard Virgil suck in a little breath and glared at Remus as he finished securing him the best he could to the desk. “Stop it,” he said with a frown. “You’re scaring Virgil.”

“Oh, I’m scaring Virgil?” Remus asked. “You kidnapped Virgil and tied him to a chair.”

Logan shrugged as he stood. “He was in the way.”

“Is this even real life?” Virgil asked. “What is going on?”

“I unfortunately cannot tell you Virgil as it would compromise what I am attempting to do, but I am not going to make a bomb or harm anyone here.” He glanced down at Remus who was already eying the extension cord for weaknesses. “Except perhaps him if he doesn’t behave.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked idly, “Spank me?”

Logan raised an eyebrow and poked him in the cheek with his foot. “Deviant.”

“Or step on me. Even better.”

“I said quit it,” complained Virgil.

Logan turned his attention back to his computer and found that everything was right on time. His target was already on the security camera in the electronics section. The drop off would be in 5 minutes and the pick-up was set to be 5 minutes after that. Logan had a rather small window. He quickly wiped the computer of everything except for the podcast app and then rewound the podcast episode back to a few minutes before where they’d been when Remus had interrupted. “I really must be going now,” Logan told them. He picked up his keys and stepped carefully around Remus. He glanced back at Virgil as he opened the office door, an odd feeling in his throat. “It was nice to see you again, Virgil.”

He shut the door on Remus’s complaints about not receiving a personal goodbye for himself.

Want to read more? The next installment is:

Rats, Pizza, and Supply Closets

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #analogical #intruanalogical #intrulogical #dukexiety #adriana writes #cuffed universe #cop remus #morally grey logan #non-consensual drug use #fighting #biting #being restrained

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smallsith · 3 years

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Fuck the Police (Yes, ALL Cops)

Today around 12:30 PM, a veritable platoon of sheriff’s deputies, city police, and US marshals rolled up on my street all dressed up in their special little bulletproof vests, rifles out, sirens blaring, and started hollering on their PA for my neighbor to come out with his hands up

Which of course was fucking terrifying, even to me, a white person inside my own goddamn house. I can’t imagine how my poor neighbor (the one with the warrant out on him) didn’t piss himself- one black man coming out of his own house, hands in the air, surrounded by white cops with military-style rifles? I would’ve shit myself in his place. I would have been weeping and blubbering. And the fucked up thing is he shouldn’t have to have been scared. No one should have to be scared of the police, but the cops are all a bunch of overinflated knucklehead buttnuggets who want the power to lord their authority over people, and to punish anyone they feel they don’t like. Which, around here, is almost always black people, Latine people, drug addicts, and ESPECIALLY the homeless.

Thankfully my neighbor was not shot, though one particularly vile pork byproduct decided that even though the man was handcuffed and surrendering, he REALLY needed to wave his rifle in the poor man’s face. He wasn’t armed, he wasn’t resisting, he was calmly surrendering and cooperating. And they still felt the need to really hammer it home that they could blow his fucking brains out in the street if the thought of it pleased them. They then proceeded to make the guy’s roommate and/or girlfriend/wife (a white woman) sit on the curb, barefoot, for 45 minutes while they stood around with their guns and laughed with each other as some other cumtumbler of a law enforcement officer held onto her dog’s collar while her house was being searched.

Eventually they brought her a leash for her dog, but not shoes!!! No, bringing her some goddamn shoes might imply she has a certain human dignity to her, and we don’t want to allow potential criminals even a sliver of humanity, now would we??? (Gotta punish the race traitor for that horrible crime of miscegenation!!!)

What I really want to know now is when that one fucking EPD shitwheel is going to stop standing on my fucking lawn. Get off my fucking grass, pig. Don’t you and your weaselfucking cop buddies stand in the shade of my trees you piece of shit. Those are ACAB trees. Fuck you.

#text post #evansville sucks indiana sucks #fuck this city fuck this county fuck this whole state #this whole place is a festering backwater shitbarrel of bigotry

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toomuchtv95 · 4 years

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My Savior Part 2

Characters: Jay Halstead x Reader, WIll Halstead, Jake (OC), Antonio Dawson

Word Count: 2.2k+

Chapter Warnings: Kidnapping, Fluff, Swearing

A/n: So, I know I was supposed to get out a couple of days ago, but with everything going on in the world right now I just needed a few days to process everything. Now because of the stuff happening around us, my place of work was unfortunately closed down temporarily which means I have some time to work on this. I am now working on part 3 and I plan on having a smut scene in it so just a heads up on that. Also, there might be more there 3 chapters it all depends on the ending of the next chapter and the feedback I get. Anyways, let me know what guys think of this chapter.

Enjoy! :)

A/N: Excuse any major grammar mistakes hopefully Grammarly caught most of them.

Series MasterList

(I do not own the gif. Credits to whoever owns it.)

“Hey, Will have you seen Y/N? She said she was going to wait for me outside, but I didn’t see her. I figured she came back in here.” Jay walked into the hospital looking for Y/N, but instead, he saw his brother standing at one of the computer stations.

"No, after I took out her stitches, she left, and I just assumed she was waiting for you to pick her up.” Jay ran a hand down her face before pulling out his phone and giving you another call. When you didn’t answer, Jay started to get worried especially when your husband was still out there. “Jay?”

“I’m worried. I’m going to have Hailey ping her phone.” Jay dialed Hailey’s phone and told her what was going on. Once Hailey pinged your phone, Jay hung up the phone and headed outside with Will right behind him. “Hailey said that Y/N’s phone pinged right outside the hospital.”

"Okay, I'll go this way and you go that way." Will didn't think twice about helping Jay look for you. Growing up Will was like an older brother to you, considering you were an only child. As Jay walked towards the west parking lot, he dialed your phone number again and that's when he heard your ring tone from a distance. Once Jay ran towards the sound, what he saw made him panic even more. Squatting down, Jay picked up your phone that was laying on the floor next to your purse. Jay knew exactly what was going on and who had done it. Angry boiled underneath Jay’s skin as grabbed your stuff and headed back towards the main entrance of the hospital.

“I need to see the parking lot security cameras.” Jay saw Will walking back and Will saw that Jay was holding your purse. “That sick son of a bitch took her. I need to find them now or he’s going to hurt or worse.” Jay felt sick to his stomach just thinking about what Jake was going to do to you.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s talk to Godwin.” Both brothers head back into the hospital to find Godwin and get access to the security footage.

Jake dragged you into the house, your feet dragging against every step it took to get to the house. Jake pulled out a chair from the dinner table, tied both your hands and feet to the chair so that you were incapacitated of doing anything. He stared at you for a moment gave you a sinful smile. Jake crouched in front of you as he removed the handkerchief from your mouth. He grabbed hold of your chin so that you were forced to look at him. “You think you could just leave, and I wouldn’t find you?” Even though you were scared out of your mind, you didn’t want him to know that.

“This is your out. You can just leave. Find someone else. You said it yourself, that I was a worthless piece of shit. So why bother taking me with?"

Jake stood up to circle around you then stood behind you and leaned over and whispered in your ear, “because you are my wife.” As a chill ran down your spine as you closed your eyes to stop the tears from rolling down your face.

“You won’t get away with this. The cops are looking for you.”

Jake circled back around and came face to face again with you. "You think that your little detective boyfriend is going to come to save you? Be your night in shining armor?” Jake grabbed a handful of your hair and force you to look at him. “We will be long gone before he finds you anyways.” Without hesitation, Jake placed a rough kiss on your lips before replacing the handkerchief on your mouth. You wanted nothing more to vomit when his lips were against yours, but you needed to get through this and hope that Jay and his team would find you soon. “I have to finish making plans.”

Jake pulled out his phone and disappeared somewhere down the hall. As you left alone, the tears finally emerged and rolled down your face. Maybe this is was destiny. You were stuck with Jake for the rest of your life and thought of that makes you sick. Before you won’t think twice about spending the rest of your life with him, but now you would do anything to get away from this man you so-called your husband. Maybe you missed all the signs but, how could you? He put on the perfect act. Tricked you into falling in love with him and marrying you. He promised you a life together and this is not what he meant. Abusing you is one thing, but to kidnap you were on a whole new level.

An hour passed when Jake reappeared, and he was angry about something. “Change of plans. We’re leaving now.” Panic spread through your body as shuffled across the room to up tie you from the chair, but something stopped him. “What was that?” As Jake pulled out his gun from his waistband, the front door flew open and relief washed over you. Jake instantly stood behind you and pressed his gun to your forehead causing you to flinch.

“Let her go!” Jay slowly walked into the room with his gun raised. “Adding kidnapping to your list of charges? Murder, gun dealing, and domestic violence wasn’t enough?”

“She brought this on herself." Jay took a few more steps into the house causing Jake to press the gun harder to your forehead. "Don't take one more step or I swear I will put a bullet in her head.”

Jay stopped in his track not wanting to make Jake do something irrational. “You used her as a punching bag what did you expect? You think she was going to stay with you forever?” Jay couldn’t help but lock eyes with you as he saw the pain and hurt in your eyes. The way Jay looked at you wasn't the cop in him, it was the man who was still in love with you even after all these years.

“She got in the way. She deserved what she got.” Anger filled through Jay’s body hearing those words escape Jake’s mouth. Jay took another slow step into the room and Jake’s fingers instantly went onto the trigger.

“Don’t think about or I will put a bullet in your myself.” You shut your eyes the moment you head Antonio Dawson’s voice behind you. After a few seconds of silence, you opened your eyes to see Jake was being handcuffed and dragged out of the house.

Jay walked towards you as he holstered his gun and removed the handkerchief. "Are you okay?" You nodded your head in response as Jay crouched down to cut the ropes from both your hands and feet. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Cause if he did, I swear-” You crashed body into his and let more tears roll down your face. “Shh, it’s okay. Your safe now.” Jay wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. Jake was sentence to 20yrs in prison without probation or early release which was a relief to you. Two months have passed, and you were still trying to adjust to life without Jake. For the first couple of days, you were shaken up, so Jay suggested that you talk to someone to help you and at first you hesitate, but after some convincing, you decided to talk to someone. Since talking to someone, you started to feel better about things. On another note, things between you and Jay have changed, and maybe for the better. Being back with Jay felt like the two of you never separated. All those feelings you have held back for the last 10yrs were starting resurfaces and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. You were still married, and that makes things complicated.

Jay walked into the apartment around 10:30 pm which his later then usual but he said he was working late on a case. Jay kicked off his boots, unclipped both his badge and gun and tossed them along with his keys onto the table by the door. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You smiled up at Jay as you closed the current book you were reading and set in on the coffee table. Jay walked over the empty side of the sofa and plopped himself down, exhausted. “You okay?”

Jay has never felt this comfortable with a woman expect for you and for you to be back in his life felt like a blessing. To say that Jay didn’t love you anymore would be a lie. Jay never stopped loving you, but things right now things were complicated, and he doesn't know how to handle it. “Tough case is all.”

“Wanna talk about it?” You sat crossed-legged on the sofa and faced Jay. Jay nodded head no, which you knew not to push. The two of you sat there for a moment before you spoke up, “I talked to your lawyer friend today.”

“Yeah?” Jay looked at you with hope.

“Yeah, she said that we have to file even if we assume or know that he won’t sign them. Then there’s a waiting period and if he doesn't respond or refuses to sign, we can then file for a default divorce.” You looked down as fiddled with the loose strings at the end of your sweater. “She said that she hopefully that once we fill for a default divorce the judge will grant me a divorce because of everything has happened.”

Jay reached over and held your hand. “You deserve everything good and he wasn't the guy was going to give it to you."

“Yeah, well I deserve someone like you.” You whispered as you looked down in hopes that he didn’t hear you. Things between you and Jay were complicated and you didn’t want to make things more complicated.

“Y/N.” You put out your hand out to stop him from saying something that he might regret.

“I’m gonna head to bed. I got an early shift in the morning.” Kissing Jay on the cheek, you got up from the couch and headed into your bedroom. “I’ll see you in the morning”

As you walked into your bedroom, you sat down on the edge of your bed and ran a hand through your hair. Before you married or worked at Jake’s bar, you were a nurse practitioner and you loved it. Unfortunately, you had left about a year ago, because of Jake. Jake started to get weird about you working at the hospital and not being able to keep an eye on you. He had forced you to work at the bar when he was there so that he could an eye on you. You never wanted to give up your career. You saved lives and that all you ever wanted to do. Once, you started working at the bar, you started to notice your bank account slowly draining not only from paying back your student loans but because of Jake. He was taking your money to use for gun dealing and god knows what else.

A soft knock filled the room causing you to pull out of your thoughts. “Y/N, can we need to talk?” The door opened and Jay leaned against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. You looked up at Jay giving him the cue to talk. “I meant what I said back there. He was never going to give you everything you deserved.” Jay took a step into the room and stood a few feet in front of you. “There is nothing in this world I would want but to be with you again, but you are just getting your life back and I don’t be the guy that slows that process down.”

"How could you think that?" You stood up from your spot on the bed and stood directly in front of him. “Your right I did just get my life back and it’s because of you. So, don’t think that you are going to slow me down, because you’re not. You are the reason why I’m still going. If it wasn’t for you, I would still be with someone I never loved. Being with you these last couple months, just made me realized that I still love you and I know still married, it’s messed up, but you are the one who is going to giving me everything I deserve.”

The next thing you knew, he had slammed his lips to your and nearly knocked all wind from your lungs. You hardly had a moment to react before he pressed his tongue to the seam of your lips asking for access, which you allowed. You laid your hands on his upper biceps pulled him closer. Once the two of you pulled away after a few moments Jay leaned his forehead against yours. “I still love you too, and I am sorry that I let you go all those years ago, but I’m not doing it again.” A soft smile appeared on your face as you pulled Jay in for another kiss.

Tag List: @nervousmemzie @hehurst23 @anamile6878 @esauthor @stephmazz1990 @daenerys-targaryes @bellageorge03 @haileymatthewss @useyourmarners @kadygirl @get0verit @yienell-mariee @olihju @lovelydivs @stuffedcabbagepatch @chrisrandumness @shipatheart @jocelyn1718 @shadyfox242 @boo20-05 @beachfan412 @mheart27 @supyfish @aparkel @httphiddlestan @haleyjs86 @onechicago18 @ladyate @whatisanniedoin @citylightsla @thevelvetseries @wemma554 @samiam9525 @detectiveinchicago @tyzerman91 @foulstatesmandragonbear @spiridakos-wp @katie1996 @glittermakesmesmile @itsdesiree86 @chloebear26 @delcateswift @rosemusic18 @transparentwombathorsedreamer @detective29 @cjhorseback @sgtsophie @onechicagofan20 @katiehud @corie-the-writer @give-jack-a-lightsaber @yzas-stuff

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #Chicago PD

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 6)

A/n: Things boutta get bad so like... I'm sorry. Practically nothing but angst this part won't lie. Side note: I know I don't actually have a lot of Jerome x reader content yet, but I wanted to show the reader's descent into madness before they're officially a thing. I promise you it's coming, and very soon :)

Word Count: 4300+

Playlist

MASTERLIST

Y/n shot to his feet, only for the guards behind him to draw their guns. Alfred held up a hand. "Is he alive?" Y/n demanded. He might have lost his mind just a tad, but Bruce was still one of the very few things Y/n Wayne cared about and no one was about to put that boy in danger.

"Yes," Alfred soothed. "I said he WAS kidnapped. We have him back now." Y/n calmed and Alfred seemed to almost smile, as if seeing the amount Y/n cared was very reassuring. That tracked. "He's been brainwashed or something though, and I've gotten special permission from Commissioner Bullock himself to let you out to help me bring him back. If we play this right, we might even get you released permanently. We can figure this whole thing out. You can come back to us. We can be a family again." Y/n thought about that. Seeing Bruce again. His brother meant everything to him. He cared about Alfred too, honestly. The man had been a good father figure to both of them, and a good friend even when their father was alive. Y/n would have a real home, without killing or chaos. He'd be working for the good guys.

Right?

He thought about that word. Good guys. Cops were supposed to be good guys, weren't they? But he'd gotten locked up in Arkham just for being associated with Jerome, and then gotten the shit kicked out of him when he'd simply been himself. He hadn't killed anyone, or hurt anyone. He'd shown affection to another man and had nearly gotten beat to death for it. He'd leave Arkham, the only place he'd ever really been accepted for being gay. Maybe not by that one guard, but everyone else seemed to not care since no one cared about him at all, except maybe Jerome. Oh god Jerome. Y/n would have to leave him. And Harleen as well. The new friend who really got him and had his back the best she could in a place where her words practically had as much affect as Y/n's did. He had a boyfriend and a potential best friend and room to be free... except that he wasn't free.

Why was this so hard?

"Y/n," Alfred interrupted, eyes wide and pleading. "Bruce needs you."

The last time Alfred had said that, Bruce had just witnessed their parents' murders. Y/n pushed down the boy he used to be that was fighting to resurface, trying to find at least a. Middle between then and now. They were so different... there was suddenly a battle again himself, and he was losing.

Finally, he just shut it all down. Everything else could wait for another time. "When can we leave?" Alfred smiled at his words, but Y/n suddenly had a terrible feeling in his gut. Why did he get the sense that everything was about to get really, really bad again?

"Penguins alive?" Y/n relaxed in relief.

Alfred frowned. "Yeah. Um-" He swallowed. "You've kind of really been involved with all the worst people recently, eh?"

Y/n actually scoffed at that, his lips curling in amusement. "I've met far worse people than Oswald, Alfred." He looked the butler in the face. "You might not like to hear this, but that redhead everyone in town hates so much? He wasn't the one who did this to me." Y/n motioned to his own face. "But the officer who did, did it for no other reason than because I'm gay." He let that settle for a second. Alfred seemed shaken a bit. It seemed to finally be dawning on him just what Y/n had been going through since his parents had died. "Now, enough about me." They'd finally pulled up to the GCPD building. "Let's get inside. Like you said: Bruce needs us."

Y/n had been required to be handcuffed, though he hadn't been put in a straight jacket and had been allowed to change into normal clothes as not to upset Bruce upon seeing him. He was still beat up pretty badly though, and had developed a limp as the adrenaline wore off and as his beating really sunk in. Alfred had to keep him handcuffed as they walked in, and the whole place went quite. It was becoming a habit that Y/n could walk into any room and immediately bring silence with him as he did so. All of Gotham had gotten to the point that they couldn't exactly make an opinion on Y/n Wayne. How did someone like him get born into a family like he had been, and turn out like this?

Gay and insane.

It had been in the newspaper. Someone, somewhere had gotten hold of the news that Y/n Wayne was gay and it had been released everywhere. Y/n had read the article a while ago. It's what had prompted Jerome to finally be more affectionate around other inmates, instead of just at night when they were in their cell together. People might give Y/n shit for being into dudes, but no one was going to mess with Jerome. He'd put his neck out for Y/n... It was becoming clear that few others would do the same. Maybe it was the insanity.

Y/n was brought to a room that was a different color than the walls at Arkham. The color outside had been overwhelming after seeing muted versions from a distance through windows that now, the dull color was kind of refreshing. Inside the room was Bruce, but he looked different. Y/n couldn't imagine the last time his younger brother had worn a turtle neck. His father used to try to get the boys to wear them all the time, but, especially in their youth, the boys had hated them and eventually their father had given up. Bruce hadn't worn one since they were both seven, when he used to just do whatever their dad told him to. And since when did he wear anything other than dark blue or black? Y/n found all his usual jokes about Bruce being a casual emo slip from his mind. He didn't know how to approach this new boy. He didn't know him.

To be fair, Bruce didn't really know him either.

"Hello, brother," Y/n greeted, unsure of how to go about this after all that stood between them.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Why are you here?"

Y/n sat down, scooting over as Alfred joined him with a second chair. "Just checking in," Y/n responded slowly. "Alfred told me about what happened. Getting kidnapped. Been there, it's not too fun."

Bruce rolled his eyes."You got kidnapped by a brainless psychopath. I got taken by someone who was trying to help me."

Y/n scoffed. "Help you? Bruce look at you. You're not yourself."

"I'm better," Bruce shot back. Y/n went quiet at that, looking at Alfred with raised eyebrows.

Alfred ignored the look. "Now we can talk all day, but what really matters is that you tell me what you meant when you said someone else was coming to Gotham. I thought that old fellow was the leader of the Council of the Owls, who else would be coming?"

An expression rested on Bruce's face. Far too complacent and calm. The Bruce Y/n was familiar with had the tendency to brood- this Bruce seemed to have no tendencies at all. No cares or anything. It was disturbing to say the least. "I want you both to leave."

"Well that ain't gonna happen, is it mate?" Alfred immediately matched. The butler crossed his arms. "You can't get rid of either of us that easy. Your brother here found time around being locked up to be here for you. Not much is getting us out of here."

"Especially with the city in chaos," Y/n cut in. "Not even your pals in the GCPD will be here to drag us away. Might as well end it now."

When Bruce didn't respond, Alfred leaned forward. "You have to remember who you are."

That seemed to set Bruce off. "I know who I am." Y/n scoffed. "I have a destiny," the younger boy continued, his volume raising as Y/n's mocking noise irritated him.

"Now you listen to me." Alfred had gotten very quiet. "That man that wanted you to detonate that bomb, whatever he promised you- freedom from pain, power - none of it, none of it was real. I want you to remember what is real."

"I know what's real!" Bruce yelled over the end of Alfred's sentence. Y/n tried not to smile. He really did. Bruce glowered as his older brother grinned at him. Mocked him. "You come in here and mock me? You're the crazy one. Don't you dare laugh at me like I'm the one who's lost my mind! I got vengeance for our parents' murder. That's real, and better than running around like an idiot with a lunatic murder!"

"You know NOTHING about lunacy," Y/n interrupted. "I've seen crazy. I've seen grown men beat on teenage boys and call it power. I've seen cops chase bad guys to predictable set ups and act like it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world. I've seen so called heroes save to be said innocent people, and then those evil little shits turn on those same heroes the first chance they get. I've seen love get ignored and then twisted. I've seen people laugh at pain and enjoy the suffering of others and then call themselves sane because that person who was dying was a bad guy, so who cares, right? I've seen people define good and bad like it's a dictionary entry and then immediately break the rules they lay down and still try to pass off as the victim of the story. THAT was real Bruce." Alfred put a hand on Y/n's shoulder, and it was only then when he realized he was crying. "I've seen stories about how evil and corrupt men are and how much women are victims, and then looked at Gotham and seen women in charge while I, a child, was raped by a woman again and again who was only using me for power." He cleared his throat. "Not to say that other people don't suffer, I just mean that everything is a grey area. What's real is bullshit and what's fake is seemingly the most honest option of those presented. Not everything is as clear as it pretends to be, Bruce. I'm supposed to be the crazy one. I was supposed to be the one who failed. I was supposed to be the screw up, but we're both in handcuffs and you were the one who was trying to ruin the lives of thousands of people just minding their own business. What was my crime, huh? Trying to be happy? Trying to be true to myself?" Y/n scoffed. "If only mom and dad could see you now."

"YOU SHUT UP!" Bruce screeched.

"Both of you calm down," Alfred snapped. "I was there when your parents had both of you. I took care of your mum and was there as you grew up. You used to be inseparable. No matter what anyone else did or said or thought, the Wayne brothers always had each others' backs. Good and bad is clear. Everyone is capable of it. Everyone does it. No one is innocent of evil, even in small amounts. Both of you have been idiots." He took a breath. "But you're also both my idiots." He looked between the two boys. "You're both my boys, even if I haven't been there for both of you." He looked at Y/n as he said that. "You want to talk about what's real? What's good?" He looked at bruce. "What's real is when you were sick as a kid, and your mum used to sit up with you every night and read to you when you fell asleep. That's real. Or when you were seven and you took that rowboat out and you got lost in that storm. Me and your dad were out, shouting and screaming, losing our minds, and when your dad found you, how he cried. That's real." He looked at Y/n. "When you were twelve and you came to your parents in tears because you couldn't understand why all the girls your age were talking about kissing you and you couldn't stop thinking about kissing the other boys. Your mum calmed you down and your dad told me that no matter what, they'd love you and you thought I didn't know but I did- all this time, I knew." Y/n felt his chest tighten. He felt terrible. "That was good, Y/n." Alfred gripping Y/n's shoulder. "When everyone came to your dad talking bad about you and they thought he'd laugh along, but he put an end to it immediately because you were still his son and he loved you. He was proud of you. When the news people came after you for secrets and they were nosey and pushy. When they crowded and stalked you because they'd caught wind that you had a dark secret and everyone wanted to know what the oldest Wayne son failure was hiding, and your dad nearly lost his mind on all of them, if your mum hadn't stepped in and stopped it cordially. THAT. Was. Good." Alfred returned to looking at Bruce, keeping his hand on Y/n's shoulder. "Your parents died in that alley four years ago, and maybe that man took away the pain of that night." This time he looked between the two boys. "Life has been hard since then, but there is no life, no love, without pain." He squeezed Y/n's shoulder and when the boy nodded, he returned his attention to Bruce. Bruce was the main focus right now, but Y/n had gotten the message. "He could not take away the love that your mum and dad gave you, that you still have in you- that you still have-" his voice broke as he reached over, pressing his hand against Bruce's chest, right over where his heart would be. "Right here." His hand finally dropped after a pause as he continued, "The same love I have for you. For both of you." His face flecked with. "I love you, Maser Bruce. Master Y/n. I would do anything for you. I would die for you. You must-" he cut off, focusing on Bruce. Y/n kept thinking Alfred was done focusing on him, but then Alfred would look at him again, and he hadn't felt so cared for or looked after since his parents had died. It all felt silly now... "You have to find that love again."

Every word hit home. Alfred was speaking to Bruce, but it was becoming more and more obvious that he was talking to Y/n too. Y/n reached over, his hand resting over Bruce's. "We both have to," he whispered softly. "You don't have to do it alone. I know it's been hard and chaotic, but I'm still your brother, Bruce. You're still my brother. And no matter what, you always have me."

Alfred leaned forward. "Come back to us, Master Bruce." There was a commotion outside and Alfred sighed before telling Y/n, "I'll be right back," and then leaving.

Bruce looked to his brother. "Did you mean what you said? I can depend on you?" Y/n nodded immediately. "Then get me out of here." Y/n went to argue but Bruce interrupted. "You can come with me and make sure I'm safe. But I HAVE to do this. I need to finish it. I need to see it through. I need to know if this really is my destiny. I need to understand-" he cut off, choked with emotion. But Y/n knew what he meant. The same thing that had driven him to follow Jerome Valeska of all people. That had gotten him to follow Penguin and ditch his family to begin with. There are just some things you have to do. So Y/n looked around, found a pen, and Bruce pick the locks on both of their cuffs before they booked it, side by side and headed for... something. Bruce hadn't cued Y/n into the plan this far.

In all honesty, it was just nice being by Bruce's side again.

They made their way through the city streets of Gotham at night until they got to a red door with the word "Yuyan" on the front. Bruce went in. Y/n followed. Inside was the statue of what looked like some kind of demon. There was a lot going on. Bruce didn't hesitate- he stepped up and began analyzing it. Y/n was still taking it in when he pulled something and the wall opened up, revealing a hidden passage. The brothers went inside, Bruce having to take Y/n's hand to get the older boy to follow him now.

The two walked down a staircase and through a tunnel. It seemed eery. Weirdly light and far too silent and empty. When people appeared, Y/n regretted his lament about there not being anyone around- they immediately attacked him. "No." Bruce said firmly. They stopped. Y/n looked at his brother with shock. Bruce's expression remained calm. Y/n's would be attackers simply pointed Bruce onward, making way for him to follow their direction.

Y/n hadn't been this scared in a long time. Surely he wasn't in danger. This was Bruce he was talking about. Golden Boy Bruce Wayne who used to cry when they were really little and Y/n would step on a bug. Who shut down after their parents died because he loved them so much that seeing their murder changed him... except that his heart of gold kept him from corrupting like Y/n had. He was driven by justice and refused to let up until evil was destroyed. Bruce Wayne was a hero.

And yet, when Y/n looked at the back of Bruce's head now, he didn't see his younger brother. He saw a man in a child's body. He saw a straight back that was well trained and perfectly postured. He saw clothes Bruce would never wear and a silence Bruce would prefer not to bear, especially with Y/n around to talk his ear off. He saw Bruce leading them down a tunnel of doom, being completely docile after someone tried to kill him. After he almost poisoned maybe hundreds of people with just the press of a button. After, of all people, he had chosen some random old dude weirdo over Alfred and almost killed one of two family members he still had left.

Very suddenly, Y/n realized that he hadn't realized how bad Bruce was. How dumb it was to follow after him right now. And he was more scared than he'd ever been. More scared than even when he looked in the face of a cold blooded, sadistic murderer who had completely lost his mind and only saw an endless world of things to fascinate him. More scared when the doors would close and all he saw was red lips curled in a devious smile as the one person he trusted the most took advantage of him. More scared than when that stupid guard had locked him in that room and he had really thought he was going to get beaten to death for being gay.

Bruce pushed two double doors open with each hand. They creaked as they opened slowly, revealing a room with a green pool in the middle. Bruce leaned over and Y/n stepped forward, reaching out to stop him. Then he felt a pain at the back of his head and everything went black.

Y/n woke up alone.

It was dark, but it only took him a few seconds to remember everything and realize where he was. He looked around- the pool was still there. Otherwise, the room was empty. Y/n groaned as he sat up, looking around again for signs of those people that had attacked him earlier. When he still saw no one, he stood and began walking back the way he'd come. It was even scarier now that he was alone. "Bruce?" He whispered into the empty hallway. He jumped at every noise, resulting in him eventually misstepping and tripping. He would have face planted if his scrambling abilities hadn't improved recently due to all the running away from cops and other crazies alike in his days by Oswald's side. Thankfully he didn't fall because, as he was noticing while trying to get his feet under him, there was blood on the floor.

Oh my god there was blood on the floor.

He sucked in a breath, beginning to look around again. "BRUCE?" His heart picked up and he felt the back of his eyes burning with tears. "Bru-" his shoulder hit a wall and he screamed. Shaking his head to calm himself, he pressed his lips together and retraced his path that he'd taken with Bruce to get in here. Eventually it lead him outside. Weirdly enough, the wall was open again. Which meant that he didn't have to figure out how this side of the trick worked... but it also meant he wasn't alone.

The night air outside was cool, the sun rising in the distance. He looked down at himself- he was filthy. He took a second to think. To remember. The last thing that had been clear to him was that he was absolutely terrified of Bruce.

That's right. Bruce wasn't... right anymore. Well, that meant he couldn't go home. He also couldn't just walk back into Arkham. They might think he'd done something if he came back, dirty and hysterical, without Alfred. So he went to the GCPD department instead, because where the else was he going to go?

He was inside for maybe a second before he saw a familiar face. His eyes went wide and his heart nearly stopped- in his vulnerable state, of course it would be the guard that almost beat him to death that would be there to greet him. The man smirked, tilting his head. "There you are. We were wondering when you'd find your way back." He approached the teenage boy, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Someone else approached. Y/n almost melted in relief to see Harvey Bullock. "What's going on here?" His eyes laded on Y/n. "What... I thought you were in Arkham."

"He was," the officer responded. Y/n had already forgotten his name from when Harleen had said it before. "Alfred Pennyworth came and got him out for the day. Needed him for some Wayne business. I'll be taking him back now."

Harvey looked confused by that. "Why? We were already debating letting him go. Now he's out, there's no reason to immediately put him back in." The guard seemed horrified by that idea. Harvey put his hands on his waist. "He didn't do anything wrong."

"Do you know what this boy is?" Y/n's heart sunk. "He's a homosexual."

Harvey's eyebrows rose. At first Y/n thought it was in surprise, but then he said, "So what?"

The guard looked stunned. "He needs help, Bullock. He was canoodling with Jerome Valeska in Arkham. In public. Like there's nothing wrong with that."

Now Harvey was surprised. Y/n swallowed his emotions and met the older cop's gaze evenly, sticking his chin up. Harvey sighed. Y/n didn't even have to say anything- the old man just seemed to... immediately understand. "He turned to someone who accepted him in a world of people who hate him." It was Y/n's turn to be surprised. "That's not punishable."

The guard scoffed. "Son, have you ever killed anyone before?" Y/n looked away. He thought about the first time he'd ever killed someone, and then thought about all the many times after that he'd done it himself or helped. Another experience he'd picked up while hanging with Oswald. "The thing won't even deny it. And he's proud to be with that redheaded psycho. There's something wrong with him, Commissioner. He needs to be detained and get some help."

Harvey and Y/n both knew that was not the reason the guard wanted Y/n back in Arkham. The two men looked at each other, both put down at the fact that they couldn't stop anything happening. Maybe Y/n should have lied. Maybe he should be fighting. Unfortunately, he'd just lost his little brother and he had no idea what kind of shape Alfred was in. Currently, he had to assume that Alfred was either dead or would be soon, if Bruce could help it.

The guard tugged Y/n's arm and they were headed back outside toward his car. "Thought you were gonna get away from me that easily, did you?" The guard growled under his breath, leaning close to Y/n so the Wayne boy would be the only one to hear. "I finally have a reason to get at you, you little shit. Things are only gonna get worse for you from here. Now I can say you've killed people. No one will stop me from knocking you now."

Y/n looked at the city one more time before he was shoved into the car. The guard pulled out a pair of cuffs and put him in them. He looked at the city the whole time. The entire ride, he took in every inch of it. Every dirty corner. Every dirty human. Every inch of the buildings- no matter how close, far, tall or small they were. If he could see it, he took it in as much as he could. Above everything else, he took in the sunrise.

Maybe it was the fact that Y/n might never see it again outside of Arkham, but it wasn't overwhelming this time.

It was beautiful.

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herefortheartstayforthesexy · 3 years

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I pulled this from an article on that off duty female firefighters account of George Floyd’s murder and alarms went off immediately - so many things are made clear in how the cops responded to her here, a woman who’s more their peer and team mate than ANY ONE:

-They don’t believe her when she says she’s a firefighter [because she’s a woman, and someone will certainly jump in and posit that a white guy saying the same thing would get the same response from the cops but .....I really don’t think so, I think we’re kidding ourselves when we pretend that equality is our cultures norm and not segregation and actual genocide and systemic racism and obvious sexism, seen in our disregarding/discrediting/cheapening everything that is feminine, like fucking feelings😤. Those cops would have recognized themselves in another guy claiming his skill set and even if they wouldn’t have let him check George’s pulse while he was dying, they would have for SURE treated him with more respect and with the assumption that he’s telling the truth if he exhibits enough “friendly qualities” aka be white, be male, not be dressed in clothes that look ‘urban’ or homeless (because a homeless white guy is just a failure which is unamerican 🙄) qualities which are literally a result of *luck* [white, man] and superficiality+privilege [money to buy clothes that make others more comfortable]

-‘you would know better’ is a totally infantilizing tone to take with this professional woman, and ultimately she DID KNOW BETTER THAN THEM and had they let her do what she knew was right to do a person would still be alive [like, piece of shit Derek Whatever should be fucking WISHING he had listened to her in that fucking moment every day for the rest of his life, it should haunt him that he let his surrounding fucked up culture of white supremacy and male-coddling move him to murder a man over a $20 bill instead of listen to a woman, or listen to a child, or listen to someone crying, or listen to someone with no money - he should be the poster child of “yo, we white men NEED everyone else around us and we should start acting like it, NOW” that’s literally what “make space” means, because too many men need to move out of the fucking way, like “let the grown ups talk” “let them work”, “let them save lives” I am so sick of LETTING cops play action hero with real guns and imagined ‘enemies’ in their real neighbors bodies - they shouldn’t ever be working with a defense mindset, it should be “support the community”, their intentions and goals should be *sooooo feminine* and rooted in love and care and family projected onto their country at large, their home🏠=their home🌎

- If/then statements become instantly threatening when someone’s life is immediately at stake, it’s an aggressor and his buddies telling you to get out of their way, to shut the fuck up

-....”you’d know not to get involved” WHAT THE FUCK she is part of the team of emergency responders in our country and she SHOULD get involved when she sees something that she can take care of - like a man with a swollen face smashed into the ground and a blocked air pipe and weakened heart rate - that is exactly her fucking job and how she knows to do it [all stories of off-duty cops running around discharging their weapons and making arrests without wearing their uniforms - we’re supposed to be fine with that, but not when the other emergency peeps try to apply their experience?? In this case where there was no threat to anyone as George was HANDCUFFED AND LOSING CONSCIOUSNESS surrounded by three cops and a crowd upset to be watching them kill him. cops constantly demand all this respect in response to their abuse and demand that citizens suspend their logic and their fucking freedom to exist so cops can “do their jobs” and we can’t complain, we can’t protest their bad job, we can’t give them *any* attitude at any time while they harass us even if they aren’t dressed as such..... but none of these special rules apply to anyone else.... like, cops fail the golden rule from the outset 🤨

The fact that a murderer who used to make money as a cop [because to be clear, being a cop isn’t a personality trait, it signifies no goodness, no heroism, nothing more than a job, a job people do to get money, it’s not heroic to get a chunk of cash after “triaging a childs gun shot wounded leg” especially considering the violence that cause that child’s injury was propagated by the violent and militant policing of their community...so cops have literally set the stage perfectly for all their “acts of heroism”and bonus! They get bonuses/pay increases when the crimes rates are “really🤑bad” like HELLO!!!]

that these spineless men can actually rest on the defense of “it was the black mans fault that he was killed, it was the counterfeit bills callers fault, it was the crowds fault for making us nervous and being threatening to us and angry at the sight of a man being slowly murdered in front of them” - the crowd was mostly people of color, young kids, and this firefighter who made a point of staying behind because she was concerned for the safety of her black neighbors *while police were around*

😑I need fucking Queen amidala in the center of the senate saying “the people have spoken and we vote no confidence” fire all cops, tell them “we set up this new protective agency, you can apply but we cannot promise you’ll get this job, you’ll have to PROVE IT that you can even do it” because I’ve never seen men spoken to like that,

I constantly hear how women and bipoc “just need to find another job” when they are in a tough spot with bad treatment, harassment, low pay, hours, etc, (these are almost always service jobs that entertain/benefit wealthy people, like waiters, like strippers, like masseuses, like fast food workers, like cheerleaders, like maids, like nannies, the rich seem to be in this cycle of consuming without resistance for as long as they possibly can, then if/when anyone brings up how it’s kind of dangerous and there should be a better way they say “well fucking fine! Just shut it down, we didn’t even NEED it, this was a pointless job anyways so now it doesn’t exist” it’s a shitty breakup - it’s the other person responding to your valid criticism and willingness to work together to improve the relationship “well I didn’t even like you and you’re ugly so” 🙄Cool!

~Whyyyyy don’t wealthy/privileged people get called out for all their daily bridge burning??? [the answer is unfortunately because they were burning bridges with people no one cared about - like the workers of a Taco Bell, or the child of a black man murdered by cops, or a teenage girl raped by an executive who invited her to his office for “an interview” - no one tells all the many people involved in letting abuse continue not to burn bridges with their victims, with all of THOSE people, because our culture doesn’t respect them. hence #blm #metoo #transrights etc, the real theme is “we’re not white straight men” white supremacy needs to die a horrible painful, ugly, honorless, despicable death~

So the wealthy creates the job, labels it from the get go “not worthy of respect”, enjoys without consequences, abuses, pretends that it’s the fault of the worker for their pay and that they receive no respect [✨gaslighting✨]...... and when that worker decides that their dignity isn’t worth 8.25 an hour, the wealthy response is to either fire the easily replacable body whose Heath is clearly of no importance to them [if it was we’d have universal heathcare] or just erase that job entirely that serves as someone’s lifeline, their survival, because abusing vulnerable people bears no weight on their own wealthy existence, with all their options. bill gates doesn’t give a shit when a subway closes, but that subway was not only the job/livelihoods of a whole team of people who *hopefully* live nearby with their families [and not three different bus rides away in a more “diverse” neighborhood 🙄], that subway also fed the community when they wanted lunch/dinner or wanted a sandwich snack or something warm, and didn’t have the time or the ingredients or the know how or *bodily ability* to do it themselves. To so many nameless/non celebrity people, that closing is catastrophic and in some cases threatening to their life.

We dismiss little lives and simple lives so ruthlessly, a man could be perfectly happy heading a subway for 35 years if he was paid respectfully by his employer and treated respectfully by everyone [if We had a subway guy like that, we’d love him! We’d know his name and he’d know ours and our faves and our goals and we could ask how his three kids are without hanging our heads in shame knowing he makes no more than $30,000 a year as a manager which is NOT AT ALL ENOUGH for either him alone or his lovely family that he loves so much - and this hypothetical is annoying already because we shouldn’t pay people a certain amount *because they are good*, people should be paid an amount that allows them to access the things that help them and enrich them, make them happier, healthier, make *choices* that lead to goodness for sure - but we can’t fucking expect people living in poverty now to prove to us that they’ll use their money “appropriately” - it starts with us helping them up

We couldn’t let restaurants/grocery stores close during the pandemic, that alone proved that we need these people who just flip burgers and stack cans - and we need them to be well paid, and healthy and happy

it is always those vulnerable individuals responsibility to find a new employer, not for structures of power to end discriminatory practices and mistreatment [uwu, too hard, thanks for making this laziness in our leaders possible white supremacy! It’s going so great😒] I’d like for white male cops to feel that vulnerability FOR ONCE [even just in conversation, even in a hypothetical] and have to consider winning a new job, and winning it based on actual merit and skill, not the fact that their fellow white dude bosses feel most comfortable with them in the locker room 🙄

if the larger portion of the community that doesn’t subscribe to white supremacy has no confidence in the men and women whose jobs it is to protect them and ‘serve justice’ then we need to adjust, not throw more money at the privileged, brainwashed fuck ups and say “here’s more money to be less monstrous” I really don’t get why anyone is surprised these tiny, insignificant, performative measures don’t result in any positive change - because we’re not tackling the actual issues and unfortunately for dipshits, *racism/sexism/classism* is the entire issue that needs to be handled - the issue is simply that some humans don’t think another group of humans deserve their respect [and I don’t want to hear that that’s how the animal kingdom works because fuck that, we’re thinking and *feeling* humans and that places us on a higher plane of existence and potential - to not know that we’re better than *this* is so fucking offensive, and we can’t keep moving as slowly as white straight ass holes, everything is on fire]

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pluckyredhead · 4 years

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Daredevil 101: What Happened to Milla, Part 1

For the past while in Daredevil 101, Matt has been somewhat rockily married to a woman named Milla Donovan. Sharp-eyed readers may have noticed that Matt is no longer married in comics continuity. What happened?

*sigh* “To the Devil, His Due” and “Without Fear” happened, aka Daredevil v2 95-105 by Ed Brubaker and Michael Lark. Aka an absolutely interminable parade of pointless cruelty riddled with dangling plot threads and misogyny. Yes, the team that gave us the masterful “Devil in Cell Block D” has now gone off the rails so hard that Amtrak is still working on the repairs. (Sadly, their run never improves, so strap in, I guess.)

Now, Milla is not exactly my favorite character, but very few things in DD history make me madder than the way she was written off. It’s so clear that Brubaker wanted to fridge her but realized he couldn’t get away with a fifth dead Daredevil love interest, so he figured out a different “fate worse than death” (hoo boy we’ll have to unpack that in Part 2). No price is too high for a woman to pay if it means Matt Murdock suffers, amirite?

And with that tempting introduction (?), let’s get into it!

Content Warnings: Ableism, sexual assault and implied threats of sexual violence.

We begin with Melvin, who is in jail thanks to having attacked Matt back when he was blackmailed into doing so. Specifically, we begin with Melvin in a room with a bunch of dead bodies he swears up and down he isn’t responsible for.

Matt and Foggy and most especially Becky Blake believe him and take his case, but just a few days later it happens again - Melvin is found surrounded by dead bodies and claiming to have no memory of what happened but that he didn’t do it. The psych eval doesn’t go well, in that, well, he passes:

According to the doctor, this isn’t Melvin being taken over by his Gladiator personality or an actual second person stepping in - this is just Melvin himself killing people. Which for Melvin’s legal team (and friends) is the worst possible option, of course.

Meanwhile, Milla appears to have taken up therapy:

Aside from what this story does to Milla and Melvin, part of what makes it so bad is the structure. This was partially due to a couple of company-wide crossovers that we’ll see marching through the book in a little bit, but also just lots of things being set up and then dropped without going anywhere. Here we see Milla in therapy, which is never returned to or discussed. The sinister way this is framed makes it clear that the person she’s speaking to is the villain of the piece, but the fact that he met Milla at therapy is never revealed or mentioned at all. Later in the scene he says something about how he hasn’t told his wife that he’s in therapy but he should stop underestimating her, which is clearly meant to get under Milla’s skin in regards to her relationship with Matt, but that kind of subtle manipulation is too interesting for this story and leads absolutely nowhere. And of course we don’t get to actually see Milla talking to her therapist, which would require her to have an interior life.

Which means we have an entire scene that could have been replaced with a single panel of Milla bumping into someone on the street that would have had exactly the same effect on the plot. And the pacing problems only get worse from here, folks!

Anyway. The state decides to move Melvin, but he escapes his prison transport - and attacks Matt, who’s been keeping an ear on things:

Melvin kicks the crap out of Matt and escapes, but Matt realizes that there’s something wrong with Melvin - it may not be the Gladiator taking over, but this isn’t his friend, either.

The next day, Nelson and Murdock receive a surprise guest: Lily Lucca, who you may remember as she of the Karen-smelling perfume who aided and abetted in multiple murders and lured Matt into a confrontation with Vanessa Fisk:

As you’ll recall, the perfume Vanessa gave Lily to entrap Matt with makes her smell like every man’s fondest memory [INSERT GIANT EYEROLL HERE], which is why Foggy’s falling all over himself here. But now she has a problem: even though she’s not using the perfume anymore, she still smells like it, which means men are constantly creepily following her around, getting into fights over her, etc.

This is...sigh. There’s an aspect of “female character is punished for using her sexuality” here that makes me super uncomfortable. Certainly 90% of comic book villains have some kind of monkey’s paw in their backstory (“I tried to make a cool suit of armor and now I have robot tentacles!” “I tried to cryogenically freeze my dying wife and now I am really cold all the time!” etc.), but there’s a way in which it’s weaponized against certain types of female characters that’s deeply gendered and often kinda rape-y. (I got this vibe with Debbie and Micah Synn as well.) Lily wanted to control men through their desire to her? Well, now they might desire her so much they’ll assault her! That’ll show her! I guess. Ugh, it just grosses me out.

Anyway, Matt reluctantly agrees to help her, or more specifically have Dakota help her, since she won’t be affected by Lily’s scent the way he and Foggy will. Even with this caveat, when he meets Milla for dinner she does not like this:

I think we’re meant to be reading Milla as not being entirely rational about Lily because she’s so jealous of Karen’s memory and Lily reminds Matt of Karen, but she’s not wrong. I have no idea if we’re meant to read Matt as being sort of a douche in this scene but if my husband was like “Keep your voice down” and “Don’t be so hyperbolic” I would walk out of that fucking restaurant.

Or run, as the case may be:

Matt distracts Melvin so that Milla can get away (lotta Ms in this storyline), then somehow quick-changes to Daredevil for a fight. Melvin knocks him out and Matt wakes up handcuffed in the back of a police car:

The cops are arguing because it’s the middle of Civil War, which didn’t touch the Daredevil book very much but Matt was firmly on the anti-registration Team Cap side, unsurprisingly. As an unregistered superhero, just being out in a mask made him a criminal. (They don’t do anything with the fact that his secret identity was basically an open book at this point, which would have been interesting.)

Anyway, The Mysterious Voice Speaking On A Frequency Only Matt Can Hear gleefully tells him that he left his wallet at the restaurant, which has his home address, which means Melvin knows where to find Milla. Of course, Melvin was one of Matt’s bodyguards when his identity was first exposed and definitely already knew where he lived, but whatever.

Milla is, of course, wandering around the apartment in nothing but a bra and panties when Melvin shows up, because Daredevil artists apparently love putting her in her underwear to terrorize her and this is the last chance they’ll have to do it.

Melvin takes Milla up to the roof to wait for Matt. I’m including this exchange, where Milla tries to talk him down by appealing to his better nature, because it’s basically her last moment as herself. Reminding others of their better angels has always been one of her strengths, and she deserves to have that highlighted before...everything else.

Matt shows up. Melvin throws Milla off the roof:

Matt miraculously saves her and returns to fight Melvin, but Melvin has pretty much given up at this point and it’s all over but the crying. He’s bundled off to maximum security, and that’s...well, that’s the end of Melvin. This storyline came out in 2007, and this sweet, interesting character who has been around since the Silver Age has been unusable ever since. So thanks for that, Brubaker.

Matt’s furious, and determined to figure out who did this to Melvin:

“What did your sensei say about fighting angry?” always makes me laugh. Also, why would you ever suggest Matt follow Stick’s advice, Foggy, honestly.

(Foggy is A+++++ in this storyline and it makes me mad that I can’t even enjoy it because he’s just frantically trying to salvage a steaming pile of shit the whole time. Also given the overall ableism in this story I’m a little :/ that he basically takes over being the functional adult like Matt’s incapable of it.)

Matt runs into another dropped plot thread here because he gets on the trail of a street drug that makes people angry, which, like, how would Melvin have even gotten that in prison anyway, especially nonconsensually? Also, every other depiction of this drug shows it putting the user into a senseless rage, but Melvin sure was able to find his old lair, put on his Daredevil costume, track down Matt, and kidnap his wife when the plot required him to. How very Guardian Devil.

Anyway, Matt starts tracking the drug to its source. Meanwhile, Milla shows up at N&M:

Yeah, from here on out Milla is all tears and hysteria. Sigh.

Foggy decides to take her home, and Lily tags along, even though Foggy thinks that’s a REALLY REALLY bad idea because a) she's upsetting Milla, b) she fucks with Foggy’s head, and c) every dude in the subway is going to be all over her. But Lily insists, because she’s...manipulative? Genuinely feeling guilty and choosing the absolute worst way to fix that? Flimsy plot reasons? Let’s go with flimsy plot reasons.

While waiting for the train, Milla pretty much loses her shit at Lily, and also the world in general:

“I don’t know what I’ve done to you” is pretty rich, Lily. YOU LURED HER HUSBAND ON A MURDER CHASE ACROSS EUROPE.

Meanwhile, Dakota is still trying to figure out where Vanessa got Lily’s original perfume from - and Matt has followed the drug trail back to the Enforcers, a bunch of goofy-ass Silver Age villains we haven’t seen in decades. (They are specifically named the Ox, Fancy Dan, and Montana. They are ridiculous.) They clobber him and take him to their leader:

LARRY CRANSTON. MISTER FEAR. He made the perfume. He drove Melvin insane. And he’s the reason behind what happens next:

Lily lives. The random bystander does not. And when Matt, having been literally thrown out of the window and into the garbage by Mister Fear, returns home, Foggy is waiting for him:

Next Time: Milla is taken into custody, and Matt searches for a cure.

#daredevil #daredevil 101

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agentwallflower · 4 years

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Supernova Chapter 7

Well, I didn’t take off.

I’m currently working on chapter 13. I’m almost at the halfway point of the novel, so that’s a good sign. Things are about to pick up based on my notes. That’s good - it’s been a bear to write lately.

Next chapter is going up July 25th. By then I’ll hopefully have the first draft of my next anthology submission open. I’ll let you know.

Thanks as always for reading. I’ll see you in two weeks. Wear a mask and wash your hands!

“I know you're not the cops, but shouldn't I get a phone call or something? Pretty sure you didn't read me my rights either.”

An ex had once told him he used humor as a coping mechanism when he was stressed. Given he had laughed when they had broken up a few months before summer vacation, she had been on the money. That was why he didn't date these days – that and the fact he didn't have much attraction for it.

He was at the moment handcuffed to a table in a rather blank room. There was a mirror on the other side – it was a two way. He couldn't see through it, but Angel had seen enough cop shows to know what it was.

At least he got to keep his helmet on. Thank you, 2004 Caped Crusader Law.

Nobody answered, of course. They were probably trying to sweat him long enough to make him break down. Well, it was kind of working honestly. His communicator wasn't working, even with all of Scanner's upgrades. If he got out of there alive, maybe he'd tell the tech about it. If anyone would be up to the challenge of cracking through top security measures, it would be his favorite person ever.

Ok, he was laying it on a little thick but he was going stir-crazy in there.

Honestly, he didn't really remember how he had gotten in there. It was all a blur after his last usable memory. He had thought it over countless times as he sat there, waiting for someone to come in and do whatever people did after he pulled the stupid shit he had tried.

And stupid shit it was. His shield, as it turned out, could not completely stop bullets. Paladin would be so disappointed.

His back still hurt from where they hit him, but it was his chest that was the real problem. Angel wasn't sure how long it had been, but he had definitely been wearing his binder for way too long. His chest was starting to feel tight, and the urge to cough was a strong one. This was the longest he had ever gone wearing it, even when he had first started out.

6-8 hours had nothing on... well, he wasn't sure how long he had been inside.

“Hope Andy and PT are ok.” He muttered under his breath. He had seen them disappear into the building before he had thrown up his shield to stop the agents from getting in. Then people had started firing and he had woken up in a cell. That was about everything he was working with right then. Clearly, he had a great picture of the situation.

Andy... apart from looking weird as hell, he couldn't see why they would want her so badly. He knew plenty of other heroes who had powers in a similar vein. Some weren't as bright, and they might not have hit as hard, but he didn't see anything extra special about them to warrant the FBI being on her ass about it. Was it just the fact her appearance was so screwed up?

“Guess they're trying to hide birth defects from the Ball Drop or something.” He shrugged his shoulders. Oww. Binder straps were digging in. He should probably stop doing that until he managed to bust out.

Ball Drop must have been the magic word, however. Angel straightened up as he saw the door swing open. A woman in a suit with sunglasses on entered and sat on the other side of the desk. She was probably older than him, but really that was all he could figure out about her. It was kind of hard to get a read, like -

Paladin's words echoed in his mind, reminding Angel that brain fog could be a helpful technique for gathering information. Angel's exhaustion had probably led to him missing the tingle of someone trying to throw one over the room. He would kick himself later for missing it, but at least he had figured it out before she'd started questioning.

He could still focus enough to dispel it from his mind. The room came into sharper focus – he saw cracks in the wall, a gap in the mirror that let him see there were people on the other side. The woman in front of him was at least 10 years older than him and had dark hair and really pale skin. She also looked kind of annoyed.

So, at least he knew who he was dealing with.

“They said you were strong. I should have taken that seriously, but the East Coast has often had low standards.” She sounded like she came from California. West Coast psychics thought they knew everything. “Well, Mr. Sky Rider, read any minds yet to figure out why you're here, or do I have to fill you in?”

She was tying to get a rise out of him. If he got pissed off, that made it easier for her to get into his mind and get the info she was looking for. So he allowed himself to breathe as he settled back into his seat, back straight. Proper posture, or so Paladin had taught him, was important for this sort of thing.

Or maybe that was just Paladin being weird. He had lots of weird shit like that.

“Haven't really done much reading. Don't want to waste my energy in case I have to throw something off.” He held up his wrists. “These are coated so I can't break them with telekinesis. You deal with a lot of psychics here?”

The woman's expression never changed – not that he expected it to. If she was used to dealing with folks like him, then she knew that betraying her expression would make things easier. Besides, maybe she enjoyed that kind of thing. It usually took a class of asshole to decide the best way to make a living was turn on your fellow weird humans.

…

Which was, of course ,different from when he did it. After all, he didn't want anybody getting hurt.

“You could say that. It's for your protection as well as ours.” Her voice was pleasantly cool, practiced. She did this a lot. Made sense, she was a psychic. Even if there were laws (thank you, Clear Mind Act 2010, he really hadn't wanted to work for the government one day) against using psychic-gained testimony in court, psychics were adept players at mind games. If anyone could trick somebody into giving it up, he'd put the money on someone who could sense your weaknesses from a mile away.

She straightened up – must've also been taught the posture law. “You can call me Agent Claire.”

“Please tell me that's a bad joke and not actually your name because if it is, I'm sorry your parents hate you so much.”

Her lips twitched very slightly, but he caught it. Yep, her parents hated her. Another reason why he never told his anything about himself besides his new name. The less they knew about what he got up to, the better.

“We're still debating whether to charge you with anything. It's not like you hurt my men.” There was a barb there, he elected to ignore it. “But you did make it rather hard for us to retrieve our target.”

Agent Claire's voice was a little hard. “Mr. Rider, containing that target is of utmost importance to national – no, perhaps even international safety. You no doubt saw what they actually look like.”

It wasn't like he could forget it – she was freaking blue! But he still couldn't get why birth defects were a matter of international security. Hell, maybe he could understand the FBI not wanting it to get out that there was a nuclear waste dump so close to the US heartland, but now they were laying it on a bit thick. It wasn't adding up.

And why was the FBI dealing with this?

Angel frowned behind his visor. “I mean she's a little screwed up but I don't see why that's any business of yours unless you're paying for some major reconstructive surgery. I'd start on those teeth, by the way. Those are nasty.”

And... not very human looking, now that he reflected back on it. He had seen some teeth since becoming a hero, but those... something about them activated a part in his bran that just screamed run as fast as he could. Honestly, every part of Andy did that – from the top of her hard head to her weirdly shaped feet.

“There is no amount of surgery that could fix the subject.” More deadpan. “Not that there weren't attempts when they were under our custody.”

Angel felt sweat drip down the back of his neck. “You guys aren't supposed to be able to do that.”

It was something every hero knew from the time they got their powers – they could wind up in super-max should they become bad guys, but that was it. There were no black helicopters or secret research facilities that were allowed to hold them, at least not anymore. After those had been discovered in the early 2000's, public outcry had made sure of that. He still remembered seeing it on TV as a kid, even though it hadn't made any sense to him then.

Unless...

Briefly, the law flickered through his mind – no human, no matter their status, could be held for their powers by any agency without their consent. Those words were set in stone an into the paper of every Union handbook. No matter how they screwed up, they couldn't wind up on a dissection table or in some weird test.

“When something like the Ball Drop happens, things tend to be more lenient.” Agent Claire had more emotion in her voice – she was frustrated. “Until, however, they were switched to an outside department. We almost had them recovered until you interfered. That was nearly ten years of planning and observation for our one chance to be thwarted by you.”

Someone was mad. More importantly, someone was letting their guard down. Angel saw it as cracks in the nearly impassible wall in front of him. That was when he struck, carefully and with the delicate touch of a surgeon.

Memories were hard things to sort through, especially when the person he was working with was also a psychic. She had walls, but he had a lock pick. He threaded his way through, careful to keep his own walls up. After all, when he went in he was just as weak to her digging around as well.

“So you've been bothering her since the Ball Drop?”

The words were what he needed – he felt the memory glow. It was reinforced behind some of the strongest walls he had ever seen. But Paladin was no slouch. When he trained someone to find a memory, he kept at it.

Angel flexed his fingers on instinct, like he was twisting a combo lock. However, that gave him away. He could see more walls coming up now – and there was a glow around it. She was actively defending that memory now.

More importantly, he could feel her digging away at his walls too. Alerting her had unleashed a counterattack. She didn't have any physical tells to give away what she was doing; definitely West Coast style. They were all try-hards who didn't want to give themselves away.

“We have been interested in security since then, yes.” Her tone was pleasant, and if anyone had come in they would have considered it a normal conversation. However, a war was raging, one between the minds of two well-trained psychics. Whoever had the strongest mental defenses won the day.

Angel's were red. It was his favorite color and the connection was great at helping him keep them standing under the onslaught. Claire's were, ironically, clear as glass. They weren't as weak, though. Bashing up against them only would only wear him out and open him up to a well-timed counterattack.

“Don't you have more important things to do than bother some weird kid?” He was still looking for a way in as he spoke. “Or is this some departmental pissing match and you're mad you lost out on your research subject?”

Grazed her, but not enough to get through the defenses. Claire was getting annoyed, but that wasn't going to get him through. He needed to dig even deeper to figure out if she had any kind of trigger. If she didn't... well he was going to have to hop on defense until something called her away.

Damn, this wasn't easy to do when he was tired.

His opponent knew it too – she smiled briefly as she broke through the first line of his defenses like they were made of paper. She got some surface details out of him, but nothing close to his core identity – that he kept so guarded that Fort Knox looked like a kindergartner's piggy bank. “Nothing of the sort. You saw how powerful the subject is. Do you really want them out on the street?”

Angel grimaced as he tried to reinforce what he had left. Sweat was dripping down his forehead now. “Doesn't really matter how I feel. No human can be held without reason, and especially not by you. You want to arrest her for something, take it up with those damn cops that are always giving me trouble.”

There was a glimmer on the other side of the field, close to the memory, as she smiled. Amused – she thought this was funny. Whatever she knew, the fact he didn't was enough to give her a momentary weakness. But more than that, he could sense she thought she had him beat. After all, he wasn't from the West Coast.

Well, it was time to show his adopted home did things just fine.

Angel breathed slowly as he tightened his fists. The first round of defenses fell as he raced forward. “People have the right to live freely, regardless of who they are and what they can do.”

That's when he punched hard, throwing his full weight at the wall. It cracked, but it was just enough that he could get a peek in. The world blurred around him as he entered the memory. Right then, he was Claire.

And she was scared out of her mind. The fear and anxiety rolled over him in waves as they stood at the base of the largest hole he had ever seen. The sides were glass smooth, and he couldn't see the bottom. A light cast down there didn't show one either.

“How deep is it?”

Someone was asking with a hushed tone. A number was thrown out – he didn't hear it. Claire hadn't cared. She was more focused on a rope that was going deeper and deeper. They were trying to get something out.

“We hit bottom! It's... holy shit.”

The memory blurred, probably because of the passage of time. The human memory didn't tend to remember things like this. What was more important was what they were bringing out of the hole. It had taken so long that the sky had shifted. Now it was the middle of the day.

Before the memory cut out as Claire took back control, he saw the top of something hard and blue glinting in the light. It was about the size of a boulder and completely blue under the midday winter sun. Nobody could hold it – it was melting the ground.

“It laid an egg?”

And then he was back in the room. Claire was sweating hard, her glasses had come off. She was furious with him for going into her mind, but she was angrier at herself. Without a word, she swept the glasses off the table and put them back on.

Angel still felt her fear as he shored up his defenses. “What do you mean, it laid an egg?”

“I should lock you away for that for life.” Her voice was barely a hiss. “You have no idea what you just did, boy.”

His mind was still spinning. There were possibilities, but none of them made sense. However, the law kept banging through his mind. No humans could be held without their consent. And, last he checked, they were all still human under the law.

But...

His stomach dropped. “If she's not human... what the hell is she?”

The agent didn't answer him. Someone was knocking on the wall. Without a word, she got up and went to the door and peered through. Then there was some talk – it involved him. Turns out the Union really hated people being held by the government.

“Are you going to let my coworker out or not? You don't have the power to hold him.”

An impossibly warm voice shook his spirit. He knew that tone and it filled him with relief. If the union had sent their leader down, then he was going to get out soon. Nobody could show down with Ember for long, even without her powers.

Claire looked rattled, and annoyed. “He's a threat to-”

“No government agency can hold without consent. He wasn't arrested, you spirited him away in a dark van. If anything, I should be turning you in for flaunting the laws to protect us.” Ember was enjoying herself. “I hope you kept his mask on?”

Angel was still puzzling through as the two women discussed keep-away in regards to whose chair got his ass. Animals that he knew of were thrown out, as were... well, rocks wouldn't make sense. Who had ever heard of sentient rocks? Robot was out, too – there had been something warmer about her. Hot, even.

Her aura... had been odd, though. Normally with people he could get a sense of them when he first met them. Claire was a psychic, so she was actively suppressing herself. Ember was on the other side of the door, and she was warm. He felt safe around her. But Andy?

He hadn't gotten anything. Standing next to PT, all he had sensed was his partner's gruff but good-natured personality. Andy just... didn't have anything. It wasn't like she was trying to hide something, she just didn't register.

All people registered, no matter how screwed up they were.

“But... it doesn't make sense.”

He was wracking his brain. Sentient, weird looking, couldn't be read. Just seeing her activated some weird primal urge to run away. And the fact the government was just so interested in her. The pieces were coming together.

“Fine, you can take him back. But if he interferes in our investigations one more time, we'll arrest him.” Claire turned to unlock his shackles. “Mr. Rider, your team leader is-”

“She's an alien.”

He kept his voice low, so Ember couldn't hear. It wasn't for her, anyway. He was focused on Claire's reaction. Her hand had hesitated on the shackles, and just briefly he got a sense of panic from her stomach.

Bingo.

“I think you've been awake for too long, Mr. Rider.” Her cool was restored, but it was too late as he stood up from the table. He didn't rub his wrists, but they still hurt as she walked him to the door. “You're lucky the Union still needs you, or we were going to have a very long talk.”

She gripped his shoulder briefly. With it came near crushing psychic pressure to hammer her point home. An image impressed in his mind – if he stepped a toe out of line, they would bury him for the rest of his life. Claire would even enjoy it.

“Yeah, I know.” He shrugged off her grasp. “Get a new hobby besides following after sick people, lady.”

With that, he left. Soon Ember was at his side as they left the facility under heavy guard. It wasn't safe to speak then. Neither of them may have been Scanner, but they knew enough about the FBI to know to keep their mouths shut.

It was a pretty nondescript place... perfect for hiding an alien.

Angel still couldn't believe it as they left. It shouldn't have made sense, but... what else could've kicked off that kind of hole in Ohio of all places? Wasn't it the joke that more astronauts came from the state than anywhere else in the hopes of getting away? And all the leftover radiation...

Shit, aliens were real.

Ember didn't talk to him until they left – they weren't too far out of town as they headed to a place Scanner could pick them up. “You're in a lot of trouble, SR.”

“Yeah, well I had to help my partner and her niece. They tried to shoot her.”

The team leader frowned. He knew she agreed with her, but being in charge meant a new set of duties. She had to lecture him, even if she didn't want to do it. He could see it in her eyes as she punched in the coordinates.

“The FBI are going to be monitoring you now.”

“They can join the NSA in my smartphone, I'm not doing anything illegal.” Angel finally rubbed his wrists. “Damn, that coating hurts. I swear they put mercury in it or something to boost the ache.”

Still, Claire's words echoed through his mind as he turned to her. “What was that about you needing me?”

Ember didn't get the chance to answer – they were beamed up. Talking through transport was a hard no if you wanted to keep your tongue in your mouth. Luckily it only lasted a few seconds. They were soon back on the landing pad in the base.

Scanner was letting the transport beam cool down as they rolled over. “Good to see the both of you. You filled him in yet?”

“Was just about to before you pulled us up.” Ember turned to him, and he got the feeling he wasn't going to like that. “You met PT's niece, yes?”

The alien? Uh... yeah. But how did that involve him?

“We have something we need you to agree to.”

Why did he get the sense he was about to be putting in a lot more hours in his gear?

---

If you like the chapter and want to contribute to my coke zero fund, I have a ko-fi!

#Supernova Collision Trilogy #writing #novel #surprise i guess lo

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santoteez · 5 years

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A Manhattan Tale - Seonghwa (5)

Parts: 5 of ?

Masterlist HERE

Genre: Chef!Seonghwa, FormerDrugdealer!Seonghwa, FormerKingpin!Hongjoong, Bad boy/ Good Girl kinda??

Warnings: Love interest is a Black Female, mentions of sexual intercourse, swearing, eventual smut, mentions of betrayal, Angst, Mentions of drugs

Requested: yes

NOTE: This fic does NOT, in any way, shape, or form, portray the way I view any member of Ateez nor does it depict their true personalities or actions. This AU is just that. An AU. All family members are FICTIONAL.

Seonghwa stormed into Lincoln Hospital, Zelie right on his tail.

“I’m looking for Minjoon Kim.” He told the front desk.

“Are you family?” The woman asked.

“Yes.”

“Name?”

“Seonghwa Park.”

“Are you sure you’re family?”

“Are you sure that DIY wig is actually up to par?” Seonghwa narrowed his eyes.

“The woman cleared her throat, looking back at her screen. “Room 201. Take the elevator on your right one flight up, walk to the end of the hall and take a left. Third door on your right.” She fished out a bright yellow pass from a folder and placed it on the counter. “Take this. Once your visit is over, just bring it back.” She said, refusing to meet Seonghwa’s gaze.

He smiled sweetly. “Wasn’t so hard, was it? Thank you!” He gestured for Zelie to follow him.

“Do you have to be mean to everyone?” Zelie rolled her eyes.

“I’ve said worse things. I did her a favor. Did you see her frontal?”

Zelie shook her head. “How do you even know these things?”

“Santana talks a lot.” Seonghwa pressed the elevator button, and they both got on. They walked down the hall, Seonghwa’s footsteps quickening the closer they got. He broke into a light jog as they turned the corner.

They made it to room 201, where Hongjoong and Santana were already sitting, and Soojin was in Minjoon’s arms on the bed. Minjoon was badly bruised. Red, black, and purple stained his skin, and his eye was swollen. He had on an oxygen mask and was connected to an IV. Despite all of that, he still looked strong.

Seonghwa approached the bed, placing his hand on Minjoon’s head. “What happened to you, kid?” He asked, and for the first time in years, he teared up. Minjoon looked up at him, turning away when his eyes started to water. The interaction caused Soojin to burst into tears, hiding her face in Minjoon’s chest.

“I’ll take her to go get some ice cream,” Santana said, pulling Minjoon off the bed.

“NO! I want to stay with Minjoon! He can’t be alone again!”

“We’re not going home, baby. We’re just gonna go get some ice cream and come back. Why don’t you bring him some? He’ll get better faster.” Santana said.

Soojin turned to look at Minjoon, who nodded and gave her a weak smile. “Okay, let’s go.” She said, holding Santana’s hand.

Once they were out of hearing range, Hongjoong spoke up. “EMT said it was physical assault. He was on his date, and someone came up behind him and attacked him with a bat. He tried to fight the guy off but he froze due to a panic attack. The guy had on a hood, he didn’t get a good look. His date is traumatized. She’s the one that called 911. She just left.”

Seonghwa ran a hand down his face. “These fuckers are getting bold. In broad daylight?”

Hongjoong shrugged. “Still don’t know who the fuck is doing this. Lil-” He stopped abruptly, turning to look at Zelie.

“She knows,” Seonghwa said.

“Everything?”

“I spared her the details, but yeah.”

“You’re still here?” Hongjoong asked.

Zelie shrugged. “I feel that dealing doesn’t make you a terrible person, especially when you have a reason for doing so and you at least try to redeem yourself. That goes for you too, HJ. Neither of you are bad people.”

“Looks like you hit the jackpot,” He smirked at Seonghwa, who rolled his eyes. “I appreciate that, Zelie. As I was saying, everything Lil Mike has found out points to One Eye, but he can’t find solid proof if it’s really him or just a copycat. Once we have damning evidence, we can make calculated moves.”

“Minjoon, you said you fought back before your panic attack?” Seonghwa asked.

Minjoon nodded.

“Did you scratch the person?”

He nodded again.

“I see where you’re going with this. Please don’t tell me you’re going to see who I think you are.” Hongjoong said, exasperated.

“We need the help, don’t we?” Seonghwa asked, taking a look at Minjoon’s fingernails. “Looks like there are some skin cells under there. Whoever it is, you got them good. If the test brings up a match, the person should also have some marks that line up.” He walked around the room, searching for cotton swabs.

“I don’t get it. Who’s he going to see?” Zelie asked.

“Looks like Loverboy left that part of his life out of the briefing he gave you. His last girlfriend cheated on him with a doctor way older than her. They were in high school. She went to college for forensic examining. She works at the precinct across town.”

“You’re going to see your ex?” Zelie asked, trying her best not to seem bothered.

“You two sound like I’m taking her on a date. I could care less about her musty ass. I’m trying to figure this shit out. I want this shit to stop.” He used cotton swabs to carefully clean Minjoon’s fingernails. “They can fuck with me, but Minjoon? Entirely too far. Zelie and I are gonna head to the precinct now to see if Breana is there.”

“Me? Why am I going?”

“Well, the obvious answer is because since your house was vandalized and you still have a gunshot wound, I’m kind of your bodyguard. But, since everyone is so skeptical about me seeking Breana’s help, you can be my witness that there are no feelings on my part whatsoever. And plus, I know you see me as your boyfriend that isn’t really your boyfriend. My sister said that shit all the time about every guy growing up.” He placed the swabs in a glove, tying it tightly.

“I knew I recognized that voice.”

Everyone turned to see a raven-haired woman with a large baby bump in a white lab coat.

Seonghwa looked like he’d seen a ghost. “HJ, I’ll call you if anything. Minjoon, anything you need, text me. I’ll be here. Zelie, we should get going.”

“Hwa, it’s me. Minseo, your si-”

“I know who you are. I was just leaving. No need to kick me out of the hospital too.”

“Hwa, I’m sorry!”

“My name’s Seonghwa. And you should be sorry. Sorry that you grew up to be a heartless bitch. Zelie, we’re leaving.”

Minseo turned to Zelie. “You must be the girlfriend! You’re so beautiful-”

Seonghwa grabbed her hand, pulling her close. “Don’t talk to her.”

“Seonghwa, there’s actually something I came to ask you. I’ve tried tracking you down, but you didn’t exactly have a number or address last time I saw you. I’m pregnant.”

“I can tell. Congratulations.”

“I wanted to know if you’d like to come to the baby shower? This isn’t me asking you for anything monetary. You don’t even have to bring anything. I just would like to see you there.”

“After embarrassing me at your practice, you think I want to be at your house? I don’t even want to be in the same room as you. Tracking me down wouldn’t have been such a problem if you took the stick out your ass and took a trip back to The Bronx every once in a while. But you’re too good, right? Let’s go, Zelie.” He walked out of the room, holding Zelie tightly by his side.

They made it down to the front desk, where Seonghwa slammed the visitors pass down before speeding out of the place.

They get in the car and make it onto the highway in silence before Zelie spoke.

“Are you okay?”

Seonghwa sighed. “Yeah. I’m sorry for losing my cool back there. I just took one look at her and memories came flooding back. The look of disgust from her and her patients. The last shred of hope I had left being torn from me as she kicked me out. The loss of dignity. She made me feel so small that day. She wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t until she started dating that rich kid husband of hers. Suddenly she couldn’t do Pizza Fridays or Sloppy Joe Wednesdays with me anymore. She was all ‘that’s a lot of carbs, Hwa.’ Started eating kale and going out with his family for sushi night. I was forgotten. And now she decides to remember she has a brother? Why? So she can look good at her bullshit baby shower? Tough luck.”

Zelie spoke up cautiously. “What if I went with you?”

“You’re seriously expecting me to go? Whose side are you on?”

“If I have to pick, I’d say the baby’s. What your sister did is despicable and you had every right to lash out at her today, but think about the baby for a sec. This baby is being born into your family. They have no idea what went on before they were born. The baby deserves a chance to know you. What happens when you have kids of your own and Minseo’s kid grows up not knowing they have cousins and an uncle? That’s going to be a deep void in the baby’s life. A void only you can fill. Maybe just forget about the baby shower. But I’d say at least tolerate your sister for the baby, even if you never fully forgive her.”

Seonghwa stayed quiet, not knowing how to respond. He turned up the radio in hopes to fill the awkward silence. 15 minutes later, he pulled into a parking spot.

“C’mon. We’re here.”

They walk into the precinct, filled with people being handcuffed and policemen going over reports. Seonghwa walked up to the rotunda.

“I’m here to see Dr. Rossi.”

“Under what circumstances?” The cop asked.

“Tell her it’s Park. That she still owes me a favor.”

The cop sighed, picking up the phone and reciting what Seonghwa said to the person on the other line. After a few seconds, he hung up.

“She said you can head on in. Only one of you.”

Seonghwa wrapped his arm around Zelie’s waist. “The lady’s with me. I’m not leaving her here.”

They walked down the hall into an open office. At the desk sat a fair-skinned woman with natural blond hair and piercing green eyes.

“Seonghwa, to what do I owe this visit?” She smiled smugly.

“I need that favor, Breana.”

“Depends on what it is.”

“No, it doesn’t. I did you the favor last time, and you said you’d owe me. Whatever it takes. So, unless you want your colleagues to know New York’s biggest coke fiend is right down the hall, you better get your ass out of that seat.”

Breana was taken aback. “You’re showing off because your little friend is here. How cute.”

“Now I know this trick didn’t just call me a ‘little friend’.” Zelie said under her breath.

Seonghwa threw the glove on the desk. “Inside are several cotton swabs. I need you to test the skin cells and see if anything pops up.”

She looked at the glove in disgust. “I can’t even get a plastic bag?”

“It’s a hospital. Not a deli. They don’t exactly have Ziploc bags lying around. Gotta preserve the evidence somehow, right?”

“Not to mention, it sounds to me like you have more than enough plastic baggies already,” Zelie said, sniffing in an exaggerated manner.

Breana chuckled humorlessly. “Nobody asked you.”

“I speak when I feel like it. Who gon pop me?”

“Looks like you found someone as rude as you are,” Breana said. “Too bad it’s only a matter of time before he gets bored of you.”

“You don’t know me, honey. I got that thang that keeps him coming back. I don’t have to go fuck an old man to be told I’m the best of the best.”

“Listen, bitch. I know how to keep my man.”

“Must be easy. With that big ass age difference, he can’t be very fast.”

Breana scowled. “You sure know how to pick em, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa smiled. “Isn’t she just an angel? So, do we have a deal?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll run the tests. I’ll message you once the results come back and see if it matches anyone in our database. Until then, get the fuck out of my office. Next time, come alone.”

“Alone or not, he gon be thinking bout alllll this.” Zelie ran her hands up and down her body. “Bye, Powder Nose.” She waved.

They walked out of the precinct and back into the car.

“What now?” Zelie asked.

“I’m pretty hungry, wanna head to Applebee’s?”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” Zelie nodded. “We still have time to kill until work.”

“Actually, I’m thinking of closing the restaurant for a little. I can’t guarantee it’s safety until the situation’s boiled over. I liked the way you stood your ground against Breana just now. I know she can be an asshole.”

Zelie rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Don’t say that name. She really tried it.”

“I can’t lie. Seeing you that upset was so fucking sexy.” He turned to look at her.

Zelie looked back in shock. “Boy, you better drive before we never make it to Applebee’s.” She said turning to look out the window.

“Maybe I’m in the mood to eat something else.” He said, his hand gently squeezing her thigh.

Zelie swatted him away. “Men are just DEVIOUS. I said DRIVE.” She said, making Seonghwa laugh.

Stephie here! So we finally got some type of lead on the suspects. Because this fic is moving so slow (It’s my fault, I always have too much going on) It’ll probably be a longer AU than Hongjoong’s. Not by a lot, buuuut yeah lol

#ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst

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ghost--facers · 6 years

Text

S01E01 - Pilot (Part Four)

A/N: Hey! This is part four of the imagine series I’m doing where I rewrite the reader into Supernatural. I did say it was a long one... but it’s not actually too bad! Part 5 will be up soon and it should just be a short one (but we’ll see)! Feedback is appreciated and if you want to be tagged in the next part please let me know! I hope you like it x

Characters: Dean (eventual Dean x reader), Sam

Warnings: Swearing Word Count: 5550

Description: The reader goes hunting for the ‘Woman in White’ with Sam and Dean in Jericho.

Part One Part Two Part Three

“Here.” Dean said, throwing you one of his black t-shirts.

You were now clean and fresh having gotten out the shower, but because your previous clothes were soaked head to toe in mud, and you didn’t bring any extra clothes with you, you had to borrow one of Dean’s t-shirts. Luckily, you did find a spare pair of jeans in your bag which you were now wearing.

“Thanks, Dean.” You smiled, pulling the t-shirt over your head.

“No problem, [y/n].” He smiled back, his eyes were lingering on your body for a few seconds after. Normally, you’d hate for someone to see you in just a pair of jeans and a bra, especially a guy, but after jumping off a bridge, this didn’t really seem to bother you anymore.

You looked at yourself in the mirror after Dean had left the bathroom and noticed that you had bags under your [e/c] eyes, due to the fact you hadn’t slept in a while and your [h/c] hair was still slightly matted from the mud. You then looked down at the t-shirt Dean had given you, which hung from your frame till your mid-thigh. You smiled at yourself in the mirror, before walking out to join Dean and Sam in their father’s room. Due to the fact there was only one shower in your room, which Dean had been using, you had to use the one in their father’s room.

“Dean, I’m stealing this t-shirt.” You spoke, pulling your hair into a tight ponytail.

“Keep it.” Dean replied, looking back at you. “It suits you.”

You could feel a small blush appearing on your cheeks as you watched Dean smirk, while looking you up and down. You weren’t sure if he had seen you looking back at him, but he stopped after a few glances as he shook himself back into reality.

“Hey, Sam, I’m starving.” Dean said, grabbing his coat from off the bed. “I’m gonna get a little something to eat at that diner down the street, I assume you’re coming [y/n]?”

You nodded in response, as you grabbed your jacket and walked over to stand by Dean at the door.

“You want anything, Sam?” Dean asked.

“No.” He responded.

“Aframian’s buying.” Dean continued.

“Now, I’m ordering extra.” You spoke, smiling over at Dean.

Sam just shook his head, placing his phone to his ear again as you and Dean walked out of the room.

“I think we should still get him something.” You spoke, wincing at the sudden amount of sunlight that was now blinding you.

“We’ll get him a salad.”

“Salad? Surely, Sam doesn’t like sal-” You started, before noticing Dean stopping dead in his tracks. “Dean?”

You followed his gaze and your eyes fell upon two officers and the B&B owner.

“Shit.” You spoke, as he watched the B&B owner point his finger in your direction. Dean then turned himself around, which you also did, and pulled out his phone from his jacket.

“Dude. Five-0. Take off.” Dean spoke into the phone as you gripped onto his sleeve.

You could see them in your peripheral vision getting closer to you and Dean with every second. You had never been arrested before and you sure as hell never wanted to. Your heart beat was increasing, slowly but surely and your mouth had gotten dry. You clutched harder onto Dean’s jacket, trying to calm yourself down as best you could. You weren’t used to this… and you hated it.

“They kind of spotted me… and [y/n]. Go find Dad.” Dean spoke once more, before hanging up and placing the phone back into his jacket.

At that point, the officers had appeared and both you and Dean had turned round. You let go of Dean’s jacket, trying to make it seem like you weren’t nervous by their company, but they could probably already tell that you were. Dean however, was now sporting a cocky confidence that you hadn’t seen up until this point. It was a Dean that acted like he didn’t give a shit, even when he was about to be arrested.

“Problem, officers?” He furrowed his eyebrows in fake confusion.

“Where’s your other partner?” One of them asked, looking down at you.

“Partner? What-? What partner? Do you know a partner?” Dean spoke turning to you.

You muttered a ‘no’ before you both turned back to face them. One signalled to the other to go into the room you had just exited from and you could see the once confident Dean now gaining more panic for fear of his brother getting caught.

“No extras then?” You whispered to Dean as the officer watched the other walk over to the door. You could hear Dean laugh slightly but you could tell that his panic was rising. Up until the point when the officer turned back round, because then the cocky, confident Dean was back.

“So… fake U.S. marshals. Fake credit cards. You got anything that’s real?” The officer asked, and judging by the smirk on Dean’s face you could tell he was going to say something stupid. The cockiness was quite entertaining but by looking at the officer’s face you felt like whatever was about to come out of his mouth could get him tasered.

“My boobs.” He smirked. You chuckled, quietly while shaking your head. Of course, he could make you laugh even when he was being arrested. Well, actually being slammed into the hood of a police car.

“You have the right to remain silent…” The officer began, before you too got handcuffed.

The officer continued but you blocked out the noise due to your panic. It was real now, it wasn’t Dean just messing with them, it was you and Dean being arrested and being placed into a cop car.

“I’ve been around you for like two days and you have me doing so much crazy shit.” You whispered to Dean as you sat uncomfortably in the back of the car.

“You love it, y/n, don’t lie.” He whispered back, causing you to roll your eyes.

His comment did make you feel slightly calmer but nonetheless your stomach was still nervous and your heart was pumping abnormally fast as the cop car sprung to life.

~~~

“So you wanna give us your real names?” An officer spoke, walking back into the room with a box full of files.

You had been interrogated for what felt like the past three hours, in a boxy room with Dean. You were both handcuffed to the table, where one officer had been asking the same questions repeatedly.

“I told you. It’s Nugent. Ted Nugent.” Dean spoke, his confidence soaring. “And this is Beth Nugent.”

You tried to wave over in the officer’s direction but could only manage to raise your arm up slightly due to the handcuffs, so it ended up looking more like an uncomfortable shift.

“I’m not sure you both realise just how much trouble you’re in here.”

“You talking, like, misdemeanor kind of trouble? Or “squeal-like-a-pig” trouble?”

“You two got the faces of 10 missing persons taped to your wall, along with a whole lot of satanic mumbo jumbo. You two are officially suspects.”

“That makes sense, cause when the first one went missing in ‘82, I was 3 and Beth was 1.” Dean replied.

“I know you got partners. One of them is an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me, Dean. Is this his?” The officer said, throwing a notebook on the table.

Your eyes widened upon hearing the name Dean. You then began looking between the book that had been slammed down onto the table and Dean, who was staring straight at the journal.

“I thought that might be your name.” The officer spoke again, flicking through the pages. “See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out, I mean, it’s nine kinds of crazy. But, I found this too.”

The officer stopped on the page that had “Dean 35-111” circled on it. Dean moved closer to it, while you stayed in the same position.

“Now, you’re staying right here till you tell me exactly what the hell that means and until you,” He spoke, now pointing in your direction. “Tell me what your name is.”

“Beth Nugent.” You spoke, not entirely making eye contact.

“C’mon kid, it’s better if you tell me the truth.”

“I am.” You replied. “My name is Beth Nugent and that is my brother’s high school locker combo.”

Dean looked over at you, smirking slightly. You had only come up with the idea that it was his locker combo based on the fact your past locker combo was similar.

“Honest.” You spoke, before pointing at yourself. “Beth Nugent.” Then you pointed at the book. “Brother’s high school locker combination.”

“I don’t know how many times she’s gotta tell you,” Dean spoke. “It’s my high school locker combo.

“We gonna do this all night long? Fake names and fake stories?” The officer replied.

“We just got a 911.” A cop interrupted, walking into the room. “Shots fired over at Whiteford Road.”

“Any of you have to go to the bathroom?” You both shook your heads as a response. “Good.”

The officer then placed another handcuffed on both of you, securing you to the table more, before he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

“Ted? You honestly don’t look like a Ted. Also, what is that book? Like your dad freaks me out and I’ve never even met him. Also, it must be a small station if they’re interrogating us in the same room.” You rambled on.

“[y/n]?”

“Yeah?”

“Please shut up.” He sighed, reaching over to a paper clip that was positioned in the notebook.

“Sorry, I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

He then began to unlock the handcuffs that were keeping us at the table.

“Thanks.” You spoke, rubbing the wrist that you used to try and wave.

“Thanks for the locker combo.” He replied, taking off the remainding cuffs.

“It was similar to mine so it just popped into my head.”

“Right, let’s get out of here.” He sighed, standing up and grabbing the notebook.

He leaned against the wall, and you copied him, watching his head crane around the door to make sure there were no cops. Once there wasn’t, he whispered a quick “let’s go” before you followed him as he ran out of the door and towards the steps.

“Dean?” You whispered as you ran with him up the steps. “We’re supposed to be leaving not going higher up the building.”

“Entrance is swarming with cops, so we have to find another route.” He spoke before pushing open a door labelled roof.

“I’m not jumping off the roof, Dean.”

He ignored you as he walked over to the edge. You followed, as you talked about how you couldn’t believe you had spent so long in the boxy room as it was now dark and when you had entered it was midday.

“No jumping involved.” He panted, ignoring your previous comment as he moved over the wall and onto a ladder. He moved quickly and you followed, trying hard to make sure you didn’t misplace your footing. The ladder then abruptly came to an end and you looked down at Dean who was now on the ground, surveying the area. You took a breath in before jumping down onto the concrete. Although it wasn’t too far down, you still stumbled when you landed, but you blamed that on not having eaten anything in awhile.

“No jumping involved, huh?” You muttered as Dean then began jogging out of the alleyway and onto a road, and you followed him, slightly out of breath from running up the stairs. As you turned the corner onto the street, you found him inside a telephone box. There wasn’t much room in it and you assumed he was just talking to Sam, so you leaned against the outside glass, trying to catch your breath. Luckily enough, you were able to hear him through the glass.

“Fake 911 phone call, Sammy? I don’t know, that’s pretty illegal.” Dean laughed. “Listen, we gotta talk.” Dean fell silent for a minute but after a few seconds, he piped up again. “Sammy, would you shut up for a second? Well, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s gone. Dad left Jericho.”

He left? You asked yourself. You went on this trip with them so they could find their dad and now it turns out he’s not even here? You jumped off a bridge, researched about ghosts, possibly even saw one, lied about being a Marshal, got arrested for lying about being a Marshal and went on the run from an officer who arrested you for lying about being a Marshal, all for Dean to tell Sam that he wasn’t even here to begin with. That annoyed you slightly, but then you began to think about the fact that jumping off a bridge, researching the supernatural and faking being a Marshal made you feel alive and you had to admit that you had laughed a lot more in the past two days then you had in the past two months. It had been fun… but now it just seemed like the fun was kind of pointless.

“I’ve got his journal.” Dean continued. “Yeah, well, he did this time. Same old ex-Marine crap, to let us know where he’s going. Co-ordinates. I’m not sure. Sam! Sam! Sam!”

He began shouting Sam or a variation of that for another minute before hanging up and walking out, concern implanted on his face.

“What’s up?” I asked, turning to face him.

“It’s Sam. I was talking to him and then it cut out and I could just hear car brakes. We need to find him, [y/n].”

“But, how Dean?”

“I don’t know, but he could be in trouble. So come on.” Dean replied, starting up a run.

You followed him, as he ran down the street, even though you could tell he didn’t have a clue how to help Sammy yet. But, you knew he would think of a plan soon enough.

~~~

“Dean, you can’t just hotwire a car.” You sighed, arms folded as you watched Dean try to get into the first car you found.

“Why not?” He replied, not looking up.

“It’s illegal.”

“You just lied to a police officer, [y/n], I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.” He answered back.

You didn’t know how to reply to that one, because he was right. Come to think of it, most of the things you had done over the past two days had been illegal. You started to try and think of comebacks for his previous statement, but your thinking time had been cut off by the car that had now sprung to life.

“Get in, [y/n].” Dean smiled, shutting the driver’s door.

You smirked back, shaking your head slightly. You didn’t like the fact you were about to get into a stolen car, but the way he smiled at you made it seem like it was worth it. It made it seem like he had just bought the car not sparked some wires to make it driveable.

“I can’t believe you.” You chuckled as you got into the car and slammed the door shut.

“What?” He replied, smirking.

“You just casually steal a car and you don’t even care.” You spoke, watching him shrug as he started to drive. “You picked well though I supposed, it’s much nicer than the Impala.” You teased, watching him get slightly angrier.

“Leave Baby alone.”

“Baby?” You laughed, looking over at him. “That’s adorable.”

“Shut up, [y/n].” He said, blushing, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

He was beginning to speed up and his hands were gripping the wheel of the car very tightly now.

“Dean, do you actually know where Sam is?” You asked.

“The place she kills everyone.” He responded.

“Constance?”

“Yeah.”

“I still don’t really believe in all that Supernatural crap, you know? It still kinda feels like you Winchester Bros are messing with me.”

“Well, you might want to prepare yourself to see some Supernatural crap because your gonna have a front row ticket tonight.” He sighed, turning the car onto another road abruptly.

“Well then…” You replied. “I’m sorry I’m not going to be able to find your dad with you.”

“Why won’t you?”

“Well, I know that he’s not in Jericho anymore, and I need to be back for work tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? It’s Sunday, already?”

“Yeah.” You replied, smiling sadly.

He didn’t reply, just stared ahead, focused intently on the road.

“You know, I never imagined myself doing anything I did this weekend, so thanks.” You said as Dean began to chuckle.

“I can’t believe you’re thanking me for putting you in danger.”

“Well, it was fun. Ticks stuff on my bucket list, right?”

“I suppose so.” He smiled sweetly. “Just make sure you listen to me when we get to Sam, ok?”

“Ok.” You replied, and this time the worry in Dean’s voice made you grasp the seriousness of the situation. You had always taken what Dean had said on this trip, jokingly, but this time you knew you should listen to him. His tone told you there were bad things to come… you didn’t know what exactly, but you knew something was going to happen. Could be some Supernatural stuff, you scoffed to yourself. You felt like you were never going to believe that Sam and Dean were serious about demons and ghosts and things that go bump in the night, but nonetheless, you would go with Dean to help Sam with whatever had happened to him. Or if something had even happened.

Your thoughts had kept you occupied for some time and before you knew it the hijacked car was coming to a stop. Dean didn’t say anything before he rushed out the car and over to the Impala, probably grabbing some of his kit. You didn’t know where Sam was at this point but the shrieks that could be heard, gave you the indication that he was in trouble. It wasn’t only the screams that begun to freak you out, it was the backdrop. It was a derelict building that was starting to crumble to the floor. The trees beside it were back and leafless and the door was slightly ajar, like it was inviting you in for a slow and painful death. That’s when your breathing quickened, your heart was pumping so much you could feel it in your throat, your mouth had gone dry and your brain was going into overdrive thinking about all the things that could be happening. You tried to calm yourself down by saying ‘[y/n], you’re not alone, Sam and Dean won’t let anyone hurt you…” over and over again. It worked well enough for you to brave getting out of the car and running over to Dean who had now retrieved a gun from the trunk of the Impala.

You got over to him as he approached the side window of the Impala. You watched on as he began shooting the air in front of Sam, who you could now see was lying in the back of the car, with a few burning holes in his chest. A tear escaped your eye as you watched him suffer and that’s when you saw the ‘woman in white’ appear, with her once snow white complexion turned into a gaunt skeletal version that was now bearing her layers of dagger-like teeth at Dean. He didn’t seem fazed by it, his face now stern and serious, as he shot at her again. You clutched at Dean’s jacket, as your eyes widened in pure shock and terror. You seemed to be doing this a lot, and he probably found it annoying, but you had to hold onto something and he was the best option.

She kept disappearing with every shot, and within enough time, Sam was able to sit up and with determination plastered across his face, he sped up the Impala and was aiming straight for the creepy house.

“Sam!” Dean shouted, clearly worried about both of them. Both of them, being Sam and the car.

You ran over towards the shack with Dean and watched how the sturdy-ish timbers crashed down on top of the Impala as Sam flew into it. Smoke was billowing out the building and as you wiped a few tears from your eyes, you ran into the building, behind Dean.

“Sam?” Dean shouted.

“Here!” Sam replied.

You both followed the noise over to the front of the car where Sam was sat.

“You okay?” You ask, breathless, both from running and terror.

“I think.” He replied, as Dean pulled open the door.

“Can you move?” He asked.

“Yeah. Help me.” Sam groaned as Dean grabbed his hand and helped him shift out of the car.

“Sam, seriously are you okay?” You asked, wide eyed.

“I’ll be fine, [y/n].” He smiled weakly, leaning against the car.

“She’s fucking real… she’s fucking real.” You whispered.

“Yeah, she’s fucking real.” Dean replied, as you all turned around to look around the room.

“She’s fucking there.” You muttered, grabbing a hold of Dean’s jacket once again.

In front of you stood the snow white version of Constance, who was gripping onto a picture frame. She then looked up, slamming it aside and you could only assume that with her mind, she then flew a cabinet across the room, which slammed into all three of you.

The wind was blown from you and you were now struggling to breathe, you groaned as you tried to move the cabinet away from you, but it wasn’t going anywhere. You saw that both Dean and Sam were doing the same thing, both with no luck. A few tears escaped your eyes as a natural response, and with your free hand you quickly wiped them away. You were sure that the Winchester brothers hadn’t seen you crying so far and you wanted to keep it that way. However, that was becoming trickier because the lights were beginning to flash and even Dean and Sam were beginning to get worried.

“[y/n], it’s going to be fine… don’t cry, it’s okay.” Dean reassured.

“I’m not crying.” You replied, quickly wiping away a stray tear. “Maybe you can hear the water that’s dripping over there.”

It was a bad save, but it redirected his attention from my wet face to the soaked stairs, where water was pouring down. Constance had seemed to notice it now as well and had now moved over to the end of the stairs. Distress was evident on her face and you followed her gaze to two young children, soaked from head to toe, who were holding hands and looking down at her.

“You’ve come home to us, Mommy.” They muttered, before appearing behind her.

They ran forward, engulfing her into a hug. She screamed out, before a striking blue light shone around the room and she collapsed with her children. The only thing left was a large puddle on the wood floor.

You were freaking out inside and were trying so hard to hide it, which you felt you had successfully managed. Dean and Sam then pushed over the cabinet, releasing all of you from its’ trap and they walked over to the puddle. You decided to stay where you were for fear that the ‘Woman in White’ would suddenly appear again.

“So, this is where she drowned her kids.” Dean said.

“That’s why she could never go home.” Sam replied. “She was too scared to face them.”

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Dean spoke, patting Sam on the back, who groaned from pain, before turning to you.

“You okay, [y/n]?” He asked.

“Yeah…” You replied, breathless. “The real question is whether you’re okay, Sam.”

“I’m good, [y/n]. But Dean, what were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?”

“Hey, saved your ass. I’ll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car… I’ll kill you.”

You and Sam both laughed, looking back at Dean who was now inspecting a tire.

They seemed unfazed by it and luckily, you were beginning to come to terms with the truth of what Sam and Dean had been saying and were getting less freaked out by it all. It was still a lot to take in, but you knew eventually it would sink in.

~~~

“Okay, here’s where Dad went. It’s called Black Water Ridge, Colorado.” Sam spoke, looking down at the map he had positioned on his lap.

You three were back in the car, driving far away from Jericho. You were still trying to block the events of the night out, but you were having no luck. It didn’t really scare you, it just made you more aware of all that evil things that could be surrounding you. You normally got scared when things happened, but after they had finished the terror escaped you and you just became more observant and wary. You had had a lot of practise with this in your twenty-four years of living and you were used to it. You knew Constance would pop into your head just as you were about to sleep, but you knew after a couple days you would be fine and it would nearly all be gone from your memory. Well, it wouldn’t be gone, it would just not bother you anymore.

“Sounds charming. How far?” Dean responded to Sam.

“About 600 miles.”

“If we shag ass, we can make it by morning.”

“You guys never stop do you?” You spoke, yawning.

“Nope.” Dean answered, smirking slightly.

“Dean, I…” Sam said nervously.

“You’re not going.”

“The interview’s in like 10 hours. I gotta be there.”

“Umm, yeah, I gotta get back too. I go to work soon. I mean I don’t really know why because I don’t get paid a lot but you know… money’s money I guess.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Dean scoffed, focusing on the road. “I’ll take you both home.”

“Thanks.” You muttered, lowering your head.

It was clear Dean wanted both of you to stay… well if not you, then Sam, and you did want to stay… even if it wasn’t really the career you would’ve picked for yourself. Well, it wasn’t a possible career for you, it was more like a strange holiday.

They probably don’t want you there, you said to yourself as you slumped back down in the seat.

“Sorry, I was useless.” You said, loud enough to hear them.

“Useless?” Sam questioned, turning around to look at you. You didn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah, I mean. I didn’t do anything other than cry and hold onto Dean’s jacket.” You admitted.

“So you were crying.” Dean spoke, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, I was, asshole.” You replied, sitting up.

“[y/n], this was your first hunt and before we set off you didn’t even know that the Supernatural was a thing. Also, you didn’t even believe in it until she threw a cabinet into your stomach.” Dean said.

“Yeah” Sam agreed. “You didn’t even believe in it after you jumped off a bridge to get away from the haunted car.”

“Well, I do now and it’s fucking weird.” You laughed. “You know when you were convincing Sam to come on the trip, Dean?” He nodded. “Well, I don’t know if you guys were even listening to me but I said ‘you do realise ghosts, ghouls and things that go bump in the night aren’t real’... and well, I take that back.”

“Well at least you know we aren’t crazy now.” Sam smiled, turning back to face the front.

“No, I still think you’re crazy… but at least now I know you’re not totally insane.” You grinned as you watched them laugh in response.

“How long till we’re back, Dean?” You asked.

“Couple hours.” He said, watching you yawn in the rear view mirror. “You can go to sleep you know.”

“I know, I just won’t see you guys again for a long time so I wanna make the most of it.”

“That’s cute.” Dean laughed.

“I know.” You replied, grinning.

“But, [y/n], you should sleep.” He replied.

“Ok.” You yawned as you laid down in the back of the Impala and shut your eyes.

Just like the start of the journey, you felt the heavy material of Dean’s jacket being laid over you and you smiled.

“Thank you.” You spoke softly. “Not just for the jacket. For everything. You too, Sam.” And with that you fell asleep. It wasn’t the greatest sleep you had ever had… but it was sleep nonetheless.

~~~

“[y/n], we’re back.” Sam’s words lifted you from your sleep. You hadn’t really had a dream and were surprised that Constance hadn’t appeared before you had gone to sleep, but maybe that was because you were so incredibly tired.

You rubbed your eyes and shrugged off Dean’s jacket as you sat up in the back of the Impala.

“Well, I guess this is it.” You spoke, smiling sadly.

You looked at both of them before getting out of the Impala and walking around to the driver’s side. To your surprise, they did too and you three were now in a huddle by the Impala door.

“I’m gonna miss you guys… even if you did make me jump off a bridge.” You grinned.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Sam smiled, pulling you into a hug.

He was good at hugs you thought to yourself as he released you from his grasp. You were then about to move over to Dean so you could hug him too but his voice stopped you.

“I’ll walk you.”

“That’s cute.” You smirked.

“I know.” He replied, before he began the walk.

“See ya, Sam.” You spoke, before following Dean over to your door, which you both stopped in front of.

“Thanks for walking me. I don’t know how I would’ve made it on my own.” You joked.

“No problem.” He grinned back. “Just a heads up, [y/n], if you tell anyone about what you did this weekend, they won’t believe you. In any way.”

“I know.” You nodded.

He awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets before his cocky grin appeared on his face. “Bye sweetheart, I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” You smiled, before pulling him into a hug that seemed to last a while.

You didn’t mind, to be honest, you wanted it to be a long hug. You really would miss him and Sam. It would be strange to be back alone in your house after spending your weekend with them. It felt like more than a weekend though, it was like they had never left when you had met them at the age of sixteen.

“You know I never thought I’d see you guys again.” You said, as you pulled away.

“I’m glad you did.” He grinned. “Goodbye, [y/n].”

“Bye.” You smiled, as you watched him walk back towards the Impala, not looking behind him.

“Dean!” You shouted, watching him turn around in confusion. “I told you I would steal this t-shirt!”

You laughed, before turning around and unlocking the door to your apartment complex. You didn’t wait for his reaction, more for the fear he would demand the t-shirt back.

You began walking up the steps to find your apartment, and you could hear the regular shouts coming from the apartments opposite your own.

“I’d rather take on Constance then listen to them arguing again.” You muttered to yourself as you opened the door and slammed it shut.

You could still hear them arguing as you took your jacket off and hung it up on the back of the door, before you locked the door back up again. Sighing, you stripped down before putting on your pyjamas, which just happened to be a tshirt and your underwear before climbing into bed and leaving your other clothes, along with Dean’s t-shirt, in a pile on the floor.

You pulled the covers up under your chin before closing your eyes. You really hated being alone now, and all you wanted was to wake up and be in some crappy hotel with Sam and Dean. But that wasn’t going to happen again.

One more sigh later, you began to fully concentrate on falling asleep but the image of the ‘Woman in White’ appeared in your mind and your eyes shot open immediately.

You rubbed your eyes, before you got out of bed again, your feet hitting the coldness of your apartment’s wood floor. You then walked over to your nearest cupboard and pulled open the door. You half expected to see a ghost in it but all that was there was a few clothes, a couple bags, childhood objects and a baseball bat, which you grabbed before closing the cupboard and walking back to your bed.

“Just in case.” You said, lying the bat down next to your bed as you got into the covers.

You laid down, closing your eyes and soon enough you fell asleep as the memories of the weekend flooded your mind.

Tags: @catsin-tuxedos @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @jules12345678910

(Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!)

Part Five

#spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #supernatural rewrite #dean #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader #eventual dean x reader #Sam Winchester #sammy #sam #pilot #supernatural pilot

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kootenaygoon · 5 years

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So,

This cop had punched a woman unconscious.

He was a Nelson police officer who had been off-duty and strolling down the sidewalk within sight of the Big Orange Bridge when he spotted a scuffle in the middle of the road. It was May 2014 and his colleague Bill Andreaschuk was wrestling a small handcuffed woman towards his truck, struggling, when the guy decided to jump in.

That was his first mistake.

Andreaschuk and the man grappled with the woman for a few moments as she flailed, trying to maneuver her towards the open back door. That’s when two more uniformed officers appeared: David Laing and Jarrett Slomba. They could tell things were getting out of hand, so Slomba tapped him on the shoulder and said “we’ve got this”.

“According to their testimony, he ignored that. He turned around and punched the woman twice in the face, knocking her into the backseat. Then he turned back and said ‘that should shut her up’,” Ed told Greg, as we all sat discussing the ongoing assault trial in the Star newsroom.

“He said that?” Greg asked, blinking a little faster.

Ed shook his head in grim disapproval. “He doesn’t deny it.”

That one-two punch had gotten the cop immediately reported to Chief Wayne Holland by three of his colleagues, who wouldn’t stand for rough and tumble bullshit. You don’t fucking hit women, period. He’d been on administrative leave since the event, but there were growing calls for his resignation as he approached a guilty verdict. Ed had been doing excellent court reporting, and I loved watching him hash out the details with our editor, trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject. They were both pissed the police department had initially tried to keep the whole thing secret.

Greg furrowed his brow. “This woman was 100 pounds?”

“That’s what they said.”

“And he said he was afraid of her? Said she might attack him? In handcuffs?”

“In his testimony he said he could ‘see it in her eyes’.”

Greg snorted with derision. It was the closest I’d ever seen him to angry. He’d already expressed his disbelief that the cop had claimed Slomba wasn’t even there. How could you lie about something like that?

“This is precisely the sort of behaviour that erodes the public trust in this profession. He has to go,” said Greg.

Ed nodded. “I don’t see how he could continue in his job after something like this, especially in a town this small.”

As editor, Greg was even-tempered and meticulous. Since Calvin’s departure he’d been working diligently to limit the number of press releases and grip n’ grins being published in our pages, and had sourced a number of talented columnists to help fill out the back section. Most of our coverage was soft news, taking pictures at parades or writing about school fundraisers, but every now and then a story like this came up. That’s where Greg really shone, helping Ed ensure every nuance of a court proceeding was properly documented and the community was fully informed. He was a Doukhobor, and had a pacifistic energy, but he also had a keen sense of justice. When somebody fucked up, he wanted to see them held accountable. This cop had run afoul of Greg’s moral radar, and now he was going to pay the price.

Two days later, as we got into the swing of production day, his editorial came across my desk: “Disgraced cop must go”. Greg was clicking away at his keyboard, focused on something else, while I incredulously read his words. My first thought was is he allowed to say all this? He ridiculed the cop’s testimony, called for him to be fired, and labeled his story “preposterous”. When it came to the joke, which the guy had defended as “gallows humour”, Greg was sneeringly sarcastic: “Guess you had to be there”.

This was the journalistic equivalent of standing in the street and calling somebody out, like Omar from The Wire. I pictured Greg metaphorically ripping off his shirt, turning in circles with his arms widespread, begging somebody to come at him. Daring people to take him on. It was maybe the most heroic gesture I’d ever seen. It was like a public crucifixion.

“Holy shit, Greg. This editorial. Tell me how you really feel.”

He shrugged. “I guess I had a bee in my bonnet.”

“This will teach the police department not to fuck with Greg Nesteroff.”

“Maybe you’re right about that.”

The Kootenay Goon

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garyzarrt-blog · 7 years

Photo

My Wall 9 & 10

9 I take the subway with my wall

I took the 1 train. No, I think it was the R train. Maybe it was the N. Yes, it had to be the N. It was hard to get through the turnstile so I used the emergency gate and the siren went off but nobody cared as usual. I basically pushed myself to through the rush hour crowd. I saw open mouths and faces filled with wonder, maybe even a little fear. I felt someone grab my hand which was hanging over my wall. “Who are you, man? Who are you? Are you new to New York? Do you speak English? Are you a refugee? Can I help you?” I couldn’t see the man’s face (I was crammed on the crowded subway platform). He sounded friendly enough, but as I’ve said before, everyone in America is deeply suspicious, and they should be. Not everyone is your friend. “I’m okay,” I said. “I’m not a refugee. Just point me towards the subway car. That’s all I need.” I thought it was it ironic that as an American patriot intent upon making us great again I was co fused as - a foreigner. The guy said softly (so I couldn't hear?) to a woman (a colleague?) beside him, “This is a refugee. We have to give him sanctuary. He is escaping a brutal regime. He’ll be reported if we don’t, especially with the new administration in Washington.” "Yes. He's dead meat." “I am not a refugee! I'm an American! I'm an American!" I yelled although my wall made it very hard to understand me. “He says he’s a performance artist, man,” a skinny guy dressed all in black said. "Yeah, far out. Dig it." “Yeah, I have seen him out in Bushwick. And, he played in some band in Red Hook.” "Cool. Yeah. Caught it." Then I heard a woman’s voice. I could tell from her accent she wasn't a New Yorker. “This guy’s so wild! I love this city! Can we take a selfie with you?” “I don’t have time,” I said. “I have to get away. People are chasing me and they want to hurt me. Please.” The man who thought I was a refugee by this time was standing on a bench and peering down into my wall. “What do you have to run away from?” he asked. “Let her take a selfie. It's harmless, and then I will find you a safe place where no one can find you and my organization can take you back to your country.” “I’m from Ohio! I'm American!" I screeched. They were missing the whole point of my quintessentially American invention. “Sure, everyone is – and that’s the point," he answered slowly with that tone and phrasing they use when talking to animals, old people, and immigrants who don't know English. "Let her just take a selfie with you and then we can leave. I know how hard this must be for you. Even if she takes a picture your face, it won’t be visible from the outside so you don’t have to worry about being identified by the death squads.” "The only death squads after me flip burgers and make Greek salads!" But this do gooder had a point. He captured a key selling point of my wall - it can keep me out of sight, yet in plain sight. He got it. People crowded. around me and my wall. I was starting to understand that just seeing my wall, the fact that I had actually created a wall around me, a wall similar to what everyone was hearing about 24/7, would change America and the world. I made "the ever present American wall manifest," is how a cult described it. “Who the fuck are you?” a tall man in a suit with a briefcase snapped. He elbowed me. "Who do you think you are pushing ahead of? Wait your turn like everyone else. There things called lines in this country. Take your turn like everyone else.” (I think I was encountering what TV pundits at the time were calling white rage, but I wasn’t sure.) I heard so many voices outside my wall. They merged at times into a single wild voice. “I think that’s really cool, man. I think it’s really fucking outta sight.” "I'm down with Wall Man!" “Yeah, I like it a lot. It looks good on you." “Do you study fashion?” I couldn’t understand all the accents. People were touching my wall. A chanting woman in a saffron robe tried to get her arms around the wall so she could hug me. “You need love, my friend. You need revolutionary love.” A man with thinning red hair, whispered, “I was meant to be close to someone like you. Want to party, killer?" I was getting really scared. I didn’t know how much constant physical pressure my wall would be able to take. I forced myself to think of the secret Stayaway website I had hacked into, and the furious cabbies bouncing harmlessly like annoying insects in all directions unable to make a dent in the material. This calmed me, but I was getting panicky. I was backed into a doo-wop group on the platform. They were singing songs by the Drifters. I started to sing along with them. I even did a few of the moves I practiced with Freedom on Saturday morning when I listened to Felix Hernandez on Rhythm Review. Money - heaps of it - was being thrown at me. “You want to join our group, brother?” one of the singers asked as we finished a number. "I don't know who you are but it's been raining money since you turned up." “Sorry, I have to take the train!” I shouted. What I thought would be an escape on the subway was turning into another public commotion except this was on a narrow subway platform. I knew it was only a matter of time until everything would come crashing down around my planned escape. My fame was beginning.

10 I am arrested

“Stop! Stay where are you are!” a voice commanded. Two police officers. A tall woman, and a burly young man, seemed intent upon stopping my movement. "Officers, all I want to do is get on the subway.” They couldn’t hear me, or didn’t want to, I wasn’t sure. “Hands in the air!” How did they know that was the only direction I could put my hands? I aimed them towards the ceiling. The cops had moved away the crowd. Several other officers arrived. I was perspiring very heavily even though it was cold. “Show us your ID,” the woman cop said. I noticed she wore small hooped gold earrings. It’s hard to reach into your pockets when you have on a wall. I tried though. But I was too slow. “You’re under arrest! Up against that wall.” I heard radios crackling. Someone said, “We got a whack job.” An express train boomed past, boots echoed on the platform. “I haven’t done anything wrong,” I said. “I’m exercising my constitutional right -- to wear a wall. It’s just like the right bear arms.” “He’s armed!” the male cop screamed. He looked petrified. Guns were drawn. “Back up! Back up!” “Keep your fucking hands in the air where I can see them!” The two newly arrived police officers, who looked even more afraid than I was, pushed me into a corner of the subway platform, away from the commuters, many of whom seemed to be rallying to my cause. “Show us your hands now!” I was being pushed and pulled and I was barely able to stand under the weight of the police bodies. I was afraid I might get shot, even unintentionally. Remember, I wasn’t sure if my wall was bullet proof. I suspected it was, but I hadn’t seen any videos of bullets, like the hordes of cursing cabbies, bouncing off the surface of the Stayaway material. How could I have not checked on this critical fact? (Note to self and world- even the truly great must worry over every detail otherwise their grand vision will never come to be.)

I found my driver’s license from Ohio and handed it over the wall. "Take off your fucking costume right now,” the young male cop said with disgust. “Come on, asshole. Take off the clown suit – you’re not funny. You’re creating a public disturbance and endangering hundreds of people.” “This is my wall and I’m entitled to wear it,” I replied. I wasn't disrespectful. I was asserting my rights as an American citizen. This would later be one of the statements that endeared me to very conservative groups, such as the Tea Party. (Oddly, civil libertarians and revolutionary leftists also found it attraction.) “Take that shit off right now and show us your face,” the Latina officer said. She had her hand on her gun, and she was much bigger than me. “Don’t shoot!” I shouted. Then I heard several people from around me yell. "Stop shooting people!” “Black lives matter!” “Stop the hate! Stop the violence!” “Every life matters! Leave him alone!” “Yeah, this is New York, man.” "Everybody's packing something." “He’s just wearing what he wants!” “Leave him alone, he’s just another New York freak.” "That's why people visit New York." "Let him do what he wants – this is America!" “No, fuck you! Go ahead and shoot him so I can get it on Facebook Live on my cell phone! I’m gonna be famous. Go ahead -- shoot him! Shoot him, guys! It'll be all over the media in an hour." I was becoming dizzy again. My wall was light, as you know, because of my planning and the fabrication process, but the reaction to it was disorienting. It was hard to react to the spontaneous explosion on Day 1. “This is the last time I tell you. Take off your costume, or else we’re going to take you in.” I started to unlock the shoulder apparatus that held up my wall, when I felt both police officers pushing me again against the wall. They couldn’t get my wrists into handcuffs, so they ended up putting my ankles in handcuffs. (Later, the tabloids, described my arrest as the first time anyone in New York had been “foot cuffed.” The famous "Tooties on Trial" headline with a full-page photo of my handcuffed ankles became as famous a headline as "Ford to City - Drop Dead." Celebrity found me, as I had dreamed. I hobbled to the local police precinct with police officers, speaking into the mics to their dispatcher. They practically carried me up the steps to the street. People shouted support, some spit at me and cursed. The police officers were trained to ignore crowd abuse. One cop with gray hair, I couldn’t tell his rank but he looked important, shook his head and smiled as they dragged me out of the subway. Panting, four five cops hoisted me up the final subway steps. Since I couldn’t fit into the backseat of a police car with my wall, they conveniently had a van meet us at the curb. I was arrested. They read me my rights in the presence of my wall. My future seemed dim, indeed.

Monday evening January 9, 2017

Garyzarrt.tumblr.com

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