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virgoilluminati · 4 months ago

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A Match Made in England

Episode 2: New Beginnings; All things Madrid

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Episode 2

The afternoon sun filtered through billowy, ivory curtains, casting a honeyed glow across the sleek, contemporary decor of the newly inhabited apartment. The walls, painted in a tranquil shade reminiscent of the Mediterranean Sea, harmonized with the airy atmosphere fostered by wide-open windows. A gentle breeze wafted through, carrying with it a subtle hint of sea salt, enhancing the serene ambiance.

In the living room, half-unpacked boxes, adorned with labels like "books," "kitchenware," and "clothes," stood as silent witnesses to the recent move-in. Their presence added a sense of anticipation and transition to the room.

You sat perched on the edge of a plush, charcoal-gray couch, your countenance a blend of weariness from the move and determination for what lay ahead. As you glanced at the camera with a self-conscious smile, you gestured lightly towards the still-disorganized boxes. "Sorry about the mess," you quipped, your voice a mix of apology and amusement.

Levi, seated opposite you in a sleek, armless chair, responded with a warm chuckle that resonated with genuine understanding. Adjusting the lapel of his finely tailored blazer, he leaned slightly forward. "No worries at all," he reassured you, his tone as comforting as it was professional. "Ready to dive in?" He paused briefly, a subtle nod signaling the start of the conversation. "So, things have changed a lot since the last episode…"

“You could say that, yeah,” you replied with a wistful half-smile, your voice carrying a trace of nostalgia and sadness intertwined. You shifted slightly on the couch, the fabric rustling softly beneath you as you leaned forward, your hands resting loosely on your lap.

**********

Jude's hand clasped yours tightly, the warmth of his grip contrasting with the cool leather of the steering wheel he held with his other hand. His knuckles were white as he navigated the dense, chaotic Spanish traffic. He could hear your muffled cries, each one tearing at his heart, and see your body convulsing with every sharp jab of pain that racked through you.

When Jude first secured his place at Real Madrid, you both had dreamed of getting an apartment together. But practicality won over fantasy, and he found a place for himself, somewhere you could visit occasionally. It was in a secluded area, chosen more for its privacy than its proximity to conveniences, a refuge from the prying eyes of paparazzi.

It was supposed to be a sanctuary. But now, Jude cursed the distance with every passing second.

"Hang in there, love," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're almost there."

His foot tapped anxiously on the gear stick as the traffic light turned green, his eyes darting between the road and you. Normally, you masked your pain well, a stoic façade that he had learned to see through. But now, your labored breaths and desperate gasps for air betrayed the severity of your condition.

Jude glanced over at you and tried to muster a smile. "Hey, remember the time we got lost trying to find that tapas bar? We ended up in that weird puppet show instead. What was it they called it? 'El Show de los Muñecos Locos'? We couldn't stop laughing!"

You managed a weak smile, but it quickly faded as another wave of pain hit you. "Jude. J-jude, this feels different—" your voice trembled, a mixture of fear and agony.

"I know, I know. Just stay with me, yeah? It's just a couple more streets away," he responded, his voice cracking with panic as he tapped the GPS, willing the route to clear, only to face another red light.

He had never realized how many traffic lights separated his apartment from the city center until now.

"Remember the time we tried flamenco dancing?" Jude continued, desperate to keep your mind off the pain. "I stepped on your toes so many times I thought you'd never dance with me again. But you were so graceful, and I just looked like a wind-up toy having a meltdown."

"Jude, I'm sorry I didn't say anything—" you began, your voice weak.

"No, no, don't. Not yet—" he interrupted, his tone urgent. "I've still got a few more embarrassing stories up my sleeve. Like that time I tried to impress you by cooking paella and nearly burned the kitchen down. You said it tasted like 'smoky regret.'"

"I love you so much, and I guess I was scared because I hate people doting over me. But it was selfish because—"

"Stop, please," Jude said, cutting you off with a tender kiss, his lips trembling against yours. "We're going to get through this. Together."

He quickly pulled into a parking spot opposite the hospital.

"No more apologizing, alright? We need to make sure you're okay first," he said, rushing around the car to help you out.

He offered his hand, and you gripped it weakly as you made your way toward the building. The hospital's hard glass exterior mirrored your fragile state, cold and unyielding. Each step felt like a monumental effort, your legs growing weaker, every movement sending your head spinning. Jude noticed your slowing pace and immediately shouted for help in Spanish.

"¡Ayuda! ¡Necesitamos ayuda!" His voice echoed through the entrance, filled with desperation.

Confused nurses and doctors rushed over, their faces a blur as you drifted in and out of consciousness. Jude tried to hold onto you, his grip slipping as they whisked you away on a gurney. Desperation filled his voice as he asked for information in Spanish, his body aching with the loss of your touch.

"¿Adónde la llevan?" he pleaded with a young nurse who had pushed him aside. He watched helplessly as they placed you onto a hospital bed, your fragile form barely recognizable under the harsh fluorescent lights.

"Tranquilo, señor. Está en buenas manos," the nurse reassured him. "¿Necesita llamar a alguien?"

Jude shook his head, tears streaming down his face as he stole one last glance at you before they took you away. "Just... take care of her. Please," he whispered, his voice breaking.

The nurse guided him to a chair, her touch gentle yet firm. "She is in the best place, sir. Do you need to phone someone?"

Jude shook his head again, sniffling as he wiped away a few stolen tears. "No, there's no one else. Just... let me know what's happening, okay?"

"We will," she promised, her eyes meeting his with understanding. "Stay here. We'll update you as soon as we can."

Jude sat down heavily, his body feeling empty without your touch. He knew you would get through this. He just prayed that you would get through it together.

*******

Back in the present, you slowly move your hands across your stomach, feeling the stitches' indentation through your summer dress.

"So, the diagnosis must have been a significant change for you."

"Yes, it was. One minute, I thought I was perfectly healthy. The next, I was left with half a colon."

When you slowly regained consciousness, the soft, steady beeping of monitors greeted you, blending with the low hum of hospital machinery. Jude's figure came into focus beside you, his eyes tired yet brimming with relief as he noticed you stirring.

"Ah, here she is. Had a nice nap, Dove?" His voice was gentle, infused with a mix of exhaustion and tenderness.

Your throat felt dry as you tried to speak. "What happened?"

"They took you into surgery," Jude explained softly, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. "They haven't told me much, just that they'll explain once the tests come back."

"Tests for what?" Your voice was barely a whisper, laden with concern.

"All sorts. They did a thorough investigation on you, Dove. Made sure of it." He offered you a cup of water, his touch careful and reassuring, before leaning down to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

Taking a slow sip of water, you savored the cool relief it brought. Despite the seriousness of the situation, a hint of your usual banter emerged. "What's the score?"

Jude blinked, momentarily taken aback by your question. "You can't be serious," he chuckled softly, pulling out his phone. "You just woke up from surgery and you're asking about football?"

"I never miss Arsenal games. Especially not against Chelsea. What's the score?" you insisted, managing a faint smile.

Amusement danced in Jude's eyes as he checked the score for you. "2:0 Chelsea."

"Wait, what?" You feigned surprise, your eyebrows shooting up.

"I'm kidding—2:0 Arsenal," he chuckled warmly, the worry lines on his face easing momentarily. You playfully threw a pillow at him, only to notice the IV drip attached to your hand.

"Idiot," you teased, a small smirk playing on your lips as you both shared a brief moment of light-heartedness in the midst of uncertainty.

Jude's expression softened, his fingers intertwining with yours. "I almost lost you for a minute there. I was so fucking scared. Don't think I've ever been that scared before."

"I'm sorry. For everything," you murmured, feeling a lump form in your throat.

"You were forgiven ages ago," Jude reassured you, his voice tender. "Now don't do that to me again, alright?"

"Alright," you promised softly, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you gazed at him, grateful to be alive and together.

A couple of minutes later, the door to your hospital room creaked open, and a friendly-looking doctor in scrubs entered with a warm smile.

"Hey there, I'm Dr. Martinez," she introduced herself cheerfully, flipping through your chart. "Glad to see you awake."

Jude stood up from his chair beside you, nodding gratefully. "Thanks for looking after her, doc."

Dr. Martinez nodded back, her demeanor calm and approachable. "No problem. How are you feeling now?" she asked, turning her attention to you.

"Like I got run over twice," you replied with a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood despite feeling gutted inside.

"Yeah, surgeries tend to leave you feeling that way," Dr. Martinez said sympathetically, reading your chart. "So, we did the surgery and found out it's Crohn's disease. It caused extensive inflammation in your colon, which led to a blockage. That's why we had to remove a significant portion of your colon in the emergency surgery."

Your heart sank at the severity of the diagnosis. You had secretly hoped it was something simpler like appendicitis.

"Crohn's?" you said, trying to process the news. "I was hoping for something less... life-altering. Can't we just fix it and get me back on the field?"

Dr. Martinez's expression softened with empathy. "I understand, but Crohn's disease requires ongoing management. We had to take this step to prevent further complications and ensure your health."

You nodded slowly, the weight of the situation settling in. Jude squeezed your hand gently, his concern palpable.

"Now, we'll start you on medications to control the inflammation and prevent future flare-ups," Dr. Martinez continued gently, her tone serious. "Given the extent of the surgery and the nature of Crohn's, I recommend at least six months off from football to allow your body to heal properly and to adjust to the medications."

Your heart sank further at the thought of being sidelined for so long. "Six months? That's... a lot. My team..."

Jude placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We'll figure it out, Dove. Your health comes first."

"But—" you started to protest, feeling torn between your passion for football and the harsh reality of your condition.

"Listen," Jude interrupted softly yet firmly, his gaze unwavering. "We'll take this one step at a time. Right now, let's focus on getting you back to full health."

You sighed, reluctantly accepting his words. "Okay."

"Good," Dr. Martinez said with a reassuring smile. "We'll monitor your progress closely and adjust the treatment plan as needed. Our goal is to get you back on the pitch when you're ready."

You nodded, feeling a mix of apprehension and gratitude for their care. Jude leaned over to kiss your forehead gently.

"We'll get through this together," he murmured, his voice filled with determination.

And with that promise, you found solace in knowing that despite the challenges ahead, Jude's unwavering support and the medical team's expertise would guide you through this uncertain journey.

“What were you diagnosed with?”

“Crohn’s disease,” you replied calmly, the memory of those hospital days still fresh in your mind. “Which is actually more common in athletes than people first think. But because I had ignored the symptoms for too long, it caused severe inflammation in my colon, hence why I had to undergo surgery.”

“What sort of changes has this led to?”

“Well, firstly, it forced me to take a break,” you chuckled softly, though there was a hint of resignation in your voice. “I was withdrawn from the Arsenal squad within the next couple of days, doctor’s orders for at least 6 months. Then I had to break the news to the England squad, which was absolutely heart-wrenching…”

Your voice trailed off momentarily, recalling the difficult conversations and the realization that your career would be on hold indefinitely. The interviewer waited patiently, sensing the emotional weight of your words.

“It’s tough,” you continued, gathering your thoughts. “Football has been my life, and suddenly having to step away from it, especially at such a crucial time, was… devastating.”

“But it also made me reconsider my whereabouts. When I was withdrawn from the hospital, they forced me into bed rest for two weeks. It meant I was basically in Madrid constantly, and we were stuck in a one-bedroom apartment with nothing around. Jude was amazing, but we were on top of each other all day, every day.”

“Is this where I speak?” A muffled voice interrupted as Jude casually walked into the room, holding two drinks. You nodded, laughing, and gestured for him to join you, placing a cushion next to you in front of the camera.

“Yeah, like she said,” Jude chimed in with a playful grin, settling down beside you. “I’m basically a hero and all that. Such a doting boyfriend.” He rolled his eyes in mock humility before you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Nah, all jokes aside,” Jude continued with a more serious tone, “I’d been trying to get Y/N to look at apartments with me for months prior. In a way, that injury was the final step.”

“Final step for what?” Levi, the interviewer, asked with a knowing smirk. You lifted your head from Jude’s shoulder, exchanging a knowing look with him before he pulled out a pair of keys from his pocket, holding them up to the camera.

“We moved!” you both exclaimed simultaneously, sharing a smile that spoke volumes about your shared excitement.

“It was a big decision,” Jude added, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “But we needed a place that felt like home, where Y/N could recover comfortably and where we could both have some space.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling a surge of gratitude for Jude’s support and the fresh start your new home represented.

“We’re closer to the city center now, which makes it easier for Y/N to get around,” Jude explained, his tone earnest. “And we’ve got more room for both of us to breathe.”

“Plus,” you added with a grin, “we’ve upgraded to a two-bedroom. So now Jude has his own space to hide from me when I get cranky.”

Jude laughed, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Hey, you’re never cranky.”

You both shared a laugh, the tension of the interview momentarily forgotten in the warmth of your shared moment.

***********

“So, how’s Madrid been treating you?” Lucy asks as you both sit outside a charming deli, tucked away from prying eyes. The café exudes a rustic charm, with ivy-clad brick walls and the inviting scent of freshly baked bread lingering in the air.

You hadn’t seen Lucy since the World Cup, and her presence brought a comforting familiarity. She looked unchanged—her tousled brunette hair and bright hazel eyes filled with genuine concern as she studied you.

“It’s been… okay,” you begin cautiously, taking a sip of your smoothie to gather your thoughts.

“Just okay?” Lucy raises an eyebrow, taking a bite of her sandwich with a knowing smile.

You chuckle softly. “Well, adjusting has been a bit challenging. I haven’t been able to explore much. The hill outside our apartment feels like a mountain sometimes,” you admit, hoping for a laugh, but Lucy’s expression remains serious, her concern palpable.

“You had major surgery, y/n,” Lucy says gently, her hand reaching out to touch yours. “It’s okay to take it slow.”

“I know,” you sigh, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. “Jude’s been incredible, though. Sometimes… too much.”

Lucy nods knowingly. “He loves you, y/n. Let him take care of you.”

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “It’s just hard to let go of that independence, you know?”

Lucy smiles sympathetically. “I get it. But sometimes, letting others in doesn’t make you weak. It’s a different kind of strength.”

You take a moment to absorb her words, realizing their truth. “You’re right,” you admit, a weight lifting off your shoulders. “I should appreciate what Jude is doing more.”

Lucy squeezes your hand reassuringly. “You’re stronger than you think, y/n. Remember all the challenges you’ve overcome.”

You smile gratefully, feeling a renewed sense of resolve. “Yeah, I do.”

“Exactly,” Lucy says, her gaze encouraging. “Now, how about we start that exploration of Madrid today? A little stroll through Retiro Park, perhaps?”

You glance at the bustling street beyond the café, feeling a surge of optimism. “That sounds perfect. No hills, right?”

Lucy laughs, standing up and offering you her hand. “No hills, I promise. Just a relaxing walk.”

As you walk side by side with Lucy towards Retiro Park, you feel a sense of anticipation and gratitude for her friendship and support.

Later that day, you arrived home carrying a couple of things to make dinner. You’d invited your family over for half term, and while they had all dispersed into different places in Madrid, tonight you had planned on hosting a dinner.

When you had told your parents that you had moved, it was only then that you let slip you’d also had major surgery. Hiding things was your worst habit, but it came with the territory of having a dead brother. You only told people things when it was either already sorted or deadly serious. In your case, it was sorted way before you needed to tell them.

When you told your siblings, you had severely underplayed the situation, telling them that you had been forced to take a break from football. They weren’t very surprised, aware of how hard you pushed yourself. So all in all, while your family knew of your condition, they were also shielded from the full reality.

As soon as you arrived home, you were greeted by a very sweaty Jude who had just come back from training. He often did this before games. He’d come check in on you and then go play or train in the evening with his team. As much as you loved him, that also gave you a little time in the day where you had your own space where you could pretend at least to be normal.

“Hiya, I missed you m’love,” Jude grinned, pulling you close for a quick kiss on the cheek.

“So did I,” you replied, pulling back slightly as he grabbed your arm, drawing you in for another embrace.

You wrinkled your nose at the sweat on his chest. “Ew, Jude, you’re all sweaty,” you teased lightly.

“You like it,” he smirked, stealing another kiss, moments of passion halting when you realized the time.

“Jude, I gotta start making dinner,” you managed between kisses.

“What are we having?” Jude asked, guiding you towards the kitchen.

“We?” you raised an eyebrow playfully. “Thought you’d rather be out playing football.”

“Yeah, thought I’d take the night off tonight. No games till Sunday. Besides, your family’s coming over; haven’t seen your brothers in ages.”

“Please, you just want to play with Casper,” you smirked, referencing your new baby nephew.

“It’s a definite factor,” Jude admitted with a grin before coming over to help you prep. “I don’t have to stay if you don’t want me to.”

“No, it’s not that. Of course, I want you here. It’s just…” You sighed. “I may have understated how bad my condition was.”

“Y/N!”

“Just because…”

“They need to know, Y/N.”

“Wait! Okay. My mum and dad already pester me non-stop about it. My brothers literally would not leave me alone. And I don’t think I can deal with Eden passively aggressively telling me that I need to quit football.”

“But they care about you, Y/N. They wouldn’t push you.”

“My family is different to yours, Jude. We don’t like overstating things. It’s different, okay? They know enough about it that it’s not going to change an evening. Please, Jude, it’s one night.”

“Alright, alright! But the second you get tired, you gotta say.”

“Promise.”

As the evening approached, your family began to arrive one by one. Elliot and Rowan were the first to knock on the door, each holding a bottle of wine in hand. They exchanged knowing glances and grinned at you as you welcomed them inside.

“Hey, Y/N! Ready to enjoy some fine wine?” Elliot teased with a grin, holding out the bottle.

You gave him a playful look. “Tonight? I’m giving my liver a night off. Can you believe it?”

Rowan chuckled, nudging Elliot. “What have you done with our wine-loving Y/N?”

Before you could reply, footsteps descended the stairs, and Jude strolled into the room, a warm smile spreading across his face as he greeted Elliot and Rowan.

“Hey, guys, good to see you!” Jude said cheerfully, extending a hand for a handshake and pulling them into a quick bro hug.

“Jude!” Elliot exclaimed, setting the wine bottle on the table and returning the hug with enthusiasm. Rowan joined in, grinning broadly at their younger sibling’s partner.

“Good to see you too, Jude,” Rowan said with a nod, clapping him on the shoulder.

Elliot shot a teasing glance at Jude. “Planning to cook tonight, mate?”

Jude raised an eyebrow playfully. “What do you mean?”

Elliot chuckled, remembering a past culinary attempt of Jude’s. “Remember that time you tried to make beef stew and it ended up like mush?”

Jude feigned offense. “Hey, it was a learning experience! Besides, tonight is all about Y/N’s cooking.”

You laughed along with them, feeling a wave of warmth at their familiar banter. “Exactly. Let’s stick to what we know works.”

As Rowan and Elliot settled in, chatting amiably with Jude, the doorbell chimed once more, breaking the flow of conversation. You excused yourself with a smile, heading to the door to greet the next arrivals.

Opening the door revealed your sister Eden, her husband Charlie, little Bella clinging to her leg, and baby Casper peacefully dozing in his pram. Your face lit up with a bright smile as you enveloped Bella in a warm hug.

“Bella! Look how big you’ve gotten!” you exclaimed, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I love that dress." You smile referring to her red Spanish flamenco costume, as she twirls around.

Eden laughed warmly, stepping inside as Charlie maneuvered the pram through the doorway. “Hey, Y/N! Sorry we’re a bit late. Took those two to the city centre and they wouldn't leave-"

“No worries at all,” you reassured them, pulling Eden into a tight embrace. “I’m just glad you had time to explore Madrid."

Charlie greeted you with a friendly nod, a smile playing on his lips. “Hey, Y/N. Thanks for having us over.”

Meanwhile, Jude knelt beside the pram, gently lifting baby Casper into his arms. The little one stirred, blinking sleepily up at Jude with wide eyes. Jude grinned down at him, making funny faces that elicited a soft giggle from Casper.

“Hey there, little man,” Jude cooed softly, cradling Casper with care. “Ready for some fun tonight?”

Charlie chuckled, watching Jude interact with his son. “Looks like Casper’s already found his favorite uncle.”

Jude winked playfully, bouncing Casper gently. “We’re going to have a blast, aren’t we?”

With Bella clinging to your side and Eden and Charlie exchanging pleasantries with Elliot and Rowan, the room buzzed with warmth and laughter. The air was filled with the sweet scent of family reunions and the joyful babbling of little ones.

Later on, as you were bustling around the kitchen, exhaustion starting to set in, Jude noticed your mum and dad arriving with desserts. He greeted them warmly at the door, juggling baby Casper in his arms.

“Hello there!” Jude grinned, adjusting his hold on Casper. “Come on in. Y/N’s in the kitchen.”

“Hi, Jude!” Your mum greeted with a smile, stepping inside with a plate of homemade pastries. “It smells wonderful in here. How’s everything going?”

“Busy as ever,” Jude chuckled, carefully handing Casper over to your mum. “But we’re managing. Casper here seems to be enjoying the attention.”

“He’s getting bigger every time we see him,” your dad remarked, placing a box of chocolates on the table. “How’s Y/N doing?"

Jude glanced at your mum briefly before answering. “She’s doing okay. You know how she is, always trying to handle everything herself.”

“Stubborn as always, she is,” your dad chuckled, shaking his head fondly.

Your mum gently bounced Casper in her arms, her expression turning more serious. “And how is her condition?”

Jude hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “It's definitely not been easy. But you know Y/N, she doesn’t like to make a fuss.”

“She’s been like that since she was little,” your mum sighed softly, exchanging a knowing glance with your dad. “Always wanting to protect everyone else.”

“She’s a fighter, that’s for sure,” Jude agreed, a note of pride in his voice. “And she’s got all of us looking out for her.”

With your mum cuddling Casper and your dad nodding in agreement, the warmth of family support filled the air. Together, they joined the gathering, adding their love and presence to the joyful atmosphere in your home.

As dinner progressed, the dining table was filled with a variety of delicious dishes prepared by you, each one meticulously crafted with care. You darted in and out of the kitchen, ensuring everyone’s plates were full and the ambiance remained lively. Jude hovered nearby, eager to lend a hand.

“Y/N, can I help with anything?” Jude asked again, his tone gentle and concerned.

You smiled gratefully, but there was a hint of tension in your voice. “Thanks, Jude, but I’ve got it covered. Just a few more dishes to bring out.”

Jude nodded, but he couldn’t ignore the weariness in your demeanor. “You’ve been running around all evening. Let me assist you.”

“I said I’m fine, Jude,” you replied tersely, your exhaustion starting to show. You hurried back into the kitchen, leaving Jude slightly taken aback.

Your siblings, Elliot and Rowan, exchanged amused glances. “Ah, classic Y/N,” Elliot remarked with a chuckle. “Always the perfectionist.”

Rowan nodded in agreement. “Remember when she insisted on redoing the entire living room decor in one weekend?”

Jude joined in their laughter, but inwardly, he felt a pang of concern. He knew your tendency to take on too much and push yourself beyond your limits.

Meanwhile, your dad, sensing the underlying tension, quietly excused himself from the table and made his way to the kitchen where you were organizing dessert.

“Hey there, kiddo,” your dad greeted you warmly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You turned to him with a weary smile. “Hi, Dad. How’s everything out there?”

“Everything’s great,” he replied, his eyes filled with fatherly concern. “But how are you holding up?”

You sighed, the strain of the evening starting to weigh on you. “I’m okay, just a bit tired. I wanted tonight to be special for everyone.”

“I can see that,” your dad said gently, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “But remember, you don’t have to do it all alone. We’re here to support you.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude for your dad’s understanding. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it.”

“You’ve always been strong-willed,” he chuckled softly, giving you a brief hug. “But even the strongest need a break sometimes. Let’s finish up here and get back to the table.”

With your dad’s reassurance, you and he finished preparing dessert together and returned to the dining room, where the rest of the family welcomed you with warmth and laughter. The evening continued with a renewed sense of camaraderie, each family member appreciating the effort you had put into making the gathering special.

As you returned to the table, the tantalizing aroma of the food filled the air, though you knew you wouldn’t be partaking in the meal. Quietly settling next to Jude, you glanced around at your siblings, Elliot and Rowan, who exchanged concerned glances, noticing your subdued demeanor.

“Y/N, how are you feeling?” Elliot asked gently, furrowing his brow with worry.

You managed a small smile, trying to divert their concern. “I’m okay, just not hungry tonight. Elliot, how’s your new project at work going?”

Elliot brightened slightly at the change of topic. “It’s been challenging, but exciting. Thanks for asking.”

Rowan grinned, sharing his latest travel aspirations. “Actually, I’m thinking of hiking in the Alps next month. Can’t wait to get back into nature.”

The conversation flowed on, shifting to lighter topics as you engaged with each sibling in turn, genuinely interested in their lives and experiences. When the subject turned to baby Casper, your attention was fully captured.

“And how’s our little troublemaker doing?” you asked, leaning in to playfully tickle Casper’s chubby cheeks. “Keeping you on your toes, Eden?”

Your sister, Eden, chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with affection. “He definitely keeps us busy, but he’s such a joy.”

The night continued with laughter and shared memories, though your siblings couldn’t help but notice your underlying weariness. They exchanged knowing looks, silently agreeing to check in with you later.

As dessert was served, your dad offered you a slice of cake with a gentle smile. “Cake, Y/N?”

You shook your head slightly, a touch of frustration crossing your face. “Still on an all-liquid diet, Dad. But thanks.”

“Of course,” he nodded understandingly, reaching for a slice for himself.

Throughout the evening, you engaged in conversations, laughed at jokes, and reveled in the warmth of family. As the night wore on, the atmosphere remained lively and supportive, each moment adding to the shared memories that made these gatherings so cherished.

Elliot and Rowan continued swapping stories, their laughter filling the cozy dining room. Elliot paused mid-sentence, casting a curious glance at you.

"Are we just going to skip over the fact that Y/N is deadly quiet?" he remarked with a playful smirk.

You managed a weak smile, grateful for the distraction. "Just enjoying the show," you replied lightly, gesturing to the lively banter around the table.

Jude, sensing your fatigue, leaned over and whispered, "You're doing great, love."

You nodded gratefully, squeezing his hand. His presence was a comfort amid the whirlwind of emotions and conversations. Jude's chocolate brown hair was slightly tousled from the day, a testament to his afternoon spent playing with Casper and helping you in the kitchen. His warm hazel eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and concern as he glanced around the table, ensuring everyone felt included.

Rowan, always the joker, leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Come on, Y/N, spill the beans. What's the latest scoop in your life?"

You chuckled softly, knowing they wouldn't let you off the hook easily. "Well," you began, hesitating for a moment as you glanced at Jude for support, "you know how I said I was taking time off football?"

There was a curious pause as all eyes turned to you, waiting for your next words. Before you could continue, Eden, sitting across from you and beside Bella, raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Are you pregnant?" she asked with a teasing smile, her long brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

The question caught you off guard, and you nearly choked on your water. Beside you, Jude spluttered, clearly taken aback. The rest of the table fell into a stunned silence, waiting for your response.

"Oh your serious-"

"Well you're not eating, you aren't drinking, and you're taking months off football, you've bought a new place with a new bedroom..."

"Oh, uh, well no," you managed to say after recovering from your surprise, shaking your head in amusement. Beside you, Jude chuckled softly and put a reassuring arm around your shoulders. "Definitely not pregnant."

Laughter erupted again around the table, breaking the tension and bringing back the familiar warmth of family gatherings. You leaned into Jude's side, grateful for his support and the light-heartedness of your siblings.

"Well," you continued, taking a deep breath and deciding to share more, "I ended up needing surgery... and now I have half a colon."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Elliot burst out laughing. "Half a colon? You should ask for the other half back!"

Rowan joined in, shaking his head with a grin. "Only you could turn surgery into a punchline, Y/N."

The tension eased as laughter filled the room once more, the playful banter a familiar rhythm among siblings.

Eden, sitting across from you, watched with a furrowed brow. "Wait, surgery? Are you okay, Y/N?"

You nodded reassuringly. "Yeah, I'm okay," you said with a smile, grateful for her concern. "Just feeling a bit worn out tonight."

Jude squeezed your hand again, silently offering his support. His solid presence and understanding gaze reassured you that you were not alone in navigating the challenges of your health.

"She's a trooper," Jude added with a fond smile, his voice low and soothing.

The conversation shifted to lighter topics again, stories and jokes flowing freely as plates were cleared and dessert was served. Eden, eager to change the subject, turned to Bella who was happily chattering away about her latest adventures.

"So, Bella," Eden began, "tell us about your school play. You were amazing as the fairy!"

Bella's eyes lit up, launching into an animated description of her role, while the adults listened attentively, their attention momentarily diverted from heavier topics.

Jude glanced at you with a soft smile, a glint of pride in his hazel eyes. He knew how challenging it was for you to openly discuss your health, and tonight marked a significant step forward. His silent support spoke volumes, reassuring you that you were surrounded by love and understanding.

As the evening continued, you found yourself relaxing into the comforting rhythm of family, grateful for these moments of connection and support. Each laugh, each shared story, reaffirmed the bond that held your family together through both laughter and tears.

#fanfiction #jude bellingham #leah williamson #womens world cup #england football #englandwomensfootball #womens football #football fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #judebellingham x footballreader #jude bellingham fanfic #bellingham x reader #bellingham #footballereader #footballer x reader #football imagine

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lee-em-dee · 1 year ago

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A Sequence Analysis of the 6x13 Bellarke Reunion

[a.k.a. the final scene of The 100 because Jroth can Jrot in hell]

After a grim conversation between Bellamy and Jordan, the sequence transitions to a warmly lit, wide angle perspective of the reunion at Sanctum. Friends and lovers “meet again,” hugging, kissing, reconciling in a series of action shots: Miller & Jackson, Murphy/Emori & Raven, Jackson & Echo. The sound of their laughter cuts through the uplifting strains of the melody playing [GAITS “Other Side”]. Against the show’s constant onslaught of death and destruction, the beauty in these brief flashes of joy isn’t lost on us; it’s fleeting, but it’s potent. We’re back at the gates of Arkadia in 2x16, only this time around, prospects for the future aren’t quite so bleak, nor is it “getting dark, too dark to see” beneath “that cold black cloud [coming] around” [RAIGN “Knocking on Heaven’s Door”].

Instead, the refrain “I know I’ll see you on the other side” embodies a sense of hope and certainty while also referencing Jasper’s parting words in S4. Unlike his nihilistic outlook, however, the soft, inviting quality of these opening shots seems to suggest that there’s light at the end of the tunnel—a glimpse at the other side of heaven’s door, where peace prevails and war is a distant memory.

As this undertone of cautious optimism resonates, the frame is swallowed up by a dark mass of faceless bodies. The music slows, the crowd parts, and exposed in the center of the frame is Clarke Griffin—a solitary, motionless figure within a stream of movement. Her silent presence isolates her from the liveliness of her surroundings. From the side angle of the camera in the shadowy foreground only her profile is visible, yet the expression on her face is noticeably stunned. We’re left with a sense of anticipation. Where is her gaze focused? What commands her attention so fiercely, stopping her in her tracks and arresting her movements? The anticipation builds, and, with it, the percussive intensity of the music. Soft vocalizations trail after “the other side,” echoing in our ears as we --

Cut to a reverse shot of Bellamy. He makes his way to his people, but it’s clear that the words exchanged with a disillusioned Jordan weigh on him. His eyes are fixed on the ground, brows furrowed, a pensive expression reflecting his weary frame of mind. It’s the aftermath of yet another battle, another spoke on a wheel that spins and spins, unleashing more devastation with each turn. We, as the audience, can only hope that this is the end of its vicious cycle. He’s lost in thought, but a glance ahead has his eyes snagging on something out of shot. No, someone. Bellamy’s steps falter for a beat, then his eyes widen a fraction. He’s mesmerized.

On the receiving end of his gaze, Clarke sharply exhales. The steady pulsing of the music stutters before the rhythm picks up in rapid sixteenth notes, akin to a heartbeat that skips, flutters, then pounds. Energy thrums in the single look that they share; everything else seems to melt away as they fixate on each other, as the tether that binds them together tugs, as the distance between twin souls is bridged.

We’re hit with the crescendo of the music, punctuated by the sustained beat of the drums. It’s booming. A fluid tracking shot follows Clarke as she launches herself away from the crowd into Bellamy’s open arms, and the force of their collision is shown through their synchronized exhalations of breath, through the swaying movement of their bodies pressed tightly together. Like cymbals crashing, they meet in the middle of the frame. The blocking instantly establishes a bubble of intimacy around them that blocks out the rest of the world as they completely obscure the figures (“girlfriend”) in the background. Refracted light slices across the screen at an angle, tracing the points of contact between these two people who radiate warmth and ignite under a single touch.

The music swells. Their embrace is set to the bridge “oh wait for me in fields of gold,” and as they hold each other, lost to a symphony of grief and elation, we get the sense that in each other’s arms these two broken beings are very much found. It’s a homecoming.

Clarke burrows her face into Bellamy’s neck. The sun beaming in the background sends scattered light over his shoulder, captured as flare in the camera lens. Not only does this element add a layer of visual impact and aesthetic beauty to the shot, but it also intensifies the climactic moment when their bodies collide. Tension is built and built until it finally snaps; in doing so, emotional catharsis (for both the characters and for the audience) is maximized. The combination of the lens flare and camera movements makes for a striking, visually dynamic shot with epic romantic overtones. In their reunion a sense of rightness is restored, which has remained a consistent theme of the show for six seasons. When the camera finally settles, what’s captured is the sheer magnetism of the moment. Nearby murmured conversations are unable to overtake the melody, and the bustling movements of the crowd are unable to break that hypnotic hold they have on each other.

Clarke clings to Bellamy; now, more than ever, it’s evident that her love for him is a refuge, her strength in times of weakness. Even so, sorrow threatens to overtake the solace found in his embrace; Bellamy immediately senses this, rubs a soothing pattern across her back. With brows drawn, he nestles his face against her shoulder as if to will her pain away.

We cut to a dynamic two shot, with Bellamy occupying the left side of the frame and Clarke the right. Both seem reluctant to part, and as they do, harsh realities set in. Bellamy delivers the sobering line, “I heard about Abby.” Like a death knell, its implications land on Clarke and reverberate through this gentle, short-lived moment of peace. Her face crumples. With a despondent shake of her head, she manages, “I tried to do better. I did.” Bellamy can only nod. His strained expression conveys how the mere sight of Clarke’s pain is excruciating to him. A sharp intake of breath from her—“And then I lost my mom.” The tremor in her voice betrays her composure; the words catch in her throat, imparting a strangled quality to the line.

Her mother’s death clings to her. It’s reflected in her head-to-toe black attire, in the misery painted on her face. The weight of impossible decisions looms (how tragic that her mother’s endangerment was what drove her to pull the lever back in Mount Weather), and it seems that, this time around, the burden is too heavy to carry alone. “Tell me it was worth it,” she pleads to Bellamy, barely choking the words out as she battles tears. “Tell—tell me it was worth it.” In deep anguish Bellamy watches Clarke unravel before his eyes. With gentle words he tries to piece her back together. “Hey—Hey, we did. We did do better.”

This entire verbal exchange is filmed as a continuous arc shot that swings back and forth on an axis (Bellamy -> Clarke / Clarke -> Bellamy) with the sun acting as the focal point between them. The shot—much like their soul-deep connection—remains unbroken and uninterrupted. Rather than keeping a fixed, static position, the camera’s movements allow us to feel the push-pull emotional tension of the scene. It orbits Bellamy and Clarke in a way that cinematically mirrors the gravitational pull they feel towards each other. For years and years, the two have danced around each other. Though distance and time separated them, they’ve always been inextricably tied together in common orbit. Like binary stars, Bellamy and Clarke orient themselves around a shared barycenter. Their center of gravity—the sun flaring at the center of the frame—coincides with the show’s key thematic elements: forgiveness, rebirth, redemption. The rising of the sun marks the start of a new day and, with it, another chance to do better.

With each dizzying motion of the camera, flashes of light shine between their silhouettes, obscured only to re-emerge seconds later as lens flare; The sequence, as a whole, is a study in subtle contrasts: the contrast between the white sun in the background, the light glinting off the water, the pale gold of the sky + of Clarke’s hair vs Bellamy and Clarke’s shadowy figures captured in low-exposure, the darkness of their clothing, Bellamy’s black hair. This balance of light and shadows/brightness and darkness mirrors the tenuous balance between hope and despair driving the scene. In parallel, the despair that consumes Clarke is a darkness balanced out by Bellamy, who maintains a more optimistic outlook for the future and serves as her guiding light.

[Additional Note: These cinematic contrasts are also a perfect illustration of the concept of yin and yang—the cosmic duality that reflects Bellamy and Clarke’s “head and heart” relationship. The two are equal, seemingly opposing forces but, in actuality, function in such a way that enforces their complementary and interdependent nature: One cannot exist without the other, and both are connected as two halves of a whole in perfect equilibrium. Yin and yang—the head and the heart—do not act as isolated parts, but rather continuously influence and interact with each other to bring forth balance and harmony.]

Hope.

In spite of everything, it shows its presence in the vibrant yellow tones of a scene filmed at golden hour; the honeyed glow creates a dreamy, inviting atmosphere, giving off a quality of softness and romanticism that balances out the heaviness of their conversation. Hope echoes in the melody as it conveys the inevitability of reuniting with a loved one in this life or the next: “It’s not the end. It’s all I know…I know I’ll see you, I know I’ll see you on the other side.” (In other words, we will meet again). Hope is felt through the warmth of two lovers embracing, the warmth of the rising sun on their faces.

As we cut to a final close-up shot of Bellamy, he delivers the last line of the scene with resolve: “I have to believe that that matters,” he murmurs softly, brows knit in concern. His eyes search Clarke’s, but her teary gaze is cast low as she chokes down a sob. Her close-up shot captures the internal conflict taking place:

It’s a mental battle—grappling with the urge to fall apart or to suppress the vortex of raw emotion churning inside her. Bleary-eyed, she turns away from Bellamy as if every instinct screams at her to flee, to bear the burden alone. Still, an unspoken conversation anchors her to the spot: “Together.” “I got you for that.” “I need you.” “If I’m on that list, you’re on that list.” “The heart and the head.” “You don’t have to do this alone.” Though devastation lines her face, the morning sunrise bathes her skin in light. Clarke draws a shaky breath. She turns back to Bellamy, then nods: a decision has been made. The camera switches from this close-up of Clarke to a hazy, low exposure medium shot as she leans into Bellamy, drawing strength from him (notice its resemblance to Miller and Jackson’s reunion). They wrap their arms around each other, and their bodies meld together. Clarke tucks her chin onto Bellamy’s shoulder. The immediate relief that she’s flooded with is palpable. She closes her eyes and sighs, and Bellamy rubs her back consolingly. The visual of their merging silhouettes—reminiscent of two suns eclipsing just above the horizon line—composes the final frame of the scene before the shot dissolves with a last “I know I’ll see you on the other side.”

There’s a true sense of finality to this closing shot which sets it apart from others before it—or, rather, establishes it as a culmination of every moment in Bellamy and Clarke’s “exhausting” history to get to this state of perfect alignment. The hug, in particular, serves as a departure from previous seasons’ hug scenes in which an interruption was often required to progress the conflict and reestablish some semblance of distance between the two of them.

In this season, however, though death and distance and other outside forces conspired to separate Bellamy and Clarke...they, against all odds, end it with bodies intertwined, defenses stripped away, never more unified both physically and emotionally: the heart and the head joined together in perfect equilibrium. Two bodies, two souls breathing, moving, thinking, and working as one.

#bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellamy x clarke #the 100 #s6 is for hot people with good taste fight me on it

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imawreck · 3 months ago

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Dinner Date

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Bucky and Snow finish up their date with dinner.

Warnings: Mean people being mean, mentions of Bucky’s past

Word Count: 5,086

Bucky-

Introducing Snow to roller coasters was the worst idea ever. Once we had ridden The Bullet, she was hooked on them like a drug. We rode every. Single. One. I could feel my stomach protesting the whole time to stay upright on the ground. Don't get me wrong, watching her face light up and hear her perfect laugh was unforgettable and the highlight of the night so far, but I was going to lose the funnel cake we had if I had to ride another one.

I caught her eyeing another roller coaster just down the path and groaned, tugging against her hand. "I can't take another roller coaster Snow, have mercy."

She threw me a pout from over her shoulder, pausing in her march towards it. "Awe, who's afraid now?"

I scowled at her, nudging her with my shoulder as I matched her pace. "I'm not afraid, I'd just like to keep my food down while I'm on a date with a pretty girl."

Snow didn't have a retort for that, instead choosing to tug me along further into the carnival like she had done it a million times over. "How about something more relaxed? Maybe that?" Her dainty hand directed my attention to the large Ferris Wheel looming in the distance.

"I think that's a great idea, the view will be amazing." This time it was me who tugged her down the path, weaving through the groups of people chatting loudly about school or who is who in a comic book.

The line was relatively short due to most of the carnival goers lured by the more exciting rides littered around the grounds. Most of those who stood in line were obviously in romantic pairs. Some of them were holding hands much like Snow and I, causing my attention to narrow on the softness of her cool fingers pressed against my knuckles as we stood.

We boarded one of the larger cars with an umbrella shooting up from the center. Snow sat near the railing, peering out as we lifted from the ground and the city became smaller and vaster the higher we got. I wanted to burn the memory of her smile and the way the lights illuminated the contrasts of her face in my mind forever. She was the most beautiful think I’d seen in a long time.

I carefully maneuvered myself opposite of her and watched as we rose higher. Snow leaned against the railing to get a better look at the world below and I joined her, gripping the metal bars for support like she had. Our hands were mere centimeters apart.

Snow's voice broke the silence, "Thank you for bringing me here. It's the most fun I've ever had." She reached up and tugged at her cap before shooting me a blinding smile, "You are an exceptional date. Definitely going to be hard to beat this." She nodded as if confirming her own statement and I couldn't help but chuckle at her.

Our shoulders bumped together as the car rocked, adjusting to the movement of the ferris wheel. Snow's hand brushed mine against the bar and our eyes caught each other. I was frozen under her blue gaze, completely enraptured by her. I was vaguely aware of the cool air whipping around us, but it was muted. Like a blanket had been thrown over the two of us and we were the only people left. Her eyes flickered to my lips once, twice, before they looked at me with a certain vulnerability swimming behind them. There was a tension nearly palpable forming between us as the silence engulfed us. I found myself moving towards her, barely noticeable until I felt her warm breath fan over my face. She smelled of mint and lavender.

I wasn't sure where it would have gone if the car hadn't jolted.

Our bodies were jerked apart as it lurched violently to the right, pulling us with it. The bar we had both been resting on groaned under our grip, snapping right off the car as we both regained our balance. We held it between us, each of our hands gripping a crumpled end of metal.

Snow's wide eyes found mine, flickering between the metal bar and my face before she released it with a shove in my direction. She laughed then, loud and tinkling. "You broke the rail!"

I gawked at her, "You broke the rail! I was just holding onto it!"

Her nose scrunched up and momentarily stole my breath. "You're the one holding it. I had nothing to do with this destruction of public property. I am completely innocent." Her head tilted up defiantly and she tried to pull the bill of her cap over her face to hide her grin.

Both of us burst out laughing, falling back on the booth seats and slapping our hands against the cracked leather. This was the most bizarre date I had ever had. When we went to get off the ride, I was forced to hand the broken railing over to the attendant by a certain white haired delinquent who couldn't help but laugh at my poor apology. The poor woman just blinked at me in confusion as Snow snatched my hand and hauled me off in the opposite direction before she started asking for our contact information.

We walked back towards the edge of the carnival. I had told her I wanted to try one more game before we had to leave for dinner so she and I walked along the edge where we had first played. I scoured the fenceline trying to find a game that I was certain I could win. I wanted to get her something, win her a prize like she had done for me.

Suddenly, Snow halted. For just a moment I thought something was wrong before my eyes found her face. She was staring at a booth just ahead of us, little trinkets like scarves or keychains hung on the tarp wall, with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Her hand tightened around mine as she made sure steps towards the stand. I followed her, taking in the darts laid out on the table and the small targets littering the back wall.

I could do darts. It was a lot like throwing knives but with less rotation. Snow smiled up at me, "Think you can win at darts?"

I gave her a look of offense, "Are you questioning my skills?"

She shrugged, "Well you couldn't prove much at Ducky Pond..." I gave her a rough nudge on the shoulder, souring at her words.

I tugged at the sleeves of my jacket, "'Course I can win at darts." She sure knew how to get a rise out of me. I stalked up to the booth and flashed her my orange band, snatching up the darts and readying to throw. Before I could, there was a soft tap on my shoulder. I looked down, eyeing Snow with a brow raised.

"Come here," she waved her hand in a downward motion, "you can't see a thing behind that hair."

I bent at my waist to allow her to reach. Her fingers were cold and gentle as she pulled the stray hairs around my face towards the back of my head. She moved around me as she did so, brushing my hair through her hands as she gathered it in the back. I heard the faint snapping of an elastic hair tie being set into place and her fingers adjust her work. "There, all set."

My face was ablaze under my skin as I stood back up, "Thank you."

Snow rested her hands on her hips in a proud stance, grinning up at me with her pointed smile. The way she stood further accentuated her curves, hip jutted to the side with one leg resting a little farther forward than the other. Everything about her shot alarm bells off in my head. I tore my eyes from her frame and refocused on the task at hand; Hit the bullseye, win the girl a prize.

I reared my forearm back and released the first dart. It plunked into the red center of the first target. Snow whistled besides me as I tossed the second one, sinking it right next to the first. I felt pride swell in my chest at her praise, dropping the darts and turning back to her with a shit eating grin. "I told you."

"Never doubted you once." She sniggered and looped her arm through mine. "Now you get to pick your prize. What'll it be, Sergeant?" I caught her eyes flicking over to the prizes hung on the wall.

The attendant stepped up and waited patiently for me to decide. I shrugged, trying to figure out what it was that she wanted so badly. "You pick, doll."

She quirked her lip at my statement, not batting an eye as she told the attendant what she wanted. "Jean ball cap in the back. Red star on the side."

I tilted my head, "Why that one?"

When the attendant handed the hat to Snow, she pulled off the puffy hat and slid on the ball cap, stuffing the other deep into her coat pocket. Her white hair brushed her eyebrows and stuck out near her ears in a wild sort of way as she smiled at me. Her hand came up to brush against my left arm, just at my shoulder, "Now we match." Snow took the same hand and pointed to the red leather patch sewn haphazardly into the cap.

I shook my head at her, chuckling as I did. "I guess you're right." I pulled my phone out of my pocket, flashing the screen once to check the time. "We should head to dinner. Tony would be livid if we missed it."

Snow nodded, adjusting her hat once more before lacing our fingers together. My skin burned where she touched it, lit ablaze by the unfamiliar gesture. I was beginning to think that Snow was an affectionate person at heart, buried beneath all of her strength and sarcastic exterior.

I lead her back to the car where the two of us sat with Tony's wretched music playing in the background. Snow bobbed her head to it just as before, reveling in the odd tune and even humming the chorus after a while. When we pulled up to the building, a valet in a suit came to collect the keys. He was short with his hair greased back and he gazed at Snow's backside with unguarded eyes as she stepped from the vehicle.

I slid in front of his view, pouring all the wrath I could into it. Disgust slithered in my stomach at the sight of him. His form practically crumbled away as he slipped behind me and dug the key into the ignition. I bent low, peering into the window and placing my left hand on the car door. His wide eyes stared back at me as I gave him a blank smile and repeated Tony's words to me, "Not a scratch."

The man nodded, visibly shaking as he pulled off. Snow was waiting for me on the sidewalk with her hands crossed politely in front of her. Her eyes followed me as I made my way up, "Is something wrong? You seem awfully worked up."

I shook my head, "No, just want to make sure Tony won't kill me. Just told him not to scratch the car." I took her arm in mine and watched as she took in the restaurant.

It was old fashioned and made of tan cement, like we had walked back in time a few decades. There was a little red carpet rolled out from the double doors and had a tower that rose into the sky with the name of the restaurant blinking in red lights. It was definitely a Tony style restaurant. Immediately after we walked through the doors, we were met by two employees dressed in a near complete suit and the soft ebb and flow of classical music playing in the distance.

"May I take your coats?" The woman, no taller than Snow, held out her hands for them. I shrugged mine off along with my gloves, suddenly a bit nervous about my appearance. I was beginning to think I was just a tad bit underdressed for this kind of dinner. Snow followed my actions, slipping off her coat and looping it over the woman's hand with a polite smile and a quick 'thank you'.

The man besides the woman had a dark pointed mustache and a tablet held in the crook of his arm, "What is the name for your reservation sir?" His French accent was heavy.

"Barnes." I had never reserved a place like this before. Hell, I'd never made a reservation anywhere before.

The man slid his finger over the tablet before stopping on what I assumed was my name and nodding. He slipped the device back into his arm before gesturing widely with his free hand. "Your table is this way, Monsieur."

We followed the stout man through rows of tables, seemingly walking through an endless room before he stopped at the farthest table in the entire restaurant. I mentally thanked Tony for reserving us a seat away from the rush of most of the people. I pulled out a chair for Snow, waiting until she had tucked her legs under the table before I eased her chair a comfortable distance from the edge. After I took my seat a waitress met us with a polite wave, "Good evening, can I help you to some appetizers? Wine?"

Snow grabbed the leather menu placed on the tablecloth in front of her and expertly flicked through the laminated pages as she scanned through it. I nodded up at the woman, "I think we will need a minute to look over the menu, but we'd like some wine."

Snow's voice rose from behind the menu as she bobbed her head innocently, "Red please, and sweet."

The waitress took a glance at her pad and scribbled something down, "Will that be all for you?"

Both of us nodded and she left us alone at the table once more. I picked up my own menu and began to thumb through it too, glancing up at Snow from the edge of it. She had taken off her hat when we had entered but refused to let the woman who asked for our coats take it with her, opting to hang it on the back of her chair instead.

Our waitress returned with our wine and poured us both a glass. We ordered our food, and she hurried off. In less than twenty minutes she returned once more with a large tray carrying our dinners. It was the fastest I had ever been served. Snow and I thanked her and dug in, talking about ridiculous things like the weather or Tony's drinking habits between sips of wine and bites of food.

The lights were dim, and majority of the tables were lit by a single large candle sitting in the center. It illuminated her face with an orange hue, giving her hair a golden glint when she moved. The music had gotten louder as the man had showed us to our seats and I had located its source before we had gotten comfortable. Just to the right of us was a large set of wooden doors carved with intricate designs around the edges. I watched as a man and woman both slipped behind it and happened to catch a glance at pairs of people dancing around the floor.

I thought about what it would be like to dance again. I hadn't in so long that I feared that maybe I was a little rusty. I wondered if Snow even knew how to dance. A smile slipped on my face at the thought of someone so elegant and surefooted as her stumbling around trying to learn the steps.

Snow sipped her wine as she looked up from her meal, catching my stare. "What are you all smiley about, Mr. Barnes?" The way she said my name sent a shiver down my spine.

I shook my head while holding her eyes, "Nothin' doll, just looking at you."

I was certain I saw her face darkened a shade as she scoffed, finally setting her cup back on the table. She opened her mouth to speak but something else had drawn my attention from her.

A pair of women seated a few tables from us were whispering to each other and the words 'Winter Soldier' had dropped into their conversation.

They continued to talk. "Surely that isn't him, the government wouldn't let him out of the tower, right?" The brunette wasn't as quietly spoken as her friend was.

I kept my eyes down as they talked, pretending to push food around my plate. "He was pardoned, they said he was under someone else's influence. Brainwashed, I think."

The brunette blinked in horror, and I balled my fists. "But he killed people! Like, hundreds of people! How could they let a murderer like him walk around with the rest of us, let alone with no security?"

Her friend nodded solemnly, and her eyes loitered on Snow seated across from me. "I wonder if that poor girl knows who she's eating with. A man like him doesn't deserve happiness after what he did."

My heart dropped to the pit in my stomach. It was like a wall came down around me after that and I noticed just how many eyes had been watching me. Everywhere I looked I caught someone staring, whispering, pulling their loved ones by the hand and leaving the restaurant as fast as they could without stirring up a fuss. I blinked hard, desperately trying not to listen to the names they spoke to each other. Murderer, Killer, Winter Soldier, all of which were true in a sense. I did kill people. I killed a lot of people. Maybe those women were right, I didn't deserve to be sitting here on a mundane date with a woman who was probably just humoring me out of pity.

Who was I to think that I could try to be happy? Who was I to think that I deserved someone who cared about me after all the pain I have caused?

"Bucky."

I jolted in my seat. Snow was staring me down from across the table, her hands planted on both sides of it in a way that made me think she was about to launch herself across the table if I hadn't heard her. She relaxed just a little and spoke so softly to me. "What's going on?"

I shook my head, once again looking back around the building. Looking at the eyes. "I shouldn't be here with you."

She frowned, wrinkling her brow. "What?"

I closed my eyes, clenching my teeth together. "I don't deserve to be here with you. I don't deserve to be happy after-"

"Shut up." I snapped my lids open, staring at her. Snow hadn't said it harshly, or with any negativity. Her eyes weren't on me, rather on her food. She moved her plate to the side as well as her glass, clearing the table in front of her. She tugged my plate forward and placed it aside with hers. When she was done, she sat her palms up on the table and reached out to me. "Give me your hands." I stared at her, watching her face harden when I didn't do as she said. "Give me your hands, Bucky."

I raised my right hand slowly, placing it in lightly against her cold skin. Her fingers folded over my own firmly and she pushed her other elbow further across the table. "Both of them."

I pursed my lips, raising my metal palm to hover over hers. I contemplated just getting up and leaving but she snatched it with equal firmness like the other. Her blue eyes bored into my own. "I want you to listen to every word I have to say to you. Do not interrupt me." She waited for me to nod before she went on, making sure not to let my hands slip an inch away from hers. "Your life was stolen from you along with your own mind. Your actions after that were not your own. I know that you blame yourself for what happened, and I know that you're haunted by your time as the Winter Soldier, but that wasn't you, Bucky. That was something that Hydra had crammed into your head to do their dirty work and command on their own accord. Hydra is to blame, Bucky, not you. Never you.

"I haven't known the real you for very long, but I am certain that you aren't to blame for everything that has happened. You are worth so much more than you tell yourself. So, I don't want to hear you say you don't deserve to do normal things, or that you don't deserve to be happy because that's exactly what you deserve. You are not a monster. You deserve to live out the life you have always wanted without the worry that someone might come out and steal it from under your nose." She squeezed my hands, "And I'm going to tell you that until you believe it. I want you to be happy, Bucky, and I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen."

The sincerity in her voice struck me hard, and her eyes never left mine as she spoke to me. I could hardly believe a woman like her, beautiful and strong, would sit there and tell me that I had worth, that I wasn't the monster Hydra had made me into. My eyes burned with tears, but I refused to cry in front of her.

Snow let her head fall to the side a little bit, a lock of white hair drooping between her eyes. "Come dance with me?" Her thumb brushed over my knuckles, running over the grooves of my metal hand and the scarred skin stretched over the opposite. Equally.

I nodded after a beat, raising from my seat. She kept her hand firmly around mine as she let me lead her to the wooden doors. I held it for her as she slipped inside, tossing a coy smile over her shoulder. The dance floor was almost like a ballroom, bearing an arched ceiling and a monstrous glass chandelier. The floor was marbled with emerald hints scattered over it.

I faltered once more, taking in the men scattered around in expensive suits and bright smiles. I didn't belong here.

Snow sent a pulse through my hand, catching me with her eyes. "Breathe."

I drew a breath and expelled it slowly, letting her pull me onto the floor. Her delicate hands wrapped around my neck as we eased into the smooth rhythm of the piano. Snow was noticeably shorter than I was, and her arms rested against my shoulders as we swayed.

She pulled in closer, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck or the little tail poking out from the bun she had tied at the carnival. Her smile was small and sincere as she followed my steps. After a while, she spoke up, "What upset you so much?"

My first response to these kinds of questions is to clam up and stay quiet. I hardly ever spoke about my feelings with Steve, and I had known him much longer than Snow. Feelings weren't something I was very good at. I barely knew what I was feeling half the time, and the more complicated things got the more frustrated I would become. I didn't understand how to talk about them. However, something was different when Snow was involved. She knew what I had been through, understood it better than anyone else could. From what I could tell, she didn't pity me, and she definitely didn't treat me any differently than the others at the compound. I wanted to be able to talk to her.

"They were talking about me, the people in there, about what I did as the soldier. They called me a killer and said I shouldn't be allowed out in the open like this." I couldn't look her in the eye. "They wondered if you knew what I did and who I was."

"Of course I do. That is exactly why I agreed to come out with you tonight. I know who you are, Bucky, and you are not a killer or a danger. You're just a man who likes extra syrup on his pancakes with a funky metal prosthetic." Snow shrugged, as if what she had said wasn’t a big deal.

A smile broke onto my face at her statement, "I do like syrup. But Snow, my past is-"

"It's exactly that," She interrupted, "Your past. You aren't like that anymore. You save lives every day with the world's greatest superheroes." She had said it so simply, like it wasn't anything short of the truth. "You shouldn't doubt yourself so much. You are a good man, I have seen it with my own eyes."

My heart ached in my chest as her words resonated in my soul. I pulled her up against my chest, lifting her feet off the ground and holding her against me in a tight embrace, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She tightened her own arms around my neck, her breath fanning against my cheek as we swayed to the gentle music. Snow hummed the melody quietly in my ear and I was thrown into a memory.

My hands clutched a palm much smaller than mine as a brush was dragged through the wet strands of my hair. The fingers laced between my own tapped a steady beat against my knuckles as a hum filtered into the quiet. I didn't know the song, or if she was even humming a song at all. I felt at ease with her, calm and quiet inside. The anxiety of the generals and the missions dissipated in the presence of this woman as she threaded her fingers through my hair and soothed the knots in my shoulders.

We danced for hours, I never once let her feet touch the ground and she didn't complain. She simply played with my hair and let me sway her to the beat as she hummed along. I realized that I loved her voice and that I wanted to keep it locked away and never forget the way it sounded. Eventually the night had to come to an end and we collected our coats and left a tip. I drove her home in a comfortable silence with her hand in mine. Nothing was awkward with her around. She just let it be.

When we got to the compound I walked her to her door like last time, only she let me keep her hand laced with mine all the way up to the door. Snow turned to me with a little smile, "Well, I'd say that was the best date I have ever had. You are quite the catch, Barnes."

I laughed, "You aren't so bad yourself. Thank you for coming."

"Anytime." Her face lit up once more as if suddenly remembering something, "I have something to tell you." I raised my eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

"Well, you'll understand it. With the cold coming, I figured I would tell you something important to me. A memory I cherish." Her shoulders pulled in like she was suddenly nervous. "A long time ago, you and I went on a mission together. It was much colder than this and it was snowing a lot. You had to leave our camp to scout the city about a mile or so down the mountain. It was night time and darker than anything, there wasn't a moon out."

A flicker of an image flashed behind my eyes. A streetlight next to a storefront littered with posters of women in the newest fashion trends.

She went on, "You were gone a while longer than you usually took, but when you came back you had a smile on your face. You rarely ever smiled back then." Snow fidgeted with her fingers, "You had seen something while you were on your patrol and you came back with something for me. Do you remember what it was?"

Another flash of memory, the women in the window. One in particular caught my eye. She had gentle features and a soft slope in her nose. Her eyes were bright and the deepest shade of blue. The woman's hair was blonde, but that wasn't what had made me stop. The poster shared such similar traits to my partner that I could hardly tell the difference if it wasn't for the color of her hair. Written in bright bold red letters above her was the name Maxine.

I blinked away the memory, staring at Snow with wide eyes. "A name. I came back with a name."

Snow gave me a bashful grin, nodding her head. "You gave me a name that day. I hadn't been named as a child and Hydra wasn't much for that kind of thing, so it means a lot with me and I only share it with the people I trust. Maxine is a little dated for this day and age, so Max will do just fine. I don't mind if the others find out, I just wanted you to remember it first."

I couldn't do much else but look at her in awe, outstretching my hand. "It's nice to meet you Max, I'm James. James Buchanan Barnes." I felt it was only fair if she knew my real name too.

Her face lit up and she reached out with her own, taking my hand and giving it a firm shake. "It's so good to meet you." She laughed and my heart pounded in my ears. "We should probably turn in for the night, it's getting pretty late. Thank you again for the date, it was wonderful."

I nodded, taking a step back from her door. "It really was. I'll see you tomorrow, Max."

"I'll see you tomorrow, James. Goodnight." She eased inside her room, giving me a little wave from the gap.

"Goodnight." I felt like I was floating that night, and not one nightmare woke me.

Tags<3

@cjand10 / @blackbirdwitch22 / @imdoingathingmom

#angst #bucky barnes #drama #fluff #marvel #winter soldier #mcu #original character #the avengers #fanfic

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manygeese · 16 days ago

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Chapter three guys 💅 Leo’s Gay Little Crisis edition!!!

Tag list AND tumblr version under the cut :)

The afternoon sun turned the wheat a pretty shade of amber, warming the air just enough to make for a nice bike ride home.

Luckily, Leo’s bike wasn’t harmed in the crash that morning. Honestly, it was dramatic of him to even call it a crash. He hadn’t even made contact with the other guy. It was more like he had lost momentum trying to not hit the man and forgot he had to keep the front wheel spinning in order to keep going.

It had been a normal day- Tina had finished painting her birdhouse, which looked gorgeous, Dave and Layla had played patty cake instead of doing their projects, and Annabeth had yet again commandeered him after school to help with the theater sets.

Unfortunately, what was supposed to be a normal day was ruined by the urge he had to keep staring at the new farmhand. What did Piper say his name was? Jason? Huh. What a coincidence- didn’t the bike crash guy have the same name?

His bike involuntarily skidded to a halt once he caught a glance of the man walking in the wheat field. The guy- definitely the same Jason from that morning- was blond, wearing a shirt with rolled-up sleeves and jeans, carrying a sheaf of wheat on each shoulder. Even from a distance, Leo could tell the man had muscles, probably good ones. Amazing ones, even. Jason probably could carry Leo if he tried (who was he kidding, Jason wouldn’t even have to try).

Leo’s first thought? Goddamn, he’s hot.

Leo’s second thought? Oh. Oh, shit. Am I gay?

For a good several minutes, Leo was rooted to the pavement, having something of a crisis. All of his past relationships were put in a new, suspiciously homosexual, light.

There was Percy, a friend of Leo’s who lived a few streets over, closer to Town Center. They had been near inseparable in middle school. He recalled all the gym classes he spent fully gawking at Percy, turning various shades of red in the dressing room, pointedly not making eye contact with anyone. He remembered all the times he spent following Percy around Town Center on Fridays, just because Percy wanted to go to the library or get some candy at the gas station. It dawned on Leo that perhaps feeling butterflies whenever his best friend clapped him on the back, ruffled his hair, or hugged him wasn’t entirely straight.

Then there was Reyna, a childhood friend from back before his mom died. She was out in California for university now, though. His mom and Reyna’s had been best friends, which led to many play dates between the two of them. At one point, Leo told his mom that he had a crush on Reyna just to make her happy. At least, he thought it made her happy. He never got to ask.

And Nico- Nico was a biology teacher over at the high school where Leo worked. They were best friends (they ate lunch together). Thing was, Nico was openly gay and in a relationship with Will, who worked at the McLean farm. Before… he had seen Jason in the field, yeah, let’s go with that, Leo supposed he was jealous of the fact that Nico had a relationship in general. But was he jealous of Percy for having Annabeth as a girlfriend? No. Was he jealous of Frank for having Hazel as a fiancée? No. Was he jealous of Nico for having a boyfriend? A voice deep down told him yes, and it was about damn time to admit that.

And, oh, Calypso. Oh, god, Calypso. Leo got nauseous with guilt just at the thought of her.

They’d known each other for a good chunk of their lives, though now she was studying abroad and they didn’t keep in touch. They had gotten together in 7th grade after her father suggested that they’d make a cute couple. Calypso had asked him out to the spring dance, he’d said yes, and the rest was history.

High school came and went, and they’d stayed something resembling strong. They had even lasted until they graduated college, certainly a feat for a first relationship.

Everything had changed when they finished college, though. Calypso’s father perpetually seemed to be asking when they would get married, if Leo was looking at rings yet, if they wanted a spring or fall wedding, things like that. Calypso had always gotten a pained look when it was brought up, masking it with a laugh and a “oh, who knows, he likes to keep me on the edge of my seat”. Leo had just sat there with Calypso’s father’s eyes burning into him and a feeling the man would never be satisfied with the answer.

Ultimately, they had broken up, managing to make it both mutual and the messiest thing ever. The months before the break up had been filled with nights of yelling, accusations of apathy, and building frustration. “We just weren’t right for each other,” they both said to questioning friends, but this… situation made Leo realize just how right that statement was.

With a shudder, Leo wheeled his bike the rest of the way to the farmhouse and walked into the greenhouse where Piper was waiting. There were no thoughts behind his eyes besides one: he’d been lying to everyone. For twenty seven years, he’d been lying to everyone.

Oh, good lord, he’d lied to Calypso. She’d wasted ten years on him. He should have known he didn’t deserve Calypso in the first place. If he had just said no to that stupid invitation to that stupid dance, she’d be happy. She certainly wasn’t happy with him- never was. How could anybody be happy with Leo?

Worse, he had lied to his mother. If she was up in heaven still thinking he had a crush on Reyna, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Was the smile and “that’s great, mijo” worth leading on a girl for a decade? Even with how stupid he felt, Leo could realize it wasn’t.

Percy still thought they had never been anything but friends. Hell, Leo had thought they had never been anything but friends until ten minutes ago. How the fuck was he gonna tell Percy about this?

Nico, in all honesty, wouldn’t care, but Leo’s mind had worked itself into a panic, so that thought wasn’t doing much good.

Piper shook him out of his trance quite literally. She’d been shaking him for a solid ten seconds before he finally put a hand to where hers was on his shoulder and snapped, “what?”

Piper’s brow furrowed. Leo flinched when he realized how abrasive he’d sounded. Instead of being angry at him, like he thought she would be (which was completely untethered from reality, but he didn’t care about reality right now), her face just softened. “Are you okay, Leo?”

He maintained eye contact, a rare thing. Piper’s eyes were nice to look into. They were just like home. The brown parts of her hazel irises were the exact shade of wheat swaying at night, the pale greens were just like the wallpaper in the farmhouse living room. Piper’s face blurred in front of Leo as tears started to form.

Tell her, he thought. She’s your sister, after all.

She isn’t, he thought. You’re just your mother’s son, not her father’s.

Tell her. When has she ever made you feel inadequate?

Keep quiet. This could be her final straw. She’s sick and tired of your whining, just like how Dad is, just like how Nico is, like Percy, like Annabeth, like Will, like-

“I think I’m gay,” he whispered, tears spilling over onto his cheeks. His thoughts kept yelling in the background. They wouldn’t shut off, no matter how hard he tried to calm down, and soon he was a blubbering mess.

He sobbed louder when Piper got up, even if it was just to turn off the cassette player. She came back with a quilt, probably stored in some cranny he hadn’t even spotted yet, which she draped over his shoulders.

Every time he managed to calm down a bit, he pictured Calypso’s quiet anguish when her father asked those damned questions. The sobs got a little louder after that.

Finally, he sniffled to a stop, partially due to Piper rubbing his back soothingly, partially due to pure exhaustion, physical and emotional. When the silence got too long, Piper asked cautiously, “Do you mind telling me what brought this on?”

Leo took a deep breath, which was ruined halfway through by a series of wet coughs. He rubbed at his eyes. “Jason,” he mumbled.

“Jason,” she repeated, seemingly tossing the idea around in her head. Then she got up, offered him a hand, and pulled him up when he took it. “You’re gonna go back to the house.”

“What? Why do I-” was all he could get out before he was led to the door.

“You need to rest.”

“Uh, I think I can weed the garden, Piper. It’s not like I’m sick or anything.”

“Are you telling me you’re passing up the opportunity to take a nap? Who are you and what have you done to my brother?”

That earned a pathetic chuckle from Leo. He relented, ambling towards the farmhouse porch.

Which is, of course, when no one other than Jason, causer of crises, divisor of doubts, stumbled into his path.

The man was hot, as Leo had noted before. Somehow, it made him even hotter when Leo noticed the sweat glistening on his arms and forehead. His suspicions from before were correct: Jason had amazing muscles. Leo kind of wanted to reach out and caress them, but he kept his head down when Jason approached him to avoid the questions he might ask about the tear stains.

“Leo!” Jason greeted, probably with a stunningly nice smile. “I didn’t know you lived here! Sorry again about the crash this morning.”

Leo made a sound resembling a laugh. “You don’t need to worry about it man. No harm, no foul.”

“That fall didn’t exactly look like ‘no harm’,” Jason argued.

“I’ve taken worse tumbles. One time, I fell out of a treehouse. Ended up breaking a leg.”

Jason’s eyes widened. Leo cursed himself inwardly, Jason was probably going to think he was weird now because he went around leaking his medical history to strangers. But instead, Jason just asked with childlike wonder, “you had a treehouse?”

Leo looked up a little, just to gauge Jason’s reaction. “My friend Percy did. Does, actually. See, there’s this forest behind his mom’s apartment building, and he got his stepdad Paul to help him build it when we were like, 10. Me and Piper basically lived in that thing for a period of two weeks in fifth grade. Best two weeks of my life.” He giggled nervously.

Jason looked stoked. “Damn, I wish I had a treehouse.”

Awkward silence followed.

“Your hair is really pretty. It looks like it’d feel nice,” Jason stated abruptly, starting off again for the greenhouse. Leo stared after him, equally confused as he was totally, undeniably gay.

@katiefromcabin7 @iwannascreameurekaa @froglyberrys @justlikearat @existential-life-crisis @jasonisntboring @poppitron360 @erosjournal

#leo valdez #jason grace #valgrace #piper mclean #caleo #kind of? caleo likers don’t read this #it’s not because I don’t like you it’s just because you won’t like this lol #percy jackson #reyna avila ramirez arellano #nico di angelo #calypso pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #small town affair valgrace au

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year ago

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Worst Day

Part 6 of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

Description: You're not sure what you'll do if Jake doesn't pull through. It's true - your relationship isn't that old - yet you can't help feeling like the connection between Jake and you is far deeper than a paltry fling. So seeing Jake, your Jake, prone and motionless in a hospital bed is more than you can bear. But you're a fighter, and so is Jake. Having some pleasant company while you wait, that's great too.

Disclaimer: Mentions of injury. Military Deployments. Long-distance relationships. A very eerie nightmare (mentions of blood)

Warnings: Female Reader

Word Count: 4288

Author Note: Here’s Part 6 of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car). Jake finally makes his way stateside again, but as we know from the last episode, things don't look too good! But it'll get better... ish. Love ya! This chapter was wholly written by listening to the song Worst Day - MAX x Illenium on repeat. All of the bold + italicized parts are lyrics from the song!

AO3: Cross Posted Here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

It’s been twenty-four hours since you found out Jake has been injured. You’ve been a nervous wreck, barely sleeping or eating as you wear a worn trail into your kitchen tile. You’re running on fumes of coffee and unadulterated spite, every pore in your body rebelling, when you get the call from Maverick saying that the medevac will be landing in half an hour and will be transporting Jake to Naval Medical Center shortly after. You're nervously grasping the steering wheel of Jake’s truck the entire way there. Soon enough, you’re propping up a corner of the Emergency Room waiting room. Just as you’re about to call Maverick again, a flurry of action erupts against the ambulance bay doors. Doctors and other medical personnel descend in droves. You’re on your feet the minute the doors open, walking towards the doors.

You look a mess. You’re wearing your rattiest pair of jeans and a torn, worn t-shirt that’s inside out. Your hair hasn’t seen a comb since you woke up at 3 in the morning, what feels like a lifetime ago. All you care about is Jake. Your first look at him in three months nearly sends you to your knees. He’s motionless lying in that hospital gurney. His skin is pale, but for the lurid bruises painting his skin. You’ve never seen Jake this motionless, this still. He’s the life of the party, at the center of every gathering, always moving and his energy is infectious. But like this? The sight burns like a blade, cutting you from neck to sternum, seeing him unmoving, letting things happen rather than doing . You don’t even notice your knees give out, only registering the sharp crack as they smack into the tiled flooring as you collapse. You watch vacantly as the team of medical professionals cart him right into an operating theater. But no matter how you try to move, you can’t get your legs to cooperate.

The hands that help you up are Maverick’s. You’re not sure when he reached the hospital, but you’re so glad he’s here. He hugs you as you cry, hopeless gut-wrenching, exhausted sobs that rack your entire body. You’re wrung out when you stagger to one of the chairs in the waiting area in front of the Operating Room. In truth, you’re not likely to get much information until a doctor comes out to speak to you. Each halting breath you draw cuts like a thousand knives as you sit hunched over with your elbows on your knees and stare unseeingly at your steepled fingers. Worry and shock and fear and pain cloud every sense.

As an hour turns into two, then three and four, you slump against the back of the chair. Your eyes are itchy, heavy, and swollen with the many tears you’ve shed over the past day. Sleep is practically clubbing you over the head, and you’re quickly losing the battle to stay awake. Maverick is still standing at attention, green eyes intently boring through the closed operating room doors. In the span of a few breaths, you must fall asleep because the next thing you see is Jake.

Closed my eyes and had a dream

About a lonely place

Where flowers only bloom in gray

All the magic turned to dust

Only memories left of us

It’s a place you’ve seen before, one you remember being before, in fact. A picnic out on Mission Bay, if you remember correctly. It was a date early on in your relationship, one back when you were still trying to figure Jake out. He’d driven you to the park and laid out the picnic along with a chilled bottle of wine. The two of you had talked and laughed the entire afternoon away. But while you're seeing everything as you remember, something's just ever so slightly off. All the colors are oversaturated and yet faded at the same time. It feels like it’s been so long since you’ve been that happy. You feel like you’re in a movie reel, seeing Jake’s smiling face after so long. He’s close enough that your fingers should be able to make contact with his skin, but every time you get close enough, he disintegrates the minute you touch him.

I'll never see that tree thе same

The one that we both carved our names

Into with razor blades

Then made out in the summer rain

It had started raining partway through the picnic, and you’d taken refuge with him under the boughs of a colossal willow tree. Sheltered under that tree he’d helped you carve your name and his into the aged wood before kissing you like you were everything he needed to breathe. You’re there now. But when you try to fall into the kiss, Jake’s face shatters into sand in your fingers. It’s sticky and warm and wet when you clench your hands into a fist.

But it’s not sand in your hands when you look. It’s blood, dripping from your fingers, splattered over your face, and staining your dress. The droplets are hot and cloyingly sticky as you try to fight your way to water to wash them away. Suddenly, the willow tree’s branches grip and tear at your dress, skin, and hair. The entire time you fight the grasping branches, you can hear Jake’s voice. But it sounds completely unlike how you’ve ever heard him before. His voice is pained and harsh, screaming your name for help, for assistance. Each word rips into you, tearing you apart because while you fight to reach him, you never seem to get any closer.

You jolt awake, tasting copper in your mouth to the sounds of more medical professionals running into the Operating Room and Maverick hovering in front of you.

“What happened, Mav?” You swallow uncomfortably, trying and failing to summon enough saliva to wash the traces of metal from your mouth.

“I..” He runs his hands through his hair before slumping into the chair next to you. “I dunno, kiddo. They were calling a code blue through the hospital PA.”

“D-did something go wrong with Jake’s surgery?” You can’t hide the fear in your voice.

But with his lack of response, you don’t know anything more than you had before. This time, as you settle down to wait again, there’s more fear filling your mind. Your mind is trapped again in that constant loop of ‘what ifs’, ‘what happeneds’, and ‘what nexts’ again. Please let the code blue not be for Jake. Please. But as you’ve discovered intimately over the past day, your prayers are rarely answered by the powers that be, if they exist at all. You’ve chewed your lips until they’ve bled, and every muscle aches when a doctor steps out of the operating room.

“Hello, are you here for Lieutenant Jacob Daniel Seresin?” You can see the exhaustion lining his face.

“Yes. I’m his emergency contact.” Your voice shakes as you stand up. “This is his CO, Rear Admiral Pete Maverick Mitchell.”

“It’s nice to meet you, miss.” He snaps off a quick salute to Maverick before turning back to you. “Lieutenant Seresin’s surgeries have been a success. We were able to reduce the swelling in his brain and set his tibia and collarbone. Partway through the procedure, Lieutenant Seresin went into cardiac arrest. Thankfully, we were able to stabilize his condition and get his heart beating again.”

You’ve got your hand over your mouth as his words hit you, wrapping an arm around yourself to keep from collapsing at his feet.

“What does this mean for his recovery, Doctor?” You need to know.

“We’ve placed Lieutenant Seresin in a medically induced coma. This is to allow his brain to heal further. We’ll keep an eye on his recovery the entire time he’s in the post-anesthesia care unit. Once we’ve determined his brain has healed enough, we’ll stop the medication and allow him to come out of the coma. Then we’ll assess his physical condition from there.”

You can’t hide your relief or how tears well up in your eyes at the words. Mav wraps an arm around your shoulders. “The doctor says he’s going to be just fine, kiddo. He’s going to be okay.”

You know what Mav means, but a part of you can’t believe it. Not until you see it. Sure enough, just as Mav said, it’s barely a quarter of an hour later that the hospital bed with Jake in it is wheeled out. It's with a considerable amount of relief that you watch eagle-eyed as the doctors and nurses settle Jake into the hospital bed in his post-anesthesia care unit room. If only you could recognize the man you see before your eyes. This stranger? You're having a hard time reconciling him with the impression of Jake in your head. Jake’s always been filled with a sort of uncontainable energy, like lightning whipping through clouds, gathering momentum to strike where you least expect it. It’s a part of your relationship with him that you enjoy the most. He’s never boring, and you never feel like you’re boring with him.

So when you droop into the chair by the bed and take in the sudden hush inhabiting the room now that it’s just you and him, a part of your brain feels like it’s stuck. It’s a constant feedback loop of worry and pain and terror ruling your brain right now. Despite the consistent tinny beeping emanating from the heart rate monitor, you can’t believe that Jake’s going to be okay. Each breath you force into your lungs stinks of that special hospital smell of disinfectant and cleaning products and sickness. You grip his hand, gasping at how cold the fingers are, how the strength seems to have drained out of them. You can still see the bruises peeking out from beneath the hospital gown. His head is shorn close to his skull, and you can just make out where they had to cut into his skull to reduce the swelling in his brain through the bandages swathing his skull. You love this man. So why is it that you can’t stand to see him like this? With a ventilator helping him breathe and drugged up in a coma while his body heals?

Worse still, you can’t help but wonder what this means for what Jake loves to do the most in the world. Will he ever be able to fly again? Jake flies like it’s in his blood, like he’s made to do it. He adores it. Did this incident, be it accident or deliberate, just strip him of the capacity to do the one thing he’d always dreamed of doing? Then there’s the thought of Jake’s family in your mind. How do you get in touch with Jake’s brothers and sisters? You know Jake’s not close with his dad. But his mom and siblings should know, right? But if Jake wanted one of his family to know, wouldn’t one of them have been his emergency contact? The thoughts have you kissing the palm of his cool limp hand and dragging the chair closer to the bed. Your voice is barely there as you finally speak after hours of silence.

“J-Jake.” Your voice hitches on a sob as you glance over his face. "What happened, handsome? This was supposed to be a routine rotation on board. You weren't supposed to get hurt."

A part of you can’t help but wait for a response. But one doesn’t come. Jake’s still and silent with a ventilator over his mouth, and his eyes closed. If you’d known any differently, you would have happily assumed Jake was just sleeping. But he’s not. You want nothing more than to hear his voice again.

“Jake, Oh, I almost lost you like that” Your voice is soft as you cup his jaw, leaning over his still form, tracing your way gently over the stubble growing on his cheeks and chin. “Oh, don't wanna think about that, Oh, don't wanna think about that, The thought of you never comin' back”

You’re still clutching at his hand a few hours later when a couple of nurses stop into his room to take his vital signs and subsequently chase you out as visiting hours end. It leaves you out in the parking lot in Jake’s truck longing for the days when you could have just picked up the phone and called Jake when you missed him. The two of you have had so many conversations like that, spilling secrets in the dead of night, and it’s one particular conversation that you remember the most.

It was late and well into the witching hour. You’d been out with Jake once again, and once again, time had gotten away from both of you. You'd been lying in the bed of his pick-up truck, star-gazing yet again. But you weren't near North Island, not this time. You'd driven north and west, leaving San Diego in the rear-view as Jake's truck ate up the miles between you and the Mojave Desert.

In a small camping area just off the desert, Jake had parked the car and helped you into the truck’s bed via the tailgate. He'd pulled out two paper cups and a bottle of champagne.

"What're we doing now?" Your voice had been questioning as he'd proffered the cup to you with the biggest grin.

"This, gorgeous, is because I missed you. It's been a long week, my darling girl. What better way to spend time with each other than you, me, some good alcohol and dinner under the stars?"

You'd sipped a mouthful of alcohol from the cup before setting it down on a stable bit along with the bottle and Jake's own before levering yourself into his lap. The kisses you'd shared with him that night had tasted like champagne bubbles and pure joy.

"Not that I mind, pretty girl, but d'you want to tell me what that was for?" You can still remember how his voice sounded.

"It’s been,” You’d peppered another few kisses across his lips and cheeks, “a completely harrowing, disgusting week. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. The worst part is that it felt like no matter what I did, it wasn’t enough. You’ve described it once, you know? The feeling when you’re up in the sky flying supersonic when you go into a turn and the whole world seems to be sitting on your chest? That’s what this week has been like for me. And I can’t. I can’t tell you that it was just one thing weighing on me, because it’s not. It feels like a perfect storm.” You’d buried your face into the crook of his neck after you’d finished speaking, taking in the scent of his detergent, cologne and the ever-present light whiff of jet-fuel embedded in his skin.

“What about now, baby doll?” His big hands feel so good against your back as he massages the tense muscles running down your back. You’re plastered so completely against him that you can hear the rumble of his voice in his chest as he speaks. You shrug, infinitesimally, burrowing even closer to him. Your voice is muffled in the fabric of his shirt as you murmur, “It’s always better with you, Jay. Always. Love you.”

Jake had finally coaxed you out of his arms and into eating some of the food he’d packed. The night had ended with the two of you lying side by side in the bed of the truck looking up at the stars. This far from the city and its light pollution, you can see thousands of pinpricks of light shining in the sky above. You’ve been pointing out the stars for a while when Jake tugs you close. He intertwines your fingers with his before pulling your hand to his mouth. You can feel the prickling tug of his stubble against the soft skin and the dampness of his lips. He kisses your digits carefully before tugging you in until you’re curled into his chest.

“Gorgeous girl, you changed my life the day I met you.” Your resulting huff is disbelieving.

“I’m serious! When we met, I wouldn’t say that I was at a low in my life, not necessarily, but I did feel like something was missing. That missing piece, that was you. Baby Doll, I knew I was going to fall for you completely the first word you spoke. One day, one day soon, I’m going to take you home. To Texas. I want you to meet my mama, my brothers and sisters. They’re going to love you as much as I do.”

Jake was going to say something more that night, but in truth, you’d been so blown away by him that all you’d been able to think of was making him feel your love. That’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to an indecent exposure charge, fucking Jake in the bed of his truck and waking up in the early morning light completely naked in his arms.

It’s silent in the house as you walk in, not bothering to turn on any lights. As you fall into bed just wearing one of Jake’s old tees and a pair of panties, you make a fervent promise to yourself and anyone who’s listening. You’re going to see Jake’s smile again, hear his voice again. When you do, you’re going to let him take you home, because you love him, and he needs to know how much you do.

The next three weeks you spend in Jake’s hospital room. The doctors and nurses in the post-anaesthesia care unit get to know you intimately. It helps that for much of the day while you’re there, you’re mostly quiet, typing away on your laptop while attending the occasional meeting, allowing the doctors to do their thing unimpeded. Jake’s condition doesn’t change. The doctors check on him every day, monitoring his brain waves and ensuring that none of the surgical sites are becoming infected. But no matter what they do, he stays lost in a dream world that nobody can pull him from.

The doctors ensure you over and over again that he’ll wake up when he’s ready. You can see the immense amount of sympathy in their eyes each day when they can’t offer you anything but empty platitudes. Three days after Jake’s admittance to the hospital you finally break down and call his mom. It hadn’t felt right, keeping such big, potentially life-altering news from her.

Georgia Marie Seresin is just as Jake had described her. She’d descended on San Diego with all of the force of a Category 5 hurricane not even a day after you’d called her. If you’d had the presence of mind to notice the resemblance you’d have giggled at how much Jake reminds you of her. You’re not sure what you’d expected when you’d called her but it definitely had not been to face the brunt of her mothering. She’d hugged you tight and thanked you for taking care of her son for so long by yourself.

“It’s alright now, sweet thing. Mama Georgie’s here.” She’d held you tight as the tears had welled in your eyes. “We’re going to take care of our boy. Now that I’m here, we’re going to get you taken care of as well.”

Her first order of business had been to take you home, leaving Jake’s eldest brother Will to sit in the room with him while she got you into a shower and some home-cooked food to eat. She brings your house to life in minutes. You haven’t been all too terrible in taking care of yourself. In fact whenever you’d felt yourself slipping, you’d been hearing Jake’s voice chiding you into doing better. You’d give anything to hear it again in person, perhaps with the addition of a six foot tall aviator draping himself over your back while muscling you out of the kitchen with a kiss or two or five.

Thankfully, Mama Georgie, as she’s insisted you call her despite your protests, pretends not to notice how you fall apart in your bedroom every night. Or how your eyes go all misty and faraway whenever you catch Will’s silhouette out of the corner of your eyes. It’s a relief having them here. They give you hope that Jake’s going to wake up. Maybe you did it backwards, meeting his mom and brother before you were ready, and definitely before he was. But if there is anybody who deserves to be surrounded with the people he loves when he’s hurting, it’s Jake. Having Mama Georgie and Will in San Diego helps, especially when work upticks and all of a sudden you’re spending more time trapped in your home office working on what feels like everything under the sun when you’d rather be with Jake.

You’re at the end of your rope the day Jake wakes up. You’d been on calls working since about 3 AM. You’d been so frazzled that you hadn’t even been able to say goodbye to Mama Georgie and Will when they left at about 10 in the morning. When you get the call at 4 in the afternoon, you nearly don’t pick up. But you’re so thankful you do, because even as Mama Georgie tells you Jake is awake, you can hear Jake in the background. His voice is hoarse and barely there, but you can recognize it from a mile away.

It takes you an inhuman amount of control to finish the last hour of work you have and run to the hospital. You’re white-knuckling the steering wheel of your car, forcing yourself not to speed the entire way there. You park the car in what is the sloppiest parking job you’ve done since you were first learning to drive and run into the hospital. You can’t prevent the way your body sags against the door frame when you see Jake propped up in the hospital bed. He’s pale and covered in bandages, but he’s the best sight you’ve seen in months. Mama Georgie’s fluttering around him, fluffing up his pillows and making sure he’s comfortable.

It's Jake who notices you first, smiling that gorgeous grin you missed so much at you.

"Hey, my gorgeous girl! Four months and the first time you see me and I don't even get a kiss and a hug?" His voice is teasing even as you can hear the hoarseness from where he'd been intubated not long ago.

You don't even register Mama Georgie or Will walking past, you're that fixated on Jake. His eyes haven't left your face once, not even when you're sitting in the chair by his bed. You're inexplicably afraid to touch Jake right now. Over the past weeks you've had many nightmares, most of which ended with Jake disappearing at your touch. As with most things in your relationship, Jake takes the lead by carefully dragging his knuckles across your cheek. At the first tender touch, your eyes well and you can't help your sobs as you take his hand. His eyes widen as tears spill in hot trails down your cheeks.

"Aww, hey Gorgeous. I'm alright. I'm going to be okay." His words just make you sob harder. He brushes your tears away before tugging you up, despite your protests, to perch on the side of his hospital bed.

"What're you doing, Jay?" Your voice is stuffy and confused as you look down into his face. From your new vantage point you can see the exhaustion weighing on him as well as the stiff way he's moving as he looks at you.

"Give me your hand?" You place your hand in his and relish in the heat of his skin as he splays your fingers over his heart. You can feel his warmth even through the hospital gown. "D'you feel that gorgeous? That's my heart, beating for you. I'm still here. I hurt like I got run over by a herd of the cattle we have at the ranch, but I'm here. I'm going to heal up and be as good as new in no time at all, okay?"

His voice goes soft and gentle as he cups your cheek. "So no more crying, baby doll. Now why don't you get over here and give me a kiss, hmm? I've been on a ship in the middle of nowhere with only dreams of you for company for months. You're not going to let a sailor live in these conditions while eating hospital food, now are ya?"

Your resulting giggle is strangled as you carefully press your lips to his. You can’t help kissing him over and over again. You keep the kisses feather-light before drawing back and resting your forehead gently against his. Your voice is a whisper as you murmur, "I love you, Jake. So much. Don't you ever, ever do this again, Jake. Finding out you'd been hurt was the worst day of my life."

"I know, baby doll. I'm sorry. I didn't intend on getting hurt. Forget getting hurt so badly. Can you ever forgive me?" His words make you gasp and shake your head. As if he were to blame.

It's as you settle back into the chair by his bedside that you respond with one word. "Always."

His smile is tired and soft as he murmurs back, "I love you." You sit in that chair watching as his face smooths, the lines fading as he drifts off to sleep. You press another kiss against his lips and settle in to watch over him. Jake's safe and home. There’ll be rough times ahead as he heals, but you can rest now.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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wwbtsdty · 2 years ago

Text

Set My Soul On Fire [6] | 18+

Summary: The chances of meeting your soul flame were almost one in a eight billion, the only way of knowing you were a match? You had to happen to be in close proximity of each other, so how were you ever to find your one true flame when they possibly lived halfway around the globe. When you find out you matched with not one but four members from the biggest boy band in the world, you weren’t sure if you were incredibly lucky or headed for devastating heartbreak, but you were willing to find out.

Rating: 18+

Genre: idol!au, smut, angst, fluff

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader

Status: Ongoing

Word Count: 6.2K

Warnings: dom!jungkook, dom!jimin, dom!taehyung, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, consent, smut, possessiveness, polyamory, anxiety, insecurities, jealousy, sexual tension, dirty talk, explicit language, kissing, grinding, marking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, oral(f. receiving), Jimin has a long ass tongue, Jimin has a hugeeeee praise kink, mentions of multiple members and voyerism.

Author’s Note: Oh my godddd its happening, whats the procedure, whats the procedure!! (Points if you know what that’s from!) I think it’s been long enough, time for some smutty smut smut!

This is all fictional.

It was about another hours drive to the house and Jimin had insisted on holding your hand the entire way, regardless of your concerns about him driving one handed. So now his fingers threaded with yours, resting on the center console as you tried your best to distract yourself from the way his thumb swept tenderly across the top of your hand.

Intrusive thoughts kept finding their way into your mind, like just how amazing those pillowy lips had felt against yours. They had been everything you’d imagined and then some. Just how would those lips would feel kissing their way down my body.

Your mind was running rampant with salacious daydreams, no doubt driving Jimin crazy at this point. But you couldn’t help it, after that kiss and his comment about not holding back, all your thoughts were filled with Jimin.

Jimin whose gaze could pierce your very soul and set your whole body on fire.

Jimin whose lithe body moved so gracefully across the stage driving every person crazy in the crowd.

Jimin who loved to tease millions of army with that sinful tongue and sensual body roll on stage.

“Fuck. Please stop Y/N, I only have so much control. I’m barely resisting pulling this car over and fucking you until you can’t walk as it is.” He growled like some wild animal causing your breath to hitch, his fingers tightening painfully on the steering wheel as he fought against the onslaught of images.

She was seriously trying to kill him.

Your body heated at his comment, suddenly at war with your own thoughts as you couldn’t decide if that was what you secretly wanted. You could however feel the tension between the both of you growing with each passing second. The heat building between your thighs causing you squeeze them together trying to relieve some of the pressure.

“Do you want me to pull over?” He smirked, tongue snaking out along the seam of his lips as he bit down on his lower lip. He yanked your joined hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles, catching your gaze as he flipped your hands over to kiss your inner wrist.

“Jimin!” You gasped, jerking your hand from his grasp as you tried to distance yourself from that sinful mouth as much as possible from within the small confines of the car.

Just as you both were about at your limit the house came into view, a relived groan escaping him as he pulled in behind the others who were already unloading their car.

“Finally..” he sighed turning off the car, Taehyung all smiles already bounding over to the car to pound on his window.

“Where the hell were you guys!? We thought maybe you had broken down on the side of the road... or something.” Jimin grimaced at the humor lacing his voice, of course they knew what had happened to a degree, Tae just insisted on torturing Jimin whenever given the chance.

“Nope, we’re fine as you can clearly see.” Jimin replied, shoving Taehyung playfully. Taehyung was just relived to see his soul mates sour mood having finally lifted, everyone was tried of walking on eggshells around him. Jungkook had been the ringleader behind putting them in close confines together to hash out their differences.

You had quickly snuck out of the car while Jimin was distracted with Taehyung, making your way towards the others. Just as you approached the other car a massive doberman appeared, rounding the corner with Jungkook in tow. He tackled you to the ground proceededing to happily lick you to death. You laughed, doing your best to fend off the slobber monster.

“BAM! No! Bad Bam! that's not how we greet Y/N!” He laughed dragging him off of you, bam took off running to find his next victim, Jimin, who immediately fawned over him in an adorable baby voice.

“Ohh Bammm, look at you! You got so big! Ohh who’s a good boy!”

Jungkook picked you up from the ground as if you weighed nothing, trying in vain to wipe at the muddy paw prints scattered across your shirt, “Sorry about that, he’s still a baby. I asked our manager to steal him away from training camp for a while so you could meet him, guess he still needs some work.” Jungkook explained, that adorable bunny smile making your heart skip a beat.

You watched the so-called ‘puppy’ bounce between the members happily, moving from one person to the next to receive attention. Taehyung took off in a sprint causing Bam to give chase, tackling him to the ground once he inevitably caught him, they rolled around like little kids in the grass.

“He’s so cute, hard to believe he's a puppy though!” Man that was going to be one big dog when it was full grown, he was surely as big as you and he was still a puppy. They always said you could tell how big a dog would be based on its paw size, well those damn paws were huge. Like father like son I suppose, you weren’t sure if the muscle bunny was ever going to stop growing either. You subtly eyed his chest as he stood beside you watching Bam with an adorable look on his face. Surely he as flexing or sticking out his chest on purpose?

“He’s not that big. Maybe you’re just small..” He dropped an arm around your shoulder pinching your cheek playfully. You stuck your tongue out in response to the comment, “The best things come in small packages!” Jungkook’s eyes widened as he processed that phrase, he held his tongue before he made a comment in return. Best things indeed…

“Alright, let’s figure out who’s staying where! Y/N since you’re the guest of honor you can choose your room first. Both of those houses are where the rooms are located, so go ahead and pick one and we’ll bring your luggage.” Namjoon motioned towards the two houses.

You grabbed at your suitcase, “I can take it up to my room, it’s not a big deal. I think there’s enough to unpack without making one of you follow me around with my luggage.” Never one to inconvenience anyone, you made a move to head towards the houses only for Jungkook to block your path. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he glanced down at the suitcase and then back to your face. Snatching the bag before you could even form a protest, he simply hefted it up and over his shoulder without a single word.

Everyone behind you was laughing as they watched you stand there mouth agape as Jungkook headed up the hill, luggage in tow. “I don’t think you’re going to get away with saying no to JK.” Taehyung smiled at the youngest antics.

“Okay okay, fine! I surrender to your sexist need to carry my luggage!” You threw your hands in the air exasperated, running to catch up to Jungkook and his long ass legs.

“It’s not sexist, it’s just good manners. Do men in America not have manners anymore or something?” Jungkook frowned, studying you curiously as he came to a stop.

You’d never really thought about that before, but when had men stopped being polite to women in your eyes. Between the men only trying to get in your pants and the men who always let you down, you had somehow lost faith in men. Your mom always blamed it in feminism, saying we forced men to become these weak creatures who weren’t real men anymore.

“I… don’t know honestly, I guess I haven’t had very many good examples of men in my life,” You tried to remember the last time a man you had dated held open a door for you, or offered to carry something heavy. Maybe on the first date? Definitely not once you’d slept together.

Jungkook frowned at the thoughts crossing your head, determined now more than ever to change your view on men, well at least his memebers. He vowed to do everything possible to spoil you now that they had found you, and hopefully you would have you by their sides forever.

Everyone settled into their rooms and was unloading their luggage, you had chosen a room on the second floor with a great view of the entire property. You could hear Bam bouncing around in the room below you. You may or may not have chosen this room because you hoped just maybe you could coax him into sleeping with you, you missed your own animals back home.

Jimin had taken great pleasure in knowing you were sleeping in the same room he had chosen during the filming of the show. Which of course he had made a comment about, how you were sleeping in the same bed as him.

You slammed the door in his face before he could see the furious blush on your face. You knew he was the king of flirting, you were just somehow never prepared when that flirting was directed at you.

You fell back onto the bed with a sigh, lifting your phone above your head as you eyed the zero bars. Of course you would have no service way out in the middle of nowhere like this, you weren’t sure why you expected anything differently.

You really needed to get a new phone soon, you had brought yours from America in hopes of using it at least until you were able to get something here. In the meantime you had to refrain from calling and texting as much as possible, not wanting to drive your cell phone bill up with international fees.

Surely this place had WiFi? You could connect to the internet and then at least your phone wouldn’t be completely worthless. You could at least still receive calls and texts, if not send them out as often. You quickly sent a text off to Jungkook asking what the WiFi was.

Jungkook suddenly appeared in your peripheral scaring the shit out of you. How had he gotten up the stairs so damn quickly without you hearing him, “Jungkook! Shit! Make a noise or something would ya, scared me to death!” You squealed, sitting up on your bed as he shot you a disarming smile. “You need to wear a bell…”

“Sorry, I thought I’d just bring the wifi information upstairs.” He scratched at the back of his head sheepishly, showing you the slip of paper with the name and password on it.

“Thank you,” You took the paper flashing him a smile in thanks. Jungkook collapsed in a chair in the corner, rubbing Bams head affectionally who had followed him. Suddenly a string of chimes rang out from your phone, your eyes widening as you stared at the screen in silence.

“Whoa, someone’s really been trying to get ahold of you!” He stood to make his way over, curious to see just who was blowing up your phone.

You panicked, cradling the phone to your chest to hide the messages, “Yah, Its just--uh Mel... probably wondering why I wasn’t responding, she’s never been very patient. I should probably answer her!” You flinched at the strain lacing your voice, hoping that you didn’t come off as nervous as you suddenly felt; fear coursing through your body.

Jungkook froze in his steps eyeing you quizzically, “Oh.. yah. I’m sure she’s worried about you.” He studied you a moment longer, not liking how pale your face had become. He didn’t want to overreact though, maybe it was something embarrassing you hadn’t wanted him to see? “I guess I’ll leave you to it?” He moved to leave, hesitating only a moment as he eyed you over his shoulder scanning your phone with a odd look on your face.

“I’ll be down soon.” You forced a smile on your face as he left, locking the door after him. Collapsing on the bed you read through the messages that flooded your screen.

Die bitch!!

How dare you come to Korea! Stay away from BTS!

They would never like an ugly bitch like you!

The messages just got worse the further down your screen you read as you fought back the tears swimming in your eyes. You knew things would get messy when you got involved with BTS, you knew the risk you were taking from the moment you found out they were your Soul Flames. You told yourself this over and over again, tried to remind yourself before you left for Korea what you were potentially walking into. But to this extent? When all they knew is you were in Seoul? You can’t even imagine what would happen when they found out your involvement with BTS.

After you had finally deleted the last of the disgusting messages from your phone you tossed it aside.

They were just idle threats from crazy fans, right?

Nothing was going to happen as long as you were under their protection. You’d heard many times of fans getting ahold of members numbers, so this was something you should have come to expect I guess. Good thing you were going to be getting a new phone here soon, a new number and a new start.

Taehyung had been the one to finally drag you from your room; you had succumbed to sleep once you’d settled in your room, since you’d left so early in the morning and you were not a morning person.

Now that you were sufficiently stuffed from the meal the boys prepared, the boys being Jungkook, Jimin and Tae of course. Namjoon was banned from the kitchen for obvious reasons. You watched fondly as Tae and Jungkook sang along to some unfamiliar song on the karaoke machine. Namjoon was absent, having secluded himself upstairs in the library to get some peaceful reading in. Not that it was very peaceful with Jungkook and Taehyung belting out at the top of their lungs, but he was probably so used to it by now.

Jimin had chosen to sit unbearably close to you, regardless of all the open seats available. You tried your best to ignore the way his thigh was pressed up against yours, instead focusing on the boys antics as they tried to one up each other.

The weight of Jimins head hitting your lap startled you. He whined playfully, making grabby hands in your direction. “W-What?” you stammered nervously, unsure exactly what he was up to now. It always amazed you how he could drive women crazy one second with his sexual persona and then turn them into simpering babies the next with his mischievous ways.

“Rub my head... please?” He replied brazenly, biting his lower lip in that signature look as his gaze zeroed in your movements as he felt you squirm under his scrutiny.

“Stop looking at me like that!” You whispered vehemently, tugging on his locks in retaliation.

“Like what? I’m not doing anything...” He flashed you a bright smile, his eyes almost disappearing into two little crescent shapes. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. Even if he hadn’t been able to feel your arousal, the flush to your cheeks was evident enough.

You quickly brought your attention back to the boys singing, your fingers nervously lacing through his fluffy hair. It was just as unbelievably soft as you had dreamt, you could run your fingers through it all day... your own personal stress reliever. No wonder he was always playing with his hair, you would too if this was how yours felt. All at once you could picture your hands, pulling on those locks as he thrust deeply--

You stood abruptly, depositing Jimin on the floor. To which he let out a huff of breathe to show his annoyance, rolling his eyes before moving to sit back on the couch. There was only so many times he was going to let you brush him off and he was quickly approaching his threshold, he didn’t have much patience to begin with when he decided he wanted something.

Taehyung grabbed your hands pulling you flush against his body as a soft melody started playing from the karaoke machine.

“Dance with me!” He spun you around gently, a boxy smile plastered on his face as you clumsily tried to keep up with his dizzying dance steps. You both giggled like little children as you let him lead you about the living room.

Just when you were starting to get dizzy from all the spinning Jungkook pulled you from Tae’s arms, positioning you in front of the tv screen. His body enveloping you from behind, molding your back to his front. His sweet voice tickled your ears as he sang for you, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. All the attention from these boys was starting to get to you as you felt your body heat up in a pleasant way.

All the while Jimin watched you from his seat on the couch, where he had climbed back up after being so swiftly tossed on the floor. A pout marring his face as he narrowed his eyes at the younger pair having ruined his moment with you. He willed you to look back at him so he could convey his displeasure but your eyes stayed glued to the screen as he watched you turn best red under Jungkooks spell.

You swallowed nervously, feeling the heat prickle your skin as you tried not to focus on the way Jungkooks fingers trailed teasingly up and down your arm as he sang. He probably wasn’t even aware he was doing it, you thought. You gasped as he nipped at your lobe playfully, breaking free from his arms.

“I’m gonna get some air!” You declared, making your way outside as fast as humanly possible as you willed your heart to stop racing.

You sat outside at the pools edge, dangling your feet in the cool water below. Though it was obviously even hotter outside, this kind of heat didn’t bother you nearly as much as the heat that radiated through your body when you were in close proximity of your soul flames.

A stream of cold water hit the back of your head making you jump, turning to find the source. There stood Jimin armed with a water gun, a playful smirk gracing his face. He took off in a fit of giggles as you gave chase, jumping away from the pool and grabbing the nearest gun. “Jimin! You’re gonna pay for that!”

You chased Jimin across the expansive yard, getting some choice shots in here and there, one particularly good one landing right on that deliciously taunt behind of his. But he was soon out of reach of your gun, years of dance giving him an advantage as he rounded the basketball court. You hatched a devious plan in your head, stopping alongside the court as you laid down pretending like you fell, “Ouch!!” You shouted, reaching for your foot as you lay wounded on the ground.

Jimin immediately froze, running back to you in concern, “What happened?! Are you okay? Where does it hurt?” He reached for your ‘injured’ foot just as you took aim and shot him square in the face in retaliation. He stared aghast as you stood up to show him you were totally fine, a cocky grin on your face, “Gotcha!” You laughed, dancing around him in a victory dance.

You suddenly found yourself pressed back to the hard ground, your gun wrenched from your hand and flung across the grass. Jimins body covered yours, the plastic barrel of his water gun pressed to your head. “Clever girl… too bad you let your guard down too soon. Surrender!”

You held your hands up, “I give! I give! You win Jimin!” He smiled triumphantly, his gaze wandering down to your lips before moving back to your eyes. “What do I win? Hmm?” He quietly trailed the gun from your temple across your lips and down your neck, tapping it against your chest in playful manor.

“The pleasure of me not murdering you for ruining my quiet moment by the pool?” You mused, ignoring the not so subtle way he was eyeing your mouth.

He hummed in contemplation, his free hand sliding to the small of your back pulling you ever closer until your bodies were pressed against each other intimately, his knee wedged between your legs to keep them apart. “Well that's not a very good prize, try again.”

You could barely form a logical thought at that point, his breathe fanning against your lips driving you crazy as you laid frozen beneath his perusal. Your traitorous body responded for you as your back arched pressing ever closer to his warmth. “Jimin..” you whispered, fingers splayed across his chest as you felt yourself fall under the spell of his seductive gaze.

“Yes baby?” He cocked his head fondly, fingers digging into your hips as he held himself back, waiting patiently.

You swallowed nervously, chewing on your lower lip as you remembered the way his lips had felt against yours, your mind and body at war with each other. “What do you want?”

He smiled at your sudden shyness, “A kiss?” He replied, his gun abandoned as he swept his thumb along your lower lip awaiting your reply. You didn’t even realize the power you held over them already, one word from you and he would go to the ends of the earth, do anything you wished.

“I guess that's okay...” you smiled, trying to hide your nervousness. This was different from your previous kiss, you hadn’t known what was coming when he kissed you the first time. Now laying here waiting for him to kiss you was pure torture. Time ticked by, seconds feeling like hours as you followed the movement of his tongue across his lips, wetting your own in anticipation, “Jimi--”

His lips crushed yours in a desperate kiss, insistently prying your mouth open so he could taste you. His palms cradled your face as he angled your face to his liking, nipping playfully at your bottom lip.

“Jimin” You whispered against his lips, his name barely auditable amongst your shared breathe as you pushed against his chest to get his attention. Both of you staring wordlessly at each other while you caught your breathe.

“I’m scared..” The words finally spilled out, “The bond, I’m just not ready yet… I need more time.” You tried to explain to lighten the hurt you saw reflected on his face. “I really like all of you… so much… I’m just not ready for the bond yet. I need more time, I think mayb—“

Jimin pressed a finger to your lips silencing your protests, “Its okay, I understand. I would never force you to do something you don’t want to do, so lets just take it slow, alright?” He smiled, lips ghosting over yours as he leant down to press a lingering kiss to your lips once more.

“Can I have a small taste?” He whispered, running his tongue along the seam of your lips before leaning back to shoot you a sinful smirk. “I won’t go any further than that, please…” He leant back to gauge your reaction, taking note of your heated face with a pleased smile. “Y/N? Baby… you need to answer me.” His voice held a note of teasing.

Staring up into Jimin’s handsome face you were suddenly extremely nervous. You weren’t sure if you could ever live up to any expectations he might have. He was a world famous celebrity, you were just some regular old girl from America. Surely he had been with all kinds of beautiful models and celebrities... you could never live up to that. What if he took one look at you and decided he didn’t want to be your Soul Flame anymore, decided you weren’t worth it after all.

Jimin abruptly pulled you from your thoughts, pinning your hands up above your head. His eyes narrowed as he spoke, “Y/N, stop it. None of us would ever! You are absolutely beautiful, and I’m proud your my Soul Flame. Let me show you, how much I absolutely adore every inch of you.. let me love you.” His face softened as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, releasing your hands to cradle your face in his as he peppered your face with kisses playfully.

You giggled trying to turn away as he nipped at your nose, “Okay! Okay! Promise you won’t be disappointed? I’m not exactly that experienced..” You thought back to your previous boyfriends, they’d usually been so caught up in finishing themselves they never really cared about your pleasure. The few times they had gone down on you it just felt, awkward and messy... you never understood how women could get pleasure from such a thing.

He threw his head back in laughter, “Baby... you don’t have to worry about that.” He then swept you up into his arms, intent on carrying you to the house.

“Where are we going?” You exclaimed, clinging to him afraid he might drop you at any moment.Your brain had a hard time processing such a slender body as Jimin’s was able to carry you so easily.

“Unless you feel like putting on a show for the rest of the guys… I’m taking us to your room.” He sauntered cockily into the house, taking two steps at a time until he finally made it to your bedroom. “I mean, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind, but I thought that might be a too much too soon for you baby girl.” He chuckled, dropping you unceremoniously on the bed.

You clutched the sheets below, your mind raced at the idea of the other members being present. You body betrayed you, instantly heating at the thought as you could feel your panties becoming wet at the sheer idea. How would they react to seeing you and Jimin together?

“Hmmm… you don’t seem opposed to the idea.” His smile grew as he felt your thoughts, “Noted.”

“What, I didn’t—… no, I wasn’t thinking of—… Jimin!” You sputtered, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. “Dammit, this really isn’t fair! Stop listening to my thoughts.” You pouted, sitting upright on the bed to show your annoyance at him constantly intruding.

He held his hands up in surrender, “Hey I can’t help it! You are more than welcome to read my thoughts anytime you want… once you bond with me that is.” He countered, knowing full well you weren’t ready so there was nothing you could do.

“For now, just think of me... and only me.” His sinful voice warmed your body as he climbed on the bed atop of you, forcing you further up until your head hit the headboard. His lips met yours passionately, letting the weight of his body press you into the mattress below.

Suddenly all your thoughts were indeed focused on Jimin, lacing your fingers through his hair to keep his mouth against yours. He ravaged your mouth exquisitely, controlling the kiss with a kind of ease only someone as skilled as him you imagined could. You wouldn’t mind kissing him for the rest of your life, this is it, you thought, you could die right now, right here and be totally happy. Just wrapped up in Jimin’s arms as he kissed you into oblivion.

His hands moved down your sides, skimming over your stomach and down to grab your ass as he ground himself into you so you could feel the large bulge he already sported, leaving no doubt as to how he felt in that moment.

You let out a quiet moan against his mouth without meaning to, he quickly responded with one of his own as he left the sweetness of your mouth to trail soft kisses along your neck. He stopped, the sudden urge to mark you for everyone to see overtaking him. He licked at a strip of skin beneath your ear, biting down swiftly before taking the skin into his mouth and sucking gently.

You jumped at the sudden sensation, fingers digging into his scalp as you felt a tingle shoot straight to your core causing your nipples to pebble. As fast it came it was gone though as he pulled back to observe his artwork with a pleased smile, “Mine.” He growled, touching the blotch of purple marring your skin.

He moved down your body then, hiking up your shirt to kiss every inch of skin displayed. You found yourself squirming beneath his touch, every press of his lips driving your crazy. It felt like your whole body was on fire, but something was still missing. “Jiminie...” You whined, unsure of what you were trying to voice but hoping he would be able to sate this fire he started.

��Shh.. I’ll take care of you.” He whispered against your stomach, reaching up to undo your shorts as he slowly peeled them down your legs and out of the way.

He bit his lip at the sight of the large wet spot forming on your underwear, cursing under his breathe as he cupped your heat. “So wet for me already? I’ve barely touched you.”

You covered your face in embarrassment, barely resisting the urge to ground yourself against his hand. Jimin had the ability to make you wet simply by staring at you, it was no wonder you were already so wet with the attention he was giving you. You were pretty sure you’ve been in a permanent state of arousal since your car ride here.

He chuckled, reaching up to pull your hands away from your face, “No hiding. I want to see your face when I taste you...” He ever so slowly began peeling your underwear down your legs, groaning at the sight of your arousal sticking to the fabric. “Shit, baby... your killing me. I wanna go slow, I really do but...” He trailed his middle finger down your slit collecting your arousal, “Your so fucking wet.”

He used your slick to rub circles on your clit, eliciting a moan from your lips as you arched against his ministrations. You’d never felt so turned on before, with just a single touch he was already driving you crazy and you couldn’t explain it.

“Does that feel good baby?” He craved your praise, needed to hear it from your lips. “Tell me how you feel...” He whispered, leaning down to take your clit into his mouth he began sucking lightly as his hands gripped your thighs to pry your legs further apart for him to lay between them.

You moaned loudly, “Jimin! Oh my god.. that feels amazing! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t believe the words escaping your mouth, you had never been one for dirty talk and yet here you were, egging him on.

Suddenly he was attacking you with gusto at your praise, his tongue sliding between your folds thrusting into your aching core. His fingers digging into your flesh as he lapped at your arousal letting none go to waste, he groaned his approval the vibrations sending another jolt of pleasure through your body.

You suddenly felt a pressure build up in your stomach unlike anything you’d experienced before, your whole body tensing up as you fought whatever was happening.

Jimin’s hand moved from your thigh to your hand, fingers weaving through yours comfortingly. “Don’t fight it baby, just let it happen.” He gave one last lingering lick to your center before sucking your clit back into his mouth as he slowly pushed his middle finger into your pussy.

Your walls immediately squeezed his finger as he lapped at your clit, letting you become accustom to the feeling before sliding a second finger inside. Once he felt you loosen he angled his fingers, pressing down against that rough spot with with ease.

You squirmed, trying in vain to squeeze your legs shut against the sensation, “Shit! Jimin!!” Swiftly covering your mouth in embarrassment at your outburst, Jimin however just giggled in response obviously happy at your comment.

He began thrusting his fingers in and out, hitting that rough patch with each motion as his tongue licked along your lips before coming back to flick at your clit. Your hips naturally started rocking against his face and hands, squeezing his fingers deep inside you.

Everything he was doing was feeling unbelievably amazing, the pressure you had felt before was slowly spiraling, a pleasant tingling sensation causing your toes to curl.

All at once his pace increased, applying even more pressure than before with each thrust. Your back arched off the bed as you felt the pressure build up inside of you like nothing before, “Jimin!” You screamed his name, suddenly unsure.

“Let go baby..” He nipped at your clit taking it into his mouth sucking deeply just as his fingers curled applying deep pressure to your g spot.

Then all at once that damn was breaking causing you to scream out his name in pleasure. A rush of arousal gushed from your core coating his face as he lapped at the liquid with a growl of approval. Your whole body tingled as you went tense, light tremors causing your arms and legs to tremble occasionally.

Once you finally came back down it was to Jimin’s soft kitten licks at your clit, you inched back from the overstimulation only to realize his fingers were still softly thrusting inside of you as well. You whimpered, pushing at his head between your legs, “Jiminie...”

He sucked gently once more on your clit, never stopping his fingers movements, “You can do one more for me, can’t you baby girl?” His hot breathe fanned your arousal once again as you slowly felt the overstimulation give way to pleasure once more.

“I don’t know... I’ve never done that before...” You moaned quietly, to which he moaned in return, taking great pleasure in knowing he was the first to make you squirt like that. Ever so slowly he slid a third finger inside of you, curling them again just right to rub at that patch inside you that gave you so much pleasure.

“I can feel it... right here, its still full.” He smirked, applying the slightest pressure against your g spot where he could feel more fluid just waiting to come out. You moaned in reply, thrusting up against his palm as he ground it down into your clit.

He had his response then, all at once his fingers moved again at lightening speed pressing harder and harder against your g spot with each thrust. He moved from between your legs, never stopping his pace he kissed you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

“Does it feel good? Are you gonna cum again Y/N?” He egged you on, grinding your clit against his palm as his other hand moved to cup your breast over your shirt, altering between squeezing and tweaking your nipple through the rough fabric of your bra.

He whimpered as you noticed he’d begun thrusting his hard bulge against your side. You brazenly reached down to help him relieve some of the pressure, grabbing his dick through his shorts. You were shocked to find your fingers could barely wrap around it, he was a lot bigger than you would have ever guessed.

He groaned, encouraging you as he thrust into your hand that was sliding up and down his length, “Fuck, Y/N.. faster.” You started moving faster at his request as he increased the speed of his fingers to mimic you. You both raced towards your release quickly. This being your second you hadn’t expected it to crash into you even harder than the first one, you screamed, your body going taunt at the rivets of cum escaped your body seemed never ending, soaking his body and your sheets below.

Jimin collapsed against you, allowing his full weight to rest against your side as he tried to catch his breathe. He has never cum that hard before in his life, and he hadn't even been inside you. He could only imagine the pleasure it would bring to finally complete this bond.

You lay like that for a while trying to to catch your breathe. Once Jimin recovered he quickly made his way to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth. You winced slightly when he made a move to clean you up, “Sorry, I hope I wasn’t too rough on you.” He whispered, trying to be as careful as possible.

You giggled, feeling suddenly shy, “I’m alright... that was amazing actually, I’ve never.. well, you know..” You motioned towards the sheets which would obviously have to be washed, “Done that before.”

You felt your face heat up at the comment. Squirt Y/N, just say it... he had made you squirt. Something you had thought was like the unicorn of sex so to speak. Something you thought honestly was entirely made up by to fuel porn movies.

Jimin smiled proudly, grabbing a blanket from the closet to cover you up as he snuggled beside you in bed. “Well, I’m afraid this comforter is done for.”

⇠ Previous | Next ⇢

I hope that was decent, its been a while since I’ve written an oral scene so I might be a tad rusty!

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vaiztohirez · 3 months ago

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How does magnetism work?

I will. Do my best. I did decently in AP physics in high school but I haven't really touched it since then except through chemistry, so it's been a while.

So atoms are arranged something like this, give or take, yeah? There's the protons (red) and neutrons (black) in the center, and the electrons (yellow) flying all over the place.

Ignore my cursor. We've designated that protons are positively charged, and electrons are negatively charged. Atoms are considered to have no charge when they have the same number of protons and electrons, but electrons are a bit free wheeling, they go all over the place.

There are some numbers of electrons that are more stable than others, so things aren't always at no charge. You'll have materials that have more electrons than protons overall and those will be positively charged, and some things will have more electrons than protons overall and be negatively charged. Electrons will naturally move to either the more balanced configurations I mentioned earlier, and/or they'll move to attempt to even out the charge between two objects. This is more or less how electricity works. It's very related to magnetism.

I'm relatively sure that magnetic fields are the result of this movement of electrons. Similar charges repel each other, and opposite charges attract each other. That's why electrons will try to move to create net zero charge, like I mentioned above. This attraction and repulsion is greatly affected by distance and number of protons/electrons involved, which is why you get a magnetic field.

#I forgot to keep drawing partway through but I think that's an okay explanation?#might be unintelligible though #hopefully I didn't get things wrong that would be embarrassing #science #ask game

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joezworld · 1 year ago

Text

Traintober day 25

Hey guys,

I know I said I wasn't going to really participate in this year's traintober, but I ended up writing something over the last few weeks and figured I'd post it here. I'm a freelance contributor to Trains.com, the web arm of Trains Magazine, (you can read my IRL work here) and I wrote this for that. However, they have a maximum of about 4,000 words for print and 600-1,000 words for web, and this is past 7,000. So even if it makes it into print, it's not going to in its original form. So I'm giving it to you guys. Everything you're about to read is real. There's even an NTSB report on it.

Negligence and Gravity: The Story of a Train Wreck

Prologue

November 17, 1980

Cima, California - a barely inhabited place on a barely used road. A one horse town where the horse had run off. It sits at the intersection of two empty roads, with nothing to show for it but a general store-slash-post office. A true speck on the map, it likely would have been abandoned long ago had it not been for the presence of the Union Pacific Railroad, which sent dozens of trains each day past the ramshackle post office. Many trains rolled right on by, but more and more stopped, checking their brakes, cooling their wheels, or manually setting air brake retainers on each car of their trains.

They did so with good reason; stretching out beyond the post office towards the west, and paralleling the only main road, was a railroad line some twenty miles long. Part of the UP California subdivision that stretches from Las Vegas to Yermo, and then on to Los Angeles, it descends two thousand and six feet between Cima and Kelso, another barely-there town in the California desert. It was and still is one of the steepest portions of the Union Pacific system - accounting for curves and uneven geography, the UP considered the line to be a sustained 2.20% gradient. Any train that exceeded certain weight, braking force, or locomotive limitations was required to stop at Cima, and manually set brake retainers, before continuing down the hill.

As the clock ticked towards 1:50 in the afternoon, three trains entered this tale much like characters in a Shakespearean tragedy.

On the southern passing track is a long grain train, Extra 3135 West. 73 hoppers trail behind a lashup of SD40s, with dash-2 model 3135 on point. The air above the locomotives shimmers and ripples as heat from the motors, exhaust vents, and dynamic brake blisters radiates off into the mild November air.

In the center, a van train rolls past. The train, officially known as both 2-VAN-16 and Extra 8044 West, slows but doesn’t stop as it reaches the summit. Union Pacific has deemed this train capable of descending the grade with no extra precaution, and with good reason. Five locomotives are leashed to the front of this 49 car merchandise train, four SD40-2s trailing behind UP 6946 - the youngest member of the road’s 47-strong class of beastly 6,600 horsepower DDA40Xs. It’s an 8-axle titan in its last months of regular operation, with almost two million miles under its belt. The hot air from Extra 3135 mixes and whirls with the exhaust from the van train as it rolls by, the slab sides of the hoppers amplifying the bangs and squeals from 49 autoracks and piggyback flats. The noise increases as the train nears the end of the yard, the dynamic brakes already coming online as the train crests the summit. The engineer gives a blast from the horn as he passes the head end of the stopped trains, and then the van train is on its way down the hill. The caboose clears the track circuit at the far end of the passing sidings, and recedes into the distance. Within a few minutes the train is a distant shimmer as it snakes its way down the hill, an 8 million dollar steel serpent, bound for the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles.

Finally, there is the train on the northern passing siding. Extra 3119 West is not like the other two - there aren’t four or five locomotives hitched to a gargantuan train, one that stretches into the distance for a thousand feet or more. Instead, there’s a short consist of twenty cars, sandwiched between a single locomotive and a caboose. The cars are piled high with crossties, almost 11,000 of them, urgently needed by a tie gang at Yermo. So urgently, in fact, that if it hadn’t needed to stop and pin down its brakes, this lowly work train would’ve been rolling down the hill ahead of the high-priority van train.

Extra 3119 West, headed by the SD40 of the same number, has been in Cima for just under half an hour. In that time the crew had applied all the brake retainers, checked for defects, and otherwise readied their train for the descent into Kelso. Stopping meant that they’d be following the van train the whole way down, and so once the van train had gotten sufficiently small in the distance, the radio crackles. It’s dispatch, asking quite insistently if they were ready to go. They were, the engineer replies, and without any more to-do, the switch clunks into place, and the signal goes green. A double blast on the horn heralds the train’s departure, followed by the quiet squeal of brake shoes on steel wheels. There is no increased engine noise from the dynamic brakes. The train slips onto the main line, speed increasing slowly. By the time the caboose enters the main line, things are already going disastrously wrong.

Shortly thereafter, Extra 3135 powers up its train and descends the hill in a much more controlled fashion. Silence falls over Cima.

Negligence

November 13, 1980

The tale of negligence started three days earlier, at the Union Pacific tie plant in The Dalles, Oregon. Nestled in the valley of the Columbia River, The Dalles is nowadays best known for being the site of the worst bioterrorism attack in the United States, when members of the Rajneeshee religious organization poisoned several local restaurants with Salmonella in an attempt to influence local election turnout. However, that event is still four years into the future at this point, and the big news items in town are the May renumbering of Interstate 80N to I-84, and the March eruption of Mount St. Helens, some 65 miles away.

The Union Pacific tie plant, located between the west side of town and the newly-renumbered I-84, received an urgent order: 20 cars of 9-foot ties, urgently needed in Yermo, California. A mechanized tie gang working in the high desert is running low. Any delay will mean millions of dollars in wasted man-hours. The ties, estimated to number between 10 and 11 thousand, were hurriedly loaded into a series of F-70-1 bulkhead flatcars, modified for crosstie carriage with the addition of steel stakes down each side to prevent shifting. In addition to the 20 cars for Yermo, another group of 5 F-70-1s were being loaded with lighter 8-foot yard ties for renewal elsewhere on the California Subdivision. Inside the plant office, waybills for the 25 cars are being filled out, by hand. One of the most routine and mundane portions of loading railcars, the staff at the tie plant had made strides to simplify their workload; each waybill had been pre-filled with a seemingly appropriate weight figure: “about 60,000 pounds,” done in neat typewritten letters. This saved time, as it meant that tie cars didn’t have to be weighed, and exact quantities of loaded ties did not have to be known. Simple addition of this number to the known light weight of an F-70-1 flatcar (80,000 pounds), gave an estimated weight of 140,000 pounds per car. To the staff of the tie plant, complacent and ignorant, this seemed reasonable. They couldn’t know, because they didn’t want to, that the average per car weight of the 20 cars for Yermo was over 200,000 pounds.

November 17, 1980

“Urgent” might have been an understatement, when describing the journey these cars took. It took three days for the 25 flatbeds and their thousands of crossties to travel 1,260 miles across the Union Pacific system. They rolled into Las Vegas just before 1 AM on a manifest train; somehow, despite leaving The Dalles as a single block, a car containing beer had been inserted into the middle, with fifteen cars on one side and ten on the other. The how and why did not matter to the Las Vegas yard crews, who had been informed of the expedited nature of this train. Within minutes, the 26 cars had been taken off the manifest and were being shoved against a caboose that was already waiting. A third shift yard crew made quick work of the beer car and the five cars containing yard ties, but “disaster” struck when it was discovered that the caboose’s electrical system was non-functional. Somehow, despite having a major rail yard at their disposal, no other caboose could be found, and the issue could not be remedied. UP regulations forbade trains from running without rear lights between sundown and sun-up, so the highly expedited train was suddenly forced to cool its heels in the yard until lighting conditions improved.

With the delay, the new crew was scheduled to go on-duty at 8:05 AM, but just twenty minutes before, at 7:45, the Terminal Superintendent was informed that actually, the third shift crew had accidentally cut out the wrong cars - five cars of the 9-foot ties, not the five cars of 8-foot ties - and Extra 3119 West was about to set off with the wrong load. He responded with the unbelievable phrase of “Ties are ties”, and refused to have the incorrect cars set out, before reversing his decision some minutes later. While no other quotes are attributed to him in the subsequent NTSB report, his insistence on having the nearest yard crew drop what they were doing and fix the issue while he personally inspected the re-switching of the train speaks volumes on his mood at the time.

Not that he was of any help. During this frenzied switching, one car of 8-foot ties remained in the train. Its number - UP 913035 - was confused with another flatcar in the train - UP 913015. While minor in the overall sense, this slip-up shows exactly how quickly Las Vegas yard was working to get Extra 3119 West to its destination. When the train was finally ready, there were 19 cars of 9-foot ties behind locomotive 3119, and one car of 8-foot ties. As a car inspector was found, the final lading documents and waybills were presented to the engineer and conductor. Based on the flawed math of the tie plant, the train should have weighed 1,421.25 tons, however the final waybill read 1,495 tons exactly. Aside from being incorrect even against the tie plant’s figures, this weight was exactly five tons less than an internal UP tonnage/horsepower ratio that would determine whether or not the train would have to stop at Cima to apply brake retainers - with a 3,000 HP SD40, the train could not exceed 1,500 tons without incurring serious delays.

Based on the actual weight of a standard crosstie, and estimating how many were on the train, it’s likely that the train exceeded 2,000 tons.

It was customary for two car inspectors to check each departing train for defects and perform a brake test, however on the morning of the 17th, only one was available. Allegedly, he did his job and applied all due diligence, however it must be noted that no one who saw him conduct the test or the inspection lived to tell about it. Considering the haste in which the train was switched, the almost 8 hour delay due to the electrical problems in the caboose, and the close attention from the Las Vegas terminal superintendent, it’s possible that he rushed the job.

Actually, it’s certain that he rushed the job. Investigation of the wreckage would show that over half of the F-70-1 flatcars on Extra 3119 West had brakes that either only partially functioned, or did not function at all. At least three had their brakes cut out altogether. A proper inspection would have revealed that these cars were in a deplorable state of repair, with braking systems that could only be relied on for moral support, and in some cases not even that. But that would have taken time, time that the Union Pacific did not have, or rather, time that the UP did not want to spend.

Since 1979, the railroad had been pushing yards to decrease dwell times on through trains - Las Vegas yard had been given explicit instructions in writing that many high priority trains were to be given a minimal inspection, and were to be on their way again in 15 minutes. Later in the day when 2-VAN-16 arrived in Las Vegas, the head end crew noted that the train had been subject to an abbreviated inspection and air test, essentially rubber-stamping their train, and every other train that came through the yard.

So the inspector cleared Extra 3119 West, because he did know - he knew how much work would need to be done, how long it would take, how long it was supposed to take, and how much trouble he’d likely be in if he brought up the train’s condition.

Finally, at 10:00 AM, over 8 hours since it was supposed to depart, Extra 3119 left Las Vegas. Being technically a maintenance of way train, its crew was pulled from the extra board. While these men weren’t inept, one would be hard-pressed to find a less experienced crew on any road train that day:

David Totten, the engineer, had been with the railroad since 1974, but he had only been qualified as an engineer since January of 1979. Noted as a stickler for rules, and a capable railroader, he completed the relevant tests with a 96% score. However his road experience was limited - he’d only descended the grade from Cima 27 times in the last four and a half months.

Alan Branson, the conductor, had been with the company since 1973, but as a switchman in Los Angeles. He’d only been at his current position since April, at which time he was transferred to the Las Vegas extra board.

Cecil Faucett, the rear brakeman, had been with Union Pacific since June of 1978. He’d spent most of his time as a switchman in Los Angeles, and had only transferred to Las Vegas road service in February.

Wallace Dastrup, the head brakeman, had been with Union Pacific since May of 1979. After being briefly furloughed and transferred to Los Angeles, he was sent back to Las Vegas in late October of that year.

The oldest man on this crew was Engineer Totten, who was 31. Head brakeman Dastrup was the youngest, at just 22 years old.

Leaving Las Vegas, the trip proceeded normally, with the 3119 providing enough power to bring the train up the 1.00% grade that led from Las Vegas to Erie, Nevada at a steady 20-25 miles per hour. Behind them, separated by time and distance, were Extras 3135 and 8044 West. 3135, with a top speed of 50, left at 10:20, while 8044 (2-VAN-16), left at 12:05. It had a top speed of 70, and would easily catch up to the slower grain train at Cima. If Extra 3119 West had been any other train, it would likely have been profiled to wait in Cima as well, but on this day, the Van train would be following Alan Branson’s caboose all the way to Yermo.

Meanwhile, onboard the 3119, engineer Totten was discovering that his day was not going to go as planned. As the train descended the 1.00% grade outside of Erie, he discovered that the locomotive’s dynamic brakes were not functioning. This meant that the train would have to rely solely on its air brakes for the entire journey to Yermo - a daunting task considering the grade at Cima.

Union Pacific regulations explicitly ordered trains without dynamic brakes to stop at Cima and apply retainers, to maintain a speed of no more than 15 miles per hour, and to stop at the passing siding at Dawes - another speck on the map halfway down the hill - to cool not just the brakes, but the train wheels themselves.

Totten was known to be a stickler for the rules, and so he informed dispatch as he descended the grade out of Erie. Without comment, the Salt Lake City based dispatcher encoded the traffic control computer to put Extra 3119 West into the siding at Cima. At no point was there any mention of finding another engine for the train, or any other means of fixing the situation en-route.

The dispatcher, who wanted to know as little as possible, didn’t care.

The train rattled into Cima at 1:29, and Totten balanced it atop the summit, a location about 1,100 feet from the end of the siding. Boots were on the ground as soon as the train stopped moving, with Faucett and Branson moving up the train from the caboose, manually setting the brake retainers on the F-70-1 flatbeds to the high pressure position one at a time. The air was cool, only 62 degrees, and it was slightly overcast - a far cry from the soaring summertime temperatures this part of the state could reach.

As they worked, Extra 3135 arrived. It didn’t rattle so much as it rumbled - 75 loaded grain hoppers slightly shaking the earth as the two men worked. They probably didn’t envy the crew on that train; setting 75 retainer valves, and the long walk from each end of the train to reach them, was a daunting task.

It didn’t take long to set the retainers - at the halfway point of the train, they met head end brakeman Dastrup, who had been working his way down the train as they worked up it. He reported no defects on the head end of the train, and neither did the rear crew. They didn’t know - couldn’t have known - about the abysmal state of the flatcars; they were looking for dragging objects and hissing air leaks, and found none. Their portion of the job done, Faucett and Branson moved back down the train, leaving Dastrup to work his way back to the locomotive. It would be the last time that he was ever seen alive.

Shortly thereafter, the train began to move, engineer Totten moving the train onto the downgrade at the end of the siding to wait for the clear signal. At this point, they were waiting on the Van train coming up behind them, and then they’d be home free. In the caboose, Faucett glanced at the brake line pressures and observed nothing unusual. In the cab of the 3119, Totten was likely readying himself for the downgrade. Without dynamics, it would be a challenging descent, but the air brakes should be able to hold the train without much difficulty.

He had no idea that half his cars had non-functional brakes.

He had no idea that the train was overloaded.

He had no idea what was about to happen to him.

Inside the cab of Extra 3135 West, the engineer watched as 2-VAN-16 slipped by with muted alacrity. Across the main line from him, the short work train got ready to depart as soon as the switch aligned. He’d be next, and he readied himself as the other train rolled onto the main line. It built speed quickly, and soon entered the main as his watch clicked over to 1:59 PM. A few minutes later, his turn came, and the signal flashed to green. He powered up his lashup of SD40s, and the train slowly began to descend the grade in full dynamic.

“I keep setting air and it won’t slow down!”

Inside 2-VAN-16, the engineer began paying less and less attention to the tracks in front of him, and more attention to the radio beside him. 3119 West was having some difficulties with its braking - already a concern for any railroader, but considering that this was the train directly behind him, an elevated level of concern was prudent.

In the caboose of Extra 3119 West, the brakes applied as the train rolled past 17 MPH, and were not released again.

2.9 miles behind Extra 3119 West, in the cab of UP 3135, the engineer of the grain train could see both trains ahead of him: the distant speck of 2-VAN-16, some 7 miles away, and the work train in front of him. “That looks like it’s smoking,” he remarked to his brakeman. The two men looked into the distance; as the work train passed Chase, another former town on the UP line, it appeared to be smoking heavily - far too heavily for the short distance from the summit it had traveled.

On the few F-70-1 flatbeds that possessed functioning brakes, the wheelsets began to heat up dramatically. The brake shoes began to abrade from 2,000 tons of train pushing against them.

The Van train had cleared the passing track at Dawes, and was about 5 miles ahead of Extra 3119.

Inside the caboose of Extra 3119, the speedometer needle swung past 19 MPH. It was rising at a rate of 1.6 MPH every minute.

Things began to happen very quickly. The time was 2:14 PM

Following behind the smoking train, the head end crew of Extra 3135 West watched as the signal light at the east end of Chase went red-yellow-green like a slot machine. The only way for that to happen was for a train to pass through both the western home signal, and the western intermediate signal, at a rapid clip.

“I have 30 pounds of engine brakes!”

Inside the caboose, Faucett and Branson looked at the radio in horror as the speed continued to increase. They’d driven faster than this on their way into work, but now 20 MPH felt terrifying. As they flew through Chase, Branson remembered his training, still fresh in his mind, grabbed hold of the caboose air valve, and put the train into emergency. He heard the brakes come on under his feet and assumed, naively, that they’d just applied throughout the entire train. He had no idea that the brakes would only apply across the entire train if Engineer Totten had the train in emergency as well. He had no idea that by putting the train into emergency while a substantial service brake application was being made, he was causing a pressure relief valve inside the 3119 to continuously open, to try and restore pressure in the train. He had no idea that Union Pacific, in a cost-saving measure, had elected not to equip its SD40s with a brake pressure warning light that could have alerted Totten to what had just happened. He had no idea that UP’s driver training called for engineers to continue to make service brake applications in the event of a loss of braking, instead of immediately putting the train into emergency from the locomotive. He had no idea that putting the locomotive into emergency was the only way to override the pressure relief system.

He had no idea that by trying to save the train, he’d sealed its fate.

Union Pacific rules required the conductor to put the train into emergency if a situation like this occurred. They did not require the conductor to call the head end and inform the engineer. In his panic, and going off of instinct, Alan Branson frantically ran to the front of the caboose to try and uncouple it. He would not make a radio call for the rest of the trip down the mountain.

With half the train in emergency, and the relief valve drawing air away from the few brakes that worked, Extra 3119 West began falling down the mountain.

Gravity

The story of gravity begins in the cab of the van train, still some five miles ahead. As the engineer kept his attention on keeping his train in line, the radio issued forth the latest news on the disaster unfolding behind them. “I’ve made a full service application, and it’s not slowing down. We’re going about 25 and still speeding up!”

In the cab of an eastbound train, waiting for its chance to climb the grade out of Kelso, the dispatcher’s lackadaisical response could be heard easily. “So you’re not going to be able to stop at Dawes?”

“No. I don’t think we can stop at all.”

The dispatcher said nothing in response.

In the cab of the Van train, the engineer realized exactly what was going to happen. He began notching back the train brakes, and slowly throttling down the dynamics to idle. With one hand on the radio and one on the throttle, he slowly began advancing the throttle even as he called for permission to exceed his 25 MPH speed limit.

The permission he was given would be the last time that the dispatcher offered any meaningful help during the runaway. There was no talk of programming the switches at Dawes to allow the Van train shelter, to offer the four men aboard their one chance at safety. Instead, the dispatcher, hundreds of miles away in Salt Lake City, sat back to watch the chaos unfold, seemingly believing there was nothing he could do to help.

Two minutes later, at 2:17 PM, the two trains were still separated by five miles. 2-VAN-16 was just clearing the west end of the passing track at Dawes.

Four minutes later, and Extra 3119 was screaming through Dawes at 62.5 MPH.

5 miles ahead, 2-VAN-16 was running for its life, all five locomotives running flat out in full throttle. For now they had the edge, but they were trying to outrun gravity. All they could hope for was that the rolling resistance of the runaway would eventually cause it to stop accelerating.

Three minutes later, and false hope reared its ugly head. Accelerating at a “phenomenal” rate, the speedometer inside the 3119 reached 80 miles an hour and pegged itself there. David Totten, who had been broadcasting his train’s terrifying plunge down the hill over the open radio channel, had no idea that the needle was incapable of indicating a number higher than that.

As his train raced towards destiny, Engineer Totten kept relaying the same false information: “80! We’re doing 80!”

Inside the cab of the 6946, this incorrect information alleviated some worry - if 3119 was topping out at 80, it was possible to use the Van train’s nearly 19,000 horsepower to simply outrun the runaway - once they got past Kelso, at this point a short distance away, the grade lessened to 1%, and the force of gravity decreased.

Then there was an alarm blaring in the cab, and the train began to slow down as they roared into Kelso, the engine RPMs dropping suddenly, horrifyingly. They’d tripped the DDA40X’s overspeed sensor as they passed 75 MPH, and the entire train began to shut down on them. Chaos reigned in the cab for a minute, as the engineer frantically canceled the alert, managed to avoid the penalty brake application, and brought the train back up to full power. Their speed dipped all the way down to 68 before they began accelerating again.

It’s not known what was going on inside the caboose of the Van train, but the 3119, smoke and sparks flying from its wheels, must have been visible behind them.

Kelso

The station at Kelso was a tired, yet gorgeous, Spanish Colonial Revival structure located on the north side of the tracks. For a generation it had been a bustling hive of UP crews; a locomotive watering hole and a depot for eastbound helpers. The advent of diesel locomotives, and the elimination of manned helpers on Cima hill had resulted in the station becoming a shell of its former self. The only ties to its former past was the lunch counter, which still served hot meals and cool drinks to the town’s few dozen residents, and the skeleton UP crews stationed at this depot, so far into the desert that not even TV signals could reach it.

On the lunch counter, a cup of coffee cooled, its drinker nowhere in sight. Anyone and everyone who had been in the station were now outside, standing under the trees that lined the old platform, obscuring the station from sight. A few more were on the other side, standing near the MoW sidings on the south side. Further west, beyond the Kelbaker road level crossing, the crew of an eastbound freight waited in “the hole”, their eyes transfixed on the spot in the middle distance where the rails gently curved into view from behind the trees.

The radio continued to issue David Totten’s cool, calm, and collected reports of 80 MPH. With the train out of sight, it sounded like things may end with everyone walking away, but those listening closely heard his reports of an ever-shrinking distance between his locomotive and the caboose of the Van train and shivered.

The blare of a horn sounded, echoing across the desert. A second horn, almost as loud as the first, soon followed, a long continuous noise that would continue for some time, like the seventh trumpet of the apocalypse.

The broad nose of the DDA40X came first, the Van train rocking and rolling behind it as it charged forward. All five locomotives were in notch 8, the sextet of EMD 645 prime movers throwing up huge clouds of exhaust as they ran for everything they were worth. The horn sounded for the crossing, and then the train was past them, 49 high sided autoracks and TOFC cars whipping past with an almighty roar that was over almost as soon as it began.

The caboose zipped past the eastbound in a flash of Armor Yellow, and was gone into the distance. The blaring horn kept sounding, and heads that had turned to follow the Van train turned back to face the east.

They waited ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty.

It’s entirely possible that nobody in the crowd had ever seen a train move as fast as Extra 3119 West.

It’s entirely possible that Extra 3119 West was at that moment the fastest train in North America.

With a thunderous roar not unlike a building collapse, the train streaked through the station, horn blaring continuously. It trailed a cloud of dust in its wake like a comet; the wind its passage created roared through the lineside trees, sending dead branches and leaves flying.

In the cab of the eastbound, the head end crew became the last people to see David Totten alive. He was sitting upright in his seat, calm and collected as though he wasn’t moments away from death, his radio handset in front of his face. He disappeared from sight almost as soon as he’d appeared, and the rest of the train followed. The F-70-1 flatbeds came and went in a flash, and the caboose followed, a barely visible blur of yellow and red.

Heads turned so quickly that they strained necks. The horn echoed off the station building and the waiting eastbound, a receding roar as the train very rapidly got smaller and smaller in the distance. Within moments the only trace of the runaway train was David Totten’s voice, issuing from the radio his final reports. He became a ghost who hasn’t realized that he’s dead.

Less than one minute later, the train screamed past the hotbox detector at milepost 233.9, less than two miles distant. It isn’t known whether or not the detector actually found a defect with the train. It could have passed by so quickly that a proper reading couldn’t be taken, it could have still been calling out the speed and condition of the fleeing van train, or possibly it couldn’t handle a number that high; when the train eventually came to a stop, investigators found that the wheels on the flatcars with functioning brakes had reached anywhere from 400 to 800 degrees fahrenheit. The wheels on the locomotive had reached almost one thousand.

What was detected though, was the train’s speed. As the caboose ripped past the steel box mounted on the lineside, the warbling call of the detector - voiced by Majel Barrett-Roddenberry of Star Trek fame - gave a chilling indication of just how wrong David Totten was.

“… TRAIN SPEED: ONE ONE TWO …”

Inside the cab of engine 6946, madness was in full swing. A terrible cacophony of noises filled the cabin: All five locomotives were in notch 8, the wind whistled into the cab from worn seals, and the 50 cars behind them banged and rocked as they exceeded their designed top speeds. They were approaching 75 again as they leaned into the curve just outside of Kelso. The big Centennial didn’t like that - its huge, single cast 4-axle trucks groaned and popped in horrifying fashion as it screeched through the curve, wheels just fractions of an inch from leaping over the top of the rail. The rigid wheelsets clung to the tracks by just a hair - ironically, if the overspeed warning hadn’t tripped when it did, the 6946 would’ve likely leapt from the rails here, going into the hole at 80 plus, killing everyone in the locomotive, while leaving the rear-end crew exposed to the runaway, traveling at well over 110 into a stationary target.

On the topic of the overspeed alarm, it was being dealt with - the head end brakeman was waging war against the locomotive’s internals, prying open the cabinet holding the speed recorder, before physically interrupting the travel of the needle, breaking the instrument in the process.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and there was not a more desperate time than this; as the train rounded the curve, the Extra 3119 West could be seen clearly, moving faster than should have been possible. Their only hope for survival would be if they derailed on the curve that almost took out the Centennial, but it was not to be; the train screamed round the corner with less than thirty seconds of time separating the pilot of the engine from the back porch of the caboose.

Inside the caboose of 2-VAN-16, the rear end crew frantically tore cushions off of seats and wrapped them around themselves, as if that might hold off a rampaging locomotive. Hopefully they had time to make their peace with God.

The van train kept going. If the overspeed alarm hadn’t cut off the power when it did, and if they then didn’t derail on the curve west of Kelso, it’s possible that they could have outrun it. Extra 3119 West could have derailed, slowed, or perhaps just melted its wheels off, bringing the chase to an end.

But the overspeed alarm had cut in, and so the meeting of the two trains was made destiny by the forces of gravity, and the laws of physics. It was inevitable.

At 2:29 PM, 30 minutes and 23.2 miles since they set off from Cima, and 14 minutes and 18.5 miles since Conductor Branson had put the train into emergency, Extra 3119 West collided with 2-VAN-16. The runaway was traveling at approximately 118 miles per hour, while the van train was doing 80 to 85.

This 38 mph closing speed was disastrous to those in the caboose of the Van train. Both porches were crushed in immediately, and the 3119 shoved the rear bulkhead in significantly. The impact then threw the caboose from the track, separating it from its trucks and sending it tumbling down the embankment. It eventually landed on its left side and slid to a stop in the shadow of the disaster. Inside, it was carnage - both men had been thrown about the car before landing on the floor. The rear brakeman would survive with what were assuredly life-altering injuries to his face and back, but the conductor was not as fortunate, suffering mortal wounds to most of his body as he was tossed about the cabin. He would die inside the caboose within minutes.

On the train, the first collision was probably weathered by the 3119. The next three, less so. The rear three freight cars on 2-VAN-16 were triple level autoracks, each fully loaded with 15 or more automobiles. After impacting the caboose and throwing it from the rails, the locomotive continued forward, colliding again with the van train, and throwing the first autorack off the rails. After that, the process repeated for the second one, sending it flying down the embankment.

It was the third autorack that struck home. With the closing speed lowering with each successive crash, and without an anti-climber on the 3119, the autorack rode over the frame of the SD40, stripping the carbody from the frame like a filet knife.

David Totten and Wallace Dastrup were thrown from the cab as their locomotive ceased to exist around them. They landed on the desert floor, already dead from massive internal injuries. The 3119 would remain upright, and eventually came to a stop the quarters of a mile down the track, with everything missing above the frame except the prime mover and alternator.

The F-70-1s were thrown around like toys, flying off the tracks like they’d been cast aside by an angry god. Their wheel assemblies were disassembled into their component parts by the force of the derailment, followed by the cars themselves. The ties were next, flying through the air like javelins, before landing on the ground in clouds of dust, dirt, and splinters.

Finally, the caboose came to a stop. It and the last three cars remained upright, albeit derailed. Inside, Alan Branson and Cecil Faucett patted themselves down, unbelieving that they’d lived through the day.

The incredible speeds the runaway reached, and the tragic deaths of three men, triggered a full NTSB investigation. Swarming over the wreckage like flies on a corpse, they recovered a trove of evidence - the locomotive, its brakes abraded and wheels metallurgically altered after reaching almost a thousand degrees. On the ground they found throttle levers, brake controls, the locomotive data recorder, and the air brake valve, all normal in function. The destruction among the flat cars was so total that only 32 of 160 brake shoes, and 78 wheels were recovered. Of both of these, well over half showed no signs of overheating or abrasion, as if they’d never been applied. The rest showed evidence of extreme over-use, as they tried and failed to hold back the train.

The evidence thus far was concerning, to say the least. A train with no dynamics should have been able to make it down the hill… if it had working brakes. If it truly weighed what the waybill said it did.

The NTSB organized a test train shortly thereafter. They salvaged portions of the ill-fated train, including the last three flatbeds and 9,695 of the ties that had been scattered along the lineside. They gathered 17 more F-70-1 flatbeds - between this test train and the wreck, most of the railroad’s 55-strong fleet was involved in the investigation - and loaded them up, before hauling the train back up the long hill to Las Vegas. There, Union Pacific did everything they didn’t do for Extra 3119 West:

They weighed the train on the yard’s scale, and found that even with 1,000 fewer ties, the train still clocked in at a gargantuan 1,948.25 tons.

They inspected the train, and found that of the 20 cars, 16 of them had some kind of brake malfunction. Ten had partial brake function, while six had none at all. The three cars salvaged from the wreck train were included in the former group.

For two whole days, with NTSB investigators watching on, crews from the Las Vegas car department labored frantically in the winter sun to remedy the train's numerous faults. Remember that the single inspector on November 17th had been given scarcely 15 minutes.

When the test train was finally made operable, Union Pacific sent it down the mountain using only the train’s air brakes. They probably thought quite highly of themselves when the train reached Kelso safely, however the specifics of that test were dramatically different than the events of the 17th. To start, the 20 F-70-1s were probably in the best mechanical condition they’d been in for years, thanks to the train being properly inspected. This meant that when the test train descended the hill, it did so with all 160 brake shoes pressing against the wheels.

Furthering the point, the brake shoes were aided by a skilled hand at the controls - Union Pacific, so eager to prove that a train could make it to the bottom of the Cima grade entirely under air brakes, had pulled a highly experienced road supervisor out of retirement to run the test train. Again, remember that David Totten had been an engineer for just shy of two years.

As the investigation dragged on, further evidence came to light: UP’s training for engineers prioritized the use of dynamic brakes, and paid comparatively little attention to running a train with only air brakes down a grade. In fact, the railroad paid so little attention to air brakes that it was found that the UP’s rules regarding steep grades such as the one in Cima were laxer than any other railroad in the country, and were so lax that they fell afoul of the FRA’s minimum requirements for air brake regulations.

With this in mind, the fact that the railroad’s own rules had created a series of unsafe situations for crews seems totally unsurprising: applying the emergency brake from the caboose, not informing the head end if the emergency brakes are applied, and having engineers keep making service brake applications instead of applying emergency braking, were all the wrong moves to make in a situation like the one that happened to Extra 3119 West. A new crew like David Totten, Alan Branson, Wallace Dastrup, and Cecil Faucett, all fairly fresh from their training and relatively inexperienced, followed that training all the way to the end, because they thought it would save them.

In the end, the NTSB found that the accident was caused by a variety of factors: UP’s poor maintenance and inspection practices, inadequate training of train crews for hill duties, the underestimation of loads at The Dalles tie plant, and the improper actions of the dispatcher on that day.

Poor maintenance, bad management, a nonexistent culture of safety, and lax training. These are all things that have plagued the railroad industry from day one. The NTSB can only recommend changes, not enforce them; they must rely on the railroads to make the fixes. Change training practices, create better rules, enforce higher maintenance standards - all basic tenets of safe railroading, yet still sorely needed.

So, has Union Pacific made those changes? Has this happened again?

In a very real sense, the answers can be yes, and no, spending on your outlook:

Since 1980 there have been two more runaways on the Cima grade, the most recent one in 2023, and the other in 1997. The circumstances of the two runaways differ - and in the case of the 2023 crash, haven’t yet been fully investigated - but the fact remains that Union Pacific once again allowed a 100+ MPH runaway down the hill not once, but twice. Furthermore, severe under-estimation of railcar loads has caused several other fatal accidents just within the LA Basin, most notably the 1989 Duffy Street wreck, when inaccurate knowledge of the weight of bulk trona and failing dynamic brakes sent a Southern Pacific freight train hurtling down Cajon Pass, and into a residential neighborhood.

However, on the Union Pacific at least, a greater respect for life and safety has been given in the years and decades since the accident. Neither inadequate dynamic brakes, nor improperly maintained brakes, have sent a train flying off the rails on the Cima Grade. The two subsequent accidents, while catastrophic, occurred without loss of life, making the 1980 runaway the last fatal crash on the hill.

Did David Totten, Wallace Dastrup, and the unidentified brakeman of 2-VAN-16 die in vain? Will their story be forgotten to the annals of railroading? Only time will tell.

#traintober #traintober 2023 #real world #real trains #trains #I'm actually not sure how to tag this

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 14 days ago

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Hera asteroid mission's CubeSat passengers signal home

The two CubeSat passengers aboard ESA's Hera mission for planetary defense have exchanged their first signals with Earth, confirming their nominal status. The pair were switched on to check out all their systems, marking the first operation of ESA CubeSats in deep space.

"Each CubeSat was activated for about an hour in turn, in live sessions with the ground to perform commissioning—what we call 'are you alive?' and 'stowed checkout' tests," explains ESA's Hera CubeSats Engineer Franco Perez Lissi.

"The pair are currently stowed within their Deep Space Deployers, but we were able to activate every onboard system in turn, including their platform avionics, instruments and the inter-satellite links they will use to talk to Hera, as well as spinning up and down their reaction wheels which will be employed for attitude control."

Launched on 7 October, Hera is ESA's first planetary defense mission, headed to the first solar system body to have had its orbit shifted by human action: the Dimorphos asteroid, which was impacted by NASA's DART spacecraft in 2022.

Traveling with Hera are two shoebox-sized "CubeSats" built up from standardized 10-cm boxes. These miniature spacecraft will fly closer to the asteroid than their mothership, taking additional risks to acquire valuable bonus data.

Juventas, produced for ESA by GOMspace in Luxembourg, will make the first radar probe within an asteroid. while Milani, produced for ESA by Tyvak International in Italy, will perform multispectral mineral prospecting.

he commissioning took place from ESA's ESOC mission control center in Darmstadt in Germany, linked in turn to ESEC, the European Space Security and Education Center, at Redu in Belgium. This site hosts Hera's CubeSat Mission Operations Center, from where the CubeSats will be overseen once they are flying freely in space.

Juventas was activated on 17 October, at 4 million km away from Earth, while Milani followed on 24 October, nearly twice as far at 7.9 million km away.

The distances involved meant the team had to put up with tense waits for signals to pass between Earth and deep space, involving a 32.6 second round-trip delay for Juventas and a 52 second round-trip delay for Milani.

"During this CubeSat commissioning, we have not only confirmed the CubeSat instruments and systems work as planned but also validated the entire ground command infrastructure," explains Sylvain Lodiot, Hera Operations Manager.

"This involves a complex setup where data are received here at the Hera Missions Operations Center at ESOC but telemetry also goes to the CMOC at Redu, overseen by a Spacebel team, passed in turn to the CubeSat Mission Control Centers of the respective companies, to be checked in real time. Verification of this arrangement is good preparation for the free-flying operational phase once Hera reaches Dimorphos."

Andrea Zanotti, Milani's Lead Software Engineer at Tyvak, adds, "Milani didn't experience any computer resets or out of limits currents or voltages, despite its deep space environment which involves increased exposure to cosmic rays. The same is true of Juventas."

Camiel Plevier, Juventas's Lead Software Engineer at GomSpace, notes, "More than a week after launch, with 'fridge' temperatures of around 5°C in the Deep Space Deployers, the batteries of both CubeSats maintained a proper high state of charge. And it was nice to see how the checkout activity inside the CubeSats consistently warmed the temperature sensors throughout the CubeSats and the Deep Space Deployers."

The CubeSats will stay within their Deployers until the mission reaches Dimorphos towards the end of 2026, when they will be deployed at very low velocity of just a few centimeters per second. Any faster and—in the ultra-low gravitational field of the Great Pyramid-sized asteroid—they might risk being lost in space.

Franco adds, "This commissioning is a significant achievement for ESA and our industrial partners, involving many different interfaces that all had to work as planned: all the centers on Earth, then also on the Hera side, including the dedicated Life Support Interface Boards that connects the main spacecraft with the Deployers and CubeSats.

"The concept that a spacecraft can work with smaller companion spacecraft aboard them has been successfully demonstrated, which is going to be followed by more missions in the future, starting with ESA's Ramses mission for planetary defense and then the Comet Interceptor spacecraft."

From this point, the CubeSats will be switched on every two months during Hera's cruise phase, to undergo routine operations such as checkouts, battery conditioning and software updates.

TOP IMAGE: Juventas studies asteroid's internal structure. Credit: ESA/Science Office

LOWER IMAGE: Milani studies asteroid dust. Credit: ESA-Science Office

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #nasa #astrophysics

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lyranova · 20 hours ago

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Hello hello Lyra! I hope you're doing well when this ask enters your inbox. And if not, I will find you and cuddle with you until you feel better~!

But threats of affection aside, let me give you a few questions to answer from that ask game.

How about 14, 31, 49, and 50~?

Hiya Erika!! I’m doing pretty okay today (my shoulder and neck muscles are protesting against me today tho 😭) but otherwise I’m doing okay, and I hope you are too! And I’ll gladly take cuddles 🥰🫂!!

14 Are there any relationship dynamics/tropes you want to write in the future, but haven't yet?

Hmm…maybe something like “Lovers to Enemies to Tragic Lovers”? Is that a thing 🤔? Maybe something like that!

31 Are there any songs that remind you of [couple]? Are there any songs that remind them of each other?

Since you didn’t specify a couple I used the name wheel and it chose YuNeva XD!

I will always say Everlasting Shine by Tomorrow x Together is their theme song…it just really fits them both which is so funny and cute (especially since Neva was made before that song came out XD).

A song that would remind Yuno of Neva would probably be “Lovely” by Tommee Profitt and Fleurie

A song that reminds Neva of Yuno would probably be “What if Love” by WENDY!

49 What's your favorite relationship dynamic that you've seen in another work of fiction? Has this influenced your writing at all?

Ooh one of my favorite dynamics…height differences between couples I think! And it has influenced my writing quite a bit 😆, so far all of my ships and my favorite ships in media all have some kind of height difference!

50 Free space! Brag on yourself! Advertise your writing! What are you most proud of recently?

Umm…what am I most proud of recently..? Hmm…I haven’t been writing much, admittedly, but I guess I’m proud of this little snippet for a future chapter of “Mocha Dreams” 😅?

“ However, keeping her at a distance like this was killing him.

For the past few weeks all he wanted to do was be with her; to walk to the Black Bird together, to hang out there or at the rec center with her, to go to her apartment and study together…

All he wanted right now was to be with *her*.”

#asks #erika♠️#wifey💕#my lovely mutuals #ask game #writing ask game #thanks for asking!

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demiclar · 11 months ago

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Tithing Pains

Destcember Prompt 21 - Tithing Pains

Drifter takes care of Eris after a difficult transformation.

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The pavilion seemed to yawn around Drifter as he hurried into it, up the winding path shadowed by Hive stone and hewn rock, he entered the cavernous space and felt a familiar prickle of unease settle into his bones. It was like standing in the middle of an open meadow surrounded on all sides by dense forest, like he was being watched by a predator he couldn’t see, lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce. He kept his eyes forward.

At the summoning circle in the center of the pavilion, he could make out Eris’ runes fading out of sight. Hive magic dissipated into the air with an acid tinge that burned Drifter’s nose and lifted the hair on the back of his neck, unease tightening in his shoulders. At the edge of the circle, Ikora looked back at him, his footsteps echoing through the chamber, but she spared him only a glance before she pushed ahead, rushing to the center of the circle where Eris knelt.

She was bare from the waist up, covered in Hive oil and the ripped remnants of her armor. Her back was to Drifter, her skin marred by old scars that had long since become familiar to him. Even in the distance between them he could see how she shook, her breath heaving, her body trembling. Ikora dropped to her knees in front of her, her hand finding Eris’s shoulder. The Drifter could see her lips move, but he couldn’t make out her words. He watched Eris jerk, bowing low over her knees, one hand braced on the stone floor and the other splayed over her chest.

Drifter stopped at the edge of the circle, wheeling to face the other figure present, Immaru hovering at the edge of the ritual circle, watching Eris with scorn. The cold assessment in his eye made an ancient instinct in the Drifter’s mind begin to roar at the perceived threat.

“Get out.” He snapped, and when the Ghost’s shell lifted like he was going to respond, Drifter snarled, Stasis rallying to his fingertips so cold it burned. “I won’t say it twice.”

Immaru glanced between Drifter and Eris, still in the center of the circle. Drifter took a threatening step forward, and the Ghost flitted back, then he left without a word. Drifter hurried into the circle.

Eris’s hand had shifted to grip Ikora’s forearm, so tight her knuckles shone white against her skin, her brow pressed to the cavern floor as she shook, coughs and rattling gasps shaking through her. Her other hand was pressed to the cavern floor, her fingers trembling. Drifter eased himself down to his knees before her, laying his fingers over hers gently.

“Hey, Moondust.” He breathed, his gaze flitting over her. So close, he could see the goosebumps that had risen all over her skin. Hive magic tended to burn hot, the ritual fires in their bowls around the circle put off some heat, but Drifter could already feel the cold from the stone seeping through the layers of his armor, the heat from Eris’s magic already slipping away.

He watched her draw in a sudden deep breath, her head lifting from the cavern floor. Hive eyes blinked at him, half covered by her dark curls. She placed her hands underneath her shoulders and pushed herself upright, her arms almost straight before she coughed hard and wet, doubling forward once more. He set a hand on her back as one cough turned into a fit, each one weaker than the last, her exhaustion clear when she finally dropped her brow to the stone and struggled down deep breaths.

He sensed more than heard the quiet whoosh of his Ghost appearing beside him, their intentions reaching him through the link between them Drifter so often kept shut and barred. His glare was steely when the Ghost lifted its eye off of Eris to meet his gaze, and it shrunk back.

“Ikora,” he nodded to the Warlock, her Ghost already at her side. His lack of trust for his own Traveler-dictated partner didn’t mean he didn’t want Eris looked after, and he watched Ikora share a look with her Ghost before he drifted forward, dropping low to hover eye-level with Eris.

“Eris?” Ophichus asked, his shell tilting to meet her gaze as Eris lifted her head just slightly. “Could I scan you? We want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.” She grit out, but still she gave the Ghost a nod as she pushed herself upright on trembling arms. She held still as his beam of light swept over her, Hive eyes shifting shut against the light when it reached her face. Drifter watched her let out her breath in a sigh once the Ghost was done. With her torso still bare, he could see the way her muscles flexed as she began to move and he squeezed her shoulder.

“Don’t get up.” He told her gently, from how she was still shaking, he knew it wouldn’t end well. Ikora’s hand shifted, dropping down Eris’s arm until she was laying her fingers over Eris’s on the cavern floor. Drifter reached up, his hand cupping her cheek, and he watched the hard chitin pieces around Eris’s eyes shift as she closed her eyes, leaning her cheek into Drifter’s touch. “Just breathe for a minute, Moondust. I’ve got you.”

Eris’s breath sighed out of her again and Drifter held on until a shiver rattled her frame, pulling back to reach for his robes. He stripped his gauntlets and the armored plates at his shoulders with practiced ease, slipping the gun from his belt and undoing the buckle, settling it all aside so that he could draw the robe off his shoulders.

“Germaine–” Eris shook her head at him, her hand held up to show the oily Hive blood covering her skin, but Drifter just smiled as he draped the robe over her shoulders, drawing it around her.

“Don’t worry about it, Moondust.” His hands found her shoulders again as Eris reached up to hold the front of the robes, closing them at her chest. “You know I’ve seen worse.”

“And I’m loath to contribute.” She replied, her voice low and weak. Drifter’s soft smile left his face as her eyes closed again, her head dropping as she braced both hands on the stone floor again, her arms trembling.

“You need rest, Eris.” Ikora reached out to hold her friend’s shoulder, and Drifter nodded. The Warlock had been getting on Eris’s case more than he had since this whole ordeal had begun, he trusted Eris to know her limits and her own capabilities, but he also understood how relentless she could be in pursuit of a goal.

“She’s right, Eris.” He said, his smile returning weakly when Eris aimed a glare at him. “We’ve all gotta rest sometime.” He reminded her, reaching out to guide a lock of her hair away from where it covered her center eye. “Call it a day, Moondust. You can go back to bein’ a Hive god tomorrow.”

Drifter could practically feel Eris’s irritation radiating off of her, but he reached out to hold the back of her neck, running his thumb over the corner of her jaw even as it left Hive oil on his fingers.

“I told you I’d be here.”

“I’m not done, Germaine.” She told him, but he held her gaze until she let out her breath in a slow sigh. “Fine. But I will be back.”

Drifter sent her a grin. “Oh, I’m countin’ on it, Moondust.”

The HELM was thankfully empty when Eris and Drifter entered, not a soul in the common areas as Drifter moved through them, Eris light in his arms. He’d picked her up after she’d stumbled rising from the circle, not a move he’d have made if anyone more than Ikora had been around to see, but from the way Eris was already leaning into him, her head resting against his neck and shoulder, he suspected he’d made the right choice.

The lights were dim to their reserve setting, soft red light in the hallways to offer Drifter something to see by without disturbing the crew trying to rest. He headed straight for the officers quarters, where Eris had been assigned a room, along with the Guardian and Crow. From the hallway, he could make out a soft yellow light from one of the rooms. Through the open door, he could see the Guardian, curled under a blanket pulled up to their ears, their eyes shut. He looked back to the hall at the sound of footsteps, Crow slipping down the hall, a glass of water in his hand.

“Hey,” the Hunter greeted quietly, his eyes drifting over Eris in Drifter’s arms. “Is everything okay?”

“Long day.” Drifter said simply. Eris didn’t shift a muscle in Drifter’s arms. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d fallen asleep. He nodded towards the Guardian, asleep in bed with a light on and their door open. “You too?”

“Yeah.” Crow followed his gaze, then shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. “They’re fine, just tired, really.” He set the glass of water on a desk just beyond the Guardian’s door, returning to the doorway as soon as it was out of his hand. “Y’know, Eris’s room is–” he pointed behind Drifter, to a door he’d already passed, but Drifter shook his head.

“I know.” He’d thought the Hunter would’ve seen him aboard the HELM enough times to get that he’d stayed the night in Eris’s room more than once. “Not goin’ there yet.”

He made to turn down the hall again, but Crow spoke up before he could.

“Do you need any help?” Crow asked, color darkening on his cheeks when Drifter regarded him with an unimpressed look. “Hunters, we look after our own–”

“I think I’ve got it.” He headed down the hall, not at all surprised when Crow slipped past him, reaching the door to the communal bathrooms before Drifter could and pushing it open. “Thanks.”

“Let me get the lights.” Crow slipped inside, flipping both switches on the wall as Drifter headed for the counter. Eris made a small noise in his arms, her body tensing as she hid her face in Drifter’s neck.

“Maybe just half of ‘em.” He suggested to the Hunter, Crow quickly complying. Drifter pressed his cheek to the top of Eris’s head, reaching a hand up to shield her eyes. “Sorry, Moondust. I know your eyes are better than mine.”

Crow lingered in the doorway when Drifter set Eris down to sit on the counter. Through the mirror in front of him, Drifter could see the Hunter shifting from foot to foot.

“Are you sure she’s–” he broke off, and when Drifter looked back, away from Crow’s reflection, Eris had lifted her head, meeting Crow’s gaze with acolyte’s eyes.

“I’m alright, Crow.” Drifter could hear her exhaustion in her tone, but he watched Crow’s shoulders drop as he let out a relieved sigh of breath, giving Eris a small nod. Eris straightened when he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “My apologies, I’ve forgotten my veil. Does this upset you?” She gestured towards her eyes and Crow’s head jerked up.

“What? No. No, not at all. I just–” Drifter rolled his eyes when the Hunter began to fidget again, a small smile creasing his lips when Eris slapped his arm.

“I just feel like I’m not doing enough.” Crow said, meeting Eris’s eyes at last. “You and the Guardian are out there, dealing with Immaru and gathering tithes, you’re doing these crazy transformations and I’m just…here, writing reports or scouting. I should be helping you.”

“Your work is not insignificant, Crow.” Eris reminded him. Drifter set his hand on her knee, giving it a brief squeeze before he stepped back, retreating from Eris to allow her and Crow to speak while he headed for a set of shelves built into the wall of the bathroom, retrieving a set of towels and washcloths.

“Still,” he could hear Eris continue behind him, Crow’s footsteps soft as he made his way further into the room. “I understand your desire to be closer to the fight. I promise that I’ll call for you when the time comes.”

Crow’s words softened further and Drifter found his way to the showers in the back of the space. He deposited the towels on a nearby bench, then slipped from the room. When he returned from Eris’s room a minute later, a set of her clothes in his hands, he saw Crow give her a nod before he left the room, and Drifter patted his shoulder as he passed.

“Look after our hero, yeah? We’re gonna need ‘em.” They shared a look back towards Eris, and Crow nodded.

“Yeah. I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”

Drifter clapped his shoulder in thanks, and he and Crow parted ways in the corridor. Drifter met Eris at the counter, setting her clothes aside to offer her a hand as she eased herself down to the floor on shaky legs.

“Germaine.” She sent him a weak glare and Drifter had to bite his lip to contain his smile.

“Sorry, Moondust. I know you can take care of yourself.” Still, he couldn’t quite pull his offered hand away, and he smiled when Eris took it once she was standing on the bathroom floor, her other hand still holding his robes closed at her chest. He lowered his head towards hers when she looked up at him, feeling his smile soften. “Been a long time since I let anyone in like this.” He murmured. “Guess some part of me is trying to make up for lost time.”

“Vengeance is not a suitable motivator for all of one’s endeavors.” Eris acknowledged, her voice low. She leaned her head into Drifter’s shoulder, stepping forward until her weight was leaned forward, into his chest. His arms came around her naturally. He pressed his nose into her curls, breathing in what he expected to be the familiar scent of her hair only to choke on a cough when the smell of Hive blood flooded his nostrils.

“Sorry,” he rasped when Eris pulled back, covering his mouth and nose with a hand as he fought back another cough. “I just wasn’t expectin—”

“Quiet.” Eris told him. She took him by the hand again and Drifter followed her to the showers.

“You want help, or–?”

“Quiet, Germaine.”

The showers were split between one row of little booths, with curtains and dividers between each shower, and another row of shower heads, exposed along the wall. Drifter could see the utility in both, with large crews, one often couldn’t afford the luxury of privacy in all of one’s movements, but it wasn’t like anyone wanted to catch a glimpse of their commander in the nude. Well, maybe some might.

Eris pulled him towards the exposed row, rather than try to cram the two of them into one of the booths. They’d done it before, when it wasn’t the middle of the night and Drifter wasn’t keen on anyone walking in and seeing him buck naked and kissing Eris like a lovesick fool, but Drifter doubted anyone was likely to come in now, even someone as nosy as Crow. He’d set the towels nearby, on a bench that ran along the outside wall of the first shower stall, and Eris let go of his hand, shrugging his robes off her shoulders and reaching down to untie her armor from where it had settled around her waist after her Hive transformation had torn through it. He turned on two of the showerheads, staying clear of them so that they could pour out the cold water lingering in the pipes, then planted himself on the bench, looking up at Eris with a lazy smile.

“You could do more than just watch, you know.” She told him, shelling off the last of her clothes. He tugged off his gloves, then reached up to hold her waist. Opening his legs wide, he guided her to stand between his knees, still smiling up at her.

“I love to watch you.” He ran his thumbs over her hip bones. “You really are a sight to see, Moondust.”

“Even like this?” She looked down at him and he shrugged, his smile knowing. Even now, he couldn’t stop staring at her. She was covered in Hive blood, her skin pale from the cold, red lines of irritation over her skin from the places her armor had torn against her shifting form. Her scars were sharp against her skin and still she was the most beautiful person Drifter had ever looked at, maybe because of it all.

“Oh yeah,” he murmured, unable to bite back his smile. “You always look fantastic, this doesn’t change anything.”

She shook her head, fondly, exasperatedly. He wasn’t sure she could roll her Hive eyes the way a human’s eyes would, but the expression was close and Drifter grinned. She reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it off him.

“Come on, Germaine.” She said, pulling him to his feet after she tossed his shirt aside. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

She headed for the showers without another word and Drifter hurried to shell off the rest of his clothes, pausing only long enough to watch her step under the spray before he climbed to his feet to join her.

She met him under the heat of the water, the pair of them luxuriating in the feel of it for a long moment. Eventually, Drifter moved Eris so that her head was out of the water and he rubbed shampoo through her dark curls, taking care to wash away all the Hive blood until her hair was soft and clean all over her head. He washed away the rest of the blood, feeling Eris go boneless in his hands, her exhaustion creeping up on her once again. He nudged her back when she reached up to reciprocate.

“Go dry off.” He told her gently, dropping a kiss onto her cheekbone. “I’ll be right there. Promise.”

She slipped from the shower and Drifter followed her only a few minutes later. Once they were clean and dry, and they’d found their way back to Eris’s room, they sank into her bed pressed close to one another. Eris tucked herself under Drifter’s chin, drawing his warmth into her body, and Drifter was happy to supply it. He fell asleep holding Eris close, lulled to sleep knowing she was safe from harm.

#destcember2023 #destiny 2 #destiny drifter #destiny eris #Destiny Eris Morn #demiwrites #drifteris #destiny the drifter #drifter/eris

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blowflyfag · 1 year ago

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Hitchhiking

Diesel x Male Reader

THIS FIC IS 18+

Check out my other work! : Masterlist

July 15th, 1996

Heat. The boiling heat of the Arizona sun was practically broiling you alive as you trekked along. Thumb pointing out with every car that passed by to no avail whatsoever. With each car passing you that caused a groan as you tilted your head back. Eventually you just couldn’t carry yourself anymore. You set your bag down sitting yourself on top of it as you stuck your thumb out again. In the distance it caught your eyes. The glint of steel and large wheels. Looked to be some type of Semi.

As the truck rolled to a stop you could only stare up in shock… you hadn’t expected him to even stop for you considering but, at this rate to get out of the heat it was a welcome change. You quickly climbed up to open the door. The welcome gust of air conditioning causing you to let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey thanks man! I appreciate it!” You said quickly as you adjusted your bag to slide it off your back to set it between your legs. You reached over the center console to shake the man’s hand. “(Y/N)! Nice to meet you pal!” You said with a toothy grin before the man held his hand out. It practically engulfed yours. Christ you hadn’t noticed it but this guy was a mammoth! Long dark brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail, sunglasses, leather jacket and matching pants. You didn’t know many truckers… but you were pretty sure they didn’t dress like this most of the time.

“Diesel.” He stated as he shook your hand. You could only snicker for a moment.

“Fitting name huh?” You asked with a smile before he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. You should meet my sister Petrol.” He smirked before pointing to the back with his thumb. “You can just huck your stuff back in the sleeper. I don’t use it.” You nodded quickly. Shifting in the seat to set your knees on it to reach back and throw your bag in the back. Diesel watched as you did. He paused for a moment however as he caught a glance to the bandana in your right pocket. Orange in color. The glance was quick. Before his eyes returned to the front window and you finally sat back down correctly.

“So.” His voice even in a relaxed state was booming. “Where you going huh?”

“Wherever you’re willing to take me! I’m just letting the people of the road take me around.” You smiled fondly. As if this was just a normal everyday occurrence.

“So, you’re just…hitchhiking too wherever?” He asked the question slowly to make sure he was getting it right. You gave a curt nod his way.

“Eyup! Just letting kind drivers like yourself drive me around for however long you want till you grow sick of me and kick me off.” You paused for a moment. “Or kill me but I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon.”

Diesel let out a small grunt as he began to drive again. “Well since you’re going nowhere. I’m heading to a stop for the night to fuel up.” You nodded.

“Fine by me! I’ve stayed at plenty of stops. They’re pretty cool.” You set your hands on your lap. Absentmindedly tapping your thighs before looking to the radio that played a dull tune. “Any tapes?” You asked as your hand went to Reach for the dial.

“Don’t mess with it too much.” He said quickly, shooting a glance to you that you could feel behind the gaze of his sunglasses. You pulled your hands away and nodded quickly. “My truck. My rules.” You nodded again.

“You got it sir.”

The trip was silent. Occasionally you and Diesel would talk. Diesel didn’t seem to be much of a talker though. Answers short and curt usually when you asked. However sometimes his answers had you intrigued, work as a bodyguard specifically.

“I mean I can understand why this guy would pick you. You could probably kick anyone's ass.” Your arm was resting against the window, hand propping your head up as you looked over to him.

Diesel chuckled for a moment. Shrugging his shoulders. “Eh. Pretty much. It was fun I guess. Paid good.”

“And your person?”

“My person?”

You rolled your eyes. “The person you guarded! Was he cool? Oh oh! Was he like a criminal?” You asked with excitement in your tone. “The president?”

“No no. No one big like that. Just a wrestler.”

“Wrestler...? The hell they need protection from?”

“With an ego like his? And a mouth that didn’t know when to stop? He needed all the help he could get.” He let out a small breath. “Shawn was cool… we were tight.”

“Like. Tight tight or…?” You trailed on with a quirked brow.

“Tight Tight.”

The answer was enough for you. Smiling as you looked forward. “Nice man…” you nodded, silence falling over the two of you again.

By the time the two of you had pulled into the stop the sun was beginning to fade, you stretched your arms with a small sigh. “So, you want me to hop off here? Or can I crash with you tonight?” You asked with a smile.

“I don’t care what you do. Whatever works for me. You’re not too much to handle.” He said with his own stretch before his hands landed back on the wheel.

Tap tap, ti tap tap.

You quirked your brow. Diesel looked over to you. Silent for a moment. “I’m gonna fill her up.” He said before getting up. You watched as he hopped out of the truck and towards the building. You let out a small huff, leaning back and going to turn up the radio to listen to whatever rock was playing on the radio.

Once the door opened you looked over. Seeing him place a receipt down on the seat before closing the door again. Glancing to the side mirror you watched as he went to fill up the tank. How much gas did these things even take… you couldn’t imagine how expensive it probably was. You glanced towards the receipt again. Picking it up and noticing the purchase of a shower too. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a heat growing in your lower stomach. You glanced towards the mirror again, catching the boot tapping against pavement… he had to know. He had too. You looked forward again. It couldn’t just be a coincidence, right? It had to be real. Once he finished filling the tank you watched him walk off the shower building. You swallowed a lump you hadn’t realized formed in your throat before watching him disappear behind the door.

You quickly unbuckled. Reaching behind yourself for your bag to sift through the contents. You were half worried you used your last condom.

With the guy with the van but, just as you were losing hope the packaged rubber found you. You almost shed a tear as you slid it in your pocket. Maybe God was on your side.

Jumping down from your seat and making your way to the numbered stall he chose. You stood in front of it for a few moments before shaking away your giddiness. you tried your best to mimic the tapping he did on the steering wheel with your knock.

Knock knock knknock knock.

You heard the lock click and you quickly went to push into the shower room with a grin on your face.

“Half worried you wouldn’t get it.” Diesel started with a smirk, and you rolled your eyes. He sat himself on the toilet in the stall. Legs spread with a cockiness radiating off of him almost.

“I’m not an idiot you know? I know what I’m doing?” You said as you walked over, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. A smile tugging on your lips. “Are you a no kissing guy?” You asked as you went to press yourself against him. “Cause that would make me really sad.” You pouted and Diesel chuckled.

“Hey I’m like you. Anything.” You grinned at his answers before leaning in to smash your lips against his. Luckily, he met your intensity, grabbing your hips to pull you into his lap. The two of you stayed like that for a while. Nipping at lips and feeling each other up before you pulled away with a pant. Lips red from the frantic make out session. “What’s the plan big guy?” You asked with a smile as you went to sink to your knees. Diesel shook his head.

“While I appreciate the offer I kinda wanna get straight to the point.” He said as he went to rest a hand under your chin to ease you back up. You chuckled softly.

“Oh! What a gentleman you are.” You chuckled and Diesel rolled his eyes.

“You got a rubber?” He asked and you reached into your pocket to reveal the packaged rubber. Diesel nodded and his eyes trailed to the shower.

You let out a sharp cry as he kept rapidly pounding into you. Your attempts to stay quiet futile as you felt your face pressed against the cool wall of the shower. You prayed there was no one in the one next door. You doubted they wanted to hear you getting your guts rearranged. Once he let go of your arms you used them to help prop you against the wall, your legs starting to shake with each thrust.

“Fuck! Fuck!” You yelled looking back. “Cmon Fuck me up!” You said before gasping as you felt his hand engulf your hip as he grunted in response and thrusted deep. Your legs nearly buckled as you saw stars. “Oh fuck… fuck fuck fuck Diesel.” You slurred hands struggling to grip at the wall. You went instead to Try and cling haphazardly to the small shelf in the shower. You felt him raise your hips slightly to get you to stand. Your back pressing against his wet chest as he used his free hand to grab you chin, making your turn to face him as he went to kiss you roughly again. You moaned deeply into the kiss as you felt a coil in your stomach snap, your back arching as you came, your body turning to jelly as Diesel quickened the pace of his own hips and you felt him shudder above you. His arms darted to wrap around you to Prevent you from falling forward. The two of you panted for a moment before you looked up to him with a small smile. He stared for a moment before giving you his own back with a chuckle.

The two of you sat in silence on the pavement outside, say for the hum of the overhead radio. Enjoying the delicacy of cheap truck stop chili dogs and a cigarette shared between both of you. The gentleman had offered after railing you. So far it had been the best aftercare yet on your trip. The Arizona air a bit chilled now under the light of the moon.

“So.” Diesel began after wiping his hands off with one of the napkins. You quirked a brow as you looked over taking another bite. “You sure you got nowhere specific to go?”

“Nah not really. Just doing my own thing.”

He nodded. Moving his gaze forward.

“I’m going up to Oregon for this delivery… you wanna stick for the ride?”

You smiled a bit. Looking forward as well towards his truck. “Yeah. I think that could be a nice change of scenery.”

#teehee hohooooo #Blowfly Writes #big daddy cool diesel #Diesel #Diesel x Male Reader #Big Daddy Cool Diesel x Male Reader #WWF x reader #wwf x male reader

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leffee · 6 months ago

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Day 13: Drive-in theater

“Are you certain we are going the right way?”

“Yes, just continue driving forward.”

“We are literally still on the grounds of your villa!”

“First of all, it’s a mansion, second of all, just trust me, we are close.”

Sunil sighed at Sharukh’s unhelpful replies but obediently kept driving ahead at snail’s pace as he maneuverer between the many monuments and floral landscape of the outside of Sharukh’s… house. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Russell who simply shrugged shortly but in that split second managed to give him a reassuring smile. Sunil’s cheeks flushed a little before he focused on what was in front of the car again. Eventually, he noticed something that threw him completely off guard.

“What the drive-in theater?” He leaned to the front a bit, copying Russell’s movements. In the back, Vinnie tilted his body towards the inside of the car, checking the outside as well. “Why do you have a drive-in theater here?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I once wanted one, so I got one,” Sharukh replied in a flat tone, his hand sneaking around Vinnie’s waist making him lie against his shoulder with a happy sigh.

“How many times have you used it, if I may ask?” Russell inquired.

“Two, maybe three times.”

“Uh-huh…”

Once the car parked in the most obvious place - the area from which the screen was in the center and close, but not too close, Sharukh got out of the vehicle with a quick “Wait here.”

“I can’t believe this guy sometimes.” Sunil let go of the steering wheel and slumped backwards against the headrest.

“Ahah, yeah, but he cares.” Vinnie chuckled from behind him. “I for one ain’t complaining about all that.” He gestured all around the lavish area.

“I don’t think any of us are, but still, this is not what I expected when he said we should have a…” Russell hesitated for a while and looked down at the very interesting car floor mat, “double date at a drive-in theater.”

“True.”

The sound of opening car doors interrupted the trio’s exchange.

“We are all set.” Sharukh motioned to the screen which was now starting to display some visuals. “Enjoy.”

Everyone shifted in their seats, changing their positions to more comfortable ones, limbs spread and heads leaning backwards. While Sunil’s eyes were utmost focused on the screen, his mind started wandering. This was all of their first date, well, aside from Sharukh maybe but the superstar has still said that all those previous romances didn't matter since he never quite felt anything more than fondness at most to his previous partners. While Sunil was sure Vinnie appreciated that, his best friend wasn’t who was on his mind right now - Russell was. However, before he could do anything, his boyfriend rolled his eyes half heartedly.

“One of your movies, huh?” Russell asked without turning around.

“Of course, they’re the best ones out there.” Sharukh grinned and ran his hand through his hair proudly.

The last scene Sunil saw before getting stuck in his own thoughts again was his lookalike (at least that's what everyone else said, he himself didn't see it) once again wrapping his arm around Vinnie and pressing him against his side.

As much as Sunil wanted to be at least mildly annoyed with Sharukh for making them both confess at the same time to Vinnie and Russell respectively… as he stole a glance at the latter he really just couldn’t muster any negative emotions. Now however, this was his first date with Russell, he had to play his cards right.

Sunil shifted a bit in his seat, methodically stirring more and more to the right edge of the seat. He could have sworn that Russell stole a glance or two at him but each time he thought so, once he checked a moment later, the green eyes were on the screen.

He took a deep breath, one step down, one more to go. He reached his hand towards the smaller one, his breath becoming bated once the distance diminished to mere centimeters. Just as Sunil felt his mind was ready to overthink, he reached his arm out, his palm finally on top of Russell’s who tensed up, but an undeniable smile formed on his face, becoming bigger with each second. Not only that, but both of their faces grew redder too.

Their eyes met for a split second before quickly darting away. Sunil’s hand flinched but did land back on Russell’s. Both of their free hands went to cover their wide smiles

“I-I apologize, was it too much too quickly?” Sunil asked, practically whispering. He attempted to face his boyfriend with confidence, but his expression was a mix of coy and flustered.

“No… it was perfect actually,” Russell replied lowly. “I kind of like it.” Sunil felt the knuckles under his hand moving slightly.

“Oh, good…Do you think we can do more of that with time?”

“Absolutely. We just have to get over our… inhibitions.” They both laughed meekly, leaning more towards each other from their seats and stopping close, but not too close, to one another’s face.

That’s when it hit Sunil.

“Oh, goodness, I’m- I mean we-, I mean, I am so sorry, we’re probably covering everything-.” As both him and Russell turned to eye the backseats, ready to bury the other two under the mountain of apologies, Sunil stopped mid-sentence, their eyes widening a little.

Behind them, Vinnie and Sharukh were all over each other with the latter trapping his shorter boyfriend in the corner. Vinnie was leaning heavily against the car’s door with his arms wrapped around Sharukh’s neck and his legs loosely around his knees. Although not much was visible from the front, the noises made it obvious what the two were up to - some intense kissing.

“Alright, never mind.” Sunil shook his head, turning away. “Can you believe those two started dating the same day as we did?” He raised his brows in Russell’s direction who deadpanned.

“No, absolutely not.”

Stealing one more glance at their two friends, Sunil pondered that at least Sharukh couldn’t get upset at him and Russell for not watching the movie he was starring in. Clearly, no one was focused on that.

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Yeah, this was supposed to be about something and someone completely else, but once I actually sat down to write my mind was like "Ok, so, how about we do it like this instead?" And well, I don't control my mind, I had to agree.

Ah, Russell and Sunil who are really careful and shy around each other, respecting their boundaries and getting all flustered at the slightest touch. And then there's Vinnie and Sharukh who suck off each other's faces basically and they pretty much met very recently.

#lps 2012 #may prompts #day 13

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driftward · 2 years ago

Text

Incident Report C-F/A12-74656-A Material Contained Within Suitable for Audiences of the Age of Majority Summary: Aetheric accumulator experiment (ref. CX-75205-42) entered an unstable state due to the channeling of spell works within its containment barrier boundary. Spell works were performed by unauthorized personnel who had entered the space during a period of time when the accumulator was left unattended and unguarded. Damage to lab equipment incurred is documented in attachment C-F/A12-74656-A-1. One persons injured due to accumulator instability, one other injured during altercation inside of the containment barrier space (see attachment C-F/A12-74656-A-2). Further damage prevented by actions of persons on station. Aetheric accumulator experiment was ultimately shut down to preclude further incident. Notes: Classifying this incident as resolved. Repair and restoration reports have already been filed. This report is to be immediately archived in the secure section, access restricted to Forum inquiry only. -Y.Rhul.

~*~

“…and that is all six of the elements,” said the Witch, finishing her explanation of the elemental wheel.

The Shieldmaiden looked over it carefully. “Is anything not made of aether? Or are there things maybe made by… an absence of aether?” she asked.

The Witch laughed. “Such clever seeming questions! But where absence might rise, aether is so quick to fill it in, that there is not even the slightest gap. Nay, aether flows and fills and waxes and wanes, but rarely does it gutter. Even the place whence voidsent are thought to come still has its own energies.”

The Shieldmaiden frowned, thoughtfully, and looked up. “What about whatever is beyond the dome of the star? It is our belief that in the realm beyond, even beyond what the gods have built, that there is nothing between the stars of our own night sky.”

“Well,” said the Witch. “If ever you have chance to travel thus, perhaps you might tell me.”

The Shieldmaiden frowned at that, lightly, while the Witch laughed.

“Though I suspect you would find streams of aether and its energies even there. Come, there is more I would show you.”

The two wandered deeper into the library, their conversation drifting to other topics.

~*~

She was grateful for her earlier lesson on the nature of aether, though she certainly did not know she would be applying it so soon.

Her hand was steady as she dipped her quill into her inkwell, lifting it up to the wall, and began to paint the sigil on the wall. Her levin-aspected ink was the last part needed to balance out the elements of water and earth, drawing a balance across the unstable sphere of aether that she was sharing a room with. The sigil would direct aether of its aspect out and away from the sphere, hopefully slowing it down, buying time, and maybe even averting a catastrophe.

She hoped that help would be here soon.

For now, she was the help that was here.

She could feel the aether, so thick in the air that she could taste it, smell it, and was beginning to be able to see it as well. There was a crackling in her hearing, and a rainbow of thin colours flowed past her vision, tainting her sight with their hues.

Finishing the sigil, she turned to look to the sphere. It had slowed, but it was wobbling in its place. She frowned at it. She was near certain it had been rather more centered when she had begun the work.

What she should do was head for the exit and talk to her friend, and figure out the placement for the remaining sigils that would need to be drawn.

But that work would be wrong, too, if their work so far was wrong, and that could make the whole problem worse. She needed to take some more measurements. Tapping the rim of her glasses, a simple rangefinder enchantment sprung to life in her vision. She looked at the distances between each sigil that had been drawn so far, and then watched the sphere for a bit, seeing how much it was wobbling, writing down her observations.

She tried not to think too much about the various stages of aether sickness. And how she felt a terrible pressure inside of her pushing outward against her skin.

At last she made her way back to her friend, and sat down next to her, pushing her notebook over for her to look at. The young Miqo’te was too injured to help her make the sigils, her leg having been struck earlier, but she was the smarter of the two, and was the one who was checking her work as she went along, and she trusted her more than she trusted herself at the moment.

“I think it is off center,” she said. “It is wobbling. More than I think it should be. I think its angular momentum is throwing off our center of mass equations.”

The Miqo’te picked up the notebook, and her ears folded back as she looked at the math. She scribbled a few notes, and then turned the book back around to show her work.

She looked over the Miqo’tes notes, and shook her head.

“No, see, you have made some assumptions with your constants that my notes say will not hold. Look, you have to put this number into the equation like this.”

“That then changes these other parameters.”

“… okay. Okay. Yes. Right. Well, you can take care of that by, uhm, by substituting back in to the original formula like this, and then you… well, wait. That then changes these other numbers. Alright, then you extend the equation further with… uhm. Well, then, uhm, you…”

“You see the problem.”

Her head slumped. “I do not know how to solve this.”

“Nor I. My Master’s teachings have not yet taken me so far, I am afraid.”

“And we did not cover this kind of math for astrology,” she groaned.

“Mind if I take a look?” interjected a new voice, and both of them looked up to see a Roegadyn man that had arrived. He was dressed as a Sharlayan sage, and behind him she could see other learned people bustling about, some in heavy protective gear.

After a glance at the Miqo’te, who nodded in turn, she held her notebook up to the man, who took it and read it thoughtfully.

“Hmn. How’d you get these numbers?” he asked.

She pointed to her glasses. “Enchantment for finding distances to objects, sage.”

He looked to the door where the unstable sphere was. “And you stayed in there long enough to get these measurements?”

“And to draw the first set of sigils, sage.”

He snorted. “Foolish or brave. This equation that is giving you such trouble, that’s a series equation. Hand me up a pen. It’ll need to be solved. Hey! Don’t shut down the aether accumulator just yet! We might have a problem.”

She dutifully handed him up a pen, and he scribbled carefully in her notebook. One of the others came up to him, to wait impatiently next to his elbow, casting nervous glances towards the door that led to the sphere.

She simply settled to lean against the wall. She was tired. And she could still see odd colours that were not there filtering her vision.

“…good job. Run this to the containment team, finish her work. We can do better than arcanist sigils for draining off the excess aether, and we’ll need to coast down the accumulated spin before we shut it down.”

He handed the book off, and the other person took it and ran off. He looked down at the two young women.

Very young women.

Too young for this work, in his estimation, but it was too late to dissuade them from that.

“Good job,” he said, his tone cautious. He did not want to overly encourage such recklessness in the future. “You were right, lass. You might’ve slowed it down some, but it was off axis and its spin was increasingly radical. It probably would’ve appeared fine for bells, but it would’ve gotten increasingly unstable as its wobble got worse until it flew apart and probably cleaned the whole room out. We might not’ve noticed. We were gonna shut it down anyroad, but knowing this, we’ll be shutting it down a bit slower. And a lot safer.”

He looked to the door. “Stay here until someone comes and grabs you. I need to go help them,” he said, as he walked off.

Good job, he had said, and she smiled to herself at that. She was going to be in a lot of trouble later, she was certain, but for now, the work had been done, and done well.

She reached over, and took the Miqo’te’s hand, and smiled when she looked up at her, startled.

“Thank you,” she said. “I could not have done that by myself.”

The Miqo’te looked at her curiously, and sighed.

But also, they did not let go.

She leaned her head back, and closed her eyes, and let herself rest.

Just for the moment.

#The Incident #y + z

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