#BUT SIDE PROFILES ARE DRIVING ME INSANE HOW DO YOU GUYS DRAW THEM SO WELL???

[athenawritesandkeepsplants]

absolutely CANNOT draw any complete side profiles. a bit of angle? great! full on staring into my soul? amazing! side profile? evil on earth, ends with a too big chin or forehead or the angles are wrong and just aaaAAAHHHHHHHHhhh

[americxn]

car sex with colin 0.0

like u guys are partners (in a secret relationship) on their way to interview a witness at their home but reader/colin gets horny and wants a quickie in the car backseat or drivers seat ;) and then them trying to fix themselves up after because they still had to go interview someone and the interviwee is slightly suspicious abt them just having finished and u both play it off HAHAH

Sex Drive

There are so many amazing fics that follow this prompt so I just wanted to mention a few and share idea credits. I would 100% recommend reading their works as they are such amazing writers: @divinerulerluvr @undeadcortez (if you have already written a fic similar to this idea, please let me know and I’ll credit you!)

wordcount: 2.6k warnings: NSFW, masturbation, penetration, car sex/public-ish sex, swearing

“Do you have the address-” the words fell short on your lips as your partner ignited the ignition, one of his hands settling on the back of your seat as his torso twisted, one hand manipulating the wheel with his palm. “Yeah, I do.” He mumbled in concentrated confirmation as he manoeuvred the car backwards, looking over his shoulder before straightening, putting the car into drive and pulling out of the carpark. You swallowed. “Sorry, yeah I have the address.” He confirmed again, clearer this time. “Okay.” You said in quiet response, turning back to stare at the road. You heard Colin shift as he took a glance over at you. “And what’s up with you?” You looked back at him, the view of his pronounced jawline as his head turned back to the road kindling the small spark of sexual excitement that the simple action of him reversing the car had triggered within you. “Have I told you about the reverse thing?” He took a quick, amused glance to you at your words, his lips tugging into a little smirk. “Oh yeah... don’t drool on my leather.”  His playful response made you smirk and you sighed, turning away to look out of the window, your palm rising to cup your chin. “That won’t be the only thing I’m drooling on.”  Colin’s eyes widened as he glanced back over at you, your words catching him completely off guard. “Jesus, y/n, you’re bold.”  “No, I’m wet.” His mouth dropped open slightly at your fast response; he regained his composure quickly, clearing his throat softly as she shifted in his seat, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel.

You laughed softly, your own responses having taken you somewhat by surprise. Colin’s jaw worked as he stole another glance at you. His foot pressed further into the accelerating, the car panting enthusiastically as he spurred the engine on, glancing at the time displayed on the dash. “What are you doing?” You asked with an excited smile as he pushed the car to go slightly faster. “We have twenty five minutes to get to the house, and after those comments I’ll be fucked if I have to wait any longer to have my way with you.” Your smile melted into a smirk as you surveyed his tense shoulders, the way his dark eyes flicked continuously from the road to the small time display above the radio. “I like that energy, Zabel.” You muttered, pushing yourself further up into your seat, your head leaning against the headrest as you admired his side profile, your tongue running softy along your lower lip in anticipation of what was to come.  “What? You’re just going to watch me?” You lifted your head at his sudden statement, looking at him questioningly. “We don’t have much time, baby,” he began in a lilting tone, one of his hands dropping from the wheel and snaking to your thigh. His use of ‘baby’ sent a jolt through you, both of excitement and of the familiar sense of forbidden longing that accompanied your secret relationship. You continued to survey him as his hand began to curve down the inside of your upper thigh, heat building at the apex of your legs as his warm palm travelled closer and closer to your cunt. “I want to hear those pretty moans of yours before I can fuck you.” His darkly spoken words sent a shiver through you; Colin wasn’t usually the type to tease verbally, to use his words to coax arousal from you, but when he did, it drove you fucking insane. “Now who’s bold?” You responded weakly, all of your focus narrowing in on his hand as it stilled on the inside of your thigh, his eyes still transfixed on the road ahead as his fingertips brushed against your clothed centre. The single light touch made you weak, your pussy heating from within your clothes, so much so that you were sure that Colin could feel it. “And how do you suppose that I do that?”  “Well I’m busy driving, which is apparently a turn on enough for you. Make yourself moan.” His hand retracted from your thigh with his words, the withdrawal of his warm palm against you registering as a physical loss; his touch fuelled your arousal. You were moving before his hand settled back on the steering wheel, lifting up your hips to pull your leggings down to your thighs. You wasted no time in beginning to work yourself, sliding down in your seat as far as the seatbelt would allow and bringing up your knees, your heels rested on the edge of Colin’s clean leather seat before delving one hand into your panties. Your head fell back as your fingers found contact with your cunt, your fingertips trailing down between your folds to your entrance and to the wetness gathered there, which you collected on your fingers before swirling it around on your clit, your eyes never once leaving Colin’s face as you visualised that it was his fingers pleasing you in place of your own. He stole frequent glances at you as you set a steady pace on your clit, working two of your fingertips against yourself with feverish need, wanting nothing more than for Colin to pull over the car and attend to you himself. The hand that you had gripped into the leather of the car seat reached over to Colin’s own thigh, his eyes flicking down briefly to bore into yours as you ran the tips of your fingers across his clothed leg, brushing against the hardness that awaited your there, straining against the snug material of his work pants. The column of his throat was pronounced as he rested his head against the seat when you settled your palm over his erection, a small noise emanating from the back of his throat as you began to work him through his clothes. You broke the pace and pressure with which you swirled your fingers over your clit to trail them down to your entrance, pushing them inside of yourself with a small relieved groan. Colin’s head snapped to you as you began to slowly ease your fingers in and out of yourself, your teeth biting down harshly on your lower lip. The car slowed, a red light coming into view as the car rolled to a complete stop before it. Colin spared a mere second to wrench the handbrake up before reaching over to undo your seatbelt, his own stretching as he leaned over, taking your hips and spinning you on your seat so that your ass was facing him and your head was propped up at an awkward angle against the bottom on the window. He released you with a glance at the light, which was still red, before reaching for your leggings and tugging them further down your legs, taking your panties with them. You were left breathless, hunched up in your seat with your neck forced upright by the door of the car and your knees almost to your chest, a single bead of your wetness running from your pussy to your ass, your cunt completely exposed to Colin as he straightened, hurriedly putting the car into drive and pulling away just as the light turned green.  Your fingers closed around your ankles and Colin made a harsh turn, his mounting impatience evident in the hard set of his jaw; his impatience only grew when he glanced back at you after straightening the car, your eyes large as you silently pleaded with him to touch you from your awkward position on the seat, your pussy wet and winking as it pulsed, desperate for more attention. With another need-filled glance, Colin lifted one hand from the steering wheel, running the tips of his fingers through the wetness smeared across your cunt before pushing his own digits inside of you.  With his attention back on the road, Colin drove both you and the car, steering your pleasure up a steady incline with his fingers whilst maintaining smooth control of the vehicle. You forced your hips to open wider, pushing your knees outwards and pressing yourself into his fingers, his knuckles brushing against your sensitive clit as you bucked against him. Colin’s own mouth parted in arousal as your small moans began to fill the car, Colin reaching spots within you that your own fingers couldn’t stimulate. His concentration on the road lapsed, the feel of your slick walls clenching in need around his fingers taking the final remnants of his control as he sloppily pulled into the neighbourhood of the resident you were to interview in approximately ten minutes time. Colin was quick to locate the house you were needed at, slowing to drive slightly past the house to the small alleyway between it and its next door neighbour. He spun the wheel, throwing the car into the slim alley, his fingers having maintained a steady, deep thrusting into you, drawing the moans that he was so desperate to hear from your goosebump covered body. You groaned his name as he yanked the handbrake on, not even bothering to take the car out of gear before wrenching the key from the ignition and discarding it on the dashboard. You watched, eyes gleaming with frustrated sexual want as he ripped his seatbelt off his body, clumsily rising to his knees in the confines of the car and hurriedly fumbling with his belt. His fingers never once faltered, curling and twisting within you as he readied himself, pulling his painfully engorged cock from the confines of his pants and alining himself with your entrance. One of his hands slammed into the car door beside his head as the other helped to lead his cock into you, the purple head slowly pushing into your entrance and opening you up fully as he slid all the way in. The two of you groaned simultaneously as he bottom out inside of you, his face hovering above yours, his eyes dark and gleaming with sexual desire. With his first thrust within you, his other hand joined the one above your head, his fingers gripping onto the small ledge of the window as he set his pace hard and rough. From your position, you could feel every inch of him as he withdrew himself, only to slam into you, again and again, each thrust adding to the release beginning to gather along your spine, shutting out every other sense and thought beyond where he met you, touched you. “It’s a shame we don’t have more time.” Colin ground out from above you, his words tight as they squeezed through his gritted teeth. “I could fuck you like this for hours.” You nodded eagerly, your mouth parted in building ecstasy, the car rocking back and forth with the force of Colin’s driving strokes in and out of you.  The relief of finally being able to bury himself into you had Colin’s own release chasing after him, his pleasure building and building, your wide eyes boring into his, the gleam of undiluted sexual gratification shining there doing unspeakable things to his stomach, adding to the tight knot of bliss growing within his lower abdomen.  Colin’s hot breaths caused a thin layer of fog to gather on the window, his fingertips marring the cloud as he repositioned once of his hands on the window, cutting through the condensation and leaving a handprint on the glass. You clenched around him, your inner walls pulsing, begging him for more as your orgasm neared. Colin’s mouth parted, his eyes drifting shut as you reached up, gripping onto the front of his shirt as you toppled over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you in waves of pleasant heat. At your cry of release, Colin fell after you, spilling into you with a deep groan, his upper body crashing down onto you as his arms gave way. Your fingers moved to tangle in the short strand of hair at the nape of his neck, Colin’s face burying into the crook on your shoulder, his breath coming out in hot puffs against your skin as your pussy milked him thoroughly, accepting the thick ropes of cum that he poured into you. He was shaking, you both were, clutching onto one another in the confined space of the car as you brought each other down from your high, the rocking of the car having stopped, replaced by your harsh breathing as you recovered, Colin’s scent potent in his close proximity.

You grimaced as you sat down on the couch in the tidy living room you and Colin now occupied, perching on the edge primly as the woman you now had to interview took her own seat on the opposite couch. The wetness smeared between your thighs was unbelievably distracting, a slick reminder of the pleasure that you were still very much coming down from. You hadn’t had time to clean yourself up and, and you sat, your eyes began to feel heavy with blissful satisfaction.  You glanced over at Colin as he, too, sat, the front of his shirt uncharacteristically ruffled, your earlier grip on it having caused the material to crease. Running your fingers self consciously through your hair once more in a last attempt to smooth any stray strands, you turned back to the woman awaiting questioning. “Sorry for being late.” You apologise, filling the silence of the living room. The woman offered you a small smile, her hands clasped together on top of her legs. “It’s no bother.” She responded pleasantly, taking a glance between you and Colin, at the close proximity with which you had naturally sat beside each other. You shifted under her curious scrutiny, regretting it immediately as your thighs slid against each other uncomfortably. Your cunt was only just cooling off, the trip from the car to his house too short to douse the heat still rippling through your gut. “It is windy outside today?” She asked, a genuine look of question on her face as she beheld the tousled hair that you both sported. You took an awkward glance at Colin, unsure of what to say. “Oh, erm, a little bit.” He answered tensely. You forced the corners of your mouth downwards as a smile strained to curved your lips upwards. “Oh, that’s shame.” The lady mused quietly, taking a glance out of the large bay window that looked out to her front lawn and the street beyond. “I was supposed to be heading outside later on.” You reigned in your growing amusement, glancing with her out of the window; the sky was cloudless, the leaves on the bushes and trees in the front lawn unruffled. Colin grimaced. “Anyway, we just have a few questions we would like to ask you. You’re not in  any trouble or anything, don’t worry.” You explained warmly, eager to change the topic of conversation. She looked at you, taking another glance to your partner before meeting your stare once more. “Of course.” She began. “I won’t keep you too long. It would seem that you perhaps have other things to be getting on with.” You tensed at her words, at the subtle emphasis she applied to the word ‘things’. Beside you, Colin let out a quiet, passing laugh before delving into his first question, the woman’s eyes alight with amusement as she took once last glance at you before directing all of her attention to Colin and the question he had just presented her with.

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved (if you want to be added or removed, just let me know <3)

[beybladefanboy]

Top 5 Favourite Beyblade Characters

Random and unasked for but I figured I would talk about my favourite characters in the Beyblade Metal Saga.

#5 A tie between Chris and Hikaru

Chris

I’m putting these two in the same spot because I wanted both of them to be on this list and a “top 6” doesn’t have as good of a ring to it as a “top 5.” Anyways, the first time I watched Metal Fury, I didn’t care much about Chris. Now however, I find his arc of being stuck in a job that brings him no joy to be incredibly relatable. His lack of passion for Beyblade makes complete sense: the fun of the sport was completely sucked out when it became an obligation for him and he wasn’t allowed to fight for himself. He was completely obligated to his employer and had little choice in the matter. That would suck away anyone’s passion, trust me, I know. So seeing the light return to his eyes as he rediscovered his passion for Beyblading was incredibly satisfying.

Hikaru

A lot of the appeal of Hikaru is admittedly that she is a female blader, and yeah, it is great having a strong female character. (We need more of those) What’s great about Hikaru however is that she isn’t just a token girl character or a mary sue: she is treated the same as any other blader and is allowed to fail and feel emotions without being degraded. I like that we even see a bit of her backstory where we learn that she is driven to be the best blader because of her likely deceased mother’s words. It’s a shame that she quit Beyblade due to her trauma but I also think it’s understandable and that it was interesting to explore that trauma. The moment that broke my heart rewatching Metal Masters was when Hikaru sees Dark Tsubasa and is paralyzed by terror, clearly remembering what Ryuga did to her. Beyblade’s most powerful scenes to me are the ones that delve into a character’s mind and allows me to see their thoughts and feelings. It allows me to understand and be more attached to the character and we got a lot of that from Hikaru and Chris.

#4 Yuki

Yuki is kind of underrated in my opinion but then again, so is the entirety of Metal Fury. Yuki was a really fresh character for the series. Nearly every character is extremely reckless: acting first, thinking later so it was really refreshing to see a character who overthinks everything to the point of anxiety. I just relate more to a character that doubts himself and has to fight to overcome not just the great evil but his own self-doubt and fear as well. Also, I love that scene where he fights Ryuga. He probably knows he doesn’t stand a chance against a guy like him but he doesn’t care because he’s fighting for his friends. I can relate to that. When I’m just doing something for myself, I tend to doubt and question myself but when I’m standing up for my friends, I show no mercy. So yeah, Yuki is a really relatable character, as well as a pure cinnamon roll that needs more love.

#3 Kyoya

If you asked who my favourite Beyblade character was two and half years ago, I would’ve answered “Kyoya” without any hesitation. While I do still really like him, I think his character was kind of fumbled in Metal Fury. I’ll talk about that separately though because I want this to be a positive post. Still, Kyoya is a great character. I like how he develops from a villain to that one liner asshole friend of Gingka’s. While I do like him unironically, Kyoya is honestly just funny to me. He is so ridiculously arrogant about his own skills but he actually is as good as he says he is. He’s also a tsundere. He’s absolutely a tsundere. He’s always helping his friends with whatever bullshit they’re doing: helping them infiltrate the Dark Nebula, going to look for Gingka when he disappears, helping them infiltrate Hades city, going with them to look for the Legendary Bladers, and on two separate occasions, staying behind to fight someone so the others can go forward. Even his determination to beat Gingka feels more like friendly competition than actual malice. And yet he insists he doesn’t care about them with lines like, “It’s not like I came to save you or anything.” It’s honestly kind of majestic. He’s also a complete badass. He always gets back up after a loss and fights to the bitter end and, sometimes to the detriment of himself but never his Beyblade. When Leone was on the verge of breaking to pieces in The Fearsome Libra, he forfeited the match to stop that from happening, risking humiliation and accepting defeat to do the right thing. That is genuinely admirable. It takes courage to fight but even more courage to admit defeat. Also, his fight against Ryuga in Metal Fusion is insane. Kyoya nearly falls so many times but keeps himself on his feet and rises up again. It takes being stabbed in the heart by the dark power for Kyoya to be defeated. Out of everyone, Kyoya came the closest to defeating Ryuga through sheer will and determination alone. What a badass.

#2 Tsubasa

Similar to Yuki, Tsubasa is also a pretty unique character for this series. While he is passionate about fighting like all the others, Tsubasa is much more thoughtful and cool-headed, which is appealing especially among a cast of hot-headed crazy characters. When Tsubasa is first introduced, he’s kind of a mystery. We don’t know his true intentions or alignment until we learn that he was working for the WVBA, about 15 episodes after his initial introduction. This unpredictability made him interesting to watch in Metal Fusion as I didn’t know what he was going to do next. Then in Metal Masters, he becomes even more interesting. While it was emotionally intense to watch, I think the “Dark Tsubasa” arc is one of this series’ greatest achievements. It revealed a completely new layer of personality to Tsubasa and gave him so much development. 

While he was being somewhat controlled by the dark power, it is made clear through the dialogue that that side of him was always there and the dark power just enhanced and unmasked it. He did often hide his true emotions and intentions in Metal Fusion after all. The scenes where Tsubasa interacts with his dark self are very interesting and relatable to me because I often try to hide my negative emotions and avoid situations where they might come out until those feelings fester into madness, which is essentially what Tsubasa did. However, the resolution to this arc is what makes it so special to me. Tsubasa doesn’t drive out the darkness or continue to repress it: he accepts the darkness as part of who he is because everyone has darkness in them and the way to control it is to become one with it. And in the end, he becomes a stronger blader and person as a result of this arc. This is legitimately inspiring and helpful to me. It’s important to remember that we are not defined by our worst thoughts/feelings, we are defined by how we handle them and accepting ourselves, flaws and all, is important. So really that arc alone makes Tsubasa one of my favourite characters but he also has an appealing personality as well. It’s a shame he was kind of underused in Metal Fury but I love what we got from him.

#1 Ryuga

Yeah, okay, this was obvious. Take one look at my feed or even my profile picture and you could probably guess that I love Ryuga. Two and a half years ago, I hated him with a passion but after rewatching the show again, I realized I only really hated him because of what he did to Hikaru, Tsubasa, and Kyoya which yes was horrible and I don’t condone it in any way but he was under the influence of the dark power at that point and he never does anything quite that awful again. Anyways, onto the positives. Ryuga in Metal Fusion is the best villain the show ever had. He poses a significant threat and was the first person to legitimately defeat Gingka. He’s also a terrifying sadist that cackles at others’ pain. If Ryuga had stayed like that, I would probably still like him as a character but I certainly wouldn’t have developed a crush. Damn, that would’ve been nice. But alas, even in Metal Fusion, Ryuga is somewhat sympathetic when you remember that he is just a kid and was both used by Doji and not even in full control of himself because of the dark power. He is seen trying to resist its control in the final battle after all. It’s interesting to see a character who is literally corrupted by the power he sought out and actually does learn from his mistake. In Metal Masters, he realized that humans’ greed and hatred was what caused the dark power to be so harmful and decided to draw the power from its original source, before it was tainted by humans, and became super powerful. Even if you hate Ryuga, you have to admit that is awesome. And once he stopped being a sadistic villain, he became much more unpredictable as sometimes he would even help the main heroes in Metal Masters, albeit for selfish reasons. Ryuga sort of feels like a combination of traits I liked most in Tsubasa and Kyoya. He has the unpredictability and loner attitude of Tsubasa and the confidence and determination of Kyoya. Also, I don’t think I need to say that Ryuga is a badass. That’s not even an opinion: it’s something that we all know to be a fact. I mean, this is the guy who launched his Beyblade at a floating city, wrecking it enough to send it crashing into the water and causing a reactor meltdown that nearly destroyed the earth. That last part was unintentional and in all fairness, he did help stop the end of the world, but still, he is both powerful and reckless enough to do something like that. He was kind of frustrating in Metal Fury but I did like his friendship with Kenta and while his blind pursuit of power was annoying, I gotta admire the ambition. And… yeah, I cried at his death. I cried harder at that than anything else in this show at any other point I watched it, including when I was a kid even though I knew it was coming. Even though his motivations for fighting Nemesis were far from righteous, he still died trying to defeat the great evil and his final act was giving Kenta the star fragment to give the heroes the chance they needed to win. Ryuga died a hero, plain and simple. I wish he had lived so we could see him develop even more after that moment but either way, Ryuga is a great character. He’s the best villain in season one and I love his fiery personality and aesthetic in the following seasons.

[thesportssoundoff]

“Pitcher X brings Y” A look at 10 options for the Yankees in the upcoming off season

Joey

October 28th

The Yankees have plenty of reasons for not playing games into the final week of October. Unfortunately for them, it boils down to not being able to hit more so than any serious pitching deficiency. Unfortunately x2  there's not a lot of options for them in terms of upgrading their offense (You've got maybe one infield position open, maybe one outfield spot available, no real room for a full time DH) so chasing the mythical ace will be at the top of the agenda. The Yankees have implied that they're ill-prepared to spend beyond their means but let's say they DO drift into the starter pool. I'm going to take a peek at ten different starters and discuss what they would offer the Yankees in 2020 and maybe even going forward.

Gerrit Cole- Peace Of Mind

Simply put, you can pick whatever metric you want and Gerrit Cole tops any Yankees pitcher. There's maybe 4-5 guys better than Cole at this point in his career as he finally has taken the step up from where he was in Pittsburgh. There's really no point in writing an endless wall of words to descibe how special of a player Gerrit Cole is. He's likely to comfortably blow by the contract that David Price got (7 year, 215 mil) after a superb season where he outdueled his own teammate to become the ace of the Astros staff. Cole is the best player on the market, arguably the best pitcher to hit the open market since Cliff Lee did it in 2010 and is the youngest proven no flaws ace to hit the free agent market since a 29 year old CC Sabathia did in 2009. The Yankees got that guy and got 10 years of superb production including a World Series ring so why not do the same with Gerrit Cole? Cole gives the Yankees the no questions asked #1 starter they seem to be dying for. He would give this team (or any team really) a set it and forget it ace who you can rely on given his stuff, mental makeup and durability. For the Yankees, Cole + Severino + Tanaka + Paxton gives you the workhouse anchor who allows the Yankees to take some of the pressure off of Tanaka (a stud in the postseason but a guy who has struggled with injuries and inconsistency), Severino (coming off an injury marred season and poor in the playoffs with a small sample size) and James Paxton (struggled with injuries throughout his career). For 235 to 250 million dollars, the Yankees can buy peace of mind.

Stephen Strasburg- The prototypical Yankee arm

I'd like to imagine every team would want a Stephen Strasburg. For the Yankees though, Strasburg is pretty much what they draw up a starting pitcher to look like. The Yankees historically like big tall pitchers and Strasburg fits that bill. Knowing the dimensions of their park, they prefer guys who can go out there and pitch as close to no contact as possible. Strasburg led the ML with strikeouts in 2019. They aim to amass pitchers who if they DO get hit can pitch to soft contact. Strasburg does that as well. When healthy (and that's a serious maybe) with Strasburg, he's got Cole-esque properties. The Yankees have gotten to watch him pitch deep into the playoffs as a capable #2 (and at times #1) behind Max Scherzer. One of the bigger philosophies inside the organization is that pitchers throw less fastballs  (the Yankees were last in 2017 and 2018 in fast balls thrown as a staff) and Strasburg throws his fastball less than 50% of the time. There's a lot to love here if you can overlook the age with Strasburg being 31 and the injury history. Strasburg fits the current Yankees mindset despite having two serious flaws that traditionally has not worked out well with this team. This feels less like a marriage of love a la Cole and more a marriage of convenience but those can absolutely work too.

Hyun Jin Ryu- A potential ace IF

It would take a tremendous lying effort to convince people that the options after Cole and Strasburg are sure things. That said there's plenty to like about the names going forward. If you start with Hyun Jin-Ryu, you're talking about a guy with ace like qualities. The three times where Ryu has had an extended opportunity to show his stuff, he's been pretty much everything you'd want a pitcher to be. In his first year in the majors, he put up a 14-8 with a 3.00 ERA and 1.20 WHIP across 192 innings. In his sophomore campaign over 152 innings he pulled up a 14-7 and 3.38 follow up. The problem is that from 2014 to 2018, there's a lot of dead space within that resume. A lot of injuries and so-so production taint Ryu's overall free agent profile. In 2019 he returned to form as pretty much the same guy he was when he showed up; relying on a lot of ground ball outs, minimal walks and minimal hard contact to cruise in with a 14-5 record and a 2.32 ERA. Behind Walker Buehler and the resume of Clayton Kershaw, Ryu saw the mound in game three of the NDLS and cooked up a 5 inning start (a rare start where he didn't give the Dodgers length) with only 2 runs on his ledger when he left. Ryu is a potential ace IF you can overlook the injury concerns, the advanced age and are willing to err on the side of optimism that switching leagues will not lead to you regretting the deal two years down the line. A lot of ifs but a supremely talented arm to consider as your potential #2 behind Severino.

Madison Bumgarner- An October Answer

No pitcher figures to have a weirder stock than Madison Bumgarner. From 2013 to 2017, he was among the the premier arms in major league baseball. We're talking about a four time All Star who garnered Cy Young votes with an ERA+ that never fell under 115. Even in 2018, considered the start of the decline, he was a pretty damn solid arm. Since 2018 though, the years and the innings have begun to rack up and Bumgarner has entered into this weird Verlander in Detroit-y "I'm not sure if he's done but he's not who he once was" middle ground. That said the Yankees wouldn't be bringing in Bumgarner for what he does from March to September. If they sign him, they're probably going to carry his elevated HR rate and declining stuff to a mid 4-ish ERA and they'll probably tolerate him shouting at home run hitters who aren't jettisoning it out of the box because a Bumgarner signing is entirely about postseason prestige. We ARE talking about a pitcher who pitched to a 5+ ERA on the road with middling stuff who would be going from San Francisco to a park with arguably the worst dimensions possible for his skill set. It's not about that though. If Bumgarner is pretty damn good in the summer, he's insane in the fall when the games count a hell of a lot more. We're talking about a career 2.11 ERA in the post season and an era UNDER 1 in World Series play. The Yankees would be getting Bumgarner almost for the same reason they'd be getting Cole; there's a peace of mind in having a guy like that in big games. There's something to be said for the Yankees to slot him in as a game 2 or game 3 starter knowing full well that the history of the player indicates he's going to handle business. Even if Bumgarner is an innings eating #4 from April to September, he would step in and inspire insane confidence in October just on the years and years of work he put in already. In many ways, he's another Masahiro Tanaka. Is one month of greatness with five months of meh worth 15 mil or so?

Zack Wheeler- An Illusion?

I'm already getting tired of the takes about Gerrit Cole and Zack Wheeler having enough similarities that Wheeler is a poor man's Cole. I'll let MLB do the hard work there (https://www.mlb.com/news/zack-wheeler-has-potential-comp-in-gerrit-cole) and you can read for yourself all of the comparisons. Zack Wheeler has been in the Mets rotation in some form or fashion since 2013. Despite that, he's been historically a pretty okay-ish pitcher who is more of a tease than a sure thing. He's an illusion of what may be; electric stuff, stretches of inconsistency, stretches of #1 type performance and the reputation of being a guy who gets better as the year goes along. It's believed the Yankees had some interest in Wheeler (even if at this point, it feels like their focus was more on Bumgarner, Minor and Boyd) and the general rule of thumb is if Cashman wants you once, he'll do what he can to get you eventually. For me though Zack Wheeler represents another AJ Burnett. He's about to turn 30 years old and has been in the majors longer than Gerrit Cole has. He just might be what he is but teams are going to pay for what he may be. It's an illusion of a cost controlled (in theory) ace with elite stuff that can work anywhere. He's the most overly reliant of all the names mentioned so far and has the worst injury history as well. There's always going to be a belief that if you get a guy like him out of a bad spot, he'll wind up achieving his potential. That's the illusion. What you can pay for the illusion is the debate. 

Jake Odorizzi- Familiarity

Odorizzi figures to be the favorite fallback option for teams who don't want to pay/miss out on Cole, Strasburg and Wheeler. Like Wheeler, he's another pseudo what if guy. He was a prized arm who moved around as the key piece in trades for a while before landing with the Rays who got some good burn out of him before he just fell apart. He struggled in the famed failed free agent class of 2018 and then found himself this year as probably the 2nd best Twins pitcher going into this loaded pitching class. Odorizzi gives the Yankees some familiarity. He's pitched against their team (nearly 100 innings to a 4.71 era) and in their stadium before (an unsightly 5.4 ERA) and thrice against them in 2019. He started game 3 of the ALDS against them and gave the Twins a shot to do something had they been able to score any runs. He's pitched in the AL East before with the Rays (4.70 ERA vs the Red Sox). Odorizzi may be a bit too fastball and line drive happy for the Yankees but familiarity + upside tends to win out when desperate measures come into play.

Jose Quintana- Potential stability at a moderate price

Once the ultimate chest thump for Cashman detractors, former Yankee Jose Quintana has been pretty solid since leaving the organization. He was an under the radar great arm for the White Sox and the Cubs jumped the Yankees in 2017, snagging him when the Yankees were trying to make a determination between Quintana and Sonny Gray. Since going to the Cubs, Quintana has been....alright I guess. His peripherals are basically the same, he was still a pretty reliable innings eater but the results haven't matched up well in the end. As the Cubs are teetering between going all in and going into a soft rebuild, Quintana may be on the market. In his worst pro season ever, Quintana was probably just a smidge behind Masahiro Tanaka overall. He had a slightly higher whip due to elevated walks, struck out batters at a slightly better clip and ceded a few innings to Tanaka overall.  At 11 million dollars, Jose Quintana may not be a sure bet to rebound but he's still got plenty of value if he can get his walks under control. He's never been a big strike out guy but again, neither has Tanaka recently. Maybe having two Tanakas isn't a bad thing.

Dallas Keuchel-  A Sabathia replacement

Listening to Brian Cashman speak throughout the year, you get the feeling he really thought the Yankees had Dallas Keuchel in the bag. On a number of occasions, he made implications that he felt like he had a deal in place and somebody (either Boras or Keuchel) needed to step up and get it done. In his post season presser, he said they just missed out on Keuchel with a deal that was barely above theres IE: he would've topped it had he known. Keuchel wasn't great with the Braves but he was more than solid enough as a back end of the rotation guy with playoff experience. He wasn't great shakes at the beginning of his hyphenated season but once he got his sea legs under him in August, he had a 3.68 ERA which includes a game where he gave up 8 runs. Remove that game up and he has a 3.33 and remove the game before that where he went 5 IP/3 ER and it drops to a 2.55. He was absolutely what the Braves needed and then folded in the playoffs. The Yankees JUST lost their Dallas Keuchel; a soft tossing lefty who had a bevy of playoff experience and was reliable and durable for a playoff team. I don't know if Keuchel has the same leadership qualities that CC Sabathia has but he'd be a worthy enough successor as the heir to the crusty lefty throne.

Tanner Roark/Michael Wacha/Kyle Gibson/Gio Gonzales- Innings

Long story short; this would be all about depth and amassing names and faces. None of these guys pitch a meaningful inning in a playoff rotation. They're there to eat innings and prevent your team from having to use a bullpen game. The Yankees could've used that when they were trudging out the likes of Nestor Cortes, Johnny Lasagna and Chance Adams hoping like hell they had something to offer for 3-4 innings a clip.

[jimlingss]

Brass & Strings [9]

Episode 8 - Episode 9 - Episode 9.5 OR Episode 10 Words: 5.2k Genre: Fluff, Humour (?), Slice of Life, Music!Au, College!Au Summary: Have you ever wondered what happens to the mean girl after high school? Where do they go, where do they end up? More importantly, what happens when they get mixed up with the classic nerd that's always too nervous to answer 'no'? Things become a lot more complicated when Kim Namjoon encounters you. They dub you as 'bat-shit insane' and you're not ashamed.  Notes: This part is inspired by this which actually inspired the entire series.

Cr.

[3 Years Ago]

The cold nips at your skin and you shiver in your thin clothes, shaking in your bones while the dim light of the lamp post is the sole luminescence. For a mere moment, a sickening dread washes over you, causing you to become nauseous to your very core. Did he leave you behind?

There’s no way.

But you can’t help looking down the road, teeth sunk into the bottom of your lip, rocking back and forth in your dirty shoes. No. You believe in him. It’s impossible that he’ll go against his word. He won’t abandon you…..

He’s the only one you have left.

“Fucking finally!” You shout aloud, stomping up to the dingy car as it pulls up on the curb.

It sounds like it’s running on rocks, making chugging noises and barely holding on. The vehicle is a stark contrast to the luxurious neighborhood. The boy inside winces when you get in and slam the door harsher than necessary. “Hey! You’re going to break it, brat!”

“Where the fuck have you been?! I’ve been waiting for twenty goddamn minutes!”

“There was traffic, you ungrateful piece of shit! I nearly got ticketed for speeding here. Do I get no thank you’s?!”

“No,” you huff out while crossing your arms, turning your head to look out the window. Your house stands behind the gate and in the middle of your noisy argument, the lights inside flicker on. It’ll be any moment now that your parents will look out the window and realize where you’re going or more specifically, who you’re with. “Just drive!”

The nineteen year old grumbles and shifts the gear into place, leaving the street behind you.

Yoongi doesn’t speak a single word. You don’t either, leaning your forehead on the cool window, staring out at the passing nighttime sceneries and the other cars who are most likely making their way home. No one at midnight would go anywhere anyways, except for the two of you.

“Why have you been so catty?” Your cousin finally pipes up, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

You’d turn on his radio but it’s broken. “As if you care.”

“Just tell me if you’re PMS-ing so I can avoid you for the rest of the night,” he chides in a sassy tone that has you scoffing with a smile.

“Bitch...fine…” Your arms are still crossed but you sit up straight, peeling the bright paint off of your fingernails. “I’m going to run away.”

His eyebrow perks and he steals a glimpse of you before focusing back on the road. “Oh?”

“My parents want me to go to their university or whatever after high school. But I’d rather die than work an office job for the rest of my life or teach damn science to a bunch of dimwits.”

Yoongi chuckles, “yeah...you don’t really fit the whole professor narrative.” As a seventeen year old, you’re already surprised that you made it this far through high school without dropping out or getting expelled. “What are you planning?”

You shrug. “I’m probably going to pack up a suitcase, withdraw like a good few thousand dollars.”

“Where are you gonna stay?”

“I dunno.” You’d never admit it to him but you haven’t thought up all the details yet. “Maybe I’ll take a plane out of this shit ass place and I’ll stay at a hotel for awhile. You know, I hear a lot of wealthy folks like to pay young people to go on dates with them.”

“You’re not pretty enough for that.”

You fake a gasp. “Wow, fuck you, I’m gorgeous.”

Your cousin exits the highway, making a left turn and you know you’re getting closer to where the underground concert is. Sometimes it’s a rock show, other times it’s a rap or dance battle. Nonetheless, you enjoy watching the different types of performances. It’s not exactly your kind of scene but it’s different from the usual classy and high-end places that you frequently visit.

“You know, Y/N…..I actually think you should do music.”

There’s a long silence.

You burst out into laughter, slapping your knee, wiping away the water that wells up in your eyes as your stomach squeezes. “And here I thought we were actually having a semi-serious talk. Thanks, asshole.”

“No, I am being serious.”

For once, you know he’s telling the truth. There isn’t a hint of humour or mirth in his voice and Yoongi’s expression is stern, despite you only being able to see his profile. “I think you should do music.”

You scoff, laughs dying down and he continues, “believe it or not, kid, I’ve heard you play and you’re not half bad. You’ve got a really good ear for this sort of stuff. Running away...it won’t do you any good after a while. Take it from someone who’s tried. You’re better off pursuing something decent and actually building a future for yourself.”

You roll your eyes. “You sound like my dumb teacher.”

But you’re secretly hanging onto every single word of your close cousin. He’s in his first year of university after all, having fought with his family to major in composition. If you attended the same place as him, you’d at least have someone with you. “...do you really think I could do it?”

The side of his lip tugs. “I really do.”

“How would I pull it off? My parents would never let me major in music.”

Yoongi’s smile becomes a smirk and his grip on the steering wheel tightens, completely aware of your manipulation skills that’s only getting better as you age. “Oh, I know you’ll figure something out.”

[Present Day]

It’s not surprising that Yoongi doesn’t pick up. He tends to ignore your phone calls and texts, unfazed when you blow up his mobile device. What is shocking, however, is that he actually seems busy.

Aside from grumbling about how early he has to wake up to head to the radio station, his shitty shifts at the music store, having no direction in composing, then he’s complaining about having less than ten hours of sleep. In other words, usually Yoongi isn’t that fucking busy.

But he always has time to talk to you. He’s always there.

You don’t think much of it until you drop by the music store after a particularly nice date with a well-off, rebellious gentleman. Maybe you’re lucky your cousin wasn’t there. He’d certainly ask questions about who the person in the red sports car was.

His co-worker raises her eyebrows, “There’s been a pretty girl dropping by lately.”

One foot is out the door but you’re paralyzed, turning around. “A girl?”

“They come and leave together a lot. I think they might be dating. Did you not know?”

Okay. Whatever.

Yoongi isn't involved with your business. You’re not involved in his. It doesn’t matter to you.

You shouldn’t poke your nose where it doesn’t belong anyways. It’s a mutual relationship of respect and trust. That’s what you remind yourself except-

“What the fuck?”

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Namjoon is immediately on alert, darting his head around to where your eyes are. Your arm slowly lifts and you point straight at the girl sitting in her seat next to the window. “Jennie?”

The concertmistress is innocently writing notes down into her notebook. She colour codes, draws diagrams and has a pencil case full of chubby highlighters. She studies on her rose gold laptop, no less than a real-life doll in a television commercial. But what has shaken you to the very core, caused Namjoon to become worried and concerned is that-

“That’s Yoongi’s sweater.”

//

It’s unmistakable. The white sweatshirt of the band he followed in high school, the black marker signature at the back that your cousin literally dived on stage for. He had taken you that day, snuck you out of your house when you were fifteen for a breath of freedom and during the last performance, Yoongi threw himself to the keyboard player, some Richard guy that you can’t recall completely.

“Y/N.” Namjoon tugs on your arm, forcing you to halt. “What are you going to do?”

You ignore the harpist, shaking off his grip. The suspicions that had slammed itself inside your skull, that made you follow the concertmistress for the past half hour, it’s all confirmed when your eyes pin to the two people across the street. They’re laughing and giggling to each other in broad daylight. Yoongi almost looks...happy.

But you can’t let it happen. “Y/N!”

Your feet cross and they’re still talking to each other until the violinist turns her head. Then, her mouth drops and her eyes enlarge, soaking in your angered expression. “Y/N-”

You rip them apart, shoving her and she stumbles back. Your arm lifts to send a ricocheting slap across her face, one that’ll knock some sense into the bitch but Yoongi instantly covers Jennie with his body.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He shouts, trying to push you back when you try to tackle her again. “Y/N! FUCKING SHIT! You’re psychotic!”

“Let go of me!” You scream at the top of your lungs when your cousin restrains your limbs but you manage to dig your nails into the girl’s scalp, dragging her hair with you. “You bitch! Stay away from him!”

“The fuck?! It’s none of your business!”

“Like hell it is!”

Jennie sobs out and as she reaches up to your hands, she accidentally scrapes her own nails along your skin. The sensation burns and you give a tug on her scalp. Yoongi’s strength is immense, pushing you away but you kick his shin as hard as you can. He falls down and you roughly grab Jennie by her arm, shaking her and pulling on her hair. “Leave him alone! Go find someone else, you bitch!”

There’s a crowd that’s drawing in, murmurs and phones being pulled out. But before mayhem can truly break loose or the police can be called, strong arms curl around your waist.

You’re elevated meters high, feet no longer touching the ground. “Let go of me!”

Namjoon throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and he bows, calm and collected despite your fists pounding on his broad backside. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The harpist begins to jog away from the confused horde of people and your bruised up cousin is left with his date. “Kim! Namjoon! Put me the fuck down or I swear to god-”

“You’ll what?!” He retorts with a huff. “What will you do?”

“I-”

“Don’t you know it’s not nice to curse out loud in public? There are children around. It’s not nice to beat up other people either. You can get arrested for that. Didn’t your parents teach you some common courtesy?”

“Namjoon!”

He finally sets you down at some random park where there aren’t many wandering eyes, two full blocks away from where you originally were. “Are you still mad?”

“Yes.” You spit out, flickerings of red appearing in your vision. Your chest heaves and the bruise at your lip, the scratches on your arm don’t faze you. If Namjoon wasn’t Namjoon, you probably would’ve smacked him already for manhandling you like that and for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.

“Use your words.” The dimpled boy commands, putting his hands on your shoulders to stop you from marching back there. “You’re an adult, not a toddler throwing a tantrum. Tell me what’s wrong using your words and not through violence.”

If only it were that simple. You don’t know what to say. There is nothing your tongue can spit out that would make the pain any easier.

“He’s my only family.” You inhale, eyes red and stinging. “Families protect each other. And-and….”

Yoongi is the only one you have.

“I hate her.”

He’s your only family. He was once your best friend as well, the brother and ally that you never had. But you’ve been lied to. You were betrayed by him before. While you looked up to him your entire life, aspired to be just like him...he never once solicited your advice, never once talked to you about his own suffering.

Out of the blue, he dropped out of school and abandoned the one thing that you two shared and loved together, music.

You don’t know him. Not the way you thought you did. Your admiration and the bond you thought you shared was one sided. Now, he was dating your enemy. As childish as it seemed to be upset, every single bone in your body screams out in agony.

“I hate her...I hate her…”

“You don’t.” Namjoon somehow manages to soothe you, dissipating your anger away. The red spots in your perception begin to disappear. “She’s a good person. You and I both know that.”

“No!” You push away the boy in front of you, trying to breathe. His presence suffocates you. You want to feel angry, you want to feel rage. Those emotions are less painful than sadness.

“You don’t get to fucking pretend to be my counsellor and try to make things better! You-...you don’t get to stand here and tell me what’s right and wrong. You don’t understand shit about me, Namjoon! Stop….stop trying to act like you care.”

You’re shaking. Namjoon takes a step forward. Your head downcasts to the ground. The kind boy reaches out to hold your hand in his. Teardrops fall like rain from your eyes, wetting the cement by your feet.

“You don’t know what it’s like to have no one.” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, sobs crashing through your mouth and you hate how weak you are, how vulnerable you’re making yourself. “Y-You don’t know w...what it’s like to….to be left behind.”

You’ve been left behind.

The people around are scared of you. They’re frightened. You can’t even get anyone to stay without threatening them, without being forced in a setting or in a room. Your suitors only care about your exterior, the smile that you plaster on your lips. They don’t know what your major is or your birthday, your last name - the meaningless things that add up to make you who you are.

They don’t care. No one does.

You have no friends, no family, nobody.

You thought you had Yoongi - you’re wrong.

“I...don’t have anyone, Namjoon.”

Your shivering frame is cloaked by his warm body. His arms hesitantly wrap around you before they settle, tapping your back gently. You’re thankful that he’s holding onto you, allowing your tears to drip from your eyes onto his shoulder. It would be humiliating for you if he watched you break down.

“You have me.”

You sniffle, looking up at the sky to stop your sobs. “That’s not true. I made you stay.”

“No.” He smiles, wondering why it was that you felt so fragile in his hold. “I could’ve left a long time ago but I didn’t. I chose to stay.”

There must be three minutes of silence. Maybe more or maybe less.

Once you’ve calmed down and realized the amount of stares you were getting, children who were snickering behind their hands and shielded their eyes, bitter single folks mistaking you two as a couple, you speak up. “Namjoon.” Your voice is hoarse. “You can let me go now.”

“Oh.”

He releases his arms and you quickly dig in your bag for your sunglasses. Namjoon still manages to catch the redness under your eyes and the swollenness before you shield them away. “Are you feeling better?” He smiles to himself as you clear your throat awkwardly.

“Much.” You cross your arms, beginning to walk again. “Let’s never speak of this again.”

The harpist isn’t sure if he can keep that promise but he appeases you anyways. “Okay.”

//

If you aren’t dynamite, then you’re a ticking time bomb. The mere thought of Jennie standing next to your dear cousin still makes you nauseous. You wonder if this is what it feels like in those stories and movies with the older brother protecting his little sister against his own friends.

But in your circumstances, Jennie is someone you already detest.

“We’re just going to run through a few scales and exercises together as warm up before the conductor arrives. Is everyone ready?” The concertmistress lifts her arms and everyone raises their instruments with her motion. The violins are propped on the shoulder, the percussionist holds their mallets and the bassoonists wrap their lips around their reeds.

A little giggle interrupts the session and a few people turn around. “Y/N?”

You’re on your phone, scrolling through some messages and answering some texts. Your instrument is nowhere in sight. The trombonists beside you lean away from your menacing aura. “Hmm?”

“Are you going to participate?”

“Whose authority are you doing this on?” Your pupils flicker upwards, smile void on your lips.

Everyone puts their instruments down. Jennie drops her arms. “I’m the concertmistress.”

“Huh.”

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Your classmates swallow hard, averting their gazes and they can sense the fire that is about it ignite. “Will you participate with us?”

“I will but I’m curious as to why you’re the concertmistress.” You look at your nails, flicking off a speck of dirt under them. Your legs and arms are crossed, sitting back in the seat.

“I-”

“Rebecca?” You take a glimpse of the girl in the second seat. “Aren’t you a better player than she is? You’ve been playing for longer and you’ve had more workshop experiences as well. I see you in the practice room a lot. Do you not feel like you are more deserving of Jennie’s position?”

The girl that was dragged into the conversation opens her mouth and closes it. “I-”

Jennie takes a step forward. “Y/N.”

You interrupt all of them. Rose is gaping at you, having no opportunities to interfere and Namjoon is utterly baffled at your disobedience and rudeness. It reminds him of when the both of you first met each other. You were intimidating, unnerving and sharp, a tongue of venom and words that stung of poison. He wonders where the sweet girl he knew went, if she’s hiding underneath the mask.

“Has no one ever questioned the concertmistress before?” There’s silence as your mirthless laugh echoes across the room. You scan the surroundings and the pale faces of all your classmates. “Like, I haven’t ever seen her practicing. If she doesn’t put in the hours, then is she deserving of her seat? It’s kind of odd now that I think about it. How did Jennie get her position? And why do so many professors favour her? Maybe it has to do with her legs being spread-”

“That’s enough, Y/N.”

You look directly into Jennie’s eyes, locking your gaze onto hers. “You pretend to be all innocent and naive, as if you’re a helpless little girl. But you’re really running behind people’s back, fucking their relatives.”

There’s a roaring gasp. People cover their mouths with their hands to stifle the sound. They look around at each other with widening eyes, a simmer of murmurs filling the background. Jennie nibbles on the bottom of her lip, looking like she’s about to weep. Rose stands up but the violinist stops her. “Y/N. Can I talk to you outside?”

“Are you my mother?”

“Y/N.” Her voice does not quiver, does not shake. You’re slightly startled by the stern tone, unable to believe that she had it in her. “As the concertmistress appointed by the conductor for the past year, I require you to step outside the room immediately.”

A flow of curses leaves your mouth in mutters but you follow her. The door is shut and the pair of you face each other.

“You’ve disrespected me in front of our peers. You disrupted the session, insulted me and disregarded my authority.” Jennie inhales, “I know we have private issues but those are private. You are in a professional setting so act like it. If you want to talk to me, curse at me, hit me then do it. I don’t care. But it has to be after practice. In that room, I am your concertmistress. You must respect the position I am in and if you don’t want to, then you can leave.”

She continues to stare at you and you don’t waver. After a second, you notice her pupils shaking. You decide to be merciful. “Fine.”

When the two of you enter the room, it is dead silent.

//

He pushes his glasses up, staring out the lense to the bustling dining hall. “You look miserable. Is there trouble in love town?”

Namjoon raises a brow towards his friend, Taehyung. “What do you mean?”

The saxophonist grins mischievously in response. “Nothing.”

They both sit down together at a table and the harpist asks the other how he’s been doing. Things have been busy lately and they haven’t been able to keep up to date with each other much. “There are some euphoniums who are thinking about dropping out and there’s a competition soon.” Taehyung groans and moans, hitting his hand on the surface of the table. “I’m the section leader and I have no idea what to do! The stress is eating at me, Namjoon!”

The boy gobbles up his sandwich, faking a sob and Namjoon tries his best to encourage the man. There’s a bit of peace as they both chew and the other conversation next to them reverberates down.

“Have you heard?”

“Oh my god. I was there! Y/N totally flipped out. There’s a bunch of rumours and talk going around now.”

“Jennie’s dating Y/N’s relative, right? What a small world. Y/N’s insane though. She totally went bat shit crazy and Jennie had to pull her out of the room. If I were Jennie, I think I would’ve pissed myself. Y/N’s such a bitch. I hope she gets thrown out.”

“Well I heard that it’s not just any relative.” The girl sips on her juice box. “It’s Y/N’s cousin, Min Yoongi.”

“What?!” They dramatically gasp, huddling closer together in murmurs that are all too loud.

“The Min Yoongi?”

“Oh my god.” The third girl appears confused with a frown, hence the other nudges her. “You don’t know who he is? He’s older than us by two years and he dropped out last year. The genius composer.”

“Didn’t he tell off a conductor and then he was put on academic probation because of it?”

The fourth male student who has joined their group nods. “But it turned out the conductor was actually wrong. The school was embarrassed and they didn’t do anything about it, so he dropped out.”

“That’s cool of him,” one whispers out. “Sticking to his guns like that. I wish I had that much courage.”

“You idiot.” The girl hushes her friend. “It was a dumb move. Now he’s out there wasting his talent. I heard he’s homeless and eating garbage. He should’ve just sucked it up. His pride ruined him.”

“I can’t believe Jennie is dating someone like him.”

There’s a ringing screech. They all turn around, ready to berate the person who scooted back their chair so loudly but then their mouths drop yet again. “Are you done?” More people whirl at the sound of your voice and the gossiping group avoids your piercing eyes, gathering together and shutting their lids tight.

You take a step forward but your arm is held back. Namjoon pulls you away and out of the dining hall, abandoning his lunch and poor Taehyung who is completely bewildered.

“Will you stop? It hurts!” Your lie on his gentle grip causes him to drop his hand curled around your wrist. “You’re so fucking annoying! Stop interfering! Dragging me away from places isn’t cute, Namjoon. Can’t you mind your own goddamn business?!”

The students from different majors and faculties glance over from the shouting but they quickly scatter away.

“No. I won’t.”

“What?”

The wind blows through your hair and the blue sky blinds the back of your eyelids. You wish it was dark out or filled with grey clouds, raining perhaps. The nice weather feels like it’s mocking your existence.

“I won’t mind my own business.” He goes on a frenzy, the most serious expression you’ve ever seen on him. “I care about you too much to not, not stick my nose in your business.”

“Who asked you to care about me?!”

“I don’t know, okay?!” The timid boy’s voice is booming and it occurs to you how much taller he is, shadow overtaking your body. “Don’t ask me that. I’m here asking the questions. What were you going to do back there? Were you going to beat them up?”

“I-”

He retorts in a single statement, “you’re childish!”

You stomp your feet, shocked at what he’s yelled out. “Am not!”

“You are! You’re immature. Are you in high school? Do you know it’s assault?! You’ll be put onto academic probation, thrown out! Maybe even arrested! Everything you’ve worked so hard for will be all for nothing. It’s no wonder your parents had such a tight leash on you. You’re a wild animal!”

It’s difficult to refute him when you’ve never witnessed Namjoon lose it. Your entire mouth fills with cotton and you’re aware there’s some truth to what he’s sprouting. You only manage to scream, “that’s rude!”

“What did you tell me about my hand? You said to me that we become nothing without our hands and here you are, swinging it around recklessly! Fighting people and throwing temper tantrums is not cute, Y/N.” It’s unbelievable how he’s used your own words against you. “You’re an adult.”

You feel like you’re being lectured by your parents. But Namjoon doesn’t waver. His pupils don’t shake. You hate it even more because he’s right.

“Fine. I get it.”

//

“What are you doing here?” Their faces dim and Yoongi immediately covers her. “Go away.”

It hurts to be treated like a monster, like the evil dragon. Your once dear cousin is now treating you like a beast, protecting his princess which in reality is some chick he’s met for about a month now. It’s insulting how he threw family out the window for ‘love’. It boils your blood but perhaps you’re being a bit more dramatic than necessary.

“Are you serious?”

“Well if you’re going to start throwing around punches, then yeah.” There’s a slight tug on his lips as he presses his palm to his cheek. “You scratched up my pretty face, brat. It fucking hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’re both experiencing all kinds of pains, aren’t we? But I’m not here to talk to you, dumbass.” You point your finger at the shy girl behind him. “I’m here for her. We’re going to deal with our private matters once and for all.”

He looks back at her for any sign of reluctance and she slightly pushes him away. “It’s fine.”

The two of you walk off together and Yoongi’s left beside Namjoon.

“I’m sorry.”

You spit it out without looking at her, though it’s still genuine. “I-I don’t know what to say aside from that. I’m childish, I know. You’re the concertmistress after all. I was rude and you were right about leaving private matters outside the classroom. I should have been more professional.”

“Okay.” Jennie smiles. “Apology accepted.”

You’re shocked at how easy it was. A frown mars your face. “That doesn’t mean I like you or I’m approving of…” You make a gesture wildly, “whatever you and Yoongi are doing. I still hate you very much.”

“That’s fine too.”

“Why are you smiling?”

“I’m just happy.” She merely says, looking over to the children climbing on the playground apparatuses. “I never thought you would apologize to me. So...thank you, Y/N. I appreciate it.”

You two sit down at the park bench, silence filling the spaces.

You break it with a question. “When did it start?”

The violinist reminisces. “A few days after the charity event. I called him...and yeah…”

“You’ve only been seeing him for a few weeks?”

“Yeah.” There’s suddenly an onslaught of guilt that heaves upon your shoulders. When the relationship was already delicate and new to begin with, you had tried to tear and break them apart. If Yoongi had true feelings for her, you were ruining his happiness.

“Do you like him?”

It’s a foolish inquiry but one you ask nonetheless. “Yoongi?” She hums, “I do. I don’t know if I love him….I guess time will tell. But I enjoy his company and I think he’s brilliant. I’ve listened to his recordings, Y/N. I’ve seen his composition work and it’s amazing. He makes me feel warm and I feel inspired just sitting beside him.”

“Yeah. I know the feeling.” You nod. “Are you...serious about him?”

“I am.”

You lean back, exhaling a long breath. “This is gonna be pretty cliche of me but Yoongi’s my only family. If you hurt him, I’ll probably set out my path to destroy you.”

Jennie laughs lightheartedly to your threat. “Okay. I���ll take you up on that offer.” You match her smile and as you get up, she tugs on your limb. “Friends?”

You scoff. “You wish.”

The both of you still laugh together, having made amends properly. It isn’t like high school where you’ll hold it against her, spread rumours, go out and attack her. You’re an adult now and everyone can make their own choices, bear the consequences themselves. It’s no use brooding about something out of your control.

It feels better this way. Namjoon isn’t wrong. The bright sky isn’t as unbearable anymore.

//

It’s extremely awkward between the two males. They’re standing in front of the music shop, watching people enter and listening to the ringing bell chime when the door opens. As Namjoon coughs, he apologizes and Yoongi waves him off.

“Sooo…” He draws out the syllable. “Are you Y/N’s boyfriend?”

“No!” Namjoon protests with a yelp, waving his hands. “I’m not. We’re only friends.”

“I kind of find that hard to believe.” Yoongi smirks. “Are you really just Y/N’s friend?”

“Y-Yes. There’s nothing going on between us.”

“Then….how did you do it?”

The harpist tips his head to the side, confused on what your cousin means. “Pardon?”

“I find you interesting...Kim Namjoon, is it?” The other man nods and Yoongi continues, “if I’m not mistaken then Y/N’s currently resolving her issues by her own initiative. Of all the years I’ve known her, since we were in bassinets together, I have never seen her take the first step before. So let me repeat my question-”

Yoongi’s irises twinkle in curiosity. “How did you manage to control that barbarian?”

“I..” He stutters, “I don’t really know if you can call it controlling…”

“Treat her well. She’s a lot more sensitive than she leads people to believe.” Yoongi pats Namjoon’s shoulder, looking up at him with a proud expression. His impassiveness is spoiled. “I’m glad she has someone around for her. I don’t think I’ve ever been the best influence or mentor for the kid. She’s gone through a lot as well. Try to understand.”

Namjoon quickly pushes up his glasses up the bridge of his nose and nods, making a verbal promise to.

Yoongi muses that the timid college boy who is naive and innocent is quite clever himself. The master manipulator has finally found her match and neither have realized it.

[thegeekycolombo]

Twenty Years Later

“Do you remember that girl we used to hang out with in high school?” Ashley asks as she shuffles the cards to deal.

“Sorta. The depressed one, right? God, what was her name…” Sara trails off, sifting casually through the latest issue of People.

“Kristy…no, that’s not it…um, oh! Samantha, right?”

“Oh yes! Samantha. Wow, I haven’t thought about her in years. What made you think of her?”

“I saw her on that alumni site and Melissa told me she was coming to our reunion. She’s been on my mind ever since. The barista here looks so much like her it’s eerie. That made me think of her.” Sara peers nonchalantly toward the counter as Ashley deals the cards. “What do you think happened to her?”

“Didn’t she have a baby or something when we were in high school, like senior year?”

“No, that was just a rumour. She had a tumor or something. Didn’t we visit her in the hospital and bring her homework and stuff to her? I know my mom went a few times.”

“Ohhhh yeah. That’s right. That was crazy. She seemed so unphased by that, too. I would have been terrified. I can’t even imagine dealing with something like that in high school. She was such a strange person. Do you remember that time we went over to her house on a Friday night to drag her out with us and she was just laying in her bedroom, lights off, reading by flashlight?”

“That was so odd! I so weirded out by that. I just wanted to shake her and say, “Girl! We are sixteen years old, it’s Friday night, and we have cars. Let’s go!”

Sara lays down her meld and then plays her last card. She grabs the cards to straighten the deck while Ashley tallies up her points. “Yeah she was so weird sometimes. Do you remember the stories she would tell us about her mom? Do you think she was really that horrible? She seemed nice to me.”

“Who knows. I thought her mom was nice, too, but remember that time Samantha got in trouble for making us sandwiches at her house? That was insane. She was grounded for two full weeks for that.”

“That’s right! I’d forgotten all about that. What is so bananas about that is that she was always at our houses and our parents never hesitated to have her over for dinner or whatever. Do you remember how we could never have sleepovers at her house either? Not that I would have wanted to if her mom really was crazy.”

“Totally. It’s your deal by the way.” Ashley gets up to refill their coffee cups at the counter. As she sits down she says, “Didn’t she move out of her parent’s house after our sophomore year? And then went to live with that guy she knew from Rocky? Do you remember that?”

“Oh wow, I forgot about that, too. How did that all happen? Wasn’t it over something stupid that her parent’s freaked out over? I remember feeling so bad for her. Like she’s a straight A student, almost top of our class, tutoring other kids all the time, and working seven days a week, I know Samantha wasn’t perfect, but damn. She had her act together more than most of us.”

“True. She was just so depressed, though. It was embarrassing sometimes. I would go look for her when we had off hours together and find her sitting in a corner of the hallway or the library by herself, listening to music and writing or drawing, hoodie pulled up over her head. She lived in her own world a lot, it was so weird. One time I sat next to her for a good fifteen minutes before she even realized I was there.”

“And do you remember trying to hug her? She’d have none of it. She hated to be touched.”

Ashley draws a card and discards mindlessly, “I wonder why we stopped being friends with her. I mean you and I are still friends but it’s like Samantha just disappeared. One day we were driving around, the three of us listening to music and laughing about silly stuff, and the next day she was just gone.”

“I feel like we never really knew her. You know, as a person. She never told us anything about anything. But she knew everything about us.”

“Right? What kind of girl doesn’t like to sit around and talk about boys, gossip, and talk about their feelings? I can’t even remember her having a crush on anyone.”

“Well, there was that guy from Rocky. Do you think they were a thing? Did we ever even meet him?”

“Hmm, I don’t think they were a thing. I think they were just friends. I never met him but saw them once. I was driving my brother somewhere and saw them laying in the grass at City Park one night. Oh! I do remember this, though. She was laughing. She looked like she was laughing so hard she was crying. I had never seen her like that before.”

Sara lays down her second meld, discards her last card, and chuckles. “Why are you so bad at this game?”

“I don’t know, but you are killing me. I have three Aces in my hand. I’m going to have to win the next three just to stand a chance.” Ashley jots down her score and shuffles the cards. “It was weird seeing her…happy. She looked free and comfortable. I wish we got to see that side of her.”

“She was weird and she was definitely depressed, but she was so cool and such a good friend. She used to leave us the neatest little paintings in our lockers with poems or song lyrics written on the back. I wonder if I still have any of those…” Sara wonders aloud. “Hey, do you remember when Jack dumped you and what she did when she found out?”

“I try not to think about that guy, okay? He shattered my lil teenage heart that day.” Ashley explains, dramatically falling back in her chair.

“Yeah, yeah, but forget about him. Samantha called me the minute she found out. She went and bought all our favorite junk food items, rented some movies, picked me up, and we showed up at your house, sleeping bags and all.”

“That’s right, wow. She was always there when I needed her. It’s like she just knew what to say and what to do in any given moment. She was always there to support us no matter what. Heck, she’s the only reason I survived Dill’s AP lit class!”

Sara giggles and rolls her eyes. “Well, it wouldn’t have been that hard had you actually read the books.”

“Fine.” Ashley, sits back thoughtfully, placing her cards face down on the table and cupping her coffee with both hands. “I wish she had opened up to us more, though. I really cared for her and I worried about her. It’s like every time we tried to reach out to her, she shut down even more.”

The two friends sit in silence for a few moments, allowing their minds to get lost in their own memories. “Did you ever see her cry? I don’t think I ever saw her cry. Or get angry. Or even be happy. It’s like she didn’t feel anything ever.”

“I just remember Samantha being so calm and collected all the time. Weird, right? You’d think someone who was that depressed would have been more emotional. Not her. It’s like it just made her seem…subdued.”

“Yeah…” Sara trails off, sitting back in her chair as well, staring off past Ashley’s head at nothing specific. “What do you think happened to her anyway?”

“No idea. It’s like she ghosted our entire class. I talked to a few others from school last week to see if they were in touch with her and no one has heard from her. Makes you wonder. So many people liked her and wanted to be her friend, but she kept everyone at a distance. Well, except that guy from Rocky. What was his name…”

Sara pulls out her phone and clicks on an app, smirking.

“What are you doing? Going to look her up?”

“Of course. Isn’t that what Facebook is for? Stalking people who used to be in your life to see?” Sara states as she quickly types at her phone.

Ashley laughs and shakes her head. “Okay great, let’s do it, I’m too curious not to.”

Sara scrunches her face at the screen as she scrolls slowly. “Found it!” Her eyes dart across the phone screen for a few moments, “Well, there’s not much public info on her profile. She has a boring quote from some boring fantasy novel, zero public information otherwise, oh but look at this adorable photo of her and her grandma!”

“Oh, that’s so great, she looks so different!” Ashley says grabbing the phone and zooming in on the picture. “Do you think she’s married? Does she have kids?”

Sara takes the phone and scrolls further. “It doesn’t look like it. No pictures of anyone accept her and her dog mostly. Some with her sister and another woman. A few of her posts are public, but mostly memes and political stuff.”

“I’m glad she’s alive and I hope she’s doing well. She looks like she’s doing well anyway. She almost looks happy in some of these pictures. I always thought she might kill herself or something.”

“Really? Why did you think that?”

“Samantha just seemed so lonely. Obviously, she was depressed, but it was more than that. Like she didn’t fit into this world or something. She seemed to be in a lot of pain because of it.”

“Should I send her a friend request?” Sara asks hesitantly.

“No way. Don’t you think she might be mad at us for not reaching out to her sooner? I mean twenty years have passed. Kind of shitty of us, don’t you think? Then be like oh were just talking about you.”

“Good point. It would be weird. She’s probably fine anyway. I mean she looks fine in those pictures. And besides, it’s not like she has reached out to us.” Sara looks at her phone once more, her finger hovering for a moment over the ‘Add Friend’ link. She exits the app and then puts it away in purse. The two resume their card game and move on to talking about their own lives and gossip about celebrities.  

[thank-you-for-the-vampire-money]

A MIGHTY HOMECOMING

Request: N/A

A/N: just thought I’d write something to let you guys know I’m not dead 😊

Dad!Steve x reader

Word count: 1507

Summary: You and Steve became parents a few years ago. You knew it would be difficult, but with Steve going off on missions all the time, it gets really hard.

Warnings: smidge of angst, big parenting decisions? idk

 (GIF not mine)

           “I miss you, daddy,” your three-year-old little girl sighed, leaning her elbows on the desk.  Steve let out a deep sigh as well, copying his daughter's movements, “I miss you too, sunshine,” he said, smiling weakly.

Steve had been away for almost a month on a mission in the Netherlands.  This was his fourth mission in a row and he had another one two days after he’s supposed to come back from this one.  It seemed like the only time you ever saw him, were the two-day periods in between each assignment, and on video chats.  Needless to say, you and your little girl, Brooklyn, really missed him.

   “When are you coming back, daddy?” Brooklyn asked, scootching closer to the computer monitor, “I’ll be home in two weeks,” Steve answered, “but I’ll only be back for the weekend, then I have another two-month mission.  B-but after the next mission, I’ll be home for three whole weeks!”. Steve was grasping at straws to cheer Brooklyn up.  She asked him every day when he would be home, he'd always answer 'soon' or 'before you know it'.  Especially if it was a long period of time before he would return.

Brooklyn nodded dimly.  She had barely seen her father in the past eight months, with missions, training, meetings, etc.  But, anytime she did get to see him, she was absolutely elated!  It was cute to see her and Steve interact with each other; tons of kids idolized Steve because he was Captain America, but Brooklyn adored him because he was Steven Grant Rogers, her dad.

“Tell him what you did at school today, sweetie,” you reminded, rubbing her back and glancing at Steve’s image on the screen. Brooklyn excitedly hopped down from the chair to go get her art project.

“Mr. Ramirez told us to draw what makes us happy!” the little girl explained, sitting back up on the chair with her big piece of paper and holding it up towards the camera, “he said I was best in the class!” “he told me she has your talent,” you added, smiling at your daughter, playing with her blonde curls, "I would have to agree,".

Steve looked at the drawing and almost wanted to cry. It was a picture, a beautiful picture, that looked like something drawn by a fifth grader and not a preschooler. She definitely had his artistic talent, and she was only getting better.  too bad Steve wasn't there to watch her grow.

The picture, was of you and Brooklyn, waiting at the top of Stark Tower, while Steve was up in a jet, waving to the other figures on the page.  When Brooklyn first showed it to you, you had suggested hanging it on her bedroom wall, but she said she wanted to wait and show her dad.  She always wanted to show Steve her art, it made him happy.

“It’s you coming home, daddy!” Brooklyn cheered, "do you like it?".  Steve had to wait a second before answering.  “It’s beautiful sunshine, you’re getting better and better every day,” Steve choked, trying to hold back a sob, “I’m so proud of you,”.

Before Brooklyn could ask why her father was crying, you told her to say goodnight and hop into bed, “I’ll be by to tuck you in and read to you in a few minutes, okay?” you said, kissing the top of her head. Brooklyn hesitated for a moment, but she obeyed and hopped down from the office chair.  "Goodnight, daddy!  I love you!" she waved, making sure he could see her on the screen before she blew him a kiss.   "Night baby, I love you too!" Steve smiled, catching the kiss and holding it to his cheek.  Brooklyn waved goodbye and skipped to her room across the hall.

 You sat in the chair with a heavy sigh after you closed the door to the master bedroom.  “Steve?” you called, making sure he was still paying attention.  He perked up and looked at you through the screen. “Is this healthy for her?”.  He didn’t exactly know how to respond.  He had spent many a night thinking about that.

He was an Avenger, this was his job, and it took up a lot of time and energy.  But he was also a father and husband, which took up just as much energy, if not more. When he was at work, he felt like he was neglecting his family.  And, when he was with his family, he felt like he wasn't pulling his weight at work. Where was the balance?

“I don’t know, (Y/N)…” he sighed, resting his face in his palms, “I don’t think I should be away this much, but I still have a commitment to the team,”.  You sighed and slumped back in your chair, “is it possible to ask for fewer missions? Maybe have someone else take charge for a few of them?” you suggested, “I’m sure Bucky, Natasha, or Sam would be perfectly capable of leading a few missions without you,”.  Steve sat silent.

You felt almost guilty for suggesting it. You knew Steve was very hesitant to give up his responsibilities, he felt like he was betraying his team if he did. But, he did have a responsibility to you and your daughter, the Avengers weren’t the only big priority in his life.

“I’ve got to go, I’ll call you guys later,” Steve mumbled, almost angrily, turning his face away from the camera so you could barely even see his profile.  “Oh, okay…” you nodded, “I-I love-” Steve ended the call before you could finish your sentence, “you… rude…”.

 A few days passed by and Steve hadn’t made any moves to contact you.  You had called him a few times, but he never picked up.  You had texted him a few times, but he never answered.  Brooklyn became very concerned by this.  “What if the bad guys have got him?!” she would ask. You would always tell her that daddy was okay and that he would never leave you two behind.  But, deep down, you were wondering if something bad really did happen to Steve.

 “Is daddy home yet?” Brooklyn asked as you strapped her into her car seat, “no sweetheart, he won’t be home for another week and a half,” you answered, closing the door to your car and jogging over to the driver’s seat.  Brooklyn just nodded.

Once were on the road, driving away from the preschool, you looked in the rearview mirror and saw that Brooklyn's sad little face. Her eyes were dull and her head hung low as she watched the city pass by outside her window.

“Mommy?  Does daddy not like us anymore?” she asked, her voice innocent and genuine, “what? Of course he likes us!  He loves us!” you responded, slightly shocked by what she said, “why would you think he didn’t?”.  Brooklyn looked at you through the mirror, hesitating a moment before a moment before answering, “daddy is never home anymore, and he hasn’t talked to us in a long time...” she reasoned, her eyes glaring over with tears, “if he loved us, wouldn’t he want to see us?”.  Your heart broke in half at her admission.  This poor little girl thought her own father, her father Steve Rogers no less, didn’t love her anymore…

 Turning the keys and opening the door to your apartment, you and Brooklyn walked inside, taking off your coats as you walked. "Go change out of your school clothes and I’ll make us some lu-” you began to speak, but the sight before you stopped you from continuing.  he sat on the couch, still dressed in his Captain America suit, but he stood once he caught a glimpse of you two.

“Daddy!” Brooklyn cheered, dropping her backpack on the floor and running into her father’s arms.  Steve greeted her with open arms and embraced his little girl tightly, kissing her forehead and cheek as he held her close.  “Steve?  I thought you would be gone for another ten days?” you pondered, dropping your purse and slowly approaching him.  “I was, but… I missed my girls too much, so I had to come home,” he smiled, cupping the side of your face and kissing your lips, “so, I put Nat in charge and flew back here.  And, I’ll be home for the next two-and-a-half months,”.  Now it was you who was holding back tears.  You smiled and rushed up to hug him tightly, never intending to let go of him.

Steve kissed the top of your head, basking in the warm, loving welcome.  He didn't realize how much he really missed you guys until he held you both in his arms. He buried his face into your neck, kissing it softly as he whispered, “I missed my girls…”.

TAGLIST:

@buckyshattergirl @paranoid-borderline-insane

[mrandyzavala]

An Open Letter to Vancouver Park Board Members

Dear Park Board Members,

I know you've gotten a lot of feedback over your recent decision about Vancouver Aquarium. As someone who lives on the opposite end of the continent, who am I to pitch in another voice? Well, I had a very successful career as a marine mammal trainer for the past 12 years, and just recently left to pursue another passion.  However, I am still very connected to the marine mammal community. 

There is something really, really special about that place.  I've only been once, but it is - in my opinion - one of the best aquariums in all aspects: research, animal wellness, habitat design, conservation messaging, insanely advanced and open-minded veterinary care, rescue/rehabilitation...and it doesn't hurt that it's in one of the most beautiful places on the planet.  Please believe me when I tell you that Vancouver Aquarium lives its conservation message.

I wanted to better understand who all of you are, because there is no way you'd be on a commission without a pretty impressive background.

You all seem to have huge hearts.  John, you seem like a huge supporter of green and sustainable living.   Casey, you have dedicated your time to helping people in need, like your time volunteering for the Canadian Diabetes Association and promoting an active lifestyle.   Catherine, wow.  A lawyer, an entrepreneur, a warrior for equal rights for all human beings.  Sarah, your work in creating and maintaining green spaces is as impressive as the hotel company you work for, who has a really impressive track record for being environmentally friendly.  Stuart, I love that you not only work with kids with special needs, but that you volunteer your time at (among other places) a hospice.  Michael, your restaurant (wish I could try it...maybe if I ever am lucky enough to live in Vancouver!) sets the bar high for all others in the industry, with an unwavering dedication to sustainable food choices and zero waste.  And Erin, your work in conservation with your eco-friendly spa and special education combined with your academic background in forest genetics is really impressive.

With all that you do to improve not just the city of Vancouver for itself and its residents, but giving so much to human beings who are often over-looked or avoided, I am so surprised at your decision regarding the Vancouver Aquarium.  You decision has effectively signed a death warrant for any cetaceans that need care.  Now they will seek help and receive nothing but an injection of barbiturates, even if they are not critically or terminally ill.

An eight week old Indo-pacific bottlenose dolphin who was separated from her mom in Perth, Australia.  She was euthanized after a couple of days because they could not find her mom, and there was nowhere to rehabilitate her long-term.  Here is the news story

Imagine a white-sided dolphin, entangled in fishing gear in such a way that she hasn't been able to eat in weeks.  She is emaciated, she has infections from the wounds resulting from the fishing lines wrapped around her face, dorsal fin, and in her mouth.  She washes ashore, terrified to be away from her family but has no strength to keep up. 

Her care requires more than a quick tune-up and shove back out to sea (seriously, if only it were that easy...).  Her condition is very poor, but not hopeless.  With several weeks or months of rehabilitative care, she can go back out to her family.  She can continue to raise calves...not just her own, but she will add to the survival success of other young dolphins as well.   A few weeks ago, she would have a chance at living her life before becoming hopelessly entangled in gear left by our own species.  The Vancouver Aquarium was the only facility capable of housing rescued cetaceans long-term.  It is not some "let's catch just get more dolphins but say we are rescuing them" scheme.  The Canadian government decides not only if wild dolphins can go back to the wild, and if so, where they go.

An Atlantic white-sided dolphin calf being euthanized in Connecticut.  Story here

What you guys have done is taken away the only beacon of hope for the amazing variety of cetacea that swim your waters.  Is that what you guys want?  With your combined interest and activity in eco-friendly ventures, how do you rationalize killing dolphins?  Stuart, you wrote, "Together, we focussed on one incredible action. We seized the opportunity to do some positive work for Qila and Aurora also in the name of a long, sorrowful stream of other Cetaceans who didn't want to die." 

Do you know what it is like to hold down an animal struggling, terrified, and watch the life drain from his eyes as euthanasia solution is pushed through his veins?  It is a horrible experience when a companion animal is "put down"; any animal lover (I am assuming you guys are in this group) knows the dread of making the decision to have a vet end your loved one's life.  This is usually decided based on criteria establishing quality of life, which has deteriorated due to terminal illness or injury.  It is offering a dignified, peaceful death to an aging or ill non-human family member.

That is not the case with euthanizing cetaceans on the beach solely because there is no place to rehabilitate them. 

If you wanted Chester to have a chance at life, but not live at Vancouver Aquarium...where then would you want the DFO to send him?  Which facility?

Please consider traveling with first responder teams to a 6 month old dolphin, who is terrified and whistling for her mother, her eyes wide and frantic. She seems healthy and could be brought to a long-term care such as Vancouver Aquarium, but that option has been removed.  There are no long-term care facilities she can go to within a reasonable distance.  So, because she cannot immediately be put back to sea, her life must be ended. Please consider having to restrain this baby (the equivalent to a one year old human toddler) as a vet tries to find a blood vessel in order to sedate her and eventually stop her heart.  You guys should have the experience at least once of looking at an animal who can be saved with long-term care, or an animal who is healthy but dependent on mom (who has died), and struggle as the animal fights for her life.  You are the ones pinning her down.  You are the last souls she sees as her life is ended.  Ended by the Vancouver Park Board.

Or, you can give these animals hope and a chance at living their lives.

So many of you have advanced degrees.  So many of you do so much for other humans and the environment as a whole.  But it doesn't seem any of you have experience or knowledge in marine mammal natural history, wild or otherwise.  It doesn't appear as though any of you have volunteering in a marine mammal stranding center (you really should do it, it's totally insane and heartbreaking but rewarding....and they need all the help they can get.  You would make a really big difference).  It appears as though you've chosen to ignore the 13,000 letters sent to you against the ban.  Why?

How can such a group of educated, accomplished, passionate people decide to ignore so many voices with experience and knowledge that they lack?  I just don't understand. 

Many of you pride yourselves on your leadership skills in your LinkedIn profiles (Casey, Catherine).  Your roles as leaders in a park board means you need to consider evidence that is in contrast with your personal opinions.  You don't agree with holding cetaceans in captivity.  Okay.  Now you don't agree with bringing ANY cetaceans to Stanley Park...which means you disagree with rehabilitating cetaceans in British Columbia.  Which means you are okay with killing any stranded dolphin, porpoise, or whale. 

Levi, a harbor porpoise who was rehabbed for several months at Vancouver Aquarium, was successfully released back to his home.  Is his life not worth this?

John, you were quoted saying you'd prefer that distressed cetaceans were just hauled up on a boat, treated, and set free.  Seriously John, if it were that easy, we wouldn't need marine mammal rescue centers.   But that is the problem.  In both Canada and the U.S., the federal governments have a long list of criteria that need to be met in order to deem an animal releasable.  There are a number of illnesses, injuries, and conditions (e.g. Dependent calves) that cannot be treated on a boat, or in a small hospital pool.  The DFO requires that to rehabilitate a cetacean, they need to have habitats that currently, only Vancouver Aquarium has.   It seems surprising to me that someone with your background would make such a naive comment in light of the scientific evidence you have been given by true marine mammal advocates.  

John, I swear I am not picking on you, but what about your heavy involvement with the Bloedel Conservatory? That place looks INCREDIBLE.  And it has lots of free-flighted parrots.  Parrot species which are extremely endangered in their native lands.  Is it okay to keep these extremely intelligent animals - ones who are consistently and illegally exploited for the pet trade - in captivity?  Is it because each animal at the conservatory was born in a zoological-type facility?  Are any of those birds caught from the wild?  Are parrots a large draw to the conservatory?  Do they contribute meaningfully to the revenue brought in?

Stuart, I know that you are firmly planted in the "anti" captivity camp.  I read several of your most recent blogs, including one in which you posted a letter from Steve Huxter.  You're clearly very concerned about the well-being of cetaceans.  You're disgusted by the drive hunts and thoughtless collection (capture) of whales and dolphins from the wild, as am I.  As are most of us who work or have worked with captive marine mammals.  We have some common ground. But let me tell you something I have learned in my 12 year career: the general public does not care about animals.  Not like you, not like me.  They literally need it slapped in their apathetic (or, occasionally, well-meaning) faces.  Is that my argument for you to suddenly switch positions on this topic of the educational value of cetaceans in human care? No, I'm not trying to insult your intelligence or your passion.  But hear me out: When I worked at Clearwater Marine Aquarium -a rescue and rehabilitation facility in Florida - I worked with this amazing dolphin named Panama (here is a blog all about her, if you're interested). Long story short, she was an older dolphin found near death as a direct result of humans feeding her from their boats and piers.  She received completely inappropriate food and very poor quality fish and fell very, very ill.  The older calf she had did not hunt; he/she had learned to beg for food and that was it.  Panama was rescued, rehabilitated, and deemed unreleasable by the U.S. government.  She was placed at Clearwater Marine Aquarium.  At some point during her illness or stranding, she completely lost her hearing. 

Panama in 2010

Let me tell you something, Stuart.  After I gave my public presentation on the dolphins, it wasn't unheard of for people to come up to me and actually APOLOGIZE for the times they fed wild dolphins.  It was like this bizarre confessional situation, where I was basically answering the standard "how long do they live" and "how smart are they" questions and boom, someone would approach me with a terrified and/or sheepish look on their face and say, "....I fed dolphins from my boat. I had no idea it could do something like this." Your concern regarding the "cycle" of lonely cetaceans at Vancouver Aquarium shows that you're concerned about their mental well-being from a social standpoint.  Trust me when I say that any caretaker worthy of their position and responsibility shares your concern.  I'm offering a different perspective on what Chester and Daisy, and others like them provide.  They give a rare and powerful wake-up call to people who would otherwise literally not think twice about doing something really harmful to a dolphin or porpoise...or generally, the ocean itself. I lived in the mecca of illegal wild dolphin interaction when I worked in the Florida panhandle.  I saw dolphins begging for fish from boats, and even worse, I saw essentially flotillas of jetskiers chase down dolphins on shallow sandbars....including a mother with a very young calf.  The jetskiers were totally happy just to be near dolphins, but had no idea what damage they were causing (or could've caused).  When I approached them, they blew me off, saying if the dolphins wanted to swim away, they could.  I reported them to NOAA, and nothing ever happened.  The same thing kept happening with different groups of people.  I wonder, if they'd seen a calf who was orphaned because his mother was killed by a boat strike, if they would reconsider their actions in a similar situation.

One of the shots I took (from an idled boat) to try to report these people.  The mom and calf are just under the surface

The calf....very, very young.  Probably around a month or two.  Too young to be able to out-maneuver watercraft, which means mom won't leave his side.  They both had to avoid as best as possible these obnoxious people. 

So many of the reasons why marine mammals strand nowadays is because of human-related activity.  Don't you think it's worth exploring an alternative concept of a "conservation-themed" exhibit? Where people can see animals like Chester and Daisy, understand their unique situations, see how well cared for they are, and understand how animals like them wind up in situations where the Canadian government decides they cannot be released back to the sea?  Too all of you, please reconsider your decision.  Please talk to the DFO (why haven't you already done this? This is so disappointing and scary). Please consider being involved in actual marine mammal rescue before you make a decision like this.  Remain consistent with the ways you guys have ALL chosen to live your lives: to make the city of Vancouver a better place for all of its residents...especially the ones who need help the most.  Why limit your compassion to humans? Sincerely, Cat Rust _________________ A huge thanks to Malgosia Kaczmarska for helping me sort through fact and fiction in this messy situation.  A resonating shout-out to Friends of the Vancouver Aquarium for their INCREDIBLY rallying cry and fierce dedication (who else would stand in the pouring rain for four hours just trying to be heard in order to spare the lives of animals we care so much about)?  Vancouver Aquarium yet again sets the bar. 

from The Middle Flipper http://ift.tt/2qEaaLl

[waldos-writing]

The Dig Initiative: Chapter 18

Harvey If You Please

It was fine. It was. It was fine. Of course it was.

Nobody had ever driven Harvey’s car before, that’s all. Even back when he was Mr. Mannen. He purchased it new, which wasn’t much, but the fact that a 2027 car was still kicking was almost a miracle. He took care of it, serviced it himself a few times when he watched a few tutorials on YouTube. He even cleaned it. Car washes! What a rip! So Harvey wasn’t exactly panicking as Annalise drove through side streets to whatever destination she had plugged into her head—and, to be fair, she wasn’t driving insane, because that would draw unwanted attention from patrols and they were absolutely out after curfew. It was just a small itch in his throat as Annalise gripped the steering wheel and got her fingerprints all over everything. It had just been rescued from the shop. Hell, it had just been rescued from his old apartment!

But it was fine.

“Summer turns to autumn,” said Jay from the back seat. “What a stupid way to put it.”

“Means it’s a riddle,” said Harvey next to him.

Thomas was in the front passenger seat, folded up neatly with his hands in his lap and his knees too close to the glove compartment. Couldn’t be easy being that tall. He didn’t complain.

“Well, yeah, it has to be. Course it is,” said Jay, who kept his head against the headrest like he was strapped to a board and he was about to be loaded up into an ambulance. “They never just, you know, they never just say it. I never, whatever it was, I never knew a fortune teller, but that’s how it is. Never went. Why? Right? In the movies and stuff, that’s how it is. They’re just, like, summer meets autumn and that’s it. And how’d she know about the voice and the pen? I never said what I saw in Westwood. How’d she see that, if it’s behind us? If she’s an oracle or whatever, what’s the past even—”

“I don’t know,” Harvey said and fumbled with the seatbelt strap across his chest.

It felt alien to be sitting in the back. It was an angle he never knew and he suddenly felt small and feeble because of it.

“Okay. Well, okay, cause I mean…. What I mean is suns gone. Patrols are out. We don’t have passes or any of the legal right to be out here. At all. So, uh, if we want to do this, we gotta do this, you kn—”

“Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you nervous or something?”

“Or something,” he answered and shrugged into himself.

Annalise and Tommy were having their own mentor/mentee conversation in the front of the car. They didn’t actually say much, but the actives didn’t have to, did they? They could blip whatever they wanted to say across the air. At least, Tommy could do that, easily. He did it with Harvey, because they were connected. Tommy had a wider range of talents than Annalise. She pushed people, that’s all. Physically, mentally, that’s what she was good at. And maybe Tommy was helping her with it or just encouraging her to find the store and fulfill whatever Cee had said to them. Tommy didn’t look at her, but he would occasionally lean to the left and mutter something or tilt his head. Harvey just wished he could hear them over the heater vents and the sound of the tires on the road. Why was it easier to hear everyone in the driver’s seat? He hated it in the back.

“Don’t be nervous,” said Harvey at last and he pushed his head against the head rest as well.

“Sure. Right. Thanks.”

He wasn’t a mentor. Harvey—Mr. Mannen—had been a quiet man most of his life. Not many friends in school, not many friends out. He worked hard and he went home and he didn’t know what to say to someone that looked up to him for guidance because who would look up to him? Maybe he wasn’t just feeling small anymore in the back seat. Maybe he really was small and this new perspective was all it took to show him how little he produced and how little he helped.

“You’re a good man,” Tommy said suddenly, breaking the lull in the back of the car. Harvey sat up.

“What?”

“You know,” said Tommy and titled his head again, so that his profile was a little more visible. “You know you are.”

“Oh.” And then, quieter, “Sure.”

Maybe he was right. Tommy usually was. Or maybe he was wrong, but Harvey didn’t think he felt any better. He wished he did. He thought about how he did, so that it was the loudest thought in his head, so that no others trailed out, so that Tommy would butt out. It wasn’t Tommy’s fault, he just did it all the time. Harvey thought about how he should let it go, as loud as he could.

“Summer turns to autumn,” Annalise whispered as she slowed the car down and pointed through the windshield.

The Fallbrook outlet was at the end of Summerset Ave. It was a little shop for winter and hiking equipment, with tents and a canoe displayed in the window and mannequins geared up. There was nothing entirely extravagant about the store. It didn’t look like a pinnacle place to fulfill a prophecy. The windows were dark. The wide sidewalk outside had a little garbage on it and a stain in front of one of the windows. The streetlamps were lit and the traffic light was green for cross traffic.

“I don’t see anything,” Harvey said at last. “Shouldn’t there be something?”

But there, through the dark, Annalise drew her forearm back to her chest and jutted it out towards the street like a slingshot.

“There it is!”

A patrol car zipped past the store, as if on cue. They were speeding down the center of the lane, like a bat outta hell. Harvey froze instinctively, gripped the seat tight with his chromagnetic fingers as Annalise counted a beat out loud, then two, and took off after them. She stayed far enough back that they could mistake the tail as a shadow, their headlights off and the tires firm against the pavement. Maybe it didn’t even matter for their little race, but Harvey pumped his anxiety and fear and curiosity into Tommy, who helped cloak the car. Jay kept Annalise focused. They were a perfect team.

Wherever they had come from was only mildly important as the patrol made its way up into the Cliffs. They passed the Locke Security office on Palmer and the turnoff to the Altamira facility. When the big sign for Altamira was in their rear window, Jay was the first to ask, “What are these guys doing?”

“I don’t know,” Harvey answered, since the two talents up front were too focused to speak. “I don’t know where we’re going. You ever been up here?”

“Hell no.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me neither.”

The road forked in front of them and the patrol went left, further up into the mountains. They were going to reach the edge of city limits soon. There was still a little frost on the ground, a shell of ice throughout the forest floor. And there was a derelict CleanAire tower, one of the first models with a rusted pock-marked shell instead of the sleek hexagonal designs. It was a prototype. Had to be. As they followed the patrol, they saw another, and another. The fourth one popped up right outside a low bunker-like building hidden in the tree line. Tommy touched the window with his palm flat, following it with his head like a dog. Harvey half-expected Tommy to pop open his door and roll away in the dark without a word. He wouldn’t argue with it either, of course, there was no point.

But, instead, Tommy turned back around and touched the dashboard, a little shimmer rippling through the windshield as an added protection while Annalise steered them into the dark. It wasn’t long until they were right up on the bunker, close enough that it was stupid. Annalise rolled them to a stop.

“They’re going inside,” Annalise said as Harvey looked back at the tower behind them. He had to drop it. Had to focus on what was happening in the now. “Got two with them. Blindfolded. Do you think we should follow?”

“We have to find the doorman, right?” Harvey asked, leaning around the passenger seat. He pointed a shiny silver finger at the bunker. “Go over there, in the trees. We’ll sneak in after them. Think you can cloak us until we’re inside.”

“Jay, you up to it?”

“Up.”

Annalise nodded once, firm, and rolled the car down towards the dark spot Harvey had told her to go. There was a quiet buzz to the air, almost like an old AC unit. When they shut off the engine, it got quiet, but picked back up in a slow crescendo when they approached the building.

“What is this place?” Harvey muttered to himself.

“Off the record,” Tommy answered. He turned a pointed look towards Annalise and added, “Off the map.”

There were no signs posted or company name listed on the building. The patrol car that they had followed looked to be the only one on the property. Harvey was sure there had to be guards in watchtowers posted or, at the very least, cameras all over the grounds. He stood behind Tommy who walked bent at the knees, trying to make up for his staggering height. They were in close step behind Annalise, as though all of them were crouching under a small branch for cover.

Just as they were about to enter the building through the door the two agents had gone through, it banged open and a man and a woman came out. Black Jackets. The woman was holding a folder as she tossed the keys over to her partner. The man was holding one of the captives.

“Look, I know it’s not your thing, but could you drive?” she asked.

“You never let me before.”

“No, I know, I’m just….” The woman waved her fingers near her temple. “Got a headache, Poole. I hate this place, I really do. Keeping them all back there. Listen, if you don’t want to drive, give me the keys, I was just asking is all for this one thing, is all, and I—”

“Okay,” said Poole. He unlocked the car and pushed the person he had been dragging along into the back seat. None of them got a good look at the person since they had a bag over their head. “But just to the facility. I don’t like to drive.”

“I know,” said the other agent, a tired clip of speech before she got into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

They stood in the shadow as Tommy cloaked them, each of them holding their breath. After the patrol car drove off, they started to breathe again.

“Who was that?” Jay finally asked, a little groggy from his augmenting efforts.

“I don’t know,” Harvey answered and turned towards the entrance. “I don’t care right now. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, but, weren’t we supposed to go after them? Doorman and pest or—”

“I don’t think so,” Annalise said.

“Okay, how do you—”

“I’m the map.”

That was good enough for them. Nobody said a word as they raced to the door. It wasn’t even anything special. Standard lock and key. Harvey figured it would be more complicated than that, but it wasn’t. Almost disappointing. He looked back up at Tommy with a silent what should we do? Tommy nodded, waved his hand informally and Harvey wondered why Tommy didn’t push it open. He was tired. He had to be tired, that was all. All this effort.

Harvey forced the door open by breaking the lock with his chromagnetic hand. It snapped the handle off in the process.

“Leave that propped open,” said Harvey. “We don’t want to get stuck here.”

“Then they’ll know we’re here,” said Jay, staring at the crushed lock.

“Then we be quick about it and stop stalling.”

It was dark inside. Almost too dark. The entrance was just a small square that broke off into three hallways. There were lights and sounds, something like machinery pumping throughout. That hum wasn’t overbearing, but it was persistent. It really started to dig into them, worm into their heads. Tommy touched his temples and held his fingers there, fighting off a headache.

“Which way?” Annalise asked in a tight whisper.

“I don’t know,” Harvey answered in kind.

“Yeah, you’re the map,” said Jay. “MapQuest it out.”

“Listen, I’m going to kill you, okay? When we get home? Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” said Jay, looking at the hallways. “When we get home. Deal.”

She only hesitated a moment before she took the lead and walked down the hallway straight in front of them. It seemed the most obvious answer, the easiest one. Jay was on her left and Harvey on her right. It was a tight formation and if they got into any trouble, it would be almost impossible turn fast and run. Tommy stayed behind them a step or two, holding his head. He would be alright. He was made of stronger stuff. He could hold his own.

“If either of you get a ping of something, you tell me, alright?” Harvey asked, toeing his way down the hallway.

“Yeah.”

“Of course.”

Tommy said nothing.

The hum was a bright note that slapped the walls as they made their way down. Harvey couldn’t see any doors, nothing that was obviously a door, but there was something distinct behind those walls. He was sure they had to be hallow. He imagined big churning machine parts cranking away in the dark, digging down into the earth. Just the thought of touching the walls, the idea that the machines could punch through and snag them, made his arm tingle and a painful pinch stuck to his ribs beneath his subdermal sensors.

“Tell me we’re close, Annalise.” Harvey rubbed the scar tissue on his side. “I’m begging you.”

“I don’t know,” she answered in a whine. “I can’t tell where we’re supposed to go. I’m guessing as much as you are.”

“You know where to go,” Tommy said in his quiet, gentle voice. It was comforting, a familiar hand on your shoulder, a friendly pat on the back. “You can see it. It’s there.”

“I can’t see any—”

“You can,” he repeated.

“I can’t do it.”

“You can,” he said again, just before he fell against one of the walls.

Harvey grabbed him before his knees gave out and asked “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Tommy answered. Nothing to worry about, but he touched his head again and rubbed his index finger in a circle. “I promise.”

“You don’t have to be here. Annalise can handle this. Right?”

“Yeah,” she said, but her eyes betrayed her confidence. “No, of course.”

“I’m fine,” he said again. “Just focus.” Tommy pinched his eyes shut before he stood his full height and smiled, tight-lipped and reserved. “It’s alright. Let’s keep going.”

It was the best they were going to get. Nobody said it, of course, but Tommy was their leader, and if he didn’t want to ask for help, they wouldn’t get very far offering it to him. So, Annalise took a deep breath and grabbed Jay’s arm, nodding again so he knew to augment. She closed her eyes and spread a net out around them, a psychic sonar to find whoever it is they were supposed to find. The doorman. Find the doorman. As it spread away from her, her eyebrows furrowed, and she moaned a low, worried tone. But they did not want to break her concentration. She was the map. She was going to find it. She would.

“There,” she whispered hoarsely. She snapped her eyes open and started sprinting down the hall back towards where they came.

“Annalise!” Jay ran after her. They all did.

It was the hallway to the left, a hundred yards down, when they came upon a rectangle imprint in the wall. Tommy brushed it with his knuckles and it shot out of their way, like a blind being drawn up from a window. Annalise, Jay, and Harvey looked up where the door had gone while Tommy had the wherewithal to focus on the contents of the room. It was good he did, because a young man in a black suit jumped to action at their arrival, drawing a gun from a side holster and pointing it at Tommy’s head. Before he pulled the trigger, Tommy shoved the boy back, pinning him to the other side of the room.

“Hey!” he yelled, squirming as an invisible set of hands kept him in place. “You know who I am? I’m a Black Jacket. You don’t know what I can do, buddy. You’re messing with the wrong guy.”

The Black Jacket fought hard to get free, straining every muscle in his body against the weight on his limbs. And either he was a weak talent or he was an augmenter and had no defense besides the useless gun that was knocked to the ground.

The room was small, dimly lit with a focal point of light over a table. Looked like a shoddy interrogation chamber without the two-way mirror in the back. The cement walls were blank except for a panel near the door and an intercom above it. There were two chairs at the table, one of them occupied by a limp body. Whoever he was, he wasn’t breathing.

“Who are you?” Tommy asked, his hand outstretched as a mental focus. Harvey stared at the hand, and the energy coming off of it like milky strands of spider web thread. He pushed himself along the line, zapping it with extra juice. “Who was this?”

“How about ‘who cares?’” the Black Jacket answered, still struggling, but only for show. He knew he wasn’t getting out. “How about ‘who are you,’ huh? You have a name?”

“Wait.”

Jay was moving towards the body, slow and shaky as he came off his augmenter high from helping Annalise. His feet shuffled against the cement floor like he was trudging through mud. As he got closer, he reached out. Something on his face, that desperate fear mingled with instant despair, meant Jay knew who that was. He turned the chair so he could get a good look but flinched back like it had electrocuted him.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, covering his face, and then louder and angrier, “oh my god! Oh my god!”

“Before you start, that wasn’t me,” said the Black Jacket, turning his head away so he couldn’t make eye contact. “Olsen, though, yeah. Yeah, she did that. So, when she gets back, I mean. You better—“

Jay punched the table and leapt across the room. The Black Jacket was wide-eyed when he tried to put his arms up to defend himself, jerking his head to the left and right while still pinned down. Jay surged towards him, animalistic. He had his fist back, ready to punch the kid in the face as hard as he possibly could, when Annalise pulled him back with his name and a jerk of her wrist.

“Jay, don’t,” she said, soft and sweet, in control. Her partner went to his knees and started sobbing as she crouched next to him. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“They killed him, Anna,” he said and fell against her. “They killed him.”

“Who is that?” Tommy asked again and lifted the agent just a little off the ground, just enough that he squirmed and flopped his feet, dancing on his tiptoes for purchase. There was no room to struggle.

“They….” the Black Jacket gurgled through gritted teeth. “They said…his name…was Devon. Rorshire….Some fucking…some DJ. Something. Called him…’Doorman Devon.’ He was…a transfer. That’s it…. That’s it.”

“Doorman,” Tommy and Harvey said together.

“Yeah.” The Black Jacket grunted. “Yeah. I swear.”

“There was another one,” said Tommy, a quick aside. “A girl. She in another room?”

Tommy set the agent back on the ground, giving him just enough mobility for the illusion of freedom, the promise of getting out. Tommy even dropped his hand. He was just toying with him, a big cat with a small mouse.

“The fuck, man,” the agent said, rubbing his neck.

“The other person. Where is she?”

“The other one? I don’t know. They processed her. They processed her, took her over to Altamira. Obviously. What are you…you don’t even have the right questions? You just—”

“What’s your name?” he asked, eyes crimped, a little sadder, a little more tilted.

“Name,” the agent said with a scoff. “Name. Why? And what are you? I know. I know you’re a bunch of illegals, rogue projects that got out. I know what they’re doing to you guys. You walked into the dumbest place to think you could push me around. So, why don’t you do all us a favor and you get out of here so I don’t have to tell anyone what happened, okay?”

“What. Is. Your. Name,” said Tommy, pronouncing each word with a pause, a stretch that he filled by leaning in another inch, cracking the cement over the Black Jacket’s head.

“Names are weird things,” said the Black Jacket. He started to chew his lip when he realized they weren’t letting him go. The crack in the cement wall snaked higher. Little chips of dust rained down as he slid against the wall until he was resting on his calves and his heels. “You, with the metal arm. What’s yours?”

“Harv—”

“Is it?” he asked pointedly, like he could see in Harvey’s head, down into his soul, down where he was still Willem Mannen, where he was really real. “Who cares?” The Black Jacket was focused on the ceiling, or on a small corner where the ceiling and walls met near Tommy’s head. Clean, pristine surface. Not a scratch. Not a blemish. “Who cares?” The agent licked his lips and laughed. “I don’t. I don’t give a shit what your name is. Or that guy. Or those two. Or this stiff. I didn’t want to know, it was just an assignment. Olsen, man, I thought she knew what she was doing. Crazy bitch, sure, but she knew what was right. Then she killed this guy and he probably deserved it.”

“What?” Jay hissed from the ground. “He deserved? You didn’t know him.”

“Nope.”

Jay was on his feet again, but he didn’t attack. Maybe because Annalise had her arm entangled with his. Maybe because Tommy was controlling the room. Maybe just because he was too tired. But the Black Jacket knew he was safe, and he laughed again.

“I know. It’s bullshit. And to answer your question…I have a name.” Then, quietly, to himself, “I have a name.” He looked back at the group. “Probably had a different one before I went through everything. You want a name? Call me Bugs Bunny. It doesn’t matter.”

“Bugs Bunny. Really?” Harvey asked at last. “Why?”

“Because,” said the Black Jacket, folding his arms around his knees.

”Yeah, but—”

“Because,” he said again. It was all they were going to get out of him.

The hum was back. Somehow it had pushed its way into the small cement room, worming through with tenacity. It was an ugly sound that made the floor wobble a little. Harvey held his side as they dried their eyes or dropped their hands and spun around looking for the source.

“What is that?”

“You people,” said the agent and laughed as he picked at little calluses on his hands. “You don’t even know where you are. Come running in on a rescue mission without reconnaissance? You guys sound like a bunch of idiots.”

Then the ground actually did shift. There was a tremble that shook their feet. A grating sound came through the walls. Tommy took the agent by grabbing his forearm and yanked him to his feet.

“How many?” he asked quietly, right in the agent’s ear. Harvey would not have heard it if he wasn’t close or if he didn’t have an intimate connection as an augmenter.

“It’s a full fleet of ‘em,” the agent said back with a smug grin. “Two-seventy plus. Got ‘em all plugged in and ready to go.”

“You’re coming with us,” said Tommy and started dragging him towards the door. The agent fought, naturally, but he was just an augmenter. Tommy could do anything he wanted to the kid and he was going to comply. “Come on,” he said to everyone else and they leapt after him.

“Yeah, but what’s going on?” Harvey asked. He took the agent’s other arm, just in case.

“We have to go,” Tommy answered.

Harvey figured it was just going to be that, as annoying as it was. They had to get out, of course they did. Jay lingered near the body, said how they had to do something as Annalise took his hand and led him away. Burn it, he was saying, if anything else. If anything, we can burn it.

“I’ve got it,” Tommy said over his shoulder. “We have to go.”

There was a quick flash, a little supernova before red fingers crackled through the doorman’s skin. He went up faster than a normal cremation, but the thick smoke and terrible smell trailed after them. It was awful and rushed and undignified, but it was done. Jay couldn’t ask for anything more.

The hallway was brightly lit. There were white lights beating down on them from the ceiling and they each squinted or put up a hand to shade their eyes. The agent shut his and laughed, not happy with anything, but because he couldn’t do anything else. He let his legs go limp so that Harvey and Tommy were dragging him, going as fast as they could. The walls were starting to separate, which was what was making the floors shake. One by one, sections disappeared and they saw that it was row upon row of giant men and women stripped naked, strapped flat to vertical tables, their heads covered in a bright blue visor and little nodes covering fresh scars on their temples.

“White Jackets,” Harvey whispered, pulling closer to Tommy.

A red flash rippled through the visor displays when the words left Harvey’s mouth. The light spreading through the crowd of unconscious women first, blinking here and there and then sweeping back to the men. Someone came around the hallway. They were just a black blur with a raised hand, about to do something when Tommy threw them into the air. They smacked into the ceiling, a painful “unf” sound as the back of their skull cracked. Another push and Tommy tossed them away. It was so fast. So effortless.

There was no time. They started running as White Jackets stirred, grunting against their restraints. Two came up behind them in their big white uniform, eyes blank, teeth barred. One twitched their head, the other had a spasm through his arm, and then they started charging. Annalise tried to push them back. She stalled them a little, but she couldn’t take on two of them. Not enough focus. Jay didn’t have the energy to help. They just ran. They ran to the door, still open with the broken handle on the ground. Harvey kicked it out of the way and dragged the agent with him, his chromagnetic hand tight around the kid’s arm. Tommy closed the door behind them, trying to lock it, forcing the metal joints to cave in. Good enough. Good enough, they had to go.

The car wasn’t far. They raced across the yard outside the bunker and got to the trees, half expecting floodlights to shoot up all over and flash on them. Annalise still had the keys. She was jittery with adrenaline. It was hard to watch as she fumbled before Harvey grabbed them, unlocked the car, and shoved the agent into the back seat. Everyone piled in after. Harvey took the driver’s seat, back where he needed to be, back behind the wheel. He started the car and spun wheels on mud before they got enough traction to get the hell out of there. 

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter