#How do we still have worse trains than the fucking united states

[petzah394]

The year is 2065,

The Australian federal government has just announced an authority to oversee the authority that oversees the authority that oversees the High Speed Rail Authority

an estimated 68 Billion dollars has been spent on high speed rail feasibility studies in the last century

New South Wales Train Link is still running the XPT on most of it's regional and interstate routes

[iraprince]

From what I've seen from surveys and bits of news, Spain seems like it's pretty good with trans acceptance and stuff. Is that true?

Relatedly, you've said you started in Ohio and ended up in Spain. How would you reccomend someone else from Ohio do that?

oof, haha. this is a tough time to ask this -- for the past three years that i've lived here my answer would have been an enthusiastic and pretty confident yes, but recently we're all pretty worried bc in recent elections there have been gains made by the far-right + conservative parties. things where i live are still okay, but in other regions there is reason for concern. if you end up seriously planning on moving to spain, i would heavily advise you to do research on the political situations of different autonomous communities (essentially like provinces or states; catalonia is the community i live in, valencia is a community, madrid has its own community, etc) bc they all have individual governments and the experience of living in one community can be vastly different from another regardless of what's going on on a federal level. as an example, madrid is only a 2 hour train ride away from where i live but in comparison covid has been a million times worse there, absolutely fucking nightmarish, bc they have an extremely conservative government and their healthcare systems were privatized + managed differently by that government in a way that caused a lot of suffering.

i would still say it is resoundingly better than the united states, especially on the front of LGBTQ+ safety. i'm not "visibly trans" -- i believe 99% of the ppl who see me out and about probably perceive me as a cis woman -- but i'm very visibly gay, my wife and i are often affectionate in public, and the worst we've ever personally gotten have been frowns and disapproving glares. most of the time, even when ppl stare at us, it's more harmless curiosity than anything else. this doesn't mean hate crimes and discrimination never happen here, bigotry is everywhere, but in comparison i am frankly in a constant state of anguish and fear about what's going on in my home country.

(asked my wife to read this over for accuracy and offer his input and he wants to add that while on a legal level things are pretty stable -- a lot of laws that have been passed that protect LGBTQ+ rights would be difficult to revoke or repeal -- on a social level things have gotten noticeably worse and violence has objectively risen over the past few years. 2022 was the most violent year in a decade, specifically in terms of homophobic hate crimes. we both feel that this is more about rising fascism worldwide than about anything specific to spain, but still.)

as for immigration, i'm afraid i can't really offer any help or advice on that one! my residency here is based on my marriage to my wife, who is a spanish citizen, so i have no knowledge at all on other methods of obtaining residency.

[yokelfelonking]

We look on with horror - and rightly so - at the Canadian medical system's callous disregard for human life by basically offering euthanasia as an answer for everything.

The thing I don't think a lot of people realize is that, due to the upcoming demographic collapse, pretty soon this is probably going to be worldwide, and that this is almost inevitable.

The entire first world has an aging population without the birth numbers to replace it. That means that, in the not-too-distant future, there are going to be a lot more old people with failing health than there's going to be qualified caretakers for them.

I mean, that's already the case now. I had a job working in a nursing home / physical rehab facility for about six months (which was all I cared to do there), and it was me and two CNAs to 35 patients. And that's standard. There's plenty of places where the staffing ratios are even worse.

And the care in some of these places is atrocious. You'll hear horror stories about the state they find some people in in nursing homes, with no one having come to check on them for days as they lay helpless in bed, in their own piss and shit, bedsores down to the bone.

And that's with "professional" "medical" "care". Families aren't necessarily better; it's a lot harder to take care of a helpless adult than it is an infant, and despite attempts by family to take care of them, folks still wind up with bedsores and infections and all sorts of problems that do them in.

And if you've got no one then you're really fucked; or maybe less so, depending on how you look at it, because you might die quicker alone.

And it's not just nursing homes. People in need of more acute care are going to have less and less necessary time and attention spent on them as there's more and more of them and fewer and fewer people to care for them. Right now ICUs typically have a 1-to-1 or 1-to-2 ratio of nurses to patients. What happens when it becomes 1-to-6? What happens when the person in the ICU who needs to be tended to for 15 - 20 minutes of every hour is being looked after by someone who's got to split their time between 6 other patients? That person can't spend a third of an hour of individual care on six people at once; it's not physically possible.

"So just hire more help!" You understand that hiring doctors and nurses and other skilled medical staff isn't like hiring more people to stock the shelves at Target or work the register at Burger King, right? You need people with education and training and the ability to actually pass that education and training and the mindset that goes along with caring for people. And the more acute the care, the sharper that person has to be.

And my point is, even if it was that way, there's still going to be more old people in need of care than there's going to be people to care for them.

What's the staffing ratio going to be for nursing homes in 2050? One nurse to 80 patients? One to 100? Acute care units with one nurse to 20 patients - patients who are laid up in bed and can't get up and can't go to the bathroom and can't clean themselves and can't get their own food or water? Are we going to have ICUs with 1 nurse to 10 patients? At that point those won't be care facilities, they'll be warehouses for the dying.

And this is where euthanasia will be given as an answer. "We can't care for all of these people, who are simply dying slow deaths. The best we can do is make it quick and painless."

And it is a slippery slope. We can see it happening in Canada right now, how more and more people are being offered assisted suicide as the answer for what would be otherwise difficult or inconvenient medical issues.

My prediction is that by the year 2050 euthanasia will be a standard medical "treatment" for the elderly and anyone with chronic conditions.

And I legit don't have a good answer about that.

[hisfearlesshaz]

hii!! i’m the american anon that wants to move to italy! thank you so much for your input! i saw that you’ve also lived in the Netherlands and that’s a place i’ve also been recently considering as well!! could you tell me a bit about what it’s like to live there? i’ve heard that there’s a bit of a housing shortage as well in Amsterdam recently! do you think it’s difficult to get a job there if you aren’t from there? i also love how people seem to bike everywhere!! i’ve been studying italian for a few weeks because it’s definitely still one of my top choices. my plan is to move to the uk, then eventually make my way over to italy or the netherlands. i feel like that would be a little bit easier for me. did you like living in italy or the netherlands better? i think there will always be cons about every country you go to, but i think i would take the cons of italy, the netherlands, and the uk over the cons of the united states any day lol. thank you!!!! ❤️

Hi!! Glad to help hahah :)))

So! I actually lived in Belgium, not the Netherlands, but I LOVED it. Best six months of my life and I’m not even joking hahaha. I’ve been to the Netherlands and it’s basically the same except for the size because Belgium is reeeeally small. About the size of Maryland but with double the population. The train sister is quite good so you can reach every “big” city in 1h (there are like 3 big cities, so it’s not that hard really hahaha). I lived in Ghent which is in Flanders so they speak Flemish and Dutch (they’re kinda similar but don’t tell anyone I said that) and some also speak French. The weird thing about Belgium is that they have three official languages (French, Dutch, German) depending on the region but as I said to Gina it doesn’t really matter as everyone speaks English. Can’t have a damn private conversation in public ever even though you’re in a foreign country 😂

Belgium is like the less cool sister of the Netherlands but I think it’s very underrated!!!!! They’re very open and welcoming and progressive. Everyone bikes there as well 😂 you have to pay attention because bikes RULE and if you’re on foot you have to stop to let them through (which is absurd to me, being Italian, bc here you see a few bikes and THEY stop lol). Anyway the housing “crisis” is common in both countries, I think. Maybe a bit better in Belgium? Not sure though, sorry 🤷

As for job opportunities, I think it’s easier than in other places (now I’m talking about both countries). They’re very international, and obv it depends on what kind of job you’re looking for an show qualified you are but overall I think there’s a good job offer (my professor once told me that the province I was in had an employment rate of 80% in people aged 20-60). Again, idk anything specific about the Netherlands but I know more than one person that moved there and found a job quite easily compared to Italy.

Now! Moving on to Italy ;))

I can’t say I want to keep living here, honestly. The south is left behind, work is hard to find unless you’re somewhat specialised, the cost of living is levitating and the government sucks. However, we have a history of unstable governments so who knows how long it will last hahah

There are some new awful waves of homo/transphobia and hate crimes + being an ex fascist country that never truly went away completely. However it’s full of people that fucking hate fascists and nazis and manifest their disapproval regarding right wing parties (that are currently governing) and policies. I have to admit that I’m not that much into politics because I’m tiiiiiired of it being always the same shit if not worse and I think this is a widespread feeling (less and less people care and vote so this obviously makes everything get worse 💀).

The transportation is good only in big cities and between them, really. I lived 50km away from uni and it took me TWO HOURS with at least two different means of transportation. Now that I live in the city, though, I can go wherever I want very easily even though I’m in the outskirts. Milan (which is where I live and study haha) is beautiful, but very busy and definitely not the most beautiful city in the country. I like living here though, you have everything you need and more + the cultural scene is quite active and there are always events of any kind. I have to say it’s a bit more clean than, for example, Rome. It’s called the economical capital of Italy so as you can imagine finding a job here is easier than in other places. Many people from the south actually migrate up north to have better job opportunities (which means that the south keeps lagging behind etc etc and it SUCKS because the south is sooo beautiful and the living conditions could be so much better if we had a good government that knew how to handle stuff to use the resources we have ☹️).

So, Milan is good for work and stuff but people are definì less welcoming than the rest of Italy. Everyone is always busy lol. However (it’s fucking sad to say but it’s true) I’m pretty sure that since you’re American and not from somewhere in Africa, South America or Asia.. people would treat better. There’s still this kind of myth about the American dream, you know? I think it’s the remains of our ancestors migrating to America to have better life opportunities (only to be treated as garbage like they threat immigrants here 💀 sometimes I can’t believe how fucking stupid and plainly ignorant some people can be).

I think I also have to mention that Italian bureaucracy is fucking awful. Like. For real. The worst thing ever. It takes ages for the smallest, stupidest things, you still need to do a lot of stuff in person and not online and in general it doesn’t work really well. I have no idea how it works in the rest of the world but I know that it’s been like 9 months since a relative of mine passed away and we’re still waiting for the succession to be done. To make another example: to have the passport you have to take an appointment and the first free slots are usually after at least three months. Then you need to go to that specific place which must be in your province of residence and it takes like 10 mins to sign the docs and let them take them your fingerprints and THEN you wait like two more weeks for it to be ready to be picked up. I swear it’s so!!!!! Frustrating!!!!!!

Now that I read back what I wrote I realised that it doesn’t sound really positive 😂🥲 maybe it’s bc as I said I want to move so I tend to take into consideration all those things that make me wanna go abroad.. Anyway in conclusion I kinda agree with the other anon that messaged Gina. It’s a beautiful place but more like for holidays than for living. In my opinion.

I think that going to the UK is obviously a good choice, but I’m not sure it’s gonna be that easy to go live in the continent afterwards, after the brexit mess and all that. It’s fucked up, really. It was sooo easy before that :((

I think the best option (but, like, I’m no one to tell you what’s best, obviously jdjdjs) is would be to go the the Netherlands or Belgium and from there moving wherever you want. I think it would be way easier since they’re parte of the UE etc. + as I said like ten times they’re very very nice places to live in :))

This has gotten very very long and I’m sorry haha 😅 can you tell I have something to do that I really don’t want to do? Anyway if you have more questions or other stuff you’re curious about feel free to ask!!!

[cosmicanger]

❍

❍ It’s still white supremacy if the c*ps were Black

❍ “Black people: don’t kill us

America: but the snuff film ratings are incredible”

❍ “The fact that the officers in Memphis were Black is further evidence of systemic racism not counter evidence to it. If you don't understand this statement please take a sociology class.”

❍ “Why do we have to keep fucking dying for people to listen , if only temporarily”

❍ “I don't understand how you can, almost 11 years after Trayvon Martin, still be the sort of person calling for more p*lice-reform efforts like body-cameras. These guys did this to Tyre Nichols with all the cameras rolling.”

❍ “Why are people even watching the the video... it's literally snuff”

❍ “If you think the Memphis p*lice officers had to be white in order to exhibit anti-Blackness, you need to take that AP African American Studies course Ron DeSantis just banned.”

❍ “Seems like the real solution to all this is: more training for p*lice; more body cameras; more community policing programs; more black officers who are blacker than the black officers who preceded them; more thoughts and prayers; more "peaceful" protest; and more consent decrees.” We should also consider: More black p*lice chiefs; more black prosecutors; more black city council members; more black mayors; more white allies; more op-ed pieces about "The Talk"; ... and a few more black people dying on camera for people to really get the scale of the problem”

❍ “I can’t believe folks are still talking about modifying p*lice weaponry as a solution when cops murdered George Floyd & Tyre Nichols with their bare hands.”

❍ “In an interview, I was asked about the #TyreNichols situation. I said it was a result of white supremacy. The host's response was "But the c*ps are Black". I replied, "guardians of the white power structure come in all shades". No complexion is required for oppression.”

❍ “Any Black person who has ever encountered Black c*ps could have told you that the representation angle was nonsense to begin with”

❍ “Can irl otg organisers just get off Twitter then like why are you here if you’re so busy off doing the important things than us chronically online people, does punching down just give you stress relief from working with those poor people all day or”

❍ “You don’t have to be white to uphold systems of white supremacism. You don’t have to be white to be be anti-Black. You don’t have to be a white male to practice p*lice terrorism in the United States.”

❍ “not watching no more black death rolled out like a new album drop. not watching 1619 project. not watching no more black panther films. all serve the same function. there is no wakanda, there’s only africa. it’s hostage state is why we keep getting casted in this same role”

❍ “N*gga could work at the post office, sanitation department, water department, desk job downtown, etc. But choose to be c*ps.”

❍ In response to this (“I remember the Rodney King assault. I remember how many of us thought the footage would change everything, Finally there was “proof”. Now there’s footage everyday of p*lice brutalizing us. This footage is in HD & often comes from the p*lice. Nothing changes.“) — “Things change. They’ve changed for the worse. We watched that grainy footage of Rodney King being beaten. We’re watching c*ps beat, taser, choke, shoot, and take a knee on folks throats until they are DEAD. We are seeing police with bigger budgets, and bigger military grade guns.”

❍ “I don’t have to see “it” to feel it. That’s one of the results of being terrorized by the p*lice. The reins of terror are tattooed into our memories. We can simply say names and rewind time and re-live lynchings at the hands, feet, knees, fist, guns, and tasers of the p*lic*.”

❍ “"The city of Birmingham has been under siege from OUTSIDE AGITATORS led by Martin Luther King.”–Bull Connor (1963)

“We have never had a problem in the South except in a few very isolated instances and these have been the result of OUTSIDE AGITATORS.”–George Wallace (1964)

2023: “@NYCMayor warns against "outside agitators" coming into the city to disrupt protests, citing intel from across the country and sensitive "classified" information he declined to go into further detail on.”

❍ “all of the reforms failed at the same damn time - black c*ps, body cameras, multiple c*ps on the scene, tasers instead of guns- so how is more reform the answer? #Blacker c*ps? Even non-deadlier non deadly weapons? ten c*ps instead of five? HD body cameras? harder convictions?”

❍ “P*lic* will really brutalize and kill people. Then get mad when others are upset at what they did. So they attack the people who are upset and then politicians give them even more money and weaponry to keep doing it. What a world.”

❍ “body cameras might be the biggest scam c*ps ever pulled off”

❍ “i don't know who needs to hear this but c*ps were brutalizing and killing black people before they had qualified immunity. why do you think King said, ""We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality" in 1963?”

[mountswhore]

𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 — marcus rashford

summary: marcus broke up with you months ago, claiming you were his biggest distraction. but he just can’t escape you.

notes: requests are open, ask away.

“I shouldn’t still be in love with you.”

for my love, @diorfairy777

“Why are you being so off, love?” You asked Marcus, who’d just walked in from training. You were cooking dinner for him, as you were only staying at his house for a few nights. But the moment Marcus walked in, he was a completely different person. No kiss to greet you, no questions about your day or retelling of his, no wandering hands. He was completely shut off.

Taking it as him being tired, you just sighed and returned to cooking. But he sat at the island, staring at you, almost as if he were waiting for you to turn around. So you did, meeting his eyes that almost spilled over with nerves. He didn’t want to do this to you, he wanted you to stay here with him forever. But it’s for his career.

“I think we should break up.”

The words felt like bullet holes in your chest, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You could barely hear the pan sizzling over your thoughts. Marcus refused to look at you, he didn’t want this to be worse than it was. He thought that if he did it without looking into your gorgeous eyes again, it would be okay.

“Why?” You mumbled, barely any sound coming from you.

“You’re my biggest distraction. Even the boys think my games off, and I need to get back out there. I need to be the best I can be, and I can’t do that with you.” He explained. You wished he didn’t have a way with words, he made it sound so okay. But you didn’t want to leave him. You loved him.

“So you’re throwing away three years of us, just so you can be better at football?” You questioned. He just nodded, stop avoiding your eyes. You felt suddenly out of place, like you shouldn’t be standing here anymore. You turned the oven off, silently going to grab your things, and left. Without another word.

Marcus watched as you left the driveway, tears burning his waterline. Why did he have to do this to you?

It had been three months since breaking up with you, and Marcus couldn’t escape you. His friends would bring you up, because you were still mates with them, his family would ask about you, he’d see that stupid bakery you loved every morning on his drive to work, he’d see your favourite flowers in a shop window, he’d see your car model and almost have a heart attack. You were everywhere, and it was proving difficult to get over you.

But for you it was vastly different. The only time you saw or heard of Marcus was in your family’s presence, watching the football. It was safe to say you were getting over him, at least you thought you were. You still spoke to Jesse, Paul, Jadon, and some other United boys, and they knew not to speak of Marcus. They obviously wanted you back together, because Marcus just wasn’t the same, they just didn’t know how.

“And what do you suggest we do, dickhead?” Jesse asked Jadon, as they sat together by the water bottles at training. Putting these two brains together to form a plan wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Have a party, a house party, and invite the pair,” Jadon mentioned, throwing his bottle to the side of him. “Tell Y/N that we don’t know if Marcus will show up, and Marcus won’t expect her to show up either.” Jesse couldn’t believe he was even considering it, but he nodded anyway.

Hey, Y/N. I’m having a party this weekend, if you wanted to come. It’d be lovely to see you, Jesse texted you. Sitting by his phone anxiously for your reply, he sighed deeply.

I don’t think that would be a good idea. I don’t want to make your best mates feel awkward, you replied. Jesse knew you were talking about Marcus, and his heart melted at your compassion, but he was adamant on you coming.

I doubt he will even come, he’s been so focused on football, Jesse texted back.

Fine. See you Saturday, J Lingz, you responded, finally dropping your phone in defeat. It would be lovely to see the boys again, but did you want to risk running into Marcus again? Your heart still clenched every time you saw him playing.

“Fuck it.” You mumbled to yourself, grabbing your purse and shoes, running out to your car. You wanted to find a nice outfit, and get yourself dressed up to enjoy yourself, whether Marcus was there or not.

Saturday had arrived, and you were sitting on your couch, waiting for Jesse to pick you up. He said you could stay the night, because there was a 99% chance you’d be drinking. The dress was short, tight, completely unlike you. You were feeling more and more self conscious, and were in the right mind to cancel on Jesse.

But the moment he arrived and opened your door to see you, you felt okay again. Jesse was your personal hype man, always making you feel better about yourself.

“Ooh, look at you. You look gorgeous.” Jesse hummed in appreciation, holding you tight to his chest. It felt good to see him again, to hug him again, losing Marcus meant you lost Jesse. Sure, you still spoke to him. But there was always a tension.

“Thanks, Jess.” You replied, pulling away from him, “now let’s get fucked up.”

Jesse had taken you back to his, the house crawling with other footballers, girlfriends of those footballers, and some other friends. As much as you hated big parties, it made it easier to avoid Marcus if he did turn up. Jesse still had a tight hold on your hand, leading you through crowds of people, to the kitchen with the drinks.

“Y/N!” Jadon cheered, pulling you into him. You smiled and returned the embrace. Jesse had handed you a drink, and you quickly downed it. “I’m gonna make the rounds, Y/N, have fun.”

You were left by yourself, which was fine, because it gave you time to see the footballers you hadn’t seen in a while. Some of the England squad was here, so you spent most of your time talking to them. The music was very loud, you could barely hear the others surrounding you, but you almost choked on your drink when you heard someone shout, ‘Rashy’.

Your head darted in the direction of the front door, and there he was. Still as gorgeous as ever, now sporting frosted tips. His smile still shone brightly in the dark lighting of Jesse’s house, but something was different. You finished your drink, promising Mason and Declan you’d get back to them, before quickly pouring yourself another.

“Y/N’s getting a drink, quickly take Rashy to get one.” Jesse instructed Jadon, pushing him and disappearing within the bodies of people. Jadon sighed and greeted his friend, practically dragging him to the island that held the drinks.

That was when he saw you.

For the first time in months.

The one place he thought he was free from everything that reminded him of you.

“What are you doing here?” Marcus asked, the question sounding more rude than he had anticipated, but still you turned around with a smile. A false one, that even he could see was put on. Jadon had quickly slipped out of the situation, watching from afar as the pair of you spoke.

“Jesse invited me, well, begged me to come.” You stated, mixing a few drinks together and quickly letting it hit the back of your throat. It had gotten to the point of the night that you were no longer wincing at the warmth of it. “Why? Am I not allowed to be here?” You joked, a playful smile still stuck to your face.

How could you be so okay around him? Were you really over him? His thoughts plagued his mind as he poured a drink of his own, smiling down at you as you watched him. You used to go to parties together, Marcus would always make your drinks and he wouldn’t let you leave his sight. But now here you were, making drinks for yourself.

“It’s just not your scene, that’s all.” Marcus commented, sipping on the drink. He hated it, but he needed it if he were to spend the next few hours here with you. He needed the confidence to hopefully speak to you.

“I know. This dress is far too tight, I feel like I’m exposed,” you laughed, earning one from him, “anyway, how’s things been with you?”

“Same old. What about you?”

“Not much going on at the moment,” you answered him, you both hated small talk. You used to sit at home together and thank the Heavens you didn’t have an awkward small talk phase, but here you were, racking your brain for things to talk about.

You finished your drink, still feeling tipsy at most. “Well, Marcus. I hope you enjoy your night, I’m gonna go see what Mason and Declan are laughing about.” Marcus nodded and watched you leave, both boys welcoming you with laughter and tight squeezes. What he would give to feel your arms around him again. It was criminal having to watch you parade around for hours, talking to his teammates and not him, pretending he was over you when he wasn’t.

“So,” Mason challenged, nudging your arm lightly with his, “you and Marcus are talking again?”

You shook your head, flicking your head back to look at him. His eyes quickly diverted as they met yours, now focusing on the detailing of the bottles opposite him. “No, nothing like that. I was just greeting him.”

“I think you should.” Declan stated, honestly. Arms folded and face completely serious.

“And why would I do that? He broke up with me, why should I reconnect with him?”

“Because you clearly still like him, Y/N. It’s obvious,” Declan confessed, and as you went to look at Mason for some support, he just nodded, “just talk to him. Even if it’s to arrange a proper meeting.”

Declan was right. He always was. You just sighed and leant into Mason, who held you tightly to his side. You weren’t prepared for this at all, you were barely prepared to even see the man, let alone have a heart-to-heart with him.

You handed Mason your cup, approaching Marcus, who looked rather blasé about the party happening around him. He didn’t even notice you walking up to him, but he felt a hand on his forearm and looked down to see your distinctive hands. The tiny tattoo you had on the side of your middle finger. It was you.

“I think we need to talk.”

You led him upstairs, into the room that you’d be staying in tonight. Jesse and Jadon silently cheering behind you as you entered the room and closed the door. The music was now muffled, and you could hear the occasional laugh. You sat on the bed beside Marcus, almost a meter between the two of you. You were unsure of where to start.

“So, has your football really improved since I’ve left?” You questioned, Marcus shifting uncomfortably as you’d gone straight into the deep end. He couldn’t bare to look at you, still ashamed about that Thursday evening three months ago.

“Stayed about the same.” He admitted quietly, ready for your wrath. But it never came. You were always a relaxed person, that’s what attracted Marcus to you in the first place. But if you were mad, he’d always be the one to calm you down, to help you back into your calm state.

“We broke up for nothing, got it.” You noted sarcastically, your head falling into your hands with a heavy sigh.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. Really, I am.” He apologised, his large hand finding it’s way onto your thigh. It reminded you of your times in the car, he knew you hated the motorways, so he’d drive with a hand on your thigh whenever you were on one.

“Just save it, Marcus, what’s done is done.” You stood up to leave, but he held your wrist gently. Marcus was never violent, never harsh, he was the perfect lover. Which is why it hurt so much that he left you.

“No.” He firmly declared, joining you as you stood up, “I’m not saving it. I never had the chance to tell you all of this, so I’m doing it now. I never wanted to leave you, I was told that whatever was going on at home was clearly getting in my head, and it’s making me slack at work. And like an idiot, I listened. I believed that if I was good at work, nothing else mattered. So I left you.”

You winced, recalling the memories once again. You didn’t want to live through that again. Marcus was now opposite you, little distance between the pair of you. “And it’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”

You couldn’t contain yourself. All the emotions you’d felt for Marcus, that you’d believed had gone, were still very much present and pushing you to just kiss him. So you did, his large hands held your face as you looked up, joining your lips together after months apart. You fit perfectly under him, his hands felt familiar the second they grazed your skin.

“I shouldn’t still be in love with you.” He conceded, pulling apart from your lips, keeping his hands on your cheeks. “But I am. I can’t move on from you, Y/N.”

“Good.” You mumbled back, gripping the sides of his shirt tightly and pulling him back into you, “because I can’t move on either.”

[ssahoodrathotchner]

Pictures of You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: you lose your memories of the last few years, including the ones of your relationship with Aaron. The rest of the team thinks it’s hilarious.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: memory loss, swearing, some angst, hospital, talk of injuries, team shenanigans and fluff

A/N: okay this was a lot of fun to write bc soft!Hotch rights !! also really wanted to make the team play a larger role in a fic so here we go :)

Masterlist

---

You wake in a hospital bed, Morgan by your side, and a godawful pounding in your cloudy head. With a groan, you try to raise one of your hands to cover your eyes as Morgan’s head shoots up to stare at you with a relieved smile.

“Hey,” he says, catching your hand before you can lift it higher, “Don’t do that. You had a nasty fall, Princess.”

Satisfied that you won’t make any more moves towards your head, he sits back down at your side.

“Should I even ask how you’re doing or…” he trails off when you glare at him. “I’ll go let the team know you’re okay. Boss Man will be happy to hear you finally woke up,” and with that, Morgan is up and out of the room before you can even open your mouth because what.

Shifting around in the bed, you try to gauge just how injured you are, but the soreness in literally your entire body coupled with the haziness in your mind from the constant pain makes you conclude that you’ll leave it to the doctors to tell you what’s wrong. Sighing, you gently tilt your head to the side and observe the various beeping monitors.

The door opens and as you turn to see who it is, your mouth opens in disbelief. There’s no way. There’s absolutely no fucking way. This is fake. This is a dream. Your stomach simultaneously drops and fills with dread. How is this possible?

“You’re dead. You’re dead. We buried you,” you say in a rush, as none other than Emily fucking Prentiss stops by the side of your bed, looking at you confusedly. “Does this mean I’m dead? Are you a ghost?” you wonder out loud, and Emily looks behind her as the rest of the team, except Hotch, file in behind her, seemingly fine with her sudden appearance.

“How are you here, why are you here, what happened? You died. You’re supposed to be dead which means I’m probably dead,” you continue to ramble, frantically looking from at each member of your team and then back to Emily.

“What? Y/N, you aren’t dead. Just like I’m not dead,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But you are,” you say shakily, chest tightening as your breaths become shorter and shorter.

“Y/N…” she says slowly, softly, “I faked my death four years ago.”

And with that, your ears rush and your mind goes blank. No no no no no no we buried her six months ago, she’s dead. You don’t notice the rest of the team trading glances around you as the world you thought you knew shatters and reforms in your mind.

“No,” you croak, throat suddenly constricting, but Emily only looks at you worriedly, Reid slipping out the door behind her.

“Y/N, can you take some deep breaths for me?” and your head turns to find JJ at your other side, hand on your shoulder. “Let’s breathe, you can do this,” she says, taking exaggerated breaths to demonstrate, smiling gently as you cooperate.

Reid enters, now, followed by a doctor who, immediately upon reaching your side, proceeds to shine a light in your eyes and asks you to complete all sorts of short tests while the team looks on.

“Now, Agent Y/L/N, Dr. Reid informed me that you seem to be having some memory issues, which is normal,” the doctor assures you, “especially with the head trauma you endured. So, tell me what you can remember and we’ll go from there,” he says with a helpful smile.

Fuck. What do you remember?

“Well…” you trail off, trying to pin-point an exact moment. “I remember Emily—Agent Prentiss’—funeral because it was six months ago, but apparently—” your eyes slide over the rest of the team, “—apparently, it was more like four years ago,” you finish slowly.

“And that’s as recent as you can remember?” the doctor pushes. You nod your head. “Well, Agent Y/L/N, it seems that you have post-traumatic retrograde amnesia, which isn’t a surprise, as I said before. My guess is that it’s temporary, and that you’ll recover your memories in time.”

“Any ideas how long?” Emily speaks up, carefully looking at your face.

“With cases such as these, there isn’t a definite timeline or standard procedure for memory recovery,” the doctor explains. “It may help to look at photos or videos and tell stories to try and help Agent Y/L/N heal quicker, but the brain is tricky,” and with that wonderful statement, the doctor turns and exits, leaving you and your team staring at each other, processing the fact that you don’t know when you’ll get your memories of the last four freakin’ years back.

“So, from the research I’ve done, it seems that—” Reid is cut off by the door flying open and Aaron Hotchner, your Unit Chief, bursting into the room with a concerned look on his face wearing a hoodie and jeans.

Morgan tries to grab his shoulder, but Hotch shakes him off as he walks right up to your bedside and grabs your hand. Holy shit. Heat rises to your cheeks instantly and you think your heart might have actually skipped a beat but, you can’t help it, you’ve had a crush on Hotch for ages and he’s holding your hand. But you don’t remember a time when Hotch was so forward in showing concern for one of his agents.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, Sweetheart—” you’re pretty sure you’re dreaming because Hotch has never called you Sweetheart. Ever. You’ve also never seen him in anything other than a suit. “—Jessica called because Jack has the flu and then he wanted to talk to me and—”

“Hotch!” Morgan all but yells, interrupting Hotch’s update on Jack, as you stare pointedly at his hand, still holding yours, trying to control the redness growing steadily stronger in your cheeks. What the hell.

“Hotch,” Morgan states, softer this time, “The last thing Y/L/N remembers clearly is Prentiss’ funeral.”

You look up with a weak approximation of a smile, and watch Hotch’s face shift as he comprehends what Morgan said.

“That was years ago,” he says slowly, face hardening into a look you’ve seen too many times when he tries to separate himself from the information he’s received.

Looking down at you, you can’t tell what he’s thinking, so you divert your eyes to his hand in yours. Once he notices this, he gently lets go and you know it’s silly, but you almost reach out for it again. Who knows the next time Hotch will want to hold your hand?

“So you don’t…” he doesn’t finish his question, which leaves you even more confused. Don’t what…?

“Umm. If it’s happened in the last four-ish years, then umm… Then I probably don’t remember it,” you say quietly, apologetically. “Sir,” you add on quickly, not wanting to forgo formalities even if your memory isn’t what it’s supposed to be.

However, instead of nodding, like you thought he would, Aaron Hotchner looks sad which confuses you even more.

“Aaron,” Rossi begins slowly, “the doctor said that talking about what’s happened since then may help Y/N’s memory come back.” Hotch looks up, almost relieved. “So why don’t you tell her something that’s happened since Prentiss’ funeral.”

And with that, Hotch takes a breath before reaching across your body to your other hand and holding it up. Not quite sure what’s happening, you allow him to hold your left hand up in your line of vision and that’s when you notice a fucking wedding ring. On your hand. Which Hotch is holding.

“I’m married?” you screech, looking at the team, who are now all trying not to laugh for some reason. “Who am I married to? Holy shit, what?” you continue looking around. Morgan and Prentiss look like they’ll break into outright laughter any minute. What’s going on?

Looking helplessly to Hotch, who is suspiciously quiet, you don’t have to repeat your question before he is carefully letting go of your left hand to hold his own up next to it and since when did Hotch wear a wedding band? Until you notice the striking similarities between the ring on your hand, and the one on your boss. What the actual fuck.

“We’re married?” you say, whipping your head to the side—ouch—to stare at Hotch, who is looking a little more amused than worried. “What? When? I just…” you can’t even finish your train of thought because your head is spinning so fast.

“Is it really that much of a surprise, Princess?” Derek chimes in. “I mean, you guys have been in love with each other forever,” and with that, he and Prentiss dissolve into a fit of laughter, which they try to smother, but you’re too busy taking in this very new and very interesting life development.

At some point in the last couple years, you married Hotch. Which means he knows you like him. And he likes you. You dated Hotch and now you’re fucking married. And you can’t remember any of it.

“…I don’t remember it…” you say sadly, softly and the laughter ceases.

Running a hand through his hair, Hotch takes a step back and shrugs, a small, reassuring smile on his face.

“We’ll figure it out, Sweetheart—” your stomach erupts into butterflies, “—we always do.”

With a sigh, you sink back into the pillows on your bed and stare at the ceiling, head throbbing worse than before thanks to all the new information.

“I just…” you pause to think about your current dilemma. “I just don’t know where to start with all this…Getting my memory back,” you look to Hotch and then the team, unsure of what to do.

“Well, the doctor did say that photos and videos might help. I’d be willing to recount every conversation we’ve had since Emily’s funeral, if you want, including the ones that you weren’t a part of, but were about you or a case,” Reid offers with a grin, and your heart melts.

Slowly shaking your head, you answer, “Thanks but maybe later, Spence. I’m still stuck on the whole I’m-married-to-my-boss thing right now.”

“Trust me Princess,” Derek laughs “I’m pretty sure all of us could tell you about how everything went down like a damn movie.”

“Yeah…” JJ continues with a fond shake of her head, “You guys weren’t very subtle about it.”

Sneaking a look out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hotch blushing and staring down at his shoes before he also sneaks a look at you, meeting your eyes.

“See?” Derek’s voice breaks your gaze. “This is exactly what I was talking about. You guys weren’t subtle and still aren’t,” rolling his eyes, he laughs a little and you can’t help but smile.

“At least they’re married this time around,” Rossi supplies. “No more ‘secret’ glances and yearning,” he says with such contempt you can’t help but laugh as Hotch—Aaron? — lets out a small chuckle of his own.

“Now I just need to remember how we got here,” you say, feeling a little more at ease. Slowly, you reach for Hotch’s left hand, studying the ring the matches your own. “Remember us,” you continue, just to him, and the smile that overtakes his face is the best thing you’ve seen since waking up.

“You weren’t wrong, Morgan,” comes Emily’s voice from the end of your bed. “This is just like a movie. Ugh. But don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll help you sort this out.”

“And I know just the woman for the job,” Morgan adds with a mischievous smirk which immediately makes you wonder about whatever it is he has planned.

“Now as much as I’d love to watch the two lovebirds gaze into each other’s eyes, I actually have plans,” Rossi states, looking down at his watch. “So, I’ll be back tomorrow. Have a good night, Y/N,” he says before waving to the rest of the team and leaving.

The rest of the team makes their own excuses to leave, and you can’t help but feel like Morgan and Prentiss have concocted some sort of scheme to “help” you get your memories back.

Running a hand over your face, you sigh. What now? The sound of someone clearing their throat makes you look up and realize that Hotch hadn’t left with the others, but was instead standing near the foot of your bed, looking somewhat anxious.

“I ummm… I was planning on spending the night here to make sure you were okay, but umm…” he trails off, unsure.

“But since I have no memory of us being together you think it’s weird…?” you ask gently.

“Yeah,” he answers in a sigh. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by being here, especially because I know how frustrating and confusing this must be for you…”

“Hotch,” you start, but he can’t hide his wince when you call him that. “Aaron,” you try again. “Yes, this is incredibly confusing and frustrating because Emily should be dead and I didn’t think you had feelings for me at all,” you pause and see him smile, just a bit, “But I’d really like it if you stayed here. With me. Because—” you take a deep breath. “—Because you make me feel safe, Aaron, and I need that right now,” you say gently, not quite sure where the confidence came from, but Aaron’s eyes soften and his smile grows bigger as his shoulders drop in relief. Worth it.

“Then I’ll stay,” he says, and you can’t help the heat that once again rises in your cheeks as he continues to look at you.

You guys are married, dammit. Pull it together.

Averting your gaze, you turn your attention to getting more comfortable in your bed and decide to fuss with the placement of your pillows because damn was your back starting to hurt, but Aaron beats you to it. Within ten seconds of arranging the pillows behind you, he has them perfect.

“How…?” you start to question, but he just raises his eyebrows. “Right. Married,” you say with a shake of your head.

Aaron finally sits in the chair next to your bed and reaches, almost absentmindedly, for your hand before catching himself and stilling. You can see the fight in his mind—he wants to comfort you and himself, but with your memory, he doesn’t quite know where your boundaries are. Taking pity on him, you grab his hand yourself, weaving your fingers together so he knows it was on purpose. Okay so you really just wanted to hold his hand again, but you’re married! You’re allowed. He takes a deep breath and leans back in the chair, turning his head to really look at you.

“How’s your head?” he asks, brow furrowed in what you’ve come to understand is genuine concern.

You pause and consider for a moment.

“Not terrible, but not great,” you say slowly. “It’s like there’s a fog in my mind that I can’t see through. I know I’m missing stuff, but I just don’t know what.”

Aaron gently squeezes your hand, but doesn’t speak yet.

“I want to know what brought Emily back, how we happened, what it was that gave me this fucking injury, I just…” with an exasperated huff, you collect yourself. “I just want to know.”

“Well, Emily should be the one to tell you her part of the story, and as for us,” he gives you a smile “it’s a longer answer, at least for me, so that will have to wait—Sorry, Sweetheart,” he says when you pout. “However, I can tell you about what landed you in the hospital. How does that sound?”

“It’s a start,” you tease, and yes Aaron smiles wider and rolls his eyes.

“We were chasing an unsub, and Garcia had tracked him to a warehouse not too far from Quantico. We went there and—” his voice wavers. You squeeze his hand. “—and the unsub had set explosives around the perimeter of the building. I guess you got too close to him when trying to talk him down and he triggered the whole set.” Aaron sighs, and his eyes are glazed over like he’s reliving this—which he probably is—and there’s nothing you can really do besides let him take his time.

“You weren’t right by any of them, but you were thrown back and had hit the ground before I could even yell at you to stop—not that you would have listened,” he says pointedly with a watery laugh. “You just laid there, Morgan and I carried you over to the medics as soon as the dust settled and they took you away as we cleared the rest of the scene.”

“And the unsub?”

“He didn’t survive the explosion. As soon as we figured that out, we left it to the local PD and crime scene techs.” He looks at you softly. “We came straight here after that.”

“How long was I out before today,” you ask lightly, curiously.

“Three days. Dave had to convince me to go home and shower on the second day.” He looks down before sneaking a sideways glance at you.

“Well I’m glad he did,” you tease, scrunching your nose.

“And I’m glad you’re awake, Sweetheart,” he replies, squeezing your hand.

You laugh and look away before mumbling, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“Get used to what?” he waits a second. “Sweetheart?” Motherfucker. He knows what he’s doing.

“That! I woke up convinced you didn’t have feelings for me at all,” you say with a glare, “and now I know we’re married and you keep being so nice and understanding and calling me Sweetheart and I just don’t know how to deal with all of this!” you finish in a huff.

“I just feel bad that I can’t remember this, us” you add, gesturing between the two of you. “I’m trying and there’s just—” you make a frustrated noise and flop back to stare at the ceiling. “And my head still kind of hurts,” you add softly, almost pouting.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Aaron whispers. He clears his throat before continuing. “You’ll get your memories back,” he leans forward to stroke some hair off your forehead. “And until then, you know the team and I will do what we can to catch you up and help you remember.”

You push your head further into his hand with a sigh. He runs his hand through your hair a few times before pulling back and you almost whine. You yawn instead. Settling down, you tug the blanket up higher across your chest and turn to face Aaron as he also gets comfortable. He turns on the small television in your room and at some point, you fall asleep holding his hand.

---

You wake to the sound of the door opening, followed by the unmistakable click-clack of heels worn by none other than Penelope Garcia.  

“Rise and shine! Time to regain your memory, lovely Y/N,” she sings, coming to a stop by the side of your bed as you roll over with a yawn.

“Pen—” you groan. “Let me sleep. Please.”

“Oh no, my little profiler. Do you have your memory back?” You shake your head. “Then we need to work on that! And don’t you dare tell me no; my wonderful Derek Morgan and I were up all night making this for you,”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Sadly, not like that. But, we compiled a presentation-slash-video montage for you about what you’ve missed!”

That catches your attention.

“Wha--? How? Penelope where did the footage come from?” you ask, more awake now.

“Well, I may or may not have used security cam footage for a lot of it, but that’s neither here nor there, so, without further ado, I present to you: your life for the past four-ish years!” and with that, she somehow connects her tablet to the TV and you see a picture of the whole team; Penelope then produces a remote from the depths of her purse and then proceeds to the next slide.

Which is a photo of you. And Aaron. Standing by the coffee machine in the office and smiling at each other, clearly unaware that the moment was being documented. The image is embellished with what must be close to fifty moving, sparkly hearts, obviously done by Garcia.

“First thing’s first,” she starts with a flourish. “Your husband!” and as if on cue, Aaron walks into the room, cup of coffee in hand. Much to your surprise, Aaron just rounds your bed to sit in the same chair you assume he fell asleep in, watching the screen.

“What is happening,” you say softly to yourself, looking from Aaron to Garcia and back.

“The doctor said photos and videos might help restore your memory, so who better to put something together than Garcia?” Hotch answers dryly, a small smile flashing across his face. “The rest of the team should be here shortly,” he says directly to Garcia.

“Oh good. I always work better with an audience,” she replies as you continue to process just what the hell is happening since you woke up approximately five minutes ago.

Within a few minutes, your hospital room is overrun with the rest of the team. Sitting, standing, leaning wherever they can find the space to view Penelope’s presentation with you in the middle of it all.

“Don’t you people have jobs?” you grumble.

“C’mon, Princess. Who better to help you remember the last few years than us?” Derek says with a cheeky grin that makes you roll your eyes.

You turn your gaze to Aaron and find that he’s already looking at you in concern.

“If you really don’t want all of us here we can leave,” he says just loud enough for you to hear.

“I just…” you take a moment to try and collect your thoughts. “I guess I just don’t know how to feel about all of this, but you’re all here so— “

“So here we go!” Penelope cheerfully finishes your sentence before turning back to the screen. “As I was saying before, part one of Operation Get Y/N’s Memories Back is all about—drumroll please—our very own Unit Chief, a.k.a. Hotch, a.k.a. loving husband to our very own Agent Y/L/N.”

With a shake of your head, purposefully ignoring the way Derek and Emily are whooping and whistling, you settle in and gesture for Penelope to continue. God, let’s hope this works.

---

It doesn’t work.

Fuck.

Three almost four hours later and nothing has changed for you. However, it’s a lovely opportunity for some team bonding and creating new memories, but you’re still disappointed. It’s not for lack of trying, though. Penelope did a wonderful job of pulling together a presentation-slash-video montage of your life, complete with titles such as ‘Your lovely husband,’ ‘The Miraculous Life, Death, and Subsequent Resurrection of Emily Prentiss,’ and even ‘Badass BAU Babies,’ which was a collection of team photos and news clips of cases you guys had closed in the past few years.

The whole team had gotten a kick out of each section, especially the last one, as Penelope had spared no one in her quest to help your memory; ugly selfies sent in the BAU group chat, embarrassing footage of you tripping up (and down) the stairs to the bullpen—courtesy of the security cameras, Reid doing physics magic and narrowly missing Rossi’s coffee cup, it was all there. But nothing worked, there was no magical ah ha moment where everything came rushing back. If anything, it really was like watching a movie; it didn’t feel like you were the one is all of these clips and photos. Not even Reid’s commentary made you feel any closer than before to recovering your memories.

It wasn’t all bad, though. Penelope had a veritable stockpile of photos of you and Aaron, ranging from the office, to cases, to the occasional night out with the team. Your engagement announcement, wedding photos, freakin’ everything on the two of you and yet, nothing seemed to make a difference to your brain.

The photo on the screen was one of you and Aaron on a case. You were tucked under his arm, snowflakes visible in your hair and his as you look up and laugh at something he said while he just smiles gently down at you. Penelope had put hearts over both your eyes.

“Actual heart eyes! I had to! You guys are so cute!” she basically squealed when the photo came up.

“What did I tell you,” Rossi said teasingly, “Yearning.”

Prentiss and Morgan hadn’t stopped laughing for this entire segment, with JJ and Reid occasionally joining in if there was something exceptionally ridiculous Penelope had included, like fucking heart eyes.

A hand covering your own makes you realize you had spaced out, and you look down to see that it’s Aaron’s hand, wedding band catching the light.

“Anything, Sweetheart?” he asks in a low voice, carefully watching your face.

You shake your head. “It’s like it’s someone else’s life, but I know it’s mine; you’ve told me it’s mine, there’s photographic evidence that it’s mine!” you say in a huff. “It just doesn’t feel like it’s mine,” you whisper, voice breaking at the end. Tears gather in your eyes and you bite your lip to stop it from shaking as you desperately try and control your overwhelming emotions. You can hear the team in the background, strategizing new ways to help you, but Aaron’s face hovers in front of your own, drawing your attention.

“It’s okay,” he says lightly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“No, it’s not,” you insist as a few tears make their way down your face. “It’s not, Aaron. What if this is it? What if I just don’t get my memories back?”

Letting out a long sigh, Aaron raises your hand to his lips and kisses your palm before folding your hand into his.

“You will. I know you will,” he says with such conviction you might just believe him if it weren’t for the way he rapidly blinks to keep his own tears at bay.

“Yeah, Princess.” Morgan chimes in from somewhere across the room. “We’ll figure this out, you know we will.”

And with that, you see something click into place in Aaron’s eyes and suddenly, he’s looking at you in such a way that your heart picks up—thanks, heart monitor.

“Aaron…?” you ask cautiously.

“Princess,” he says it so simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You only have time to raise an eyebrow at him before—

Oh.

Kissing Aaron Hotchner is something you could definitely get used to. His hand comes up to cradle your face as he gently moves his lips against yours. You sigh and can feel his smile against your mouth before he’s tugging your face closer, tilting your head just so and—

There.

It’s like opening a window to let in a breeze. Soft and sure, filling the space in a way that’s all-encompassing without being suffocating.

Like snowflakes falling and settling on his black jacket, like Aaron down on one knee sliding your engagement ring on your finger while you smile so much it feels like your face will break. It’s leaving cups of coffee on his desk during late nights in the office. It’s playing soccer with Jack as Aaron smiles and cheers both of you on. It’s being in bed late at night, falling asleep in the comfort provided by the man you love. Your wedding vows, promising to love him forever.

And you know.

With a gasp, you pull Aaron closer, kiss him deeper, harder, moving your lips more frantically against his. I remember I remember I remember and you think he gets it because he pulls back and looks at you with so much hope it almost breaks your heart.

“When I said I’d love you forever, Aaron Hotchner, I meant it.”

And his face breaks into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen as he laughs in disbelief before capturing your lips with his again, returning the urgency you had kissed him with just moments ago.

Someone clears their throat and you pull apart, smiles obvious on both your faces as you turn to the team who are looking somewhat confused.

“Would you mind enlightening us as to why you two are suddenly acting like teenagers?” Rossi asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well,” Aaron starts, grinning in your direction, “It would seem that— “

“Nuh uh. No way,” Derek interrupts him. “Are you seriously about to say that you kissed her and she magically remembered?”

You can’t help but laugh at his disbelief because what the hell and nod, unable to speak through the giddiness overtaking your body. You remember.

“Ohmygod! You guys!!” Penelope squeals before launching herself into your arms for a hug which she promptly pulls Aaron into as well; he doesn’t protest.

“What made you do that, Hotch?” Reid asks curiously once Penelope has let you and Aaron go. “Did you know it would work?”

“Princess,” Aaron says with a nod towards Morgan. “In Jack’s storybooks, a kiss always wakes the Princess so she and her prince can live happily ever after.”

Okay that’s adorable and you can’t help but aww with the rest of the team at Aaron’s confession.

“Happily ever after, huh?” you say, tugging on his hand. “Who knew you were such a sap, Hotchner?”

Rolling his eyes, Aaron just smiles. “Wasn’t it obvious from Garcia’s presentation? I’ve been in love with you forever, Sweetheart. And besides, it worked, didn’t it?” he says with a smug smile. 

You pull him down for a short kiss before moving back just enough to murmur “My Prince Charming.”

“I can’t believe you guys,” you turn to see Morgan shaking his head. “A literal fuckin’ fairytale,” and then he’s laughing and the whole team, you and Aaron included, are laughing with him because yeah this is pretty surreal.

“I can’t believe you thought I was a ghost!” Emily says once the laughter has died down, her arms crossed in mock-anger.

“Can you blame me?” you retort. “The last thing I remember was burying you and suddenly you’re here? Nope. No way. Ghost. Only explanation.”

“I have to say, Y/L/N, I’m glad you’re back, if only to stop Aaron’s sad puppy-dog eyes every time you called him ‘Hotch,’” Rossi shakes his head. “I don’t know how much more yearning I could take.”

“Hey! Be nice,” JJ admonishes, swatting Rossi’s shoulder. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Yeah guys,” you echo. “Be nice! Don’t think I forgot you two,” you say, leveling Morgan and Prentiss with glares, “and all your laughter when I couldn’t remember that my husband and I were married!”

“Oh c’mon, Princess,” Morgan groans. “It was pretty funny. You were trying so hard not to look completely in love with your husband.”

“In my defense,” you start, “I didn’t know that you guys already knew how much I love Aaron, so excuse me for trying to hide my love,” you say with a sniff.

“Well, it was pretty obvious. Whenever you looked at him or he grabbed your hand, the heart monitor would register an increase in your heart rate by—” Reid starts to ramble but your laughter cuts him off.

“I get it, I get it,” you continue through your laughter. “I’m very in love with Aaron, even when I think it’s a secret, but as Penelope’s presentation so eloquently demonstrated, I’m not subtle and neither is he.”

Aaron leans over to kiss your cheek as the rest of the team continues into a conversation about Penelope’s presentation and how the hell she collected all those photos and videos in one day.

With the attention no longer on you—for now—you smile at Aaron, who smiles right back. He slumps back in his chair with a sigh, and you can’t help but pull him back closer to you.

“I love you,” you say kissing the back of his hand.

“I love you more, Sweetheart,” he replies softly.

Yeah, this is happily ever after.

[emma-nation]

The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU)

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Notes: This is my first RES fic, so I'm sorry if I mess it up a bit. English is also not my main language, so a mistake or two may happen. I hope you enjoy it :)

Trigger Warning: Language, abuse, blood and violence.

Eastern Europe - July, 2009

"If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"

Mother closed the book, placing it on the bedside table between Auryk's bed and mine. Then, she lowered herself and kissed my forehead like she did every night. Her long, blonde hair tickled my face and left a trace of her sweet lavender fragrance in the air. I giggled.

"Good night, sweetheart," she spoke.

"Good night, momma."

"Cherish your last night as a six years old. Tomorrow you will become a..."

"Princess?!"

"A seven years old girl. The prettiest girl in the village."

"Pffft," Auryk let out a displeased grunt from his bed, covering his head with the pillow to avoid listening another word from the conversation.

"And you too," mother sat by his side on the bed and repeated her nightly ritual of kissing his forehead to wish him a good night too. "You'll become the most handsome and brave warrior in this village. Do you understand?"

"I hope so. Good night, mom."

"Good night, buddy."

Mother left the room, leaving us both in the dark. However, we couldn't sleep. Not because we were thrilled about our incoming birthday party as any regular child, but because we knew our lives were about to change. Seven years old was the age every child from our village was introduced to the truth and started being trained to fight the evil that haunted our lands. Auryk and I spent minutes, or maybe hours, in silence, staring at the ceiling.

"Leena?" He was the first one to speak. "Do you believe a spell can broken? I mean, like a curse?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I answered, feeling my thoughts starting to drift away. "Maybe we're doomed after all. Or... we could learn how to love the beasts."

The birthday parties always happened during the daytime, rules of the village. We could no longer be outside after 6 PM. Mother got help from the other women to prepare the treats and organize the decorations. Auryk was disguised as a pirate and I... I was Belle, from the Beauty and the Beast.

"So, what do you think you will be getting this year?" My best friend Elena asked while we were playing with our dolls. She was about two years older than us.

"I don't know," I shrugged. Being a merchant, my father always returned home with the most unusual gifts: a magical music box, a voodoo doll that had a life on its own or a fragrance that chased away the monsters - and everybody else too. "A new book. I'm hoping for a new book."

It was only by the end of the party Adrian Novak made his entrance. That was the mystery about him. Nobody knew when he would show up, or if he would show up at all. He still had that same annoying smirk on his face. The corner of his mouth holding a cigarette. The months away made his beard grow longer, as well as his dark hair. In the sunlight, the scar above his eye was even more visible.

"Auryk," he shouted, "come here, son. I've got something for ya."

My twin brother, who had been climbing trees with his friends stop frozen in spot for a second. I couldn't tell if he hated or feared that man. Maybe both. He slowly followed father's command, approaching him cautiously.

"Hi, dad."

"Happy birthday, son," father ruffled his dark straight hair with his strong and calloused hand. "It's about time you grow up."

He handed my brother a large package. From our experience, we knew exactly what it was, a shotgun.

"T-Thank you, dad."

"I'll be spending some time at home. Tomorrow we'll start practicing."

Auryk consented. He shot me a quick glance. From our twin bond I could tell my brother was far from happy. When he blew his candles that afternoon, he didn't wish for a weapon. We wished to be a normal child.

"What did you get, Leena?" He asked once we were locked in the safety of our bedroom.

"Pencils and a drawing book. Dad thinks I'm talented."

Not really. Adrian Novak would never allow his daughter to hold a shotgun. That was, according to him, 'a man thing'.

"Good, at least one of us got what they wanted. Happy birthday, sister."

"Happy birthday, brother."

4 Years Later - October, 2013

It wasn't easy to be the weakest of the twins. Although he was born first, Auryk was the tinniest. The one who was always getting sick or getting injured. The one who couldn't hit a single fucking target when he had the alcoholic breath of his father on his neck.

He aimed for a crow, sitting still on a fence. How hard could it be? Even the eldest man from the village could do any better than that.

BANG! He shot again. And missed.

"Again?!" Adrian angered, shoving him hard on the shoulder. "What the hell is your problem, kid?"

"I don't know, okay? This gun... it's heavy!"

"Heavy? And why do you think we've been exercising for all these years, huh?! We do not live in Disneyland, Auryk. We need to fight monsters, abominations. Someday I won't be home and you need to be prepared to protect our people. Do you understand?"

Tears started forming in the corners of the boy's blue eyes. He couldn't cry. Not in front of him. Crying was a sign of weakness and he couldn't be weak. Not right now. Auryk started to think about all the things he could be doing. He thought about the ocean, as he had seen on TV and books. He could feel the warmness of the sun on his skin. The sand between his toes. His mom and sister were also there, of course - they'd carry them with him everywhere. And he would study Math and Physics. There would be no guns, no monsters, no blood, only numbers, only formulas, only theories. He smiled. He no longer felt like crying.

"I'm sorry, dad," kindness was always the answer, his mother said. "But this isn't for me, you know? I don't like it. I... Remember that boarding school my teacher mentioned? I thought maybe I..."

His words were interrupted by a hard slap on his face. Auryk could taste a small amount of blood coming out from his lower lip.

"So that's what you want? To become one of those little fancy fags? Maybe you're not my son after all."

Adrian started walking away, leaving his son alone, sitting on the floor.

"I AM!" Auryk yelled, enraged. "I am your son."

"Then prove it."

"You shouldn't take so hard on him," Savannah poured her husband a cup of tea. "He's just a boy."

"He's eleven years old, for god's sake," the husband punched the table strong enough to make it shake. "He needs to man up a bit. You should stop spoiling him."

As I left my bedroom I found my brother sitting on the stairs. He didn't have to be so close to listen to the conversation between our parents, father's voice was loud enough to echo through every wall of our small and cozy home.

I sat down by his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Maybe you should do it, Leena. You'd do it better, I know."

"I'm not so sure. Remember when I tried to shoot a scarecrow and almost shot that old witch?"

"Come on, you aimed on purpose! I know."

Auryk finally let out a small laugh at the memory.

"You're good at everything, Leena," he spoke fondly. "You're an extrovert, you're everybody's friend, you can cook, you can draw and paint... you're a true artist. I'm a mistake."

"You're not a mistake, Ryk," I pulled my brother closer, resting my cheek against the side of his face. "We're only at the wrong place and you know it."

Going back to our bedroom, we pulled from the drawers the postcards our grandma Louise sent us from San Diego. Mom had been born in California and lived there her entire life, until she met father during one of his trips. God knows what made her fall in love with that man. Adventure? Danger? I expected better from myself when I turned eighteen. Otherwise, I'd never want to fall in love. Love could be my ruin, just like my mom's.

"Leena..." Auryk held the postcard tightly, "do you think... if he died... do you think mom would take us to nana's home?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I didn't want to think of my father's possible death. But I also dreamed of a better life. "Maybe."

"What the hell?" Father's voice in the kitchen made me jump in fear. I knew that tone. I grew up used to that. Something was wrong in the village. We had to hide.

"To the basement, now!" He emerged at the bedroom, holding a rifle. "Lycans were seen surrounding the area."

We barely had any time to react, mom came and dragged us both to the basement. Father left, carrying his arsenal of weapons as usual. There were other hunters in the village but we always knew how badly it could end. Somebody could always get seriously hurt. Or worse.

The basement had been carefully prepared for that kind of situation years before. It had a big bed, two armchairs, a heating source, some stored food and a shelf. Mom sighed and forced a smile.

"So," she walked to the shelf, "what is it going to be today?"

"Frankenstein," Auryk suggested. My brother loved mystery and horror. As if his life hadn't enough of it.

"Romeo and Juliet," I spoke. There was something about forbidden romance that always caught my interest.

"Okay. I... I'm gonna say a prayer and you two can read the books you picked by yourselves. What do you think?"

"Great!"

Mom kneeled down by the bed's side, holding a crucifix. I could join her if I wanted to, but I'd rather watch in silence. I grabbed my book, sitting on one of the armchairs and pretending to pay attention, while I tried to distract myself from the fact my father could be the Lycans' next prey. Or all of us, if they managed to break into our house.

"Leena?" I woke up hours later with my mom shaking me. "Leena?! Where's Auryk? Where's your brother, Leena?"

I had no idea. I had fallen asleep and apparently, so did mom. She checked for the basement's door, it had been locked from outside.

"No..." she tried to force it open. "No! I can't be..."

All Auryk had to do was to successfully kill and take a Lycan's carcass as a trophy to his father, right? That was what that old douchebag wanted him to do, to prove his courage, his manhood. We had his shotgun, a binoculars and a knife, that should be enough, but first, he needed a good plan.

Looking down to his hands, he had the most perfect idea. Without thinking twice, he sliced a cut through his palm, letting some blood pour on the ground. Then, he found a tall tree. He climbed it and observed. The smell of blood his trail left behind should be enough to attract a creature.

"Come on... come on..."

From a distance, Auryk could hear the sound of destruction and death. There was a battle going on somewhere nearby. Once again Lycans should have found a family or a group of hunters.

And then, he could hear it. The heavy footsteps, the screeching sounds, the sniffing. The mutant creature was only a few meters away from the tree. He aimed, but it was still too distant. He needed to move to a closer branch.

It all happened in one second. He was almost there, reaching for the spot he had picked, but his weight was too much for the tree's branch. In a blink of an eye, he was lying on the ground. His vision was blurred. His head hurt intensely, as well as his arm. It was broken for sure. He possibly had a concussion too. He tried to stand up and run but his legs wouldn't follow his commands. The Lycan was coming straight at him.

"AURYK!" His mother screamed behind him. "NO!"

Time seemed to freeze in that fraction of second. How did she manage to escape the basement? How could she have found him?

But without hesitation, Savannah threw herself on top of her son, protecting him from the jaws and claws of the monster. Auryk couldn't see much, but he could smell it. He could feel it. Blood. There was blood everywhere. He couldn't tell who it belonged to, he or his mom's.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A fast sequence of shots suggested the hunters had found them. The creature stopped moving, stopped howling. It was finally dead.

"M-Mom... it's dead. We... We're safe."

She didn't answer. Instead, he heard another familiar voice.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" It was from his father. "Savannah! Savannah!"

"D-Dad..." Auryk tried to speak, but the words got lost along the way. "I... I..."

Adrian lifted him by his jacket, holding him inches above the ground.

"YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED YOUR MOM, YOUR STUPID BASTARD!"

"I..." tears streamed down the boy's face, his injured brain trying to process what had just happened. "I'm sorry.'

After he was thrown back to the ground, he was hit with a hard kick on his stomach. He turned his head around to notice a small figure hiding behind a tree, watching the whole scene in pure horror.

"L-Leena..." he muttered.

"This is all your fault, Auryk. You're a disgrace to this family."

And then, he passed out. Rumors said he was unconscious for days or maybe weeks. When he woke up, he wished everything had been a nightmare.

Present Days - July, 2021

Nobody mourned Adrian Novak when he died. Not his children. Not his village mates. No human being would ever feel any sympathy for a man who abused and blamed his eleven years old son for his mother's death. It had been two years since Adrian left this world and I couldn't feel any more free.

"Hey," I left another message on my brother's voicemail, "in case you've forgotten it's our birthday today. I'd like to have my twin home, you know? Call me when you get this message."

It was useless, I knew. Auryk would only pick up his phone when he wanted to. Or when he was too drunk. God knew where that guy would be at that time, probably waking up at some girl's bed or getting some rest from... working.

After grabbing myself a cup of coffee, I checked the door's mat. Bills, bills, newspaper and... California Institute Of Arts? I remember having an argument with Auryk about this matter at some point. He wanted me to fill the application and send them my portfolio. I insisted we had no money, not even to pay for the tuition. I won - I always win every argument by the way.

"Your damn son of a..." I placed the envelope on the kitchen's table. I was a coward, I confess. However, I didn't know which pain was worse - to be sure I wasn't good enough or to be sure I was, indeed, but I'd never have money to leave that hellhole. Anyways, I decided to leave it alone. I had more important things to do.

My morning routine: to go to the middle of the woods and do some training. My father used to say fighting wasn't a girl thing, but I was no regular girl. And never in this life I'd allow someone to tell me what to do.

After running, climbing and doing a set of push-ups, it was time for combat training. Travelers from abroad taught me some different set of moves, I'd like to think I created my own fighting style. I was also very good with knifes, daggers or any kinds of short blades, they were useful during a close distance combat. My shooting was a work in progress, once or twice I'd miss the center of my handmade targets.

Then, like everyday, I'd go back home, shower and follow to my shift at the village's pub.

"Hiya, Leena," Gustav greeted me when I arrived. "I heard today is a special day... the day a little girl..."

"NO!" I stopped him. Gustav was my best friend. We had known each other since we were children and somehow, he liked to make my birthday a special - and embarrassing - event.

He placed a handmade fairytale-like book on the table. There were some edited pictures, mixed with some messed up drawings about my birth and childhood. He called it 'The Princess Who Carried The Light'.

"God, you're soooo stupid..." I rolled my eyes and moaned, before wrapping him into a very tight hug. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know. You'd probably marry me, if you weren't into girls."

We laughed together, as Olga, our boss emerged from the kitchen, bringing a cake with nineteen candles.

"Here's to another year," the older woman opened a wrinkled smile, "make a wish, my darling."

I fell pensive for a moment, besides having my twin brother back home, safe and sound, what else could I wish for? California, that scholarship, a new life... that's for sure.

"I wish for... a new life, a new adventure," I pronounced aloud while blowing the candles.

"Careful," a male voice spoke behind me, "words have power, little sister. You may get what you want."

"Ryk!"

I jumped straight to my brother's arms. I could swear that in only a few weeks he had gotten a little bit taller, and stronger too.

"I wouldn't miss my own birthday, right?" He smirked. "So, where's the cake? Please, chocolate... tell me it's chocolate."

"Your silly boy," Olga spread some icing on his nose. "Of course it's chocolate, as you love. And with cherries too."

Auryk responded with a satisfied smile. Olga and her husband, Kristoff, were those responsible for taking care of him after the Lycan attack, years ago. They sort of adopted him like one of their biological children.

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed taking a closer look at Ryk's forearm. He had gotten a tattoo. I hadn't been informed of those news either. Apparently, my brother had more secrets than I could even start to imagine. "This is... new. It seems like my kids are really growing up."

"And only now you noticed that, Olga?" Gustav joked.

Olga shook her head, grinning at herself and returned to the kitchen. The customers were starting to fill the pub. I stared at Ryk again, wondering what other secrets my brother could be keeping.

"So, what does that mean?" I pointed to his newly gotten tattoo, a strange and ancient symbol it seemed.

"Protection from the evil. This is what we need the most in our lives, especially in a place like this. What reminds me -" we turned around, taking a small box from the pocket of his jacket. "Your gift."

I took the black velvet box from his hands, it contained a golden necklace with a magenta gemstone as pendant. My blue eyes drowned themselves in the stone. It had a mysterious glow. Something hypnotizing. Something magical.

"Whoa..." was everything my mouth could pronounce. "And I bought you an Astronomy book."

Auryk stood up from his chair and went behind me, taking the necklace from my hands to wear it around my neck himself.

"This is supposed to protect you from any supernatural and inhumane beings. I won't lose you to them, Aleena. Not like I lost mom."

"Ryk, I... I can't even thank you enough."

"You don't have to. Just... stay alive."

First, I was overflowing with happiness. It either had to do with the fact my brother was home, alcohol, or both. Also, Olga should thank me. Most of the costumers of the day only stopped by the bar because of me. They absolutely loved me and knowing it was my birthday, they had to come and see me. A few of them even gave me some extra tips or a small gift, which was even greater.

"Okay, party girl..." Auryk helped me to get inside of the house as I tripped over the door mat. "Time to go to bed now. Don't you think?"

"Come on, Ryk! Have some spirit! You're home, Olga gave me the day off tomorrow, I earned some money..."

"You told Mrs. Hansen you secretly had a crush on her daughter during Middle School, you danced on top of a table, you're gonna get a hangover..."

"Party pooper!"

I threw myself at the couch. Auryk stood in front of me with arms crossed, looking like a father about to give his child a lecture.

"What?!" I yelled. "It's not like you've never been drunk before. Remember when you stole Adrian's..." I started to laugh, remembering the episode.

"When you were going to tell me about this, Leena?" He showed me the envelope. The Art Institute envelope. The one I had been struggling to open.

"Oh! I forgot. My bad, I didn't open it myself yet. I probably didn't get in anyways."

"You did."

I did?

"It's not like we have money to pay for my tuition. Also, how are we supposed to move to California, Ryk? I work at a pub and you..."

"I've gotten more than enough for that. You know that getting out of this place has always been the plan, since we were children. Leena, I've done some big jobs those last few months. I have the money to grant us a comfortable life in California."

"Smuggling, Ryk!" I raised my voice, saying aloud the information that was supposed to be a secret or not. "You've been stealing to grant us this life."

My brother stared at me in silence. I couldn't tell if he felt offended or embarrassed about my words.

"I'm getting out of here, whatever it takes," he ran a hand through his dark hair. "And you are coming with me. In two weeks, we move to United States for your enrollment."

"But..."

What I was trying to protest against? Leaving the village and starting a new life with my brother was everything I always dreamed.

"Look, I promise you," Auryk placed both of his firm hands on my shoulders, "once we settle down, no more smuggling."

"Okay," I sighed. "We leave in two weeks then."

There was a loud knock on the door. Being drunk as I was, I figured out I should have forgotten my purse at the pub. Or it could be a neighbor with some very stupid emergency.

Auryk opened the door and there was a strange looking man standing there. We wore sunglasses and a hat, behind his back he was carrying a giant hammer. According to the rumors and stories I heard from my parents, that was one of the Lords of The Four Houses, Karl Heisenberg.

"Auryk Novak?" He asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Come with me, kid. You've gotten yourself in big trouble."

[dawn-of-tomorrow]

shoutout to @punishing-gray-raven-ocs for this ask game!! (didin't expect to be tagged with one so soon lolol but i'm overjoyed~~ ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡❤️❤️)

1) What made you even think of trying Punishing Gray Raven? What made you stick with it?

Funny story actually-- I've long heard about PGR, way back when it was first released even, but I just didn't give it a chance back then mainly because it was in CN and I couldn't understand shit (rather ironic given how I am now lmao).

As for why I decided fairly recently, a couple of months give or take, to give PGR a shot? It's mainly due to the fact that I heard that the Global version would be out very soon, so I thought why not dive into what I've missed so far... not knowing that I'd become THIS obsessed with the game, aha~.

The most obvious thing that made me stick to this game are the interesting cast of characters, the "fun" story, the amazing yet simple game mechanics, and etc. etc.

2) What problems, if any, do you have with PGR?

Honestly speaking, the thing that most VEXES me at the moment about PGR, specifically PGR Global, is the wonky translations. It feels like a group of half-assed fan translators and one official translator who's not doing a good enough job with reigning everyone in instead of feeling like a group of professional translators who know what they're doing. Hell, I've seen better translations from some of my twitter mutuals!

3) Who is your favorite Construct, and why?

Lee. There's no question about it, Lee is my most favorite Construct at the moment (and forever perhaps ohoho~). As for why, god, hold that mic for a bit, I'm gonna go on a fucking rant. Ehem.

First of all, let's start with the most basic of things, like his appearances; As Palefire, he looks like this suave, very aloof, super serious, unapproachable, and "gets shit done efficiently" type of person, and while that description certainly isn't wrong, it's also hiding more layers of Lee's overall personality; as Entropy, he certainly looks and feels bit more casual than before, along with feeling somewhat more, even if a tiny bit, more honest with his feelings and easier to approach than before.

Despite being a serious, no-nonsense, grumpy guy, he's prone to occasionally quip and snark at anyone at their own expense especially if they get on his nerves (see his interactions with Kamui, not even the Commandant is spared from this!). He's also not as cold and distant as he may come across, given that, early on, he quite literally jumps in front of Liv to take a hit that was meant for her with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever, he's almost always the first person to make comments on the Commandant's state as well as express his undiluted feelings (though not without hiding it on occasion behind anger/annoyance, thus making it a case of "anger born from worry").

You can also easily tell if you pay close enough attention to his dialogue and actions that he's not good with expressing his true feelings even to the people he cares about (thankfully Murray, Skk, Lucia, Liv, Kamui, etc. can usually pick up on what he really wants to say), is the type to often be misunderstood due to him being the kind of person who believes in "actions speak louder than words", that he's used to taking care of others instead of prioritizing himself even to his own detriment; while making it clear that he prefers to think and act in a logical and practical manner, he's not exempt to having emotions/feelings, as such, he can be pretty empathetic towards other people even if he doesn't look like it (he's even the first one in the Gray Raven squad to point out WHY EXACTLY the people they come across in Echo Aria refuse to leave their homes even with high risk of the Red Tide washing everything away, and fully understanding as well as getting it).

Alrighty I'm gonna cut that segment short now before this becomes too long for anyone to read through, ehe~!

4) What made you think of designing PGR OCs, instead of making yourself into a self-insert?

.... Actually, truth be told, both of my Skks are, in some way, self-inserts~. It's just that they start out as one before eventually developing into their own characters with only hints/traces of their self-insert origin. Though my Construct OCs are definitely not self-inserts, that much I can certainly say so!

I made them mainly because I really enjoyed the official cast so much I wanted to make characters that would get to interact with them somehow, though I take great care in making sure they aren't TOO out of character with how they're canonically portrayed.

5) What's your thought process behind creating your OCs?

Honestly, it usually starts of something like this--

"lol wouldn't it be funny if I made this type of character? Oooh, what if they interacted with this character? Or this character? Or that character? Let's see, what's missing... Backstory and profile, check. Appearance, I'll sketch one in a bit. Hmmm... I know! *drowns the OC in mountains load of angst*"

6) What's your favorite chapter from the main story?

If I'm limited to talking only about the main chapters currently released on Global then it would have to be Fallen Star, mainly because it's Watanabe's time to shine~. (*´∀｀*)

However, if we were to look at the overall chapters, then, I would have to say Imprisoned Sight.

7) What do you think of the new Liv shown in the latest stream? Where do you think the story is going with her? What do you think happened to Gray Raven?

With Liv, I have a really bad and somber feeling about what Kuro Game has in store for her, given how she looks almost complete different than what she's looked so far, as well as the vibe her new look gives off.

Fuck, I wouldn't be surprised if they decided to thanos snap her memories away as well like they did with Lucia, or worse, infect her with the Punishing and turn her into an actual enemy (for a while before we get her back).

As for Gray Raven, considering what happened at the end of Evernight Beat, wherein the Skk is in a fucking coma with a chunk of the Mother Structure lodged in their abdomen, while Lee and Lucia are in repairs along with Liv, and, if I recall correctly, the Merciful One managed to reach Babylonia and is now onboard the space station as well-- I have a feeling that the despairing Liv will be approached by her and be given a new frame.

8) Have you seen the animated shorts? What do you think of them?

If you're talking about the Panini anime then yes, I've watched them already! Still ripping my insides open from laughter everytime I watch them lol. Favorite episode has got to be the toilet episode, next to that would be the episode where Chrome takes Kamui to Karenina and Liv for training.

9) So do Constructs eat or not? (I'm really confused, especially since I saw Karenina sipping a drink in one of the shorts)

Oh they most certainly can! Fuck, it's even explicitly stated that Camu likes to eat and sample foods whenever he can (revealed in his secrets, as well as his affection stories).

As Camu explains, while they don't get nutrients from human food, they most certainly can still enjoy them and use them as a type of fuel.

10) Do you think Kamui and/or Camu will be a really pivotal plot device at some point, considering how the information on Kamui is so top secret?

Hmmmm.... unless the story at that point is revolving around Kurono Ops and how shady they're being, then personally speaking, the chances are slim.

11) Do you think, at any point, any of the Gray Ravens will die off?

Naaaaaah. They won't do that. Sure, they TECHNICALLY killed off Lucia, but she's still "alive" in a sense, so it both counts and doesn't count.

Besides, sometimes death isn't the worse thing you can inflict on someone/a character~.

12) Who is your least favorite Construct, and why?

I don't really hate/dislike any of the Constructs if I'm being honest. Though I hate how shitty of a unit Sophia is, and that it's kinda pitiful that she's become even more useless now that the new S-Liv is here; but I am in no way saying you should stop using her, keep using Sophia if you really like her! It's your choice after all, and I'm not about to contest you on that part, after all, everyone's enjoyment is subjective.

13) What part of PGR's lore really holds your attention?

The part of the lore that really holds my attention are the characters, and seeing how they react and act to the situations happening to and around them, especially concerning the Punishing and forces out of their control~.

[maeviana]

Lorelai Gilmore & Luke Danes Analysis & how I would change the story

A Lorelai Gilmore analysis because apparently I'm doing this for everyone on the show now!

Lorelai Gilmore...how do I begin to describe Lorelai Gilmore. There are times when Lorelai can be my favourite character and times where she can be my least favourite character. 

 I think Lorelai denying the fact that she is still very privileged despite leaving her parents world when she was 16 is one reason she can drive me up the walls. Lorelai is a conventionally attractive white woman who fits the trope of 'single mom but my child is really smart so men don't see it as a turn off' - she seems to be able to get any guy she wants, the whole town falls at her feet and are willing to do pretty much anything to help her, she was promoted to Manager seemingly above Michelle (who actually went to school to train to be a concierge or whatever he is and who we know started at the same time as Lorelai) Lorelai has all the advantages of someone who spent their whole life in a small town but whenever she needs it or wants it she always has her parents money to fall back on or their connections which I get makes her uncomfortable and I don't hold her privilege against her - no but what I can hold against her is the fact that Lorelai Gilmore is not a pay it forward kind of gal.

When I say that Lorelai is not very "pay it forward" I'm going to talk about three incidents where Lorelai benefitted from something in the past which she does not need anymore and which she very begrudgingly relinquishes.

1. The first is when Suki wants to ask her if Rune can sleep in the potting shed while he is out of work. Lorelai's response to this is "Suki that's where Rory and I stayed when she was a baby" Just to recap Lorelai was allowed to stay in the potting shed rent free when Rory was growing up until Rory was 11 until she could afford to get a place of her own. Which is fine. But Lorelai has her own place now and now she is in a position to help someone else who could use the same help that she was once given and her first instinct is to keep it for herself which is made worse by the fact that Suki is asking her - Suki is Head Chef at the Inn and so she equals Lorelai in rank - as long as Rune staying in the shed doesn't interfere with the running of the inn, it should not be Lorelai's place to deny her.

2. When Jess comes to town. When Jess comes to town Lorelai doubts Luke's ability to care for a rebellious teen - which again is fine. She tries to reach out to Jess twice and ....things don't go well which I also think is fine (except for her essentially telling Jess that Dean is better than him ummm wtf Lorelai he's 17) ...look I could do a whole other post about Lorelai and Jess' interactions (Jess is my absolute favourite character on the show so you can probably guess what I'm going to say) and why they don't get on but I'm going to focus on Lorelai's reaction to the car crash and what she says to Luke in 'Teach Me Tonight' when Luke tells her he has an obligation to Jess and she responds that he had an obligation to the town and to her and to Rory. We are shown and we are told that Luke has done a lot for Lorelai and would do a lot for someone that he cares about, however, I think again that on some level Lorelai thinks of Luke's generosity towards her as a special privilege just her own. I don't think Lorelai views Jess as someone like herself who needs a "Mia" or a "Luke" to help him get through a difficult time to let him stay in a metaphorical emotional "potting shed" but look having said that she does cut Jess some breaks and does help Luke understand things about Jess.

3. Her not wanting Mia to sell the Independence Inn because she wanted a memory home....ummm what. the. fuck?

Growing up Emily tried to control almost every aspect of Lorelai's life and this has impacted Lorelai by her being ultra controlling in her own life. I think her need to have complete control over her life made it very difficult for her to get serious with anyone because to do so you need to have a 50/50 say in a shared life. I think it's really telling that her two major love interests even over the guy she was engaged to are two men who have been in her life the longest.

I think at the end of the day when it comes to relationships Lorelai just wants someone to love her and to listen to her. She wants someone who would be willing to sleep on a park bench outside her window and someone to call at 2am. i think Emily and Richard we’re a real unit in their household and I think Emily was a Wife first, a lady of high society second and a mother third. Richard was well emotionally shut down and was all about appearances. But Emily and Richard work well as a unit, they are kind of like Lorelai and Rory that way they have their own way of doing things, their own language. I think it was hard for Lorelai growing up an only child next to that kind of relationship but not on the inside. 

The story line I'm most annoyed about the writers dropping for Lorelai was the story line of her now living her life as an adult woman without a child - about her not wanting to be pregnant. The offer from her Dad's friend to buy the inn and for her to go travelling by herself! But if there is one thing that comes for all television characters in shows in the 00s it's hetero normative ideals those relentless bitches! Because...here is the thing I think that the life Rory thinks she wants for herself travelling and seeing the world as an independent woman that life is really the life that Lorelai wants. Lorelai is very like her Dad and she even says that she wants to travel like her Dad always travelled and I'm so annoyed that THAT wasn't the major Luke and Lorelai conflict instead of April Nardini. (who I think was in part written as a way to give Luke a biological child of his own and still get with Lorelai ....because again hetero-normativity) (its a trope *cough* How I met your mother *cough*) That's why the whole "Wild" trip was written for Lorelai in my opinion it's because Lorelai does want to go out and have an adventure and she does want to find herself. What's more annoying about this story line being dropped though is because the seeds for it being a major Luke and Lorelai conflict are there. Dean telling Luke that Lorelai wants more than Stars Hollow, Lorelai's curiousity about the job offer from her Dad's friend and Lukes reaction to that, Lorelai realising that some of her aversion to certain paths in life come from her parents wanting them for her which may include "going corporate" which could open doors for travel. That’s how Luke lost the last love of his life - Rachel. It was potrayed that she was always leaving - but it could also be interpreted as Luke never following her. Then Lorelai wants to travel to run incorporations of an inn that Rachel introduced her to through her pictures. 

Think about it Luke's major character flaw is that he finds change very difficult. He lives in the same town he has lived in his whole life, he doesn't change his clothes, he can't make a move. This made sense for Luke before - he needed to be so solid because his family was so erratic, he needed to be there for his dad, he needed to be there to bail his sister out but at the end of the show Luke has no reason not to change, his business is well established enough that he could trust Ceasar to run it while he was away, he (would not have had) any children, any real reason to stay in the town other than stubbornness.

I don't find April annoying as a character - I find why she was written annoying. Luke didn't need a kid. The show is filled with biological parent child relationships that don't work, that show that bonds are more about being there for someone than being in their DNA. I feel like writing as if Luke needs to have a child is just weird (it's stated and shown on multiple occasion he in fact really doesn't like kids), when he's been a relative hermit up to age what 35/40 means that maybe he'd be ok without kids and the fact that Luke is loved like a father by Jess and by Rory but no Luke needs biological children because? why?

And then Jess (who was always ready to leave and never shows his cards when it comes to love) could show up and tell him that he should go be with Lorelai wherever , that he’ll make sure Liz and TJ don’t join any vegetable cults. Because Luke now has someone else in his family that he can rely on and he doesn’t have to plan funerals and interventions for his crazy family members on his own and also the this plot line would fall in nicely with the GG theme song but that’s not that big of a deal. 

[lovelyirony]

Hi! “If I fail, I’ll fall apart/Maybe it is all a test/because I feel like I’m the worst / so I always act like I’m the best” -Oh No! This is one of my favorite lyrics ever, and I'd really like to see what you bring out of it :) You're amazing, ily! 💞

what if maria had more of an effect on tony’s upbringing than most? howard’s still a dick but make it funny

Tony has known he was probably not the best human on earth ever since he was five and his dad made a bigger deal out of a dead man’s birthday than his own. 

At age five, you don’t really know a lot about the world yet. There were about two things that Tony didn’t know that he wishes he did know: 

1.) The word “fuck.” It would have helped with a lot of his situations. 

2.) The concept of jealousy. He probably could have gone to a child therapist or some shit, he’s not sure if those even existed back then, or if his parents would have even let him go. 

(After all, he’s supposed to be their perfect little boy, just the right amount of precocious and the other amount being something like genius or respectability.) 

It is actually his mother who takes the reins on his life. Howard has effect, he has huge effects. 

Maria is a socialite who absolutely refuses to let her son succumb to Howard’s devil-may-care attitude that he’s so infamous for. Her son is going to be well-mannered, respectable, and know exactly how to treat a lady of high social standing. 

This involves training at a young age. Six would be a fine age. 

It’s not Howard who sends him to boarding schools, it’s Maria. She ensures that he goes to the finest schools available, most abroad in Europe. She trains him out of the American accent, into something a bit more refined. 

He spends summers learning different languages and different skills. He learns how to fence by the time he’s ten, and becomes quite proficient at it. 

She quizzes him on established families, up-and-coming families, and never keeps him far from her sight. 

Anthony Stark is not going to be a wild-child, she decides. 

-

Anthony isn’t, for the most part. Sure, he usually stays up past what is acceptable for the night to work on some mechanic stuff and uses the word “damn” a bit too much for his mother’s liking, but that’s the reason make-up and apologies were invented. 

He follows rules and is known to smile like his mother and enjoy listening to quartets play out in the open air during the summer months. He travels to Europe and participates in various activities and is the talk of many socialites who eagerly await his arrival. 

He’s a portrait, holding still for all’s approval, and he’s not quite sure how to move. 

That’s troublesome, he thinks. 

The problem is this: Anthony Stark doesn’t have any interests outside what is required. He loves working on inventions, and they are necessary for the company to survive, but his father hates any robotic invention he pushes for, and mother thinks that if he tells people he’s rather fond of AC/DC then he’s a plague to society and will be shunned. 

(He doesn’t say it to her face but they haven’t shunned Sunset yet, and she’s a whole world of problems, so rock music is the least of their problems.) 

There is one thing that he pushes for: university in the United States. He’s been traveling to Europe since he was a child, and he honestly needs to do something for himself. 

Maria is not pleased. 

“So after I sacrifice so much for you, this is how you repay me?” she asks him over dinner. 

He places his fork to the correct side. 

“Yes. This is how I am repaying you. By getting a perfectly respectable college degree from a critically-acclaimed university that anyone would be lucky to attend. Not to mention it might reflect badly on Stark Industries if I don’t go to an American college. Do I not trust American institutions to run an American business?” 

“You shouldn’t.” 

Anthony laughs. 

“Mother, they cannot teach me anything that Europe can’t. Let me go to college in the United States. Please.” 

“No.” 

- 

It takes Howard to convince her, and a.) Howard doesn’t even like Anthony that much, and b.) he also doesn’t like his wife that much. 

“He’s going to a damned college here, Maria. We don’t need him to go to any more of that fancy bullshit you call school over there.” 

“Fancy bullshit, Howard?! Bullshit?! You mean what has gotten him this far in life and will make him a better man of social standing than you?” 

“My god, is social standing all that matters to you? What are your little friends going to do, choke on their silver spoons when they find out that your son is going to an American college?” 

- 

Jarvis also convinces her. 

“It will be easier to monitor his progress from a shorter distance,” he advises. “And you can visit frequently.” 

Anthony gives him a very dirty look. Apparently, he wasn’t supposed to mention that. 

Oops. 

-

But, Anthony gets his way. He’s going to MIT, and he has a roommate. 

(Okay, so mother doesn’t know that. But he supposes she will if she ever visits. Or maybe not considering if Tony can successfully convince his roommate to “disappear” for at least a day.) 

-

Rhodey does not give a singular shit about high society anything or anyone. Anthony Stark is a name he registers, but doesn’t recognize. 

“Anthony’s a mouthful,” he says a week into their cohabitation. “You have a nickname or something?” 

“Ah...no? I mean, not yet,” Anthony says. 

“How do you feel about Tony?” 

“I...I suppose that that is alright.” 

“Are you from Europe?” 

“No, from New York.” 

“Well holy shit, you sure as fuck don’t sound like it.” 

- 

Anthony--well, Tony now--learns quite a bit about American schooling and what he’s actually supposed to be doing to pass off as normal. 

Rhodey (yeah he got a nickname that ended in ‘y’ too, Tony said he wouldn’t be the only one) takes him to the thrift store and tells him to pick out some clothes. 

“...there’s a shirt that’s advertising a restaurant from Montana.” 

“And? Does it look hilarious?” 

“Is that the point of this?” 

“Fashion is supposed to make you like what you’re wearing or like yourself. I swear if you say that those boring black suits make you feel better about yourself, I will be dragging you to any therapist that will take us for at least five dollars.” 

“Five dollars?” 

“Maybe less if I can negotiate.” 

“Hey!” 

- 

Tony learns how to have fun. He loves it. 

Rhodey makes him go to record stores and find the bargain bin, and they play the warped records and laugh as voices go up and down in pitch. Tony blasts Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden until the RA begs him to go to bed and Rhodey throws all of his pillows off of his bed. 

In return, Tony teaches Rhodey how to read other’s facial expressions, dress for any occasion and be the best-looking there, as well as avoiding any sort of conflict by bringing up past embarrassments. 

“Are you serious about the color of my shoe affecting my social standing?” Rhodey asks, trying to shove his foot into a shoe that was a brown color that Tony had described as a “golden mahogany.” 

“Yes, I’m dead serious.” 

“No fucking wonder everyone says eat the rich all of you are so fucking pretentious. It’s brown, Tony.” 

“Tell that to any high society woman over fifty.” 

“I will.” 

- 

As it turns out, he ends up doing it much sooner than anticipated. 

Tony’s parents come to visit. 

They call him Anthony. Which is gross. Rhodey hasn’t used the name “Anthony” in about six months. 

“I wasn’t aware that you were his roommate,” his mother says. 

“Well, here I am,” Rhodey says. “Name’s also on the information they sent out to the parents about the living situations.” 

Tony tenses as his parents brush off the obvious comment on how little they actually know about his situation and move right into the room. 

Maria stops at the huge poster of a rock band. 

“I assume that this is...James’?” 

“No,” he says timidly. “It’s...it’s mine. Their use of movement on the guitar strings-” 

“Take it down,” Maria demands. “It’s unsightly.” 

“Oh give the kid a break,” Howard says tiredly. “For once he’s not listening to you talk about the merits of paisley prints.” 

“I’m training our son for a more successful life than yours,” Maria hisses. “Of course, you’d have to stay away from your friend Jack to understand that.” 

“Rhodey, leave,” Tony says. “Trust me, it gets messier from here.” 

He does think about it. How easy it would be to walk out and check in with a couple of his other friends and talk about how crazy Tony’s parents are. How he could check back in near dinner time and then Tony could tell him all about how terribly it went. 

But Tony already looks terrible, and he’s doing that weird thing with his hands where he wrings them and then remembers he’s not supposed to wring them and makes it worse. 

“No,” Rhodey says. “I am staying until the bitter end. Who knows? Maybe I can give your mom a heart attack when I ask her the difference between kelly and forest green.” 

Tony grins. 

“You can leave any time, it’s about to get...interesting.” 

- 

Tony’s family is quite dysfunctional. They can put on a good front in public, for what it’s worth. 

Howard is impressed that Rhodey’s planning on going into the Air Force and then talks about Captain America for a lot of the dinner. Rhodey is very uncomfortable and then asks about business and Maria rolls her eyes and orders another glass of wine. 

After Howard finishes up talking about some contract and making vague threats against businesses that Rhodey thinks might actually be in trouble, it’s Maria’s turn. 

“So, Rhodey, where is your family from?” 

“We live in the Boston area,” Rhodey answers. 

“And what do your parents do?” 

“Dad works as a consultant for a local construction company, and my mom works as a high school history teacher. They both like their jobs.” 

“Hm,” Maria remarks, and it’s so light and casual and yet so cutting. Tony can see how Rhodey squirms, and he can’t just let it stand. 

It’s one thing for Maria to cut her own son down until he’s nothing. Still fucked up, but Tony can handle it. He’s been handling it for years. 

“Rhodey, how did your mom come to want to know she liked teaching?” Tony asks. “That sounds like it could be really hard to figure out.” 

“Oh, well it all started when she was in high school and wanted to change how one of her teachers treated students. It was a really inspiring moment for her.” 

“That sounds really cool,” Tony says. “What does she like most about her job?” 

“Probably the kids,” Rhodey says. 

The conversation carries on about Rhodey’s family until their dinner arrives and his mother manages to cut in with more questions. 

“So, what else does your mother do?” 

“She volunteers at the local food kitchen and helps some of the younger kids at the after-school program,” Rhodey answers. “She also makes a mean Thanksgiving turkey.” 

“Would you look at that,” Tony says. “Mrs. Rhodes sounds like a fine cook, I wish I could say the same for you, mother.” 

“Oh?” 

Howard actually laughs at that as he signs for the bill. 

“The kid is right, Maria. At some points I think your kitchen is only used for decoration.” 

“Oh, and you know how to cook, Mr. Stark?” Maria asks, raising her eyebrows. “I’d love to see you make anything other than coffee.” 

“I’ll make toast.” 

Rhodey laughs, and so does Tony. 

“Ready to go?” Tony asks, and part of it is a way to get away from an isolated conversation, and part of it is to make his parents leave for their hotel room sooner. 

“Tony, I want to have a talk with you before we retire for the night,” Maria says, and Tony tenses up. 

Rhodey can’t protect him from that, and he squeezes Tony’s hand as they walk behind his parents. 

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers. 

“Maybe,” Tony says. “Maybe.” 

- 

Rhodey goes into their building, and Howard waits in the car. He nods to Tony on his way out. 

“You’ve...changed,” mother says. 

“Well, that’s how humanity goes,” Tony says dryly, looking anywhere but her eyes. 

“Rock music? These snappish remarks towards your own mother? I don’t know if this college was such a good idea.” 

“It is,” Tony says. “I just...learned new things and incorporated it into my life. Nothing the matter with that.” 

“Nothing wrong with that?” Maria reiterates, surprised look on her face. “Rock music is for other people, you know things that others don’t know! You can perform violin and piano, you don’t have to listen to the personal manifestation of a headache!” 

“And if I like that headache?!” Tony asks. “If I like something that’s outside of what you approve, why so angry about it? Is it because you finally can’t control every single aspect about my identity? Is it because I’m not like your perfect little toy that you can make walk and talk how you like?” 

“You know it’s not that.” 

“Isn’t it?” Tony asks. “Because you want me to change every single interest that I’ve found I like by myself. I bet you want me to listen to Bach for fun.” 

“I do not want you to change from who you are,” Maria says. “You have eaten at the finest restaurants in the world and now you brag about making something called ramen in a microwave. A microwave?!” 

“A surprising amount of families in America have them,” Tony says. “And I’m a college student! I’m supposed to eat crappy food and then laugh about it in twenty years!” 

Maria turns red, and her lips screw up into a tight line. 

“I don’t think you should be here,” Maria says. “You’re forgetting your place. Your roommate is...” 

“My roommate is what,” Tony starts, glaring at her. “My roommate is what, mother? You want to honestly finish that sentence?” 

“He’s not good enough!” she yells at him. “You are a Stark!” 

Tony stares at her for a moment. And then another moment. 

“Leave,” he says. “Get the hell out of here.” 

“You don’t tell me-” 

“I do,” Tony says, using his full height to his advantage. “You can tell me how many times I’ve fucked up as many times as you want, but you never talk about James that way ever again.” 

He twists on his heel, forcefully opening the door to the dormitory and not once looking back. 

- 

Rhodey finds Tony back in his room when he gets back from getting ready for the night, and Tony is clutching a pillow and laying face down on the bed. 

“You know, you’ll have to turn over eventually to get some fresh air.” 

“Leave me to die, Rhodey. Oh my god.” 

“That bad?” 

“That bad. She’s probably going to try and put me in a prestigious college or some shit.” 

“Oof. Wanna fake your death and run away?” 

“Please.” 

“Well, too bad. I have a test next week, and you need to do your poetry notes.” 

“But poetry sucks.” 

“It only sucks because you don’t like modern poetry, suck it up and pull it out of your ass or something.” 

“Ugh, fine.” 

- 

Maria is trying very hard to get her son away from MIT and towards a fancy school in Europe. She doesn’t even care where, just away from his roommate and his classic rock posters and the dormitory. Anthony needs an environment where he can focus on networking, meeting more people. 

Howard says no. 

He can’t even bother to remember her son’s birthday, and he says “no.” 

“We need Anthony to go to an American school, and nothing is better besides maybe Cal Tech, and he’ll have to finish another year of college and Hammer Industries can use that as a sign of an unsteady heir.” 

“Well then get rid of his roommate.” 

“I’m not doing that, you’re asking for a PR death sentence.” 

“He’s a bad influence.” 

“No he’s not,” Howard says tiredly. “The kid is finally standing up for himself, and you hate that.” 

“I don’t hate that he can be his own person.” 

“You just wish he were his own person under your specifications,” Howard drawls. “He’s staying at MIT, that’s final.” 

“Hmph.” 

Howard rolls his eyes. 

“Go back to planning whatever charity gala you’re hosting this week, honey. I’m sure things will be fine.” 

Maria doesn’t speak against her husband, just fumes and decides she’s going to try to get Jarvis’ opinion. 

-

Edwin is also a flat no. 

“He will not forgive you if you do this,” he says, pouring her tea and adding in one sugar cube. “He loves his school, he talks about it all the time.” 

“And what, he calls you?” 

Edwin Jarvis realizes he shouldn’t have mentioned this. 

“At times, madam. At times. Will that be all?” 

“...that will be all.” 

Jarvis does bring up a good point. Besides her, of course, he knows Anthony best, even if he does keep calling him Tony. Anthony will grow out of that nickname soon enough. 

She has hope for her boy. He will most likely grow out of this silly little phase in life and finally appreciate her lessons. 

- 

Tony Stark doesn’t. 

Well, he learns her lessons. Can appreciate some of them and how much he hates that he uses them. 

But he learns a far more important lesson from Rhodey, and it shapes everything: 

“You’re your own person, and you’re far better as your own person,” Rhodey says. “I wanted to kick the shit out of you when we first lived together.” 

“You did?” 

“Of course I did!” Rhodey explains, gesturing with his coffee mug and getting yet another stain on the pillow. (Laundry again. Ugh.) “You talked like you were from a movie from the forties, it sucked.” 

“Oh, you mean the transatlantic accent?” 

“It’s pretentious, just ditch it. You’re interesting enough to listen to on your own. I listen to you talk about how much you hate Picasso sculpture, don’t I?” 

“You do,” Tony admits. 

“So then be yourself. Use what your mom taught you sometimes, but otherwise don’t.” 

“You sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure, I’m a fucking genius.” 

Tony snorts. 

“Okay, Mr. ‘I Forgot to Run the Dishes Again.’”

“I already said I was sorry!” 

-

Tony takes Rhodey’s advice into account when he walks into any board room. He wears the worst possible shoes with every single suit, usually uses all sorts of cultural references that fly over the old board members’ heads. 

He does things his way. It’s unconventional, it’s unpredictable, and it earns him a reputation. 

He’s in an interview in a suit and patterned tie (patterned with tiny robots), and the woman is smiling in a plastic way on the other side. 

“Now, a lot of people are saying you’re taking the business world by storm with your unconventional methods and personality. What helped you formulate this, your father?” 

“Oh god no,” Tony says, laughing. “He’d probably curse me to hell and back for even wearing this tie. My mother would drag me back down to hell again for this.” 

“Then who helped you with this?” 

“Rhodey, who else?” Tony asks. “He always gives the best advice, even if I’ll deny that about fifteen minutes later. He really is the reason that I’m who I am today.” 

“Seems like a great guy.” 

“He is. He always is,” Tony says with a grin. “Except, of course, when he doesn’t fold his laundry, that bastard.” 

The interviewer laughs and moves on, but Tony smiles to himself. 

He doesn’t have to be the best, he just has to be Rhodey’s. That’s all that matters. 

[wayward-mikaelson]

Winter's Doll--Final Chapter

Word Count: 1832

About: Nadia meets with the president and Bucky has a bad feeling about it

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC (Female)

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Mentions of Corrupt Government, Talks of bribery

A/N: Sorry this is out super late. I got busy and then got sick and then my son started school.

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Forever Tags: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @elansaidaris @magssteenkamp @440mxs-wife

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Story Tags: @supernatural-love14 @loudlylovingalpaca @kingkhibas

Seb/Bucky Tags: Open

Nadia stepped out of the car and onto the patio of the White House. Her entire body was shaking, the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up and her heart was racing like a racehorse who began their race. Nadia’s mind was also racing. She had so many questions to ask the president and when she tried to ask over the phone, the president wouldn’t let her get a single word out. Except that she wanted to talk to Nadia in private.

Fury had seen the expression on Nadia’s face when the president asked about talking in Private. Natasha was also in the room, and Natasha let Nadia know that this didn’t sit well with her. That she should think about it. But Nadia already knew what she wanted.

Nadia agreed to the meeting.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Bucky pulled Nadia around by the arm. He and Steve had insisted that they come as moral support. Well, Steve was moral support, Bucky was there to make sure Nadia was safe. “You can always send me or Steve in there to tell the president that you change your mind.”

Nadia shook her head and licked her lips. “I got this,” Nadia rested a hand on Bucky’s. She looked up at him and saw how those blue eyes stared right into her dark one. He knew she wasn’t sure but respected that. “If I had to send someone in, then it would be Steve.”

“Why Steve?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. There’s a hint of playfulness in his eyes that had Nadia’s lips twitching into a small smile.

“Because Steve will keep it diplomatic where as you,” Naida took a step closer to Bucky and hooked her index finger into a strap on his suit. She thought to the quickie the two of them shared before taking off a few hours before. “You’d probably be led out by the Secret Service or in handcuffs. Which I wouldn’t be opposed to as I seem to remember you liking them the other night.” Nadia winked at Bucky who smirked.

“You’re right,” Bucky’s hand slowly slid up to cup Nadia’s chin. “Just be careful. The government has given you every reason not to trust them.”

Nadia leaned forwards and gave Bucky a small peck on the cheek. “I will.”

Nadia turned on her heel and made her way towards the door where a man stood waiting. Instantly, Nadia got some weird vibes off him and turned to see both Steve and Bucky standing side by side with their arms crossed.

***

Bucky watched as Nadia turned towards the man and gave him a smile and shook his hand. Once they disappeared behind the closing doors, Bucky turned to Steve. “I don’t like this,” he said, dropping his arms. “This doesn’t feel right at all.”

“I’m sure everything will be fine, Buck,” Steve said. “Nadia knows how to handle herself.”

“I know that, Steve,” Bucky muttered. “It’s this whole government trying to silence anyone, like her brother. What if that’s what they wanted to meet or worse?”

Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged and crossed his arms again. “Probably a good thing I called Sam and have him laying low on some rooftop.”

“You did what?” Steve shook his head. “You know what, if it does turn ugly, probably having Sam nearby will help. But we aren’t going on the run again.”

Bucky and Steve stood there in silence waiting for Nadia to come out. Bucky still couldn’t shake that something was going to happen. Bucky cared for Nadia deepy, probably just as much as he cared for Steve. He’d do just about anything to make sure Steve and Nadia were safe.

Come to think of it, Bucky was starting to realize that he didn’t care for Nadia. He loved her and would probably use Steve as a body shield to make sure Nadia was safe and sound.

***

Nadia sat in the Oval Office and twiddled her thumbs around. She’s toured the White House a few times and has seen the Oval Office. But Nadia never spent more than a few minutes there. Here she was, going on almost thirty minutes of waiting for the president to come and talk with her.

To be honest, Nadia was nervous as hell. She had a feeling that something was going to go wrong. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, she needed to have Bucky in here with her. But the moment Nadia looked at her phone, she saw that she had no signal whatsoever. The feeling in Nadia’s gut got more intense.

“So,” a voice entered the room. Nadia turned to see the President of the United States waltz into the room. Her ginger hair flowing about her shoulders and her bright green eyes bore right into Nadias.

“What are we going to do with you? ”Her beige pantsuit looked a little too tight and Nadia was sure that a button would pop off them the moment she sat down.

“What?” Nadia asked. She instantly got a bad feeling about the woman in front of her. “I thought we were here to talk about my brother?”

The president leaned back and took a glass of water from her person next to her. “We are,” she answered after taking a long drink. “We are also going to discuss how you will stay quiet about all this. How does a mansion and yacht sound?”

***

Steve’s phone rang in his pocket. Without taking his eyes off the guard that was staring him and Bucky down, he reached into his pocket. “Hello?”

“Cap,” it was Sam. “It doesn’t look too pretty in there.”

“You have a visual on Nadia?” Cap whispered.

“Yep, Bucky told me to make it happen so I have Red Wing hovering close enough to see in.” Sam answered. “That dude that knew Nadia is in the room with her and the President.”

Steve turned to Bucky who was now staring at him. “The mission where that dude knew Nadia? What was his name?”

Bucky’s heart stopped. Of course he remembered this dude. He got a bad vibe off him right off the bat. “Timothy Ketch? What about him?”

“You guys may want to head in there,” Sam’s voice sounded concerned. “Nadia looks pissed as shit in there. I don’t think I’ve seen her face look that red and deadly.”

Steve hung up the phone and looked at Bucky. Bucky knew instantly that something was up. “Who are you calling now?” Bucky noticed Steve put his phone back to his ear.

“Hey, we have a situation. You’ve been compromised. Take everyone and head underground.” Steve hung up his phone again. “Let’s go.”

Bucky followed Steve into the White House and towards the Oval Office. The closer they got, the more Bucky could hear Nadia’s voice. She didn’t sound at all happy. In fact, Bucky could hear all the fowl language coming from Nadia’s mouth.

“No!” Nadia’s voice echoed around the corner. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

Steve and Bucky rounded the corner to see Nadia being held by two secret service men. The look on Nadia’s face brightened up when she saw them. Bucky saw a forming bruise on her hand and he knew that Nadia had thrown all she had into that punch.

“How's the other guy?” Bucky asked, a smiled pulling on the corner of his lips. Steve nudged him. “What? I want to know?”

“Oh Tim,” Nadia chuckled then groaned. The two men that held her pushed her onto a wall. “I’m certain I broke his nose. Hey, fellas, gentle there I’m a woman. Or do you not care since I won’t comply with your order to shut the fuck up and tell no one about how you’re selling off soldiers.”

Steve stepped forward. “I’m going to need you to let her go.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” one of the men looked at Steve. “President Tyler ordered her to be arrested. She’s a traitor to the country.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Nadia groaned and faster than the two men that held her, Nadia snapped her head back and hit one man. He let go and that was enough for Nadia to whip around and free herself from the other man by chi blocking him. “Now, that was kind of pathetic. You should have known to go up against someone your people have trained to sell off.” She knelt down next to the guy with limp arms and smiled an evil smile at him. “Not only that, but against an Avenger.”

Nadia stood up and looked at Steve and Bucky. “Clint has your family safe,” he whispered when Nadia was within ear shot.

“Good,” Nadia looked behind her and back at Steve and Bucky. “I have a press conference to go to. Call Stark, make sure he can keep at least one camera rolling.” Before the two men can say anything, Nadia quickly walked away.

“So she wants us to have Tony hack into the government?” Bucky asked, looking confused. Living for a little more than a century, there were times Bucky was still stuck in the 40’s. “Can he even do that?”

“He’s Howard's kid,,” Steve answered. “He will be more than happy to.” Steve pulled out his phone and dialed Tony’s number.

Bucky turned to the nearest television and watched as Nadia took over. Her dark hair hung around her shoulders. He could see the small tremors of her hands. Nadia was nervous but the look in her eyes pretty much said that she was going to do this no matter the consequence.

As Nadia spoke, Bucky could hear the small shake in her voice but the firmness as she spoke of her brother, that told Bucky that she had it all under control. Bucky ignored the chaos that was ensuing around both him and Steve. No matter how many times the feed was cut off, it was always brought back. Tony was working hard to keep it all running. Bucky made a mental note to thank Tony for doing this.

Then something happened.

Reports were being made about how the press conference wasn’t just being broadcasted to those who were watching it on the news. It was being broadcasted just about everywhere from Malibu to London. Tony was making sure that it literally got everywhere.

Getting Nadia out wasn’t hard at all. Not after the threat she made, one that would have both Fury and Steve hiding her out until all this was blown over and taken care of. Bucky didn’t like the thought of having Nadia away so who knows how long. It literally made his heart ache. So he volunteered to go with her, to help keep her safe.

“I got you,” Bucky said as they loaded up the SUV with bags. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I’ll keep you safe, Doll.”

[ofstoriesandstardust]

Champagne Problems-Diego Hargreeves

a/n: WHO’S READY FOR THE ANGST?! here we go lol. i’ve never written a song-inspired fic but here we are. this part 1 of of my 2 valentine’s day fics. the other is a cute luther fic and hopefully I’ll be able to write more umbrella academy so... NO I HAVE NOT FINISHED SEASON 2 DON’T COME FOR ME. i’m also totally willing to write a second part to this, especially after i hurt myself so bad so if it’s something you’re interested in, please let me know. listening to champagne problems during this is probably a good idea. this also exists minorly in my law and order: special victims unit x the umbrella academy universe but it’s really only slight mentions of ADA work, so no real connection. 

masterlist | prompt list

warnings: ANGST, Hazel, Agnes, and Eudora live and Ben comes back to life because I said so, post-Texas apocalypse but my own storyline because I haven’t finished season 2 yet, my own thoughts and feeling in the form of the main character, Ben’s secretly a history nerd, Tumblr fucked with my spacing and I’m salty

word count: 3,064 (including song lyrics)

You booked the night train for a reason

So you could sit there in this hurt

Bustling crowds or silent sleepers

You're not sure which is worse

-

You always opted to take the cases that kept you up the latest at night, working the hardest to get victims justice. You refused to sleep at night until you knew you’d be able to put a killer or rapist away the next day. Which, in turn, meant that there’d often be nights a detective would call in need of a warrant, already knowing you’d still be awake. However, there would be nights, weeks, even, where it was a small case or no cases at all. Those were the days you’d busy yourself in the office until you had no other reason to be there, finding the later you took the subway home, the fewer people there would be. Usually, the quiet of the night calmed you and gave you time to reflect. Sometimes though, your mind would wander to him.

-

Because I dropped your hand while dancing

Left you out there standing

Crestfallen on the landing

Champagne problems

-

Diego had taken you on a drive, bringing you to the city of Manhattan. You always spoke of your love of the city, missing your time spent there while in law school. The two of you had gone for a walk and picnic through Central Park and as the sun was beginning to set, leaving the New York sky a dusty pink, he grabbed your hand as you talked about your favorite memory at the Chinese place just down the road. You paused, looking up at him, seeing the love for swimming within his features. After that night, you had grown to hate the sight of Central Park and avoided it by all means necessary. Your team had never been able to figure out why.

-

Your mom's ring in your pocket

My picture in your wallet

-

Although never actually married to Reginald, and despite the fact that she was an AI, Grace had a wedding band she kept tucked away. When Diego had introduced you to Grace, he knew that you would be the one he’d marry. You were so kind to the AI, not batting an eyelash at her charging port or her sometimes distant nature. She was Diego’s mom by all accounts, and he’d be damned if he was going to live the rest of his life with a girl who didn’t respect his mother. Despite Diego’s fear, you and the AI got on splendidly and at the end of the night, when you were talking to Pogo, Grace brought the boy upstairs and slipped him the small band. She smiled at him and Diego had to restrain himself from crushing the sweet women in a hug. “Just in case.” she had said.

-

Your heart was glass, I dropped it

Champagne problems

-

Diego had tried from the very beginning to be honest with you that he came with a lot of issues. Building trust had been difficult and a fragile process. You had been patient and kind and understanding and everything he was certain he didn’t deserve. Diego slowly learned to let his walls and heart open to you and by the end of it, Diego believed that you had melted his heart of ice and worked your way into his life and family. Until you turned away, dropping the ice heart, shattering it.

-

You told your family for a reason

You couldn't keep it in

-

When you and Diego had first met, it had been purely by accident. You were just moving into the apartment across the hall from Vanya’s and he had come barreling down the stairs after Five. After knocking you and one too many boxes to the ground, Diego profusely apologized, concerned eyes flitting across you to make sure that you indeed weren’t hurt. He had offered to help you finish moving your belongings, wanting a few more minutes with the pretty girl on the stairs. You agreed and asked if he would be interested in grabbing dinner with you that night since you didn’t know anywhere in town. He agreed and the two of you had always considered that your unofficial first date. As the two of you grew closer and Diego’s family became interested in the mysterious ADA with whom he spent all his time, the more determined Diego became to shelter you from them. His family came with a lot of baggage, a lot of trouble, and you had enough just trying to put the bad guys away. But as he became more certain he wanted you in his life for a long time, the more he knew he wanted to tell his siblings. After the apocalypse, he and his siblings had tried to repair the broken bridges and had been successful for the most part. So, one night, at family dinner, he looked around at his siblings, laughing at some witty comment Five had made, and he blurted it out before he could stop himself. The siblings went quiet, looking over at him. You had just met Grace a few days ago, and he was sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. “I think I’m going to marry her.”

-

Your sister splashed out on the bottle

Now no one's celebrating

-

Allison had been the most excited, wanting to plan an elaborate engagement scheme, wanted to help him pick out the ring. He let her too, unsure of really what to do, and was happy to see her so excited about something. She had convinced Diego to introduce you to her and Vanya, wanting to get to know you, to accurately help Diego (and of course to get to know her future sister-in-law, with whom she was determined to be best friends). As the date that they had settled on drew nearer, she bought an expensive bottle of champagne, stating that only the finest would do for her brother’s engagement. Diego rolled his eyes, but deep down he appreciated that she cared about him this much to help him. When Diego returned to the Academy that night, unannounced and much later than originally intended, Allison immediately knew something was wrong. The siblings looked around at each other, in shock and disbelief. No one had really thought you’d say no.

-

Dom Pérignon, you brought it

No crowd of friends applauded

-

You weren’t sure why Diego brought the bottle of champagne with him, and he wasn’t sure either, both knowing you didn’t drink. As you stared at him, and he stared at you, hurt flickering across the other’s face, all Diego could focus on was the fact that he brought that stupid bottle of champagne. Why had he listened to Allison, or Vanya, or any of the Hargreeves for that matter? Diego was not meant to get a happy ending, he was sure of it. And he had gone and tempted fate and had gotten the heart-breaking answer he knew all along.

-

Your hometown skeptics called it

Champagne problems

-

The Hargreeves had taken Diego out to Griddy’s that night, not sure what else to do with him. Hazel and Agnes looked at him, pity in their eyes. The police chief of the town was there, the one who had despised Diego entirely and was entirely infuriated when he had found out his favorite ADA was “messing around” with the disgraced ex-police officer-turned-vigilante. He looked at the pity party that seemed to be happening in honor of Diego and laughed. “She always was too good for you. Glad she finally realized it.”

-

You had a speech, you're speechless

Love slipped beyond your reaches

And I couldn't give a reason

-

Diego had a speech, he had. He’d prepared it with Grace and Allison and had practiced it a million times over, to make sure he wouldn’t stutter. Klaus and Ben had listened patiently, giving him pointers and Vanya had even helped him rewrite it when he thought it wasn’t conveying what he wanted to say. And yet, as he looked at you, he couldn’t think of a single word of it. He was nervous, sure, but he was so consumed by the love he felt for you, that he just blurted out, “Wanna get married?”. He offered wondered if he had given you a speech, told you how much he loved you, why he loved you, if you’d still be with him.  

-

Champagne problems

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

November flush and your flannel cure

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

-

Diego had been so nervous bringing you to the Academy to meet his siblings. He wasn’t sure how’d you react to the dysfunction of his family and he was terrified in anticipation of what the siblings might say or do that would scare you off. Luckily, you and Klaus had immediately become attached at the hip and you were already familiar with Vanya. Luthor and Five had been cold at first, waiting to see if they were up to their standards and if you had ulterior motives with Diego. You, of course, passed with flying colors and by the end of the night, you had them laughing and sharing embarrassing stories of Diego. Allison was enthused and happy to welcome you to the family. Ben had engaged you in a deep conversation about the legacy of ancient civilizations long after anyone else cared to listen or contribute. Still, Diego had been nervous it was all a front as to not have the dinner be awkward and uncomfortable. As he drove back to your (unofficially shared) apartment, he had joked that his house was a madhouse. You had seen right through him, knowing he was trying to apologize for the chaos that is his family and that is, well, Klaus. You had laughed and told him that if you could survive in your madhouse of a family, you could survive in his too.

-

How evergreen, our group of friends

Don't think we'll say that word again

-

As Diego looked back on your relationship, he looked for signs that you were unhappy, or wanting to leave. He was unable to come up with any, with the exception of one. You and Diego never fought. It couldn’t have been healthy but there was… never anything to fight about. You were both okay with the other’s line of work, and while not perfect, Diego was learning to be open and honest with you about what he needed from the relationship and you had always been so receptive to that. Ben had once joked that he hadn’t seen plants so evergreen as your relationship. You had laughed and Diego smiled, happy he had someone that was so easy to be with after all the hardship he’d experienced in his life. Now all Diego could do was look back on that memory with the bitter taste of regret.

-

And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls

That we once walked through

-

Christmas had been your favorite holiday ever since you were a child. As you had gotten older, the excitement faded, but the cheer and happiness that came from watching old Christmas films and dancing to songs in your kitchen as you baked cookies found its way into your heart without fail every year. So, when the first Christmas with Diego came around, you had cautiously asked him if he’d like to celebrate it with you. Diego tried not to speak too much on Reginald, and from what you knew about the man, Christmas didn’t seem like something that was being celebrated at the Umbrella Academy. Diego had shrugged, saying he didn’t really know what Christmas was about to know if he’d enjoy celebrating it or not. Thus, you had taken Diego to look at lights and watched all your favorite Christmas movies as a child and listened to songs while baking family recipes and he had even helped you decorate the apartment. By the time Christmas rolled around, Diego had started to understand why you cherished the holiday so much. But waking up the morning of Christmas to gifts you had picked out for him, one making up for every year he lost out on what Christmas was supposed to be like, he felt his heart growing three sizes more, like the Grinch from the night before. Diego had never felt a love as pure when he looked at you.

The next year had been no different, just on a larger scale as the whole Hargreeves clan joined in this time. That year, Christmas morning found the Hargreeves boys whisper-yelling at Diego about how he had found the perfect woman as they woke to an abundant amount of gifts under the tree. You dragged Vanya and Allison down the stairs, insisting the family had to open presents together. Klaus had insisted he act as Santa, stating the real Santa should get to sit with her boyfriend. You hadn’t protested, seeing how much a kick he got out of the hat and curled up into Diego as he sat with his back against the arm of the couch. Diego ran his fingers through your hair, and you laid your head against his chest. Luther, wide-eyed, asked you how you were able to pay for all of it. You had shrugged and stated that being an ADA paid you a much larger salary than you knew what to do with and moving out of Manhattan meant a lot less on rent. When Vanya asked why you’d bother spending all that money on them, your response had ensured to Diego that he’d found the right one. “Well, you guys are like family to me. And you never got the Christmases I grew up with and it’s all about making other people happy. I wanted to give you back the Christmas you never had.”

As he looked around at the decorated Academy this year, Klaus and Ben insisting on continuing the tradition you left behind, Diego just felt an overwhelming sense of hatred of the colors and lights. All just painful reminders of what he lost. Of the girl who left.

-

One for the money, two for the show

I never was ready, so I watch you go

Sometimes you just don't know the answer

'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

-

Luther was the only one who could never quite believe you were with Diego totally and completely. Maybe the misgivings came from his strained relationship with the second Hargreeves boy but he always believed you were in it for one of two reasons. Either the money that came with Hargreeves fortune or the fame that came with the Hargreeves name. Of course, Luther wasn’t you, and would never understand the real reason you had said…

“No.” Diego looked at you, hand on his pocket, ready to give you Grace’s ring, unsure if his fear was playing tricks with his head. You shook your head, “No, Diego. I’m sorry.” When those words had left Diego’s mouth, your heart had stopped. You loved Diego, more than anything you had ever known, but the untold horrors of your life before Diego came rushing to the surface and began to choke you. How could you marry Diego when you couldn’t disclose the worst moments of your life to him for fear of being a burden on the already broken boy? You realized at that moment, you could be everything Diego needed, but you would never allow Diego to be everything you needed, setting your relationship hurtling for sure-fire failure. You gasped, the tears threatening to render you breathless. “Diego, I-” And in a moment of pure, blind panic, you grabbed your things and ran, leaving the boy devastated behind you.

-

"She would've made such a lovely bride

What a shame she's fucked in her head, " they said

-

A few weeks after that night, Diego found himself alone at the Academy with Five. The two of them were sitting at the bar, not saying much. Finally, Five put his drink down on the table and looked at Diego. “I am really sorry about her, Diego.” Diego looked up at Five. “It’s a shame she’s got too many issues up here,” he said, tapping his head, “to give you what you wanted. She was one-of-a-kind.”

“What are you talking about Five?” Diego questioned, mildly annoyed Five brought you up.

“Did she give you a reason why, Diego?” Number 2 shook his head. “She always seemed to have her own issues, her own baggage, she was never willing to discuss. Maybe her issues with marriage was one of them.”

“That’s ridiculous Five, she would’ve told me.” Diego said, taking a sip of his drink. But as he thought about it, the more he wondered if Five was right. You had told him about your less-than-ideal relationship with your family and disclosed the fact that you didn’t drink due to a genetic predisposition of being an alcoholic, but he had always sensed there was something more you wouldn’t share.

-

But you'll find the real thing instead

She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

And hold your hand while dancing

-

One night, he ran into Eudora at Griddy’s making a midnight waffle run for the family. She told him she had heard about the failed proposal and that if he ever wanted or needed to talk, she’d be there. He called her a few days later, and the two of them met up at a bar for a few drinks. He told her about you and that night, and as Diego talked about it, he realized that pain subsided. The outings to the bar became weekly occurrences and he found himself enjoying the company and comfort Eudora offered. And as Eudora found her way back into his life, as time went on, Diego realized he thought of you less and less.

-

Never leave you standing

Crestfallen on the landing

With champagne problems

Your mom's ring in your pocket

Her picture in your wallet

You won't remember all my

Champagne problems

You won't remember all my

Champagne problems

[xiverni]

Redemption and “Consequences”

A lot of talk has been had recently as of chapter 284 of both Endeavor and Bakugo’s “redemptions”, and how they seem to be leading up to some grand consequences for their actions, a final karmic retribution of sorts. People often talk about how these two characters have never had to “pay” for their actions, and that they have never had to face any real consequences. 

Of course, this notion is flawed from the surface all the way to the foundation. Not only have these two characters suffered quite a lot throughout their stay in the story, but the very notion that characters have to “face retribution” in order to become redeemed is an odd, troubling, and frankly reactionary idea that should be discarded as childish nonsense. 

To begin with the idea that Bakugo and Endeavor have not suffered due to the consequences of their actions, even a cursory glance at the story can immediately dispel these arguments. Bakugo, due to his abrasive nature and inferiority complex, spent much of the series losing over and over again. From the initial school training arc to the school festival, Bakugo’s flaws have resulted in him failing at his goals, whether they are beating Deku or fighting Todoroki at his full strength. His anger issues and “villainous” outward appearance even led to a terrorist organization kidnapping him, leading to a situation in which Bakugo spent a good length of time wracked in guilt and trauma over his actions, which he believed contributed to All Might’s fall. This all culminates in his failure in the Provisional License Exams, in which Bakugo’s failings again prevent him from reaching his ambitions. 

It is after his second confrontation with Deku that Bakugo’s development starts picking up real speed, with the next arc that centers around him showing that Bakugo is learning that looking down on those weaker than you will only lead to worse outcomes for yourself. Additionally, it is from here that we begin seeing Bakugo both act more cooperatively with his teammates and (occasionally) prioritize saving people over winning. This is shown when he acts as a cooperative unit with his teammates in the Joint Training Arc, and he is seen saving civilians in the Meta Liberation Arc and the Endeavor Internship Arc. 

When it comes to Endeavor, he is a character that is definitely a lot more contentious than Bakugo, for a number of reasons. For one, Bakugo is an “attractive” character to many of those who read this story, thus he is able to get a lot of leeway as compared to other characters. Additionally, he is a literal child, thus he is treated with a lighter moral weight by the “fandom”. The idea that being under the age of 18 somehow makes you less morally responsible for your actions than anyone arbitrary older than that age has always rubbed me the wrong way. Yes, younger people have a less complete and mature perception of the world, thus it is generally fairer to treat them lighter. However, there are countless adults who suffer from the same immaturity problems and developmental issues as young people do. That said, this is a bit of a tangent already.

From the moment All Might retires, Endeavor has already begun suffering for his actions. He has finally reached the position of number one hero... In the worst way possible : by default. The public is at best ambivalent about his position, and his tenure as the head hero has overseen a sharp rise in crime and disorder in society. What’s worse, as soon as Endeavor finally realizes the horrible things he’s done to his family, it becomes apparent that it’s far too little too late, as Natsuo literally can’t bear being in the same room as Endeavor and Shoto is consistently coldly professional to him. Fuyumi and Rei, the two that are more receptive to Endeavor, are a) doing it out a sense of longing for a “true family” and not particularly out of a sentimental attachment for Endeavor as a person or father, and b) in the case of Rei, not even wanting to see Endeavor. Can you imagine the impact of finally growing and learning from your horrific past mistakes, only to find out that these mistakes will never be able to be moved on from? Can you imagine resolving your pride and selfish desires, choosing to leave behind the family you want to rebuild, all so that they can live comfortably and in peace? Endeavor has almost constantly been suffering since the day All Might retired, and even though it absolutely cannot be said that he doesn’t deserve his suffering, it is in fact still suffering that is being dealt to him.

There is also another argument that centers around legal repercussions for actions committed by these characters, which is something that I both concede has not occurred and simultaneously state is literally of no narrative significance. If these were in fact real people in the real world, there would be a compelling argument that Endeavor deserves to serve time in prison for his abusive behavior. However, appropriate legal punishments are not equivalent to self improvement by the method of narrative punishments. How the fuck would a jail sentence improve Endeavor’s moral character any more than it already has improved? For those who are actually making the claim that these characters should have in universe been given legal repercussions for their actions (as well as those who, hilariously, use Endeavor’s lack of legal consequences as proof that the heroes are bad), Endeavor’s actions are literally unknown to the general public. Additionally, bullying among students is pretty standard in Japan, while it is certainly not a good thing. Furthermore, I really don’t see the point in arguing about “physical violence” in terms of characters in a superhero story throwing around explosions like nothing (I am talking about Bakugo’s more abrasive nature, not Endeavor’s actual physical violence against his children, the latter of which is meant narratively to hold actual weight). People in this universe are obviously a lot more durable than people in our universe. Accept that this is a fictional story with unrealistic aspects, and that in order to critically examine it, you need to accept its basic premises at face value without assuming things using the outside world. 

Now to move to my actual argument, I see so many people obsessed with the idea of “bad” characters having to go through some sort of “trial” or “punishment” in order to become redeemed - as if that’s the way people work. While this may come as a surprise to some, bad people are in fact capable of becoming better human beings without experiencing any sort of karmic retribution. In fact, I would say that the resolve to become better, even without some outside force pushing upon you, is a far harder and meaningful journey than one in which you’re simply pummeled and punished into waving a white flag. It reminds me of the trope “defeat means friendship”, in which the protagonists defeat (typically physically) an enemy, thus converting that enemy into an ally or friend of sorts. 

Think about it like this: would you be more willing to forgive someone who committed a terrible crime, served no time in prison for it, but nonetheless learned from their mistakes and genuinely became a better person.... or someone who committed a terrible crime, served decades in prison, and then came out none the wiser to their own actions?

What makes this situation even funnier is that many of the people demanding karmic retribution for these characters’ actions would, in real life, be advocating for justice reforms that lean towards “rehabilitation” rather than “retribution”. In fact, it has pretty much been proven that rehabilitation is almost universally more effective at actually changing the mindsets of people as opposed to retribution. 

In conclusion, the characters people say haven’t been given consequences have been given consequences, and the prison system should be reformed. Tune in next time for more wacky and unexpected topics like societal collapse and the technological decline of human civilization in BNHA. 

[overheardatthecontinental]

Mine Chapter Five

AO3 Mine

..

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS

taglist: @greenmanalishi, @cynic-spirit, @fluffyfirewhiskey

Message me if you want to be added to the taglist

You wake up warm and cozy, feeling more well-rested than you have in weeks. The bed is soft under you and a gentle weight is draped over your side. Your back is flush against what feels like a personal heater. A sprinkling of hair and a hot body, holding you protectively.

Your eyes fly open as you jolt to consciousness, the events of the previous day flooding your memory.

John.

It wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare and you were living it.

You try to wiggle out of his arms but his grip only tightens, drawing you back against him.

“Good morning.” John says gruffly, his voice still heavy from sleep.

For a brief instant, you consider telling him to go fuck himself. However, given the precarious nature of your undress and his previous reactions to misbehavior , you decide against it.

You've tried to act against him. It landed you with a dozen blows to your ass and three fingers stretching you open as he tormented you with his tongue. Until you begged him to let you come.

Perhaps a different avenue was needed.

The fact remains, you couldn't get out of this room without John. You needed to cooperate enough that he would take you out of the bedroom. Maybe there was a way out that wasn’t locked somewhere else in the house…

Maybe you could get to John’s phone, call the police…

This could all be over if you just pretended to cooperate.

What else could he do to you?

He’d already locked you away, violated you, humiliated you...

“Morning,” You softly say back.

"How did you sleep?"

"Good."

You hate that your answer isn't a lie.

John places a hand along your jaw, turning your face back as he leans over you. His lips gently press against yours in a soft kiss before kissing your forehead.

He pushes to a sitting position. "What would you like for breakfast, love?"

You start to sit up and remember your state of undress. You tug the blanket up to your chest as John stands. He had stripped down for bed and was wearing only a pair of boxers.

It was the first time you had seen him so bared.

It was no surprise that he could manhandle you the way he did. His body was lean, yet muscular. At the beach or the gym, you probably would have caught yourself ogling.

His back was covered in tattoos and a few lined his arms as well.

Large, bold letters bragged fortis fortuna adjust. Latin.

Fortune favors the strong.

Of course.

"What do you have?" You ask, absently as you study him.

He slips into the closet, listing, "eggs, pancakes, cereal, toast."

"Eggs, please."

The please slips out naturally and he rewards you with a flash of a smile as he steps back into the room, shrugging on a white shirt. He's also tossed on a pair of sweatpants.

No one should have the right to look that good scrubbed out.

Yet he really does.

Bastard.

"Bacon? Toast?"

You nod and he comes over, leaning down to kiss your head again.

"I'll be up soon."

The moment the deadbolt slides into place, you clamber out of bed and search for your clothes from last night. They're no longer on the floor which means John probably took them whenever he got up to change.

Unsure where they are, you proceed to the closet.

You suppose it was a good thing. John would probably prefer you in the clothes he had provided. Maybe it might help tempt him to bring you downstairs.

You quickly pick out a grey sweater and a pair of jeans, as well as mismatched lingerie. It was subtle but the last thing you wanted was John taking anything as a sexual pass.

You hurry to the bathroom, turning the water on for a quick shower. Just to scrub yourself clean after last night.

You waste no time, using the soap and hygiene products provided. You're trying to establish some sort of rapport with John, which means following his rules. For now. Which meant showering with the bathroom door open. For now.

It’s a shame, too. He has a large, spacious shower with an overhead spout that feels like heavy rainfall pouring down on you. In an ideal situation, you might have spent hours under it.

Instead, you rush to dry off and dress.

You hear the door open and yank the sweater over your head and pull your wet hair out. You walk back to the main room and, just like yesterday, John has breakfast. Two plates on a tray along with two mugs and a glass with something pink. A smoothie? He sets them down on the ottoman between the arm chairs.

John glances up as you come out, his eyes darkening at the sight of you in the clothes he picked out. You flush, involuntarily, as he gives you an approving nod.

“You look gorgeous.”

The clothes fit perfectly, the jeans hanging to your every curve. The sweater is as soft as it looked. You probably would have picked it out yourself if you were the kind of person who had superfluous funds to spend on little luxuries like nice clothes.

"Thank you."

You take the seat across from him, folding your legs beneath you.

He hands you the coffee which you accept. The mug has a daisy, your favorite flower. A coincidence? At this point, you doubt it..

You sip at it, testing the temperature and blink in surprise.

"Is this a vanilla latte?"

"Yes."

"You have an espresso machine?"

"I do now."

The implication is clear. He knows your coffee order and he’s taken steps to provide it for you.

The words fall from your mouth before you can stop them, “How long have you been stalking me?”

John leans back in his chair, just watching you with a raised eyebrow. What you wouldn’t give to know what was going on his head. Is he annoyed? Amused? Pissed?

“Are we not supposed to talk about it?” You ask and there’s just a little bit of a condescending tone that nearly makes you wince as it hits your ears.

Hadn’t you decided to try to get out of this damn room by behaving?

But John’s face softens, “Would you feel better if we talked about it?”

Probably not but you shrug, “It might.”

John nods, almost thoughtfully, “I won’t promise to answer every question.”

You’re surprised that he gives that much. Eagerly, you sit up and nod, “Okay.”

“I understand that this is new.” He continues, “That this must be a difficult adjustment. And I’ll admit, I wasn’t fully prepared to bring you home.”

That was new information.

You open your mouth to ask what, exactly, his plan had been but John holds up a finger.

“I’ll answer your questions. After you eat.”

Fine by you.

You grab the toast and start eating, as quickly as you can without making yourself sick. You mentally prepare a list of questions that you want answered. John eats with you, for the first time, though you eat in silence. John seems content to eat and watch you.

You try to ignore the self-conscious tugs that you feel under his scrutiny.

Between the smoothie and the toast, you’re already full before you even try the eggs. When you can’t eat any more, you look up at John expectantly. He’s still eating but he nods to you, pausing to say, “Go ahead.”

“How long did you watch me?”

He swallows a bite of toast, “A week.”

“And that was long enough to make a decision to take me?”

John looks almost amused at that, “I knew you were mine the first day.”

Oooookay, you think.

"How?"

He doesn't say anything. Not wanting to push your luck, you move on. So you ask another question that's been burning in your mind.

"What exactly do you do, John?"

You take a sip of your latte and John gives the closest thing to a smile that you have seen. It's staggering and you're grateful, suddenly, that you are sitting because damn.

"I don't think you're ready for that conversation."

And what the fuck does that mean?

"Do you know how a conversation works, John?"

His lips twitch.

"I say something, then you respond."

"I did respond. You just didn't like my answer."

"That wasn't an answer." You argue, "at best, it was an evasion. Do you really think your answer is going to be worse than waking up in a strange place, tied to a bed?"

"Yes."

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm pretty sure nothing you do could surprise me at this point. Unless you say kindergarten teacher. That would genuinely shock me."

He considers it, for a moment, that small smile lingering on his face.

"I'm an assassin."

Huh.

You wonder, for a moment, if he's joking. An elaborate scheme where you're getting punked. Because, nope, you definitely hadn't been kidnapped by an assassin.

But here you are, locked in an elaborate prison.

"You're serious?" You ask, just to be sure, and John nods. Oh. .

Idly, you wonder if you’ll have your own lifetime movie.

It doesn’t scare you the way you think it should. You already knew he was capable of some terrifying feats and you were pretty sure that he didn’t go through all this just to kill you. He could have done that a thousand different ways by now if that was his intent.

“How does one become an assassin?”

“It’s what I was trained for.”

You lean forward with a slight sigh, “You’re really good at answering questions without actually saying a damn thing.”

Again, John’s lips twitch. "I apologize. I’m not used to… open-ended discussions.”

“What does that mean?”

“Typically, when I speak, it’s to make a point. To gain information. I’m not used to small talk.”

Small talk?

He had kidnapped you and was holding you captive and he thought this was small talk?  

“I’ll--” He hesitates, “Try to do better.”

“Thank you.” You say. It’s a small step but if you’re able to get him to talk, develop that rapport… maybe it would get you out of this room. This house. Get you the opening for escape.

“I was raised in a Romani orphanage until I was about eight.”

What. The. Fuck.

You hadn’t known what to expect but what the actual fuck.

“The orphanages were overcrowded and some of us were sent to the United States, where many of our tribe had emigrated and were running a special sort of school for assassins.”

You realize your mouth is open and you close it. Is he serious? He doesn’t seem like the kind who lies but holy fuck. Nearly every word out of his mouth has you shaken to your core and confused, yet again.

And this is supposed to be helping you to get out of here.

Instead, your heartstrings are being tugged by the mental image of a lonely, little John being forced to hold a gun.

“You started training to be an assassin when you were eight?”

John nods, “Around there. Didn’t really have a way to keep track of when I was born or how much time had passed.”

You’re not sure which is worse: the fact he literally didn’t know his age or the fact that, regardless of how old he had been, he had practically been a baby. Just a little kid.

You notice the rise in empathy spilling through you. No. No. A shitty childhood isn't an excuse for kidnapping and taking advantage of you the way he had.

But it wasn't as if he really knew better. Raised in an orphanage until he was sent to a school for assassins?

He must have been so scared.

Stop it . This is your captor.

You sip at your latte as the silent stretches out.

It wasn't the same, you think, but maybe if you can compare what you're going through now to what he went through...

"That must have been scary." You say softly.

John only shrugs, "I preferred it. I got a cot when I moved to New York. And we had heat in the winter."

Oh.

“Still, you were so young.”

John shrugs his shoulders, “Didn’t know anything else. I spent the first eight years of my life fighting for food. I spent the next few years fighting for survival.”

“And then?”

“I ran away.” He stops talking then, as if reconsidering, continues, “I was somewhere in my early teens and I got tired of the training and the competition and I left.”

“Where did you go?”

“I snuck on a train to California. Then hitchhiked to Mexico. I lived there for a couple of years. No child labor laws so I was able to work.”

“Doing what?”

“Farming, but only for a couple of years. The, uh, village I lived in was razed to the ground.”

Again, you’re staring in disbelief at him and yet… you can’t help but believe him. Which is ridiculous because the man who kidnapped you really isn’t someone you feel like you can trust, but his tone, the way that he’s saying all this… it’s so matter of fact.

At the very least, John believes whatever he’s saying.

“After that, I kind of went back to wandering.” He looks down, almost bashfully and that’s just too much to handle.

He’s the bad guy.

This would be so much easier if he laughed maniacally or yelled and screamed at you.

Softly, you ask “Where did you go?”

He shrugs before looking up. He opens his mouth and then closes it. “Mexico had been… dangerous. And without the safety of my village, I couldn’t really stay anymore. Everyone… so many people died that day.”

His voice is heavy with emotion and you have to dig your hand into the arm of the chair to stop you from reaching out.

God, this is so fucked up.

“I went north. By then, I could pass for eighteen. I ran weapons in LA for a few months, until I saved enough to get fake papers and IDs. And then I joined the Marines.”

Just when you think he’s going to zig, he zags.

“I didn’t mind it. Gave me food, housing. And their training regime was almost laughable compared to what I was doing as a kid. You didn’t get beat if you fucked up.”

You need to change the subject. And fast. Because right now, all you want to do is fly across and hug him the way someone should have when he was a kid. The worst part was he wasn't even trying to get sympathy points; he didn’t seem socially adept enough to do that.

You need to remember where you are.

“Is that how you ended back as an assassin?”

An assassin. Your kidnapper is an assassin . You need to remember that. To focus on the bigger picture and not the heartbreaking backstory.

You don’t care , you tell yourself.

“No. I mean, it helped me become a more efficient killer…”

You have to resist the urge to punch the air because yes . This is what you need to focus on.

“... but I became an assassin after I was discharged. By then, I was older and stronger than when I watched my village burn down. I went after the people who did it. I killed them all.” He seems to be looking at you, gauging for some sort of reaction. You don’t give him one and he continues, “It so happened that the same men who killed everyone twelve years earlier were holding someone for questioning. Another assassin. He brought me back into the fold.”

“The fold?” You say, “So there are others?”

“If you’re referring to assassins, yes. Thousands in New York, alone.”

You blink, “That can’t be right. How is there that much work?”

“Believe me,” John says, and his face has taken on that serious demeanor, “There’s an entire world that you don’t know about that lurks just beneath the surface.”

“A world of assassins?” You ask doubtfully, “It sounds like something out of a dystopian story.”

He shakes his head, “You have no idea how terrible and awful it actually is out there.’

I have some idea , you think. But bringing that up might not be your best move.

John reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone. He quickly enters a password and shifts through screens until he turns it towards you. He sets it on the ottoman between you and scrolls down.

A list of names come up, followed by denominations. Some have a little star next to them but you can’t make much out as John quickly scrolls through the options.

“What is this?” You ask.

“Open contracts. Just in the city. I can narrow it by borough or expand it to the tristate area.” He goes back a page and pulls up filters.

You swallow as you note that he can sort it by proximity, payout, or preferred method of killing.

“Those are the contracts that are currently open. Tomorrow, many of these will be done and more will have been added.”

He goes back another page and chooses his own profile.

Another list of names and denominations come up and he scrolls down to highlight just how many there are. It’s nowhere near as expansive of the first list but there must be more than a dozen.

“These are all contracts that I have been, personally, asked to take.”

Fuck.

“I’ll admit, I probably have been asked to take more than the average assassin but you need to understand. This is real. We may have existed in the same city, but we come from very different worlds.”

You set down the, now empty, latte mug on the ottoman, leaning forward as you do. “Then why take me?”

John pulls back his phone and sets it in his pocket. You wonder if, given enough time, you could figure out his passcode. Break in. Call for help.

“It was too dangerous for you.”

“For me?” You question, “Out of the two of us, I lived in the safer world.”

“Safety is relative.” He waves a hand as if that’s obvious, “And it doesn’t account for chaos.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That anything can happen. All it takes is one misplaced bullet. An instant of being caught in crossfire.”

Okay, sure. Chaos and randomness were part of life. Not all that unusual in the grand scheme of things. But his argument was that the world was too dangerous for you so he pulled you away from it?

“I could also choke to death in this room. Or a nuclear bomb could hit New York and wipe us out. I could get sick. Things happen, John.”

He shakes his head, “I watched you, Helen.” You resist the urge to shiver at the name. “I watched you reading on the subway, not paying attention to anyone around you. You lived in a building where the front door didn’t even lock . You were practically asking for trouble. Anyone could have found you!”

Anyone did .

“There’s no reason anyone would go after me!”

“But that’s where you’re wrong. And, believe me, I’m grateful that you don’t see the world the same way I do, but there will always be people who seek to destroy beautiful things.”

You try to ignore his assessment and the way his words make your heart stutters in your chest.

There should be a rule that kidnappers couldn't be charming.

You swallow and shift uncomfortably, “So this is the solution? Just locking me away from the rest of the world?”

He looks almost exasperated and you wonder if you should just quit now, while you’re ahead. You’ve already learned more than you ever expected to.

"The locking away is not forever." John says, “Just until you’ve adjusted to your new life.”

“There was nothing wrong with my old life!” spills out before you can think better of it.

His nostrils flare, “Your cupboards were bare. Coffee was your breakfast and you barely ate lunch. Basically no survival instincts, living in a building that couldn’t have been easier to break into. Still over a hundred grand in debt from college--”

“How the fuck do you know that?” You ask. You knew he had been in your home but the way he says it, the things he knows...

John tilts his head to the side, “Your banking is on your phone. It’s not exactly secure.”

You look down, pushing your hair back, “Jesus.”

“It’s paid off.”

That causes you to look up, blinking in surprise.  “What?”

“Your debt. It’s paid off.”

“What, you just had a hundred grand laying around?”

He shoots you a look because, of course he did. Probably didn’t even blink an eye at the sum that was keeping you living in said unsecure apartment and skipping meals a few times a week.

Why? You wonder. Because kidnappers shouldn’t give a damn about debt. Big picture, it was inconsequential, but he had gone through the trouble of figuring out your account and wiring money. Why?

John Wick is an enigma.

You’re never quite sure which way he’s going to go and then he goes and pulls things like this.

There’s a look of concentration on his face, like he’s trying to find the right thing to say. Ironic, you think, because there isn’t anything right he can say short of, “Here’s the key.”

Instead, he exhales, “I know this isn’t easy. I wish I could have prepared more but even then… you’re stubborn as hell.”

You think back to earlier, when he had offered a similar sentiment, “You said you hadn’t planned on taking me yet.”

“No.” He agrees, “I hadn’t. Although I’m not upset that I did. Even with the lock that you replaced, it was making me very anxious thinking of you alone in that building for any amount of time. I’ll admit you impressed me, there. I know you hadn’t seen me.”

"I felt you." You admit, "watching me. Always just out of sight. I felt like I was losing my mind."

"For that, I am sorry."

And now he was apologizing? Albeit not for kidnapping you, but for the manner in which he haunted you. It was more than you were expecting, although considering your position, the bar was undeniably low.

"Thank you." You say softly.

He smiles at you approvingly.

Rules and consequences, you muse. You've done something right, in John's eyes.

Of course, his version of a reward involved him teasing you with his fingers and tongue for an hour until you begged him to let you come.

The fact you've never come harder in your life was a thought you were saving to discuss with a therapist, if you ever make it out of here.

You wondered how much sex played into all this. Was it a motivator for him? Or just a bonus?

Again, you're forced to confront yet another twisted reality: were their others? This elaborate prison couldn't have been built, in a matter of only days, for you? Was that why he lamented having taken you so soon?

Its a dangerous question but you have to know. You need to know.

"Are there others that you've taken?"

His expression quickly shifts and you know, you know, you've said the wrong thing. You've pissed him off.

John leans forward, dark eyes on you the entire time, "No. And because, apparently, I have not made myself clear, there aren't any others, there have never been any others, there will never be any others. You are mine."

You shiver at his words. It seems unreal, almost. Because, honestly, you weren't that interesting.

You worked and you went home. Your hobbies were almost all homebody activities. The few friends you did have made fun of you for acting like a grandma.

It's all too overwhelming.

"I'm nobody," you whisper.

A beat passes and John closes the distance between you, stopping just in front of your chair. His hand reaches out and gently caresses your face. You resist the urge to shiver at the contact.

"You're wrong." He says it with conviction and you almost wonder if he knows something you don't. Of course, he doesn’t. He can’t.

But before you can say as much, he angles your face towards his and leans forward.

He wastes no time in capturing your mouth in a kiss as his hands tangle themselves in your hair. You dig your fingers into the chair as he devours you as you do your best to ignore the part of you that wants to wrap your arms around him in turn.

His hands rolls down your body before sinking into your ass. He rips you from your seat, almost effortlessly and you scramble to hold onto him as he drives you both back to the bed.

You're lowered until your back hits the mattress. Before you can blink, John is on top of you, kissing you again.

It hardly feels like a kiss so much as being consumed. He drinks from you like a fine wine, groaning suddenly, and you realize one of your legs has wound itself around his thighs, holding his body to yours. Immediately, you go to move it but John's hand shoots out to hold it in place as he rocks into you.

Fuck, you think, barely able to breathe as he kisses you harder.

You manage to turn your head to the side as he parts for breath, but it doesn't seem to even phase him.

His mouth lowers to your neck and suddenly he is fused to you. He sucks then nips and, god, this is somehow worse than him kissing you because it feels so good.

Your neck has always been sensitive and between John's lips, tongue, and that sinful beard, you feel as if you're losing your mind.

You can still taste him in your mouth and, god help you, he tastes so good.

He feels good, in ways he really shouldn't. His mouth on your neck has you aching in your core, wishing you could appease the discomfort.

John's beard scratches up your neck and over your cheek. The drag burns but it doesn't hurt so much as make you hyper aware of his presence. As if you could ever be anything else.

You’re not sure how much time passes as you lie there, underneath John. Locked in an embrace. He just holds you, his head tucking down. He breathes in deeply as he rests his face in the crook of your neck.

After a few minutes, he lets your leg fall back to the bed and he presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“I know that this is different from what you’re used to. I know you must be feeling all sorts of things you aren't used to," you shiver as he looks up and meets your eyes, "But things will make sense. And they will get better. Okay?"

He seems almost tender in the moment and you're a little afraid of pushing him back towards aggressive. Still, your fear pushes you to say, "I don't want to be locked up forever."

"You won't be." He promises, a hand caressing your face and pushing your hair back. "I don't want you to have to be locked up at all. Right now, this is for your own protection."

From the outside world. An invisible enemy that likely doesn't exist outside John's head. From a million threats that came with just being alive.

"Down the line, when I feel you can be safe, I’ll take you out. Maybe we can get away for the weekend and go somewhere nice. But we’ll start slow. The house, the property. Trust needs to be earned.”

Trust needs to be earned. You can work with that. Bide your time, if need be.

“So,” you clarify, “If I’m good, I can go outside?”

“You can go on the balcony, with me, for now. But you cannot leave the property."

"Can… can I see the house?” You ask, surprising yourself with the desperation of it. The little spark of joy that comes at the idea of leaving this room.

John seems to consider your query, looking at you with an intense concentration.

You lick your lips, “I’ll be good.” You try, wondering if that might egg him in the right direction.

You doubt you’ll be able to escape. He probably has the entire house locked down like this room, but even if you can figure out exits, find out if there’s a phone…

Bide your time.

You can start to plan.

“Please?”

And at once, he seems to break in his resolve.

“Alright.” He says and John pushes to a seated position, “But if you misbehave, I swear to you, you will not leave this room for at least a week.”

“I’ll behave.” You find yourself nodding and John offers you a hand. You take it and he easily tugs you up.

"Why don't you grab your slippers?" John prompts and you ignore the sting of being infantilized.

You hurry to oblige. You had been so caught up in getting away from John, it hadn't occurred to you just how desperate you were to get out of this white room.

John undoes the locks while you get ready. You hear the faint beeping and then the click of the lock as you come out. The door is open and you feel a wave of relief flow through you. Stupid, you think. You’re not getting out of here anytime soon. But at least you can stretch your legs. Get a glimpse of the rest of your prison.

He offers you a hand. Again, unwilling to risk losing this opportunity, you take it.

John's hand is warm, if a little calloused. He leads you down a long hallway with closed doors. “Spare bedrooms.” He offers in terms of explanation. The last door, which is also shut, John hesitates on. It is at the very end of the long hallway.

“This room… is not done. I’ll show it to you later in the week.”

A twinge of anxiety hits your stomach. That he wouldn’t show you the room had many implications, all involving you. Your mind immediately went to torture chamber, but you pushed that thought out. For all his talk of punishments, he really seemed to prefer you willing and compliant.

You nod, however, and John turns you to look around at the balcony. Jesus fucking Christ.

His living room is massive. Bigger-than-your-apartment kind of big. It consists of a primary level that is largely empty of stuff save a few plants and side tables and a sunken center. The sunken center has two couches, several chairs, and a coffee table. All are centered around a tv that takes up a good portion of the wall.

John tugs your hand towards the stairs, which spiral down to the first level, and you descend.

"You're welcome to explore." He says as you reach the first level, "The basement is off limits for now. But the rest of the house is open to you."

He releases her hand and she steps forward, looking around. The house is stark white, with no paints or wallpapers to add a bit of color. There are, however, large windows that stretch entire walls.

There's a courtyard with trees and a bench, encased between walls and glass.

Unreal.

You walk across and under an entry way and into a large kitchen. There's a breakfast nook under a window, a granite countertop bar, and more space than you ever imagined in your dream kitchen.

Life really was unfair.

There's also a glass door. You imagine its made of the same unbreakable material as upstairs. It seems to be set up with the same kind of triple-lock system as your room. Thumb print, retinal scan, and a code.

Off the kitchen is a dining room, clearly unused, but clean.

It was a huge house but it almost looked like a house in a magazine or a model used for a walkthrough.

There was very little evidence that anyone lived there.

You look at John, who has followed you room to room, with curiosity.

He raises a brow.

"How long have you lived here?"

“Fourteen years.”

You blink, “Are you kidding?”

He shakes his head, “Why?”

“You’d never know.” You say, idly walking though and ending up back in the large living room. “There don’t seem to be any personal touches.”

“I don’t need much.”

Ironic, you think, considering the fact he lives in a fucking mansion.

Suddenly, a hand is placed on your chest as an arm reaches around you. John steps into the space behind you and holds you to him, resting his chin on your head as you both look out over the large space.

“You can decorate it however you like.”

Your heart stutters in your chest as he adds, “It’s your home, too, Helen.”

What a thought that is.

But he’s right, at least to an extent.

Until you can find a way out, this house is yours.

Your home.

Your prison.

[fanaticfangirl001]

Like Real People Do Ch 6: The Stain

Taglist: @p3nny4urth0ught5, @kissofvenom922,

Author’s note: Considering Sam’s TT, it’s very common in the South to give relatives nicknames, especially in the African American community(Just in case anyone was confused during the episode)

Winnie flops down on the couch and sighs.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“Sam, this whole thing is fucked up.” Winnie rubs her temples.

“Well once this is all over, I’ll leave you and Buck alone.”

“No reason to. He hates me.”

“Huh?”

“ At Sharon’s place. I confronted him and he brushed me off. I mean it was stupid to think that.”

“Wait, you think Buck hates you because he wouldn’t open up to you.”

“Exactly, we’ve talked about stuff before.”

“Stuff like feelings?”

“No. I’m pretty sure we’re just going to stuff those down and then one day, we die.”

“That’s not healthy.”

“Did you imagine us to have a healthy way of coping with our shit?”

“No, but once everything is over, try therapy.”

“I’d screw it up.”

“There’s nothing to screw up.”

“I’d screw up the therapist. There’s a lot, Sam, none of it is great.”

Zemo walks out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and Bucky walks through the front door.

“Well the Wakandans are here. They want Zemo. Bought us some more time.”

“Were you followed?”

“No.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Winnie sits up from the couch.

“Because I know when I’m being followed.”

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least.”

“Hey, you shut it. No one’s defending you.You killed Nagel”

“Don’t put too much stock in it.” Winnie warns. “You mean to an end.”

“You’d be bored without me.” Zemo says to Winnie then adds “ Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened.”

“There’s nothing to litigate. You straight shot a man.”

“Point blank.” Winnie adds.

“Sam.”

“What?”

“Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.”

“What? What’s the damage?”

“Eleven injured, three dead. They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren’t met.”

“She’s getting worse.”

“Take it from the man that bombed the UN to know what worse is.” Winnie muses.

“I accept the assistance but I can handle these two.” Zemo pours himself a cup of tea. “I have the will to complete this mission. Do the three of you?”

“She’s just a kid.”

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there. You’re clouded by it.”

“Sam, she is a kid, but she’s making some adult moves.” Winnie adds. “But she has done more for the displaced than the GRC ever did.”

“She’s a supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It’s that warped association that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers.”

“You’re talking about our friends.”

“The avengers, not the nazis.”

“So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.”

“It would have to be in some neutral location. I don’t want any surprise attacks. Sam, you’d be the best choice.”

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her.Or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve.”

“Touche. But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

“One of a kind, a good man trained to be a soldier.”

“Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.”

“And you’ll give up your tour guide.”

“Yes.”

“From my understanding Donya is like a pillar of the community, right? So when I was a kid my TT passed away.”

“Your TT?”

“Yeah, my TT, yeah.”

“Who is your TT?”

“Fine, when I was a kid,my aunt passed away, and the entire neighborhood got together for a ceremony. It was like a week long. Maybe they’re doing the same thing for Donya.”

“We’re not crashing a memorial.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Your TT would be proud of you.” Zemo tosses a piece of candy towards Sam “ Turkish Delight.”

He gestures towards Winnie.

“No thank you. I’ve read The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, too many times to be taken in by perfume candy.”

“Shame what’s become of this place. When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties.I know nothing of the politics of the time, of course.But I remember it being beautiful.”

“I’ll play you a song from the smallest violin, later, what we need is information.” Winnie says from behind him.

“I’m gonna take a look upstairs.See what you can find down here. Keep an eye on him.”Sam says leaving the group.

“I’ll stay out of your way.”

Winnie looks around seeing small groups of children playing. She softly smiles.

“You like children?” Zemo asks softly.

“Yeah so.”

“Follow my lead.”

Winnie rolls her eyes but takes Zemo’s outstretched hand.

“Baa baa black sheep have you any wool.”

Winnie sings with him.

“Yes sir, yes,sir, three bags full. One for my master, One for the dame.” Zemo pulls out a bag of the same candy he had offered them, Turkish Delight.

“One for the little girl who lives down the lane.” He sets up a table and pours out the candy.

“Turkish Delight. It was always my son’s favorite.”

Winnie kneels down so she’s at the kids level.

“My old friend Donya passed away. Did you know her?”

“Yes.”

“I would like to pay my last respects. Do you know where her funeral will be?”

Zemo motions for the child to whisper to him the location. She whispers then turns towards him again.

“Is there something else?” He asks.

“Your wife is pretty.” She points towards Winnie.

Winnie smiles, keeping up the appearance.

Sam comes down and stands by Bucky.

“It’s starting to feel like a dead end.”

“The hell are they doing?”

“Do you see these men there?” Zemo asks the child softly.

“Zemo, darling.” Winnie adds putting a hand on his shoulder.

“They are very bad, not to be trusted.” Zemo adds to the children. “Donya is our little secret, okay.”

Zemo and Winnie walk back to the two.

“Cute kids.”

“Ass.”

“Darling, there’s children present.”

“I don’t like them, together.” Bucky breaks the silence.

“I know Buck. I know.”

“Well I got nothing. No one is talking about Donya.”

“Yeah, it’s because Karli is the only one fighting for them.”

Winnie turns to Zemo.

“And she’s not wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“For five years,people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbed wire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together. It was the entire world coming together. And then boom. Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them at least Karli is doing something.”

“You really think her ends justify her means. Then she’s no different than him, or anybody else we’ve fought.

“She’s different. She’s not motivated by the same things.”

Zemo is making cherry blossom tea and brings it over.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?”

“The funeral is this afternoon.”

“You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute.In fact they are probably lurking outside right now.Keep talking.”

“Leaving you to turn on me, once we get to Karli. I prefer to keep my leverage.”

Bucky stands up and walks over to him. He grabs the tea pot and throws it against the wall.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage.”

“Take it easy, don’t engage him. He’s just going to extort you and do that stupid little head tilt thing.”

Zemo straightens.

“Let me make a call.”

“Do you want some cherry blossom tea?

“No you go ahead.”

Zemo turns towards Winnie.

“Uh sure, I’d love some.”

Once Bucky leaves the room Winnie looks at Zemo.

“It’s rude to stare.”

“Infuriating Bucky isn’t going to help you in the long run.”

“You care a lot for him. Pity.”

“Why?”

“Because he will always throw himself into the fight. He will never settle down, or help himself, because not so deep down, he knows he’ll never lose the Winter Soldier side. You saw how easily he went back into it.He believes that he’s not worth the effort.What is that they say about old habits. Ah, they die hard.”

“Pissing me off isn’t helpful to you, either.”

“Why does the truth anger you so?”

“Because I believe that Buck is stronger than everything he’s been through.”

“You have great expectations for James.”

“I do.”

“You think he is worth the effort.”

“Yes.”

“So tell him.”

“Why would I trust you? Two seconds ago you were being a dick. Now I’m supposed to take your relationship advice.”

“So you do want a relationship with him.”

“I’m not talking to you, anymore.”

“How sweet the silence will be.” Zemo gives her a cup of tea.

“Fuck you.”

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.” John and Lemar jog up to where the four are.

“What happened to tracking John?” Sam asks Winnie.

“Someone must have disabled it, it was working before.”

“Ah! How’d you find us now?”

“Come on. You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?”

“No more keeping us in the dark.”

“It was nice while it lasted.” Winnie adds to Sam.

“And you..” John walks up to Winnie,” Stop messing with my suit and my shield.”

“Doesn’t feel too good to get tracked by your own stuff, huh.”

“You are interfering with the United States Government.”

“What are you gonna do, kill me.”

“Don’t.” Bucky grabs Winnie’s arm and pulls her back.

“You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.”

“He did that himself, technically.”

“This better be an unbelievable explanation.”

“Take it easy before it gets weird.”

“Too late.”

“I know where Karli is.”

“Well, where?” John stops Zemo with a hand on his chest.

“All we know is, it’s a memorial. So we’re going to intercept her there.”

“I still don’t like the idea that we’re crashing a memorial.” Winnie adds.

“That means civilians. High risk of casualties.” Lemar adds.

“Which means we need discretion, you two aren’t exactly subtle.” Winnie gestures between John and Lemar.

“All right, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.” John says.

“Did he not hear me?” Winnie asks outloud.

“I want to talk to her alone.” Sam nods at Winnie.

“I’m not losing her again.”

“You won’t, if you let Sam talk to her. This is his bread and butter.”

“Look the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable. Now is the best time to reason with her.”

“No wait stop! Hold on! I think we’re way past reasoning with her,unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.”

“So did Zemo, and he’s here.”

“Winifred, if you really lov…” Zemo starts and is muffled by Winnie’s hand.

“Sam if you walk in there cold, she could kill you.” Lemar reasons with Sam.

“If I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die.”

“You’ll let him do this. You’re gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone.”

“He’s dealt with worse, and he’s not my partner.”

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay. This is in my wheelhouse, like Winnie said.”

“I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this a bad idea.”

“Wait John, if he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” Lemar reasons with John.

“We’ll deal with you later.” John says to Zemo.

“I’m sure it will come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.”

Zemo leads the way to the small girl he was talking to earlier.

“Hello my friend.” Zemo gives her money,” This is for your family. Can you show us the way?”

The child motions for Zemo and the group to follow her.

“What the hell?”

“Language.” Winnie warns. “ Come on John, there’s a kid.”

The child leads them to the building.

“Karli is in there.”

“All right.” Sam goes in alone.

Zemo is handcuffed to a pipe.

“Hey, you got ten minutes.

“Really?”

“Then we’re doing things my way.”

“Aggressive.” Zemo comments. “ But I get it.”

“John, you okay?” Winnie asks as she watches him begin to pace.

“No, I’m not okay. I wasn’t expecting to see Sam and Bucky, two avengers, an ex member of Shield, and a terrorist that bombed the UN.”

“Okay, and neither did I when Bucky and I came out here. But we’ve done a pretty good job so far.”

“A pretty good job? Really?”

“Yeah, actually with less resources than you have.”

John waits and readjusts his cowl across his nose.

“John.”

“Whatever it is Winnie, I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not trying to antagonize you, but you really don’t seem okay. Take a few breaths. Sam’s a good man and he knows how these things go.”

Bucky looks up watching Winnie.

“I also know that you want to be a good man. You want to be the best Captain America, you can. And to do that you need a clear head, and some good people around, and a big ass heart.”

“A big ass heart isn’t going to help.”

“I think it helped Steve.”

“Well I’m not Steve.”

“I know. No one is asking you to be Steve, John.”

“She’s right.” Zemo adds.

“Good call, the terrorist agrees with you, Winnie.”

“I’m trying to genuinely help you. Don’t be a dick.”

“You could have helped more by joining us. That tracker you put on my shield is still being dissected. Your modifications on old shield tech is incredible.”

“Governments have agendas and blind spots. I’m not getting back in just to be told it’s happening again.”

“So what’s next then, for you?” John asks.

“I don’t know, but I’m sticking with Sam and Buck until the end of the line.”

“Don’t ever say that again!” Bucky snaps.

Winnie recoils hurt from his words and the silence grows.

She looks over when John begins pacing and talking to himself.

“Nope No, this is a bad plan.”

“It hasn’t been ten minutes. Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m going in.” John walks up to Bucky. He stops John.

“This is all real easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.”

“Lemar.” Winnie nudges him and gestures to John,” Has he always been this intense?”

“He’s got a lot on his plate.”

“Lemar no bullshitting me, is John okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be okay.”

“Care to make a wager?”

“Sure. what’s the bet?”

“If John snaps,you owe me, Bucky and Sam:Juicy Lucys, fries and malts once we’re stateside.”

“If he doesn’t, you owe us a steak dinner. The works.”

“Deal.” Winnie puts out her hand for Lemar.

“Deal.” Lemar shakes her hand.

“What about me?” Zemo asks.

“Malts aren’t for terrorists.” Winnie answers.

“Neither are steak dinners.”

“Karli Morgenthau, you’re under arrest.” John calls out.

“This is what that was.”

“No, wait.”

“Tricking me until help came.”

“We had enough time to talk.”

“Nazi”

“Why don’t you.”

Karli shoves John and the shield against the table.

Winnie helps John back up, he shoves off of her.

Bucky goes after Karli as does Lamar.

Sam helps Winnie up and the two run through trying to find Karli.

“Shit.”

“I lost her.”

“So did we, and John’s a dick.”

“This place is a maze.”

“Pretty smart move though. We need to find Karli before John or Zemo do.”

Zemo finds Karli and shoots at her following her through the pipe room. He shoots twice more. To avoid him, Karli vaults over a table, her pouch of the serum vials falling to the floor with her. The blue vials litter the floor. Karli starts to crawl towards it but Zemo shoots once more. She finds cover behind the table.

“Is this what I think it is.” Zemo asks. He picks one up.

“No no no.” Karli starts.

He throws it to the ground, the glass vial shattering. Zemo stomps on them. Karli runs out seeing that Zemo is busy. The shield flies out of the air and knocks him out.

Sam, Bucky and Winnie run in to see John.

“You found Zemo, good.” Winnie says.

“What did we miss?”

Back in Zemo’s home he rests on the couch with a wash cloth on his head.

“Anything new from Sharon.”

“No, just keep an eye on John.”

“Were you ever offered it?” Zemo asks Sam.

“What?”

“The serum.”

“No.”

“If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?”

“No.”

“No hesitation. That’s impressive.”

“Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli. No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how gods talk?”

“And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky.”

“He never chose anything.” Winnie asks.

Sam takes Zemo’s silence for a chance to continue.

“Blood isn’t always the solution.”

Bucky comes back in.

“Somethings not right about Walker.”

“Clocked that a mile away. I made a bet with Lemar.”

“ What kind of bet?”

“I think John is unstable. He’s gonna snap at someone. And when he does we get cheeseburgers and malts.”

“You can’t make a bet like that. It’s wrong.”

“Lemar knows John better than I do. And he has faith in John. That should make us feel a little better.”

“What does he get if John doesn’t crack?”

“Him and John get a steak dinner.”

“Steak dinner vs cheese burgers, the classic American battle.” Zemo adds.

“Well get ready to eat a burger, Sam, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

“I didn’t give it.”

“Well Steve definitely didn't.”

“All right. That’s it. Let’s go. I’m now ordering you to turn him over.”

“Hey, slow your roll.”

“Shield or no shield, the only thing here you’re running is your mouth. Now I have Katli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. We’re going to need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.”

“How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, huh. Should I put down the shield, make it fair?”

“Malts here we come.” Winnie adds sending a smirk over to Lemar.

John puts down the shield and a woman dressed in crimson, and gold armor throws a spear.

“Woah.” Winnie looks from the woman, to Sam, to Bucky as if to ask if they saw that too.

More women in armor with spears come into the room.

“Are they the Dora Milaje?” Winnie asks Bucky.

He nods.

The lead woman speaks to Bucky in a language Winnie has never heard before. Even she knew that whatever they were here for wouldn’t end well for Zemo.

“Release him to us now.” The woman says.

“Hi, John Walker, Captain America.” John introduces himself. “Well let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this though huh. “

“Now he wants peace.” Winnie mocks.

“Not the time.” Sam says shaking his head. “John, take it easy, You might want to fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje.”

“They don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.”

“Okay. Look I think we got off on the wrong foot.” John claps her on the shoulder.

The woman looks at John’s arm and then him. She hits him with a spear multiple times then kicks him away, hitting the spear in the wall and back to the ground. He uses the shield to deflect a spear aiming for him and continues fighting the women.

Zemo continues drinking his cocktail.

“We should do something.”

“Yeah.” Winnie pulls out a bag of popcorn from her backpack. She offers some to Sam. He takes a handful.

“Looking strong, John.”

“Bucky.” Sam warns.

“So the Dora Milaje is the Wakandan army?” Winnie asks the two guys as they watch the fight.

Bucky nods.

“The spears look beautifully made.”

“Ayo.” Bucky grabs the spear in the hands of one woman. “ Let’s talk about this.”

Sam and Bucky enter the struggle.

“ Guys!” Winnie yells.

“We’re a little busy!” Sam yells back to Winnie.

Winnie chases Zemo, but he gets the door and locks it.

“You’re a rat! You know that!” Winnie is banging on the door trying to break it.

Ayo taps Bucky’s arm in a few places and it falls off. She walks off towards where Zemo locked the door.

“He’s gone. Leave it.” She tells another warrior holding the shield.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asks.

“No.” Bucky puts back on his arm and rotates it. The vibranium shifts and hums as it moves back to place.

“You all right, man.” Lemar asks helping John up.

“They weren’t even super soldiers.” John gets up.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.”

“I can, come on.”

“She said what? Hold on Hold on, I know. Listen pack an overnight bag and take the boys.”

“What happened?”

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” Sam turns back to his phone,”Okay. Go somewhere safe. Only pay in cash. All right? Let me know when you get there.”

“Damn.” Winnie’s expression grows serious. “ She can’t keep this up.”

“I know. I love you. I’ll never let anything happen to these boys.Okay, bye.”

“Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number. She said just me and Winnie.”

“Me?” Winnie asks. “ Why?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Karli!” Sam yells out.

Winnie walks with him, rocket boots and other weapons up her sleeves ready.

Bucky follows.

“You called my sister.That’s how we’re gonna play this.”

“I would never hurt her. I wanted to understand you better. I see you two didn’t come alone.”

“You have to end this now.”

“Karli there’s nothing good that can come from this. Just stop this from escalating. Just stop.” Winnie says.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

“Sam, you’re just a tool in the regimes. I want to destroy. You’re not hiding behind a shield. If I were to kill you it’d be meaningless. I was going to ask you to join me.And you, Winnie, you’re not a tool, you’re a free agent. You could join us. I saw the gadgets the first time we fought. Also you were the closest to downloading all of our mugshots before we started erasing our trail. We could use you.”

“I can’t do that Karli.” Winnie shakes her head.

“Hey Sam,” Sharon’s voice says through Sam’s gear. “ Looks like new Cap is moving. Looks like he found them or maybe they found him.”

“It’s Walker.”

Sam and Bucky jump down colliding with Karli.

“ I’ll send you the location. Go!”

Bucky runs off in search of John.

Winnie kicks on her rocket boots and takes a running leap off the building following Sam.

Sam comes in through the ceiling, Winnie follows through the large hole.

He and Winnie watch as John bends a metal pipe.

“What’d you do?

“They’ve got Lemar.”

Sam and Winnie follow John.

Two super soldiers drop down from the ceiling. One takes on Sam, the other John.

John tosses the shield and hits one in the back and Sam lets his wings take the action.

“What’s with all the knives?”

“Guns are hard to get in Europe. Knives are stylish.” Winnie shoots one in the leg.

Bucky runs in and catches a knife.

Sam now has two super soldiers on him.

Bucky punches one

“You’re welcome.”

An electrified whip hits the other one and knocks them out.

“Sup.” Winnie nods.

Karli, armed with a knife, sees her moment to kill John. She takes it and then is grappled by Lemar dropping her to the ground. They get up and Karli punches him into a pillar in the middle of the room.

John goes over to Lemar.

“Hey. Hey. Hey.” John pats his face. “Lemar. Lemar. Lemar.”

“Shit.” Winnie says softly.

The Flag smashers and Karli flee.

Sam, Bucky, Winnie run after Karlie.

John jumps out of a window and slams onto the street below.

“Where is she?!?” John yells running after the one of the flag smashers.

John knocks the man down beside cement stairs and hits him with the shield. People begin to watch.

“It wasn’t me.” The man pleads. “It wasn’t me!”

John lifts his shield and brings it down several times. Onlookers take videos and scream.

Winnie leans her head on Bucky’s shoulder closing her eyes, away from what just took place in broad daylight, in front of people.

“He snapped.” Winnie whispers with tears in her eyes.