#I used it as an experimental piece and something to challenge me to trust the process

[eudikot]

Alternative versions (wordless, flat, no aura):

[epiicaricacy-arts]

oh we’re still so young, desperate for attention

this was super experimental so i will talk about my process (+ clearer version) under the cut

i’ve been looking at a lot of “messier” or more textured painting styles recently and an artist that stuck out to me is clariondeluna ! they posted a self-portrait recently that i really liked and i was super interested in the brushwork seen in their work. i love all the textures and how the shapes feel so loose yet everything is so detailed.

that’s not a method for me at all!!!! i cannot paint like that at all and the stuff i like to paint is very different to theirs. which is okay!!!! i had no intention to copy this artists style so closely like with what i tried to do in my raiden painting, i just wanted to try this style out :^)

it’s been a goal of mine to avoid over-rendering like i tend to do a lot, and i think i’ve been doing good with that recently! the mindset i’ve got going on right now is that if i find myself staring at it too hard for too long, i have to leave it and move on. if there’s still something wrong with it, i can fix it later once ive got a fresh view!

i’ve been trying a lot of things with my art this year. i always try to challenge myself with each piece, and to end the year off i wanted to be as uncomfortable as i possibly could be with this painting. i let myself draw whatever i wanted because i still wanted to enjoy it, but everything i did in this process was new, including parts of the subject matter.

i’ve never drawn a head at an angle like this, and i struggle with drawing mouths open. i don’t do bold lighting like this, and if i do, it’s not fire. i’ve never drawn fire! i also rarely work with warm colours and i hate using green, so i combined those to be my colour palette. i like working cleanly so instead of having a dozen different layers for one section, each section only had 1-2 layers for rendering. instead of clipping masks i would simply paint over things loosely and clean it up later. i never like having limbs cut off in a drawing so i had his other arm go GOD knows where. i don’t like weird patterned backgrounds so i made myself figure out how to like it!

IS THIS MY FAVOURITE PIECE OF ALL TIME. no. absolutely not. but i’m very proud of how this came out with all the challenges i put on myself. i WANTED to get better at these things and be more broad with my art, both in terms of the styles and subjects i portray.

okay let’s talk about wtf this drawing is

for those who don’t know, the design in this painting is my fatui/“Father” lyney fan design (read the design post here). the concept isnt super complicated and i don’t really have much explanation for it, but i wanted to combine the story of how lyney wanted a delusion before getting his vision, fire eating circus acts and how olympic medalists will bite their medal to prove it’s real??? don’t quote me on that i’m like 75% sure that’s a thing that happens. i don’t watch sports though so im just believing someone i heard on the internet ages ago.

anyways. i think fire eating acts are cool. and i think the fact that lyney wanted a delusion is very interesting to me. scratches my brain in the right places. and yk as a magician lyneys character revolves a lot around fooling people and creating illusions so i guess what im saying here is that lyney is trying to prove to himself that this power he’s been bestowed is real. bc his whole life his only constant has been lynette so he is trying to see if he can trust this new power. cause i guess this is an alternate universe where lyney does eventually become “Father” but he never got his vision ??? idk im not making lore for this i just wanted to dress up this funny little guy.

ok i’m done

thanks for reading

here’s my dog

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Chloe Cole

Published: May 18, 2023

Yesterday, New York Times reporter Maggie Astor published a hit piece about me in an attempt to undermine my story and the testimonies of other detransitioners. Now that I’ve had some time to process everything more completely, I’d like to address some of the inaccuracies and falsehoods that Astor wrote about me—beginning with the disingenuous title, “How a Few Stories of Regret Fuel the Push to Restrict Gender Transition Care.” 

I take issue with Astor’s flagrant use of the word “regret,” which implies a benign mistake like a bad tattoo—something I wasn’t even allowed to get until I turned 18 last year. No, I was a child when I was misinformed and misled by adults, who convinced me to permanently alter my body. 

I learned through social media when I was 11 about boys and girls being trapped in the “wrong body”—an impossibility that should never have been “affirmed” by doctors. I was told by health professionals whom I trusted that I had a medical condition that required medical treatment. Not only that, but my parents were emotionally manipulated by being presented with a false dilemma—“would you rather have a dead daughter or a living son?”—despite the fact that suicidality is routinely overexaggerated in trans-identified youth.

Astor relies on the euphemism “transition care” when she means “chemical and surgical sex change services.” This is neither medically necessary nor lifesaving, but rather elective, cosmetic, and experimental.

Astor also flippantly refers to my detransition as “changing course,” implying I merely took a wrong turn instead of having doctors affirm my confusion with experimental medicine. She says I “returned to my female identity,” but being female is not an identity. It is a biological reality that describes half the human population. It is something I never stopped being despite the fact that when I was 13-15, doctors prescribed me puberty blockers, cross-sex hormones and surgically removed my breasts to try to mold me into something that superficially resembled a boy.

Astor neglects to mention the vocal European detransitioners and how European medical societies have backed off of “gender-affirming care” after conducting systematic reviews of evidence and finding that the risks outweigh any purported benefits. She also referred to outdated statistics on detransition which include studies on adults rather than the cohort I belong to—adolescents under the “gender-affirming” model of care. These studies also had serious methodological flaws and a high loss to follow up rate.

Another statistic she likely referenced was from a study about detransitioners that specifically excluded detransitioners. Participation in the study was limited only to those who had detransitioned in the past but still identified as trans–in other words, not people like me.

If Astor had researched the topic properly, she would have discovered a recent US-based comprehensive review of medical records that found 30 percent of teens and young adults had discontinued “gender-affirming” hormones after 4 years. Another US study from this year that challenges the notion that detransition is rare found that 29 percent of youth changed their requests for hormone treatment, surgery, or both. And yet another study from a UK primary care practice found that 12.2 percent of those who had started hormonal treatments either detransitioned or documented regret, while the total of 20 percent stopped the treatments for a wider range of reasons. The authors of this study observed that the detransition rate in emerging research brings forth crucial concerns regarding the possibility of “overdiagnosis, overtreatment, or iatrogenic harm,” similar to issues encountered in other areas of medicine. 

A 2021 study found that three-quarters of detransitioners did not report their detransition to their providers, thus potentially creating a false impression that they were satisfied with the “care” they received. Norway’s health authorities confirm that detransitioners updating their providers is “not a given.”

It is not true that there are only a few vocal detransitioners in the US. Many have spoken out online, but only a few have the time to travel and testify. It’s not easy to open yourself up to an onslaught of criticism, blame, and hit pieces from the New York Times. It’s not easy to go public with details of your private life.

There have been many instances of detransitioners getting overwhelmed from the response to their story and deactivating their social media accounts. Hundreds more reside in support groups and remain anonymous, not wanting the stigma and negative attention.

Lawmakers shouldn’t have to restrict sex changes to adults, but US-based medical organizations are not doing their job at following the science. If they would conduct systematic reviews of the evidence, they would likely come to the same conclusions as European countries, which have heavily restricted medical interventions for minors and specific psychotherapy as the “first line of treatment” for teens in distress over their bodies. 

US-based guidelines ignored an entire body of research that found the majority of children who do not socially or medically transition will no longer experience gender-related distress in adulthood. Instead, most of them grow up to be gay or lesbian adults.

Pioneers of the evidence-based medicine (EBM) movement said the current guidelines for managing gender dysphoria in adolescents in the US are “untrustworthy” and not evidence-based.

Astor took a shot at me for the detransition rally I helped organize in March, but our event was exactly how I planned. My heart hurts every time I see a new detransitioner come out, but soon our numbers will be too large for the New York Times to dismiss as a “few stories of regret.”

Support Chloe Cole by donating here.

[bizarrebaby]

Untouched

Pairing: Pero Tovar/Virgin!Reader

Work Count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Pero spend your first night together, which is your first night with anyone.

Warnings: you guys have penis in vagina sex. Some descriptions/mentions of violence, reference to painful loss of virginity, but we all know Pero’s too good to do that to you

You were a walking contradiction. Nothing was more confusing or intriguing to Pero Tovar than how you managed to exist in these times.

When he’d been introduced to you (it was generous to call it an introduction, seeing as Tovar more or less refused to acknowledge you at the time) he saw you the way he saw most everyone: an annoyance at best, a punishment from god at worst. When he glanced at you, he saw just a little thing, a girl who ought to be at home, out of her depths.

He first beheld your beauty through a veil of bloodshed. On the battlefield you had no equal. People throughout his travels often equated grace to beauty, but in observing you, Pero found that simply wasn’t so. You did not dance with the blade, like twirled silk. What you did was not akin to dancing. It was heavy and destructive, you took to you enemies with the crushing force of a mortar and pestle. You wielded the heavy and challenging kanabo, the force of which caved armor and shattered bones, man and beast alike. When you swung the heavy bat, you looked as a healer pounding medicine. The force itself was destructive, but it was delivered with the righteousness of someone who was preserving life.

You could not always use the kanabo, and you most certainly could not spar with it, for your opponents would be crippled by even a sporting blow. So Tovar sometimes saw your prowess with the sword, the staff, anything nearby. You made many an arrogant man eat their words.

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of flowing locks and fair skin wrapped in silks. He saw sword-cut hair, an oversized tunic, the loosening laces on leather armor.

And beyond the fighting, you did not often make with revelry. Tense in the company of most others in your band of mercenaries, you kept away when they became excited. When you approached him, scowling as he wolfed down his food alone, he dreaded having to endure niceties, persuasions, and prattel from you, and had already decided to be as disagreeable as possible. To his utter surprise, you said nothing to him at all as you kept a couple of meters distance and ate your own meal. You did so day after day, and at first he had been paranoid that this was some plot at inching your way closer, that one day you would ruin this silence and reveal your true intentions. Until one night, Tovar found himself doing something unthinkable: initiating conversation. Or at least, speaking unprompted.

“You do not chatter like the others,” he stated almost mindlessly, not knowing what he was expecting by saying so.

“I try not to talk when I have nothing to say,” you admitted. You looked towards him, half illuminated by the distant, flickering fire.

He found himself studying every detail of your face from the corner of his eye. It was terrifying, for once wanting to observe and actually caring if he was noticed doing so.

“And,” you continued quietly, “they say you do not like to be disturbed.” That was a very kind way of rephrasing how he was often spoken of. In all likelihood, what you were actually told was probably more along the lines of ‘he’s a mean, miserable bastard who doesn’t like anyone’. Tovar didn’t know how he felt about your twisting such words into something that sounded… reasonable.

Understood.

“I don’t like being disturbed either.”

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of lip rouge and silent, unnoticed steps, or curled, dark lashes, of coquettish smirks. He thought of a split lip, and the uneven pace of worn leather kicking at stray pebbles, of tired eyes rubbed with the back of the hand after looking into the fire too long, of the struggle to hold back a wide-mouthed yawn.

Through a few well placed miracles and the incessant meddling of others (William) the two of you had ended up together. And this was when Pero discovered what a contradiction you were. 

You knew death in every facet… except for la petite mort. 

While other girls snuck off with their paramours in experimental forays of intimacy, you were studying the blade, the staff, the bow, the kusarigama. Raised by a father and uncles who loved you, but did not know how to raise a young lady. Only how to raise a fighter. 

When you didn’t scare off any potential suitors, they certainly did. 

While younger than Pero, you were still fully grown, and had yet to even kiss a man until Pero had claimed your lips in a passionate fury on the night of his confession. 

Pero did not fancy himself a teacher, he saw himself as a taker, one with no patience for uncertainties and incompetence. But for you, he would be anything. And regardless of what he was, what you deserved was a gentle touch. Subtle, comforting, patient, and understanding. 

All words that had never been used to describe him. 

Over time, the kisses grew deeper, the touches flirted further beneath the clothes, until the night came where he held you against him in his bed, eyes begging for more as you looked to him for guidance. Never had he been so frightened at the thought of bedding a woman. He was a scoundrel with hands only fit for killing, and he was terrified of hurting you somehow.

But he’d be damned if anyone else took this honor.

With every piece of clothing he stripped your body of, you looked at him with such trust. He felt your heart beating in his rough palms, like the flutter of a bird’s wings. Never before had he been responsible for something so pure, so delicate. His relations before you were intimacies he had paid for in coin, encounters that didn’t require any gentleness on his part, where he cared little about any pleasure or pain besides his own. If he were to do one thing in his life with tact and delicacy, it would be this, he promised himself. 

“Tell me again, hermosa, how many before me have seen this beautiful body?”

“N-none. You’re the first, Pero.” 

He hums in satisfaction, running his hands up your stomach to cup your breasts. His thumbs stroke over the hardening peaks, causing a hitch in your breath as you shudder. 

“Oh, mi conejita, so sensitive,” he descends, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking almost harshly for just a moment before pulling away, admiring how your breast shines with his spit. You squeak out a shaking moan. “I wonder if you’re this sensitive everywhere else? Don’t tell me. I’ll find out myself.”

You feel your cheeks heat at his words, feeling the urge to curl in on yourself and hide. But Pero keeps you bare to him as he lavishes eager attention on your breasts, enjoying the whines half-caught in your throat. By the time your nipples are perked and wet from Pero’s hot mouth, your blush has spread down to your collar. He pulls away slightly, gently guiding you to lay down. He takes your thighs in his strong hands and spreads them further apart. His thumbs spread your lips so get a good look at your pink, silky hole twitching with a need you’ve never known before. 

Your breath hitches as one of his fingers traces along your sensitive lips, brushing against your clit briefly before beginning to sink into you slowly. He rocks it back and forth gently while admiring the rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyelids flutter as you go between wanting to watch and being too bashful to. His thumb gently strokes your clit as he works to ease in another finger, and you tense harshly at the new intrusion. He leans down to press a few reassuring kisses against your neck.

“Relax, querida. Let me in.” He whispers, moving his lips to your mouth in an effort to distract you as he coaxes you open. His cock was heavy and hard against the laces of his trousers. You would see it soon, but Pero doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Not yet, anyways.

You breathe deeply in an attempt to relax your muscles as Pero’s fingers reach farther than yours ever could, and it feels as if he holds all of your bodily feelings in the palm of his hand. He continues to coo endearments against your neck to comfort you. 

“Bueno, bueno… you’ve gotten nice and wet for me, cariño, so good for me,” a smirk spreads across his face as he feels you tighten with his words. “Oh, you like it when I talk, niña?” He teases, increasing the pace as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the tight circles he’s rubbing into your clit on the verge of driving you mad. 

He parts from your neck to take a look at your face in pleasure, and finds himself enraptured by the slight furrow of your brows and the way your eyelids flutter when he strokes the right part of your insides. Your quiet huffing and mewling, combined with the way your cunt is gripping at his fingers, has him more riled up than he’d like to admit. 

“Pero, I-I I think I’m gonna cum,” you whine, looking at him with pleading eyes. He bristles with pride as your hips move to meet the palm of his hand while chasing the pleasure he gives you. 

“Cum then, muñeca. Cum for me.”

The coil in your belly winds so tightly it snaps, and white hot pleasure floods your system. Pero groans as you cream on his fingers, feeling his cock throb harshly for the umpteenth time tonight. A tremor wracks your body as the mercenary continues rocking his fingers gently to help you ride out your climax. When they withdraw, he doesn’t hesitate to lick them clean, much to your embarrassment. The sight of his tongue against your slick on his hand gives you… ideas. Ideas that will have to wait until another night, maybe. 

He leans down to plant a chaste kiss to your lips before bringing you to sit up. He wants to see what else you’ve never done. Wants to know how curious you are. 

Pero places one of your hands (which feel so small in his) against the tent in his pants, encouraging you to explore his body the way you’ve so graciously allowed him to explore yours. His tunic is already off, but of course, you’ve seen men shirtless before. His cock feels hot and hard through his trousers, and the apprehension is probably clear on your flustered face, but Tovar finds this entire situation incredibly arousing. 

He’s no stranger to sex, but most of his previous sexual encounters had been paid for and, thusly, were with experienced (and sometimes jaded) partners. Though the size of his cock may have impressed a few, it had never been the first they’d seen, touched, or taken. This was different. 

His eyes never leave your face as you bite your lip, occasionally looking to him for approval as you move to undo the laces on his trousers. His eyes are lidded and dark with desire, and a smile crosses his face, a little more genuine than the usual smirks he throws in your direction. 

“Go on,” he urges, more gently than he knew himself capable. You finally slip down his waistband and smallclothes, and his cock lands heavy against his stomach as he reclines just slightly. You try to contain your startled gasp, attempting to seem less like the blushing virgin you clearly are. The way your lips part ever so slightly as you examine his red, leaking cock with nervous interest sends the mercenary reeling. 

Pero almost takes your hesitance as fear, which he’s determined to quell, before you finally reach your hands out to run them along the hard length, drawing a ragged groan from him.

For a moment, Pero feels the strongest compulsion to take charge of you. To guide your head down and order you to get his cock nice and wet before he takes you, to see tears prick at your eyes while you struggle to take his cock in your little mouth. 

But, somewhat regrettably, he remembers his first time with a woman well. He remembers the nerves burning against his skin like a thousand needles, the fear of performing well and doing things he’d never even imagined doing. He can only imagine that fear to be tenfold for a girl. You’ve spent years in the company of brash mercenaries, uncouth enough that they brag of their rough, bruising conquests. He knows the type. And what women you do meet often speak of intimacy with dread, or reflect on the pain of their first times.

You are one of the few things in Pero Tovar’s life that he has ever really cared for. And his greatest wish is to make you feel cared for. He has never known patience. But for you, he shall have it in spades. You’ll have plenty of time to play rough later. Or never, if that’s what you want.

Not to mention, he’s just about as hard as he’s ever been in his entire life, and he doubts he would last in your mouth, not with the passionate stare you’re giving him. You have, after all, always been a quick learner when it came to the sword. The way you start experimentally moving your hands along his cock confirm this, as he sighs in pleasure from the light pressure you’re giving him.

“This the first cock you’ve seen up close, hermosa?” you nod, and that teasing smile is once again set on his face. “What do you think of it?”

Your eyes widen just slightly at the question. He takes one of your hands and spits in it before letting you continue to stroke his cock, still patiently awaiting an answer.

“Are they all… like this?” Pero has a feeling he knows what you mean, but he wants you to say it.

“Like what, preciosa?” 

“Big.”

He chuckles quietly before cupping your chin in his hand and bringing you towards him for another bout of fervent kisses. In these moments, and most others, he looks at you and sees everything he’s ever wanted. He presses his forehead to yours when he finally parts from your lips.

“No, amor, not all,” he pauses in thought, somewhat uncharacteristically. “Are you worried?”

“...Yes.” The mercenary appreciates your honesty. For your entire life, you have had to be brave. He doesn’t want you to have to be brave with him. He’s never been trusted with something as precious as you. He calls your name with the same softness he feels for you.

“I will never hurt you,” he promises. “And…” his need causes him to struggle with the next part. He’s still not used to being sensitive, not used to caring so much. “We do not have to do this.”

Pero can see the fire ignite in your eyes, that same passion he sees when you get up right after being knocked down.

“I want to, Pero, I want to. Will you take care of me?” his eyes have their own fire now. He guides you down onto your back once again and leans over you. His cock leaks against the soft skin of your belly as he kisses up your neck, sucking in marks as he goes.

“Forever,” he swears.

Pero hoists himself up to look into your eyes as his cock catches at your entrance for the first time. He pushes himself in just barely, giving you a little more each time as he shallowly rocks into you. He watches, feeling lovestruck, as your breasts rise and fall with each short breath you take as he eases himself deeper into your heat. 

When Pero Tovar met you, he didn’t exactly respect you, but he wouldn’t have called you soft. You proved quickly that you were a better warrior than most men he’d met, and despite the roughness and inconveniences of mercenary life, you didn’t complain. In those early days, he’d have scarcely called you a woman at all. 

But here you were beneath him, soft and warm, and everything he’d never imagined he could be trusted with. Long ago you reached your hands into his hardened chest, with all of its armor, and gripped his heart with all of the hope and reverence of a devout finding comfort in a rosary. The vice of your wet cunt on his cock was an extension of that. An inescapable binding that he had no desire to leave. 

“You feel so good, querida, so tight and perfect against my cock.”

And so you pant, looking cherubic against the sheets with your splayed hair and flushed cheeks, lips plumped from Pero’s incessant kissing. The wet noises coming from between the two of you are obscene, and you love it. 

“So good for me, amor, taking everything I have to give you.”

He wouldn’t last long. Not waiting as long as he has, not with you looking, sounding, and feeling the way you do. His thrusts aren’t punishing, but they sure as hell aren’t gentle, as he can only restrain himself from wrecking you for so long. And from the way he’s hitting that place inside that makes you sing, you won’t last either.  

“Pero, I’m gonna— mmm I’m gonna cum again!” You keen, calling him back from his animalistic fervor. Pero stares into your eyes with a fire roaring behind his gaze. 

“I want you to soak my cock, hermosa. Cum. Give me your pleasure, let me make you mine!”

“God— oh, fuck, I love you—“ you pant as he feels you clench deliciously around him. Any hope he had of holding on has fled now. 

“Mi amor, let me cum in you, please, querida—“

“Please, do it Pero,”

You can feel the skin of his hips slap against yours as he pistons himself in and out of you, babbling about how beautiful you are and how good you feel until he can’t stand it anymore. 

“Te amo, te amo, te amo!” He growls, ceasing his hips as he fills you with everything he has. You jolt at the sensation before relaxing again, his hot cum painting your walls. His elbows stop him from collapsing right onto you, but he can feel your breasts brush against his chest with every breath the both of you take. 

He basks in this moment for a while longer before pulling himself out gently, resolving to clean the both of you properly later. Pero lets himself fall beside you in bed, still breathing a little heavily. 

“Come here, querida.”

Pero stares at the ceiling as your weight comes to rest against his chest, warm in ways he cannot describe. The arm around you tightens, as if he wishes to pull you further into him.

“Are you… do you feel alright, mi amor? I didn’t hurt you?”

“Never, Pero. I feel wonderful. Was it ok? For you, I mean. I know I’m… you’re probably not used to being with someone so inexperienced,” you trail off, feeling palpably insecure. He gently puts his hand beneath your chin to coax you into looking up at him from his chest.

“You don’t have to be anything more than what you are to be perfect for me, amor.”

Taglist:

Pedro Pascal: @auty-ren

From the preview post: @josepedropascal @tintinwrites @computeringturtle @kiwi-the-first​

[mariannesketchnotes]

Lost Friends by DoctorLia

@doctorliamsr asked me for a prompt to write a Timeless story the day after I had a conversation with @ununpredictableme regarding Anthony and his role. We'd watched Space Race and that episode really brings home how active Anthony is in planning & executing the missions.

I find his character, his choices and his morality fascinating. His relationship with Rufus is intriguing to watch: there is history and trust there, and Rufus continues to want to listen & understand how this man he thought he knew can do such a thing. The ethics of Space Race are a grappling point for Rufus in terms of Anthony's role and I would love to see Anthony grapple with his choices himself.

Lia has a few stories where she writes character pieces such as the conversation between Karl & Flynn that I discussed on this blog earlier and she graciously decided to accept the prompt.

Her story Lost Friends brings the two characters in a conversation after Anthony's death and Rufus's Chinatown trip. It is interesting how Anthony indicates Rufus has a harder time forgiving Flynn then he does Anthony, which I think is particularly poignant considering the agency that Anthony accepts and expects for his choices in this story. The request to clear his name for his family's sake brings a more personal touch to Anthony as well.

So: thank you Lia for writing & sharing this story with us and tackling the prompt challenge. I feel honoured you wrote me a story and hope you like this experimental sketchnote. (I felt like doing something different from usual, so I hope you enjoy it all the same).

[iamtrebleclefstories]

all through the night - chapter three

An unexpected visitor

-or-

A fic where Jo has a miscarriage pre-16x16 and Alex comes back to pick up the pieces

Was this supposed to be only two chapter? Yes... we’re not going to talk about that though... 

TW: Miscarriage

The next few days consisted of more of the same. Jo and Alex walked on eggshells around each other, neither of them wanting to break the silence looming heavily in the loft, which was only interrupted by the occasional sound from the television or the clanging of a dish in the kitchen. Maybe that's why it was so shocking when they heard a knock at the door.

"Hey evil spawn, hairball, open up!'"

Alex walked up to the door and pulled it open. He scrunched his face in confusion, "Yang? What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?"

"I get mail you moron. I’ve seen the return address,” Cristina invited herself into the loft. She scanned the place the Karevs called home and her eyes landed on Jo’s blank face. “Altman and Pierce called me a couple days ago to help them out with an experimental surgery that's only ever been done a handful of times around the world, my hospital and my hands being one of them. I'm performing and teaching the residents all about the procedure. Surgery is tomorrow. I was at Mer's house visiting with the kids and I heard that you might be here," Sensing the tension in the room, Cristina turned her attention to Alex. "How about you and I go outside and talk for a bit?"

Alex looked at Cristina and quickly realized that she wouldn't give him the option of saying no. He glanced back at Jo before looking back at Cristina, "Okay, I'll go."

The moment they walked outside, Cristina slapped Alex upside the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" Alex rubbed his head.

"That's for being a dumbass," they walked for a few more minutes before Cristina spoke up again. "Are you an idiot? Are you mentally challenged?"

"Mer told you, didn't she?" Alex grumbled.

"She didn't have to," Cristina shook her head in disbelief. "You fell off the face of the earth for weeks. I know we don't talk that much, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. She had a miscarriage and instead of you comforting her like you're supposed to, you looked terrified that something will set her off. Do you know how crappy it feels to miscarry? I wasn't planning on even continuing my pregnancy and I was still a wreck when Addison had to go in and remove my fallopian tube. And on top of that, you cheated on her?"

"I didn't know she was pregnant when I slept with Izzie," Alex tried defending himself. "Jo didn't even know until she miscarried."

"And that’s supposed to make it okay?” Cristina punched him in the side. “You slept with Izzie? Of all people? Come on Alex, I knew you were stupid but I didn’t think you were stupid enough to sleep with the one person who consistently used you and never really cared about your well-being unless if it was of some sort of benefit to her. Where’s your self-respect?”

Alex grunted, “I don’t know.”

“That’s why you feel like shit now,” Cristina stated. “You should feel like shit. You should be crying bitch baby tears. What possessed you to make such a colossal mistake. And don’t go say something about how you still love Izzie because we both know that’s not true. You fell out of love with Izzie a long time ago. You fell out of love with her before you ever fell in love with Jo. And Jo… I wish someone loved me the way you love her. Which is what makes this situation so much worse.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Alex released a breath. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“I don’t think it’s about fixing anything,” Cristina stopped to get a good look at him. “It’s about owning up to your mistake and figuring out if you’re able to move forward. You can’t take it back and you can’t make it better. You’ve got to regain her trust.”

“Easier said than done,” Alex muttered under his breath.

“Go to the hospital and cut into some kids or something,” Cristina waved her hand. “Get out of here. Let me talk to your wife.”

“I don’t know Yang,” Alex frowned uncertainly. “You’re not exactly the warmest person.”

“Shut up,” Cristina scowled at him. “I can be sensitive. Now seriously, go. Give me some time before I change my mind.”

+++

“Wilson! Get up from the bed. It’s time to take a shower and put on a different shirt,” Cristina bellowed as she walked back into the loft. She walked around towards the bed and pulled the covers off of Jo. “Come on. It’s already past noon. You’ve got to at least pretend like you care about personal hygiene.”

“Leave me alone,” Jo groaned and pulled the pillow over her head, muffling her speech. “And it’s Karev, not Wilson.”

“Is it?” Cristina raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t sure if it still would be you know after everything.”

Jo pulled the pillow off of her face and looked at Cristina waringly, “It’s still Karev. I want to be a Karev.”

“So you’re not planning on leaving evil spawn any time soon?” Cristina sat on the edge of the bed, waiting expectantly for Jo to respond.

Jo appeared lost in thought, “I don’t know. I don’t want to. But I can’t live like this either.”

“Live like what exactly?”

“Live in fear that one day, Alex is going to grow tired of his life with me and leave me for a simpler one that includes an ex-wife and a couple of kids in Kansas,” Jo depanned.

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now?” Cristina snorted. “Alex would rather cut off his hands than leave you and Seattle. Do you know how many opportunities he’s had to up and leave this place and he’s stayed? If you’re here, it doesn’t give him much motivation to leave.”

“I don’t think I’m his priority anymore,” Jo chewed on her lip. “He has kids now.”

“How sure are we that those are his kids anyway?” Cristina tilted her head in thought. “Don’t get me wrong. I love Izzie, she was my friend at one point. But she doesn’t exactly have the best moral compass. Sure, she loved Alex, but she loved more what he could do for her. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to pass those kids off as his in an effort to get him back.”

“That’s crazy,” Jo sat up. “No sane person would do something like that.”

“Exactly.”

Whether it was the absurdity of the whole situation or the fact that Cristina was so serious, Jo burst out in laughter, “Oh God.”

Jo’s laughter rang through the loft, “My husband cheated on me with his ex-wife and they have kids together all while I was here having a miscarriage. I had a miscarriage… I had a miscarriage and I was alone. Alex wasn’t there. He cheated on me. Alex cheated on me. Isn’t that the most outrageous thing you’ve ever heard?”

Slowly, Jo’s laughs morphed into heavy sobs. They wracked her body for quite some time as she finally allowed herself to break for the first time since coming home. She hadn’t wanted to do it in front of Alex. Despite partially being the reason for her pain, Jo didn’t want to make him feel any worse than he already felt. Because if there was one thing Jo knew, it was that as much as she would struggle to forgive him, Alex would probably never forgive himself.

Once her cries died down, Cristina rubbed a hand on Jo’s shoulder gently, “Come on. It’s time to shower. You smell bad.”

Jo let out a watery laugh, “Okay I’m getting up.” She stood up from the bed and turned to look at Cristina. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Cristina nodded. “I’ll be here when you get out.”

True to her word, Cristina was waiting for Jo when she stepped out of the shower, “I don’t cook. Or clean. You know this. We’ve lived together before. But I toasted some bagels if you want one.”

Jo made her way over to the table and grabbed a bagel, spreading a generous amount of cream cheese on it, “Why are you still here?”

“Because I told you I would be,” Cristina shoved a handful of cereal into her mouth.

“Come on Yang, we’re not friends. You don’t owe me anything. Why are you here?” Jo asked, waiting patiently for a response from the woman standing across from her.

Cristina sighed and put down the box of cereal, “Because I know what you’re going through. I’ve been there before.”

“What?” Jo’s face scrunched in confusion.

“It was my intern year. I was sleeping with my attending and I got pregnant,” Cristina started. “I don’t want kids. I never wanted them. But for some reason I struggled a lot with the decision I was going to have to make in the coming weeks. I had finally decided to tell my attending and attempt some semblance of a relationship with him. I hoped it might give me some clarity.” She paused for a moment and looked at Jo. “When I approached him, he broke up with me. Never even got a chance to tell him that I was pregnant. So, I made an appointment. I told Meredith that I was planning to get an abortion and she promised to be there to take me home.”

“I never made it there, though,” Cristina shook her head. “I was observing a surgery that he was performing when I passed out on the OR floor. They paged Addison Montgomery and I was rushed into surgery. Turns out the pregnancy had been ectopic and my Fallopian tube burst. They ended up removing it and I lost the baby… I don’t want kids. I didn’t want to be pregnant or raise a kid. It didn’t fit into my plans. I had planned to terminate. I was sure that it was right for me. But it didn’t make the loss any easier. It didn’t make the fact that I miscarried any less painful. I grieved. I was a wreck. They had to sedate me.” Cristina huffed a laugh. “That’s why I’m here. Because I get it.”

In all honesty, Jo had no idea what to say after Cristina’s story. She never would have imagined sitting across the room with Cristina Yang talking about miscarriages. They weren’t close, not at all. They never spoke for more than a few minutes about things that weren’t work related. Seeing Yang open up to her in this way was foreign.

“I’m sorry,” Jo finally said. “I don’t wish it on anyone.”

“Neither do I,” Cristina grew quiet. She reached over the table and put a comforting hand on Jo’s shoulder. “You're going to get through this. I know you will because you’re stronger than I ever will be. We’ve been through some hard things, but we survived. You’ll survive this and you’ll be happy again someday. And maybe you’ll be a mom again, if that’s what you choose. Whether it’s through birth or being a stepmom to Alex’s kids or both. You have choices. They’re yours to make. No one else’s.”

“Thank you,” Jo swallowed back some tears. “For that reminder. It’s my choice. I’ve been trying so hard to figure out what someone else would do in my shoes that I forgot that I don’t need to depend on the approval of others. It comes down to what I’m willing to lose.”

Jo looked up at Cristina, “I want to get out of this house. Even if it’s just for a few hours.”

“Okay, where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know… anywhere that isn’t here,” Jo shrugged.

“Have you ever been to the space needle? I haven’t and I lived here for seven years. I almost did once, never made it though,” Cristina mentioned.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been to the space needle,” Jo replied.

“Great, I’ll drive.”

[flying-nightwing]

Double Cross (Jason Todd)

Hi people! So this is my little project I was talking about. A sudden blurb of inspiration led me to this and uh. Here it is! Once again, this is super experimental so yeah idk about its potential. You’ll be the judge of that I guess

This time I worked on time jumps back and forth and perspectives, so let me know how it turned out!

Masterlist in bio/pinned!

Pairing: Jason Todd x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 6937

Warnings: swearing, uhhh idk it’s dc so you know what you’re into 

-- 36 hours ago --

Your heart was beating hard against your ribcage as you flew down Washington DC's streets. Your motorcycle was burning under you, and you had a feeling you were on the clock to get off of this ticking time bomb before it exploded and brought you down with it. The bullet holes broke the black paint, decorating your bike in a way that flagged unwanted attention. About six blocks ago, unmarked cars had joined your fast paced parade across the city.

A terrible mistake, all of this was. That was certain. 

You took a sharp right, your knee scraping on the asphalt on the way. An infernal noise came out of your bike, but you still willed it to accelerate on the straight alley. You shot back on the main roads like a bullet, swerving around the black police car that had tried to cut you off. But soon enough, you saw the blockade on the street in front of you. You could never jump it with your bike so in disarray, and there were no viable alleys to sneak into. You shut your eyes tight for a moment, then exhaled.

"I'm sorry Jason" You muttered to yourself. "But you left me no choice"

With a firm grip, you pressed the brakes and came to a stop a fair distance from the blockade. You turned off your bike and kicked the foot to hold it up, slowly getting off and pulling your hands up. Shouts erupted around you as the police mobilised themselves in tight formations, guns up and ready to shoot. With one hand up, you undid your tinted black helmet and let it fall to the ground. 

"On your knees!" An officer shouted as he approached. "Keep your hands where I can see them"

You complied.

-- Now --

The white of the neons glaring down on you made your already tired eyes hurt, saturating your vision with a harsh and constant flash of light. You were left alone with a room temperature glass of water on your left and your own reflection on your right. You couldn’t hear them, but you knew they were there, observing you. Instead, all you could see was the dark bags under your eyes and your messy greasy hair. 

You perked up when two men in suits came in by the door in front of you, thin files in their hands and calculating glances. They were nicely dressed, one with a gray suit and the other, black. Both suits were obviously tailored to them. They sat down in front of you and observed you before the one in the gray suit spoke. Dark hair, blue eyes, taller than the other, maybe around six feet.

“Good morning, Agent”

You only nodded, looking down to the table. 

“My name is Agent Baker,” He said. “My colleague here is Agent Tanev. We will proceed to your debriefing”

“Sure” You nodded again.

Agent Baker set a recording device on the desk and turned it on. “Please tell us again why you are here today”

“I am--” You paused, clearing your throat. “I am here today to deliver crucial information on a wanted criminal in exchange for a pardon” 

“Which wanted criminal should that be?”

“The Red Hood” You said, meeting his eyes. “I have names of associates, safe houses locations, frequent territories of operation as well as his specific m.o.”

“How come you know all of this?” He asked, his voice neutral. “No seasoned agent has ever managed to get this close to him, let alone a rookie. We want to know how you gained his trust, start from the beginning, spare no details. Leave nothing out”

“I met the Red Hood during operation 7381 in northern Lithuania” You began as Agent Tanev started to take notes. “I was in the back up team for the extraction of General Kradiev from a local opposant group. I wasn’t supposed to even see action, as it should have been simple enough against an untrained mob, but when is it ever…”

They had known you were coming. A whole grab and go operation had been compromised by the feeling of invincibility of the CIA, that looked down so much on whoever they went against that they never stopped to think that maybe--maybe--they were prepared.

So when the Alpha team stormed the country house where the General was supposed to be kept and found it empty, all action plans were thrown out the window. The Beta team was mobilised to close off all the roads surrounding the area and to search for the hostage. You were ordered to search a single decaying house in between two pine trees because the structure was so old, so  nobody could have ever been hiding in its debris. However, as you were leaving, you heard whimpers coming from the cellar a few feet away from the foundations. Carefully, you made your way to the wooden doors on the ground, and after making sure your magazine was full and the safe of your semi automatic off, you kicked the doors open and raced down the stairs.

“Don’t move or I’ll blow your head off” You yelled, pointing your gun at the first person you saw. It was clearly a man, wearing a bright red helmet that shone under the single lightbulb hanging down from the ceiling. He slowly held up his hands, but he didn’t seem so bothered. Your eyes found another man next, tied to a chair and wearing a bag on his head. The military uniform was a dead giveaway of his identity, so you returned your full attention to the red helmet guy. “You’re going to back up and face the wall now”

“Or what?” He challenged. “You’ll ‘blow my head off’?”

“Shut up!” You barked, taking a step forward. Your firearm was ready to shoot. “Do as I fucking say”

“You’re CIA uh?” He changed the subject, looking down at your marked bulletproof vest and not listening to you. In fact, he didn’t seem worried at all by the situation he was in. “Should have known. You guys have never cared who lived or died. What fucking difference does it make, as long as they’re good pals with the good ol’ US of A right?”

“God would you just fucking shut up and back up” You were getting impatient, but also nervous. You were alone without backup, with a guy in a red helmet who was clearly taunting you, and you had never shot anyone before. It was your first oversea mission, and already it was fucking catastrophic.

“See, that’s the thing” He held a finger up. “You’re pointing a gun at me like I’m the bad guy, while you are trying to rescue the scum of humanity. You’re going to extract him, give him a nice long life on Florida’s golf courses with the taxpayers' money and wipe out from History the mass graves in the woods two miles away”

You remained silent.

“Oh, did you not know about the mass graves?” He asked rhetorically in a mocking tone. “Your friend here decided he wanted to test the new shipment of automatic weapons, because their bullets per minute capacity had been expanded. And what better targets than the group of students that opposed the american military presence in the country? The youngest was 16 and her name was Vera Beliskava. Isn’t that right, Kradiev?”

He pulled the hood from the general to reveal his bloodied and bruised face. He had been gagged and beaten, that was obvious. He looked at you, pleading. 

“You’re the only one who saw” The man in red said, softer this time. “You don’t have to save that piece of trash. Just say your search came up empty and I’ll make him disappear from the Earth's face permanently without leaving so much as a trace. Nobody else will know, and you will go to sleep knowing you made the world a better place”

You took a breath, a million thoughts running into your head. Who was that guy? Why was he here? Why did he not attack you, while he clearly had a handgun strapped on his thigh? Could he be right about Kradiev? You knew he didn’t have the cleanest record concerning human rights, but mass graves? 

“Beta team, report”

You both froze as your comm broke the silence. He gave you a challenging look as you were still debating. You wanted to do good, that’s why you went into the secret services. Being complicit in mass murder wasn’t something you signed up on. 

“Nothing to report on the north road”

“Clear in the valley”

“Farmer’s house empty”

“No traffic on the south road”

You knew it was your turn now. Slowly, you reached for your comm, not breaking eye contact.

“Pinetree house’s clear” You spoke in a flat line, decided and direct as you lowered your gun. You shut down your comm and glanced at Kradiev, whose relief morphed into fear once again as your decision registered. You averted your eyes. 

“You made the right choice”

“I hope so, or I’m dead” You mumbled. “I’m going back now. Don’t make me regret my decision”

“You won’t”

“So just to be clear,” Agent Baker frowned. “You just… Believed him? And you let General Kradiev in his hands?”

“When I left, I went to check, and the graves were there. Kradiev was guilty”

“That was not your decision to make” He pointed out.

“I know” You sighed. “That was my first mistake. I-- I lost it for a moment. He mentioned the graves and the victims and there were so many people the same age as them I could think about and I decided with my feelings rather than my judgement. And I’m paying the price today”

“Alright” He mumbled, passing a hand on his face like he was already done with this debriefing. “When did you cross paths with him again?”

“We were back in America” You continued. “By that time, I was no longer on training wheels. It was a little more than a year later, in Newport Oregon during operation 9004. We were busting a trans pacific drug dealer on the docks when we got unexpected company…”

You were running as well as you could through the maze of freight containers on the docks, trying to push back the pain of the bullet in your leg. You had drawn the fire of the hired gang so your colleagues could proceed, but things went down the drain when you were met with heavier fire than the briefing stated. Outnumbered and outran, you stopped in your tracks and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You wouldn’t go out as a coward, that was certain. If you went down, you’d take as many of them as you could with you. 

You reopened your eyes and checked the magazine of your gun, letting it drop on the ground and pushing a full one in. You loaded and clicked the safe off, flexing your fingers on the handle as footsteps surrounded you. You spun around and pulled the trigger, but before the bullet even reached your target, two men dropped on his side. 

You weren’t the only shooter. 

Thinking it was backup from your team, you allowed yourself to back up against a container, trying to stop the bleeding. You were starting to feel light headed, but you still had a bit more fight in you. Soon enough, all hostiles were down, and you were in for a surprise. Instead of the black uniform of your colleagues, you looked up to a red bat, a leather jacket and a familiar red helmet. You squinted your eyes and let out a chuckle of disbelief.

“Do I even wanna know?” You asked.

“I owed you one” He shrugged. “You okay?”

You looked down to your leg, your pants soaked in blood that was already cooling, then back up again. “Peachy” You gave him a thumbs up. “You were right about Kradiev. He was a fucking trash bag”

“It’s often the case” He said as he rested his hands on his hips. 

“You here for Hiko?”

“Yep” He nodded, then snorted derisively. “Any tips?”

Ever since Kradiev, you have developed a habit of researching your target better. Most of the time, it was a capture or an execution on site, so it didn’t matter the extent of their crimes. But there were moments when you were extracting the package without knowing what came next, and those times usually meant they’ll make them disappear under a new identity, without giving them any repercussion for their actions. This one, Hiko, was the later case, without any plan revealed for when you get him back. He was a known drug trafficker, but he was also rumored to smuggle people back and forth between Asia and North America through the docks he owned. The Red Hood’s appearance was well timed, to say the least. 

“Sneak past the squad through the east” You panted. “If you can move on top of the containers without being seen or heard, you’ll cut them off with about two minutes to spare. Make sure you’re gone with Hiko when they bust through the door, or neither of us will ever find him again”

He paused, studying you. “Thanks…” He trailed off. “Why are you telling me this again?”

“Well, you said it yourself” You managed to smirk. “If I can go to sleep knowing I made the world a better place”

He didn’t answer with anything else but a quick nod before he climbed the containers and disappeared from your field of vision. You sighed, then reached for your comm. “Alpha 003 to central, I’m down and need medical attention, Northwest entry of the docks”

“So if I understand correctly, not only you let him go again,” Baker exhaled, looking bewildered. “But you told him how to get there first? You realize those are becoming serious crimes right?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” You snapped, before recomposing yourself. Both agents had backed away just a little at your outburst. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Sorry. I’m just tired, it’s been a crazy last two days” 

“Did he offer you any medical help then?” Baker returned on topic. 

“No, I called the medics and I was extracted with the chopper” You replied. “I knew he was there for Hiko, not for me. It was a coincidence we crossed paths, and at that point I thought it was the last time I’d see him. I mean, what are the chances, right? But you see, that here was my second mistake”

“How so?”

“The CIA goes after threats to national security, but so does he, in his own way” You said, locking eyes with Baker. “The guy’s everywhere, even where we don’t go. And he’s at least three steps ahead of us at any turn. He has good funds, good intel and exceptional skills. You don’t find him, he finds you. And that’s what he did”

“He contacted you after the affair on the docks?” He raised an eyebrow.

“We could say that...”

You finished washing your tea cup when you heard a thud coming in from your living room. Slowly, you grabbed the gun hidden in your cupboard and held it up, quietly making your way to the next room. You rounded the corner and pointed your gun to the man standing with his back to you, registering his identity as he turned around. You must have been a sight in your baby pink pajama shorts and mismatching turquoise tank top, pointing your handgun to a man in a shiny red helmet. 

You scoffed and lowered your gun, clicking the safe back on and putting the firearm on the lamp table. “Breaking and entering, really?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst crime I’ve committed” He shrugged, and you could just imagine him rolling his eyes, whoever he was under that helmet. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, crossing your arms against your chest. “How did you find me?”

“Like I find anyone” He answered like it was the simplest of evidence. You waited for him to continue, but he seemed to have no intention to reveal his methods. This time, you rolled your eyes. “And I’m here because I wanted to check on your leg”

“No you’re not” You snorted. He would have come months ago if it was about that, and even then, the little you knew about him told you he was not the kind to just check upon people who didn’t mean anything to him. “But I’m doing fine, thanks”

“You’re welcome” He nodded. “And you’re right. I need something from you”

“Well, go ahead, since you’re already in” You gestured at him to go on.

“Wait wait wait” Baker held his hand up. “He broke into your house and you just let him? You put your gun down and didn’t call anyone?”

“Yeah, that’s what I just said” You replied slowly. 

“And it never occured to you that he was dangerous?”

You paused, thinking your answer over. “No, it didn’t. I mean, if he wanted to get rid of me, he would have done it on the docks where I was an easy target”

“Fair point” Tanev muttered under his breath, earning him a glare from Baker. 

“Now do you want to know what happened or not?” You said, annoyed at the interruption.

“Please, go ahead”

He reached inside his jacket and handed you a file. You took it and opened it, staring at the picture and the description beside it. “This is Ian Markstrom, he has been suspected to kidnap young women, mostly tourists, to sell them on the sex trafficking market” He began. “Not only is he friends with your big bosses, but those who were brave enough to try and get him locked up never got anything to stick, and that was the best case scenario. The others either disappeared or ended up dead, so I’m assuming someone in this government does not want Markstrom to stop”

You nodded. “What can I do for you?”

“There’s a secret auction strictly reserved for the elite, Markstrom will sell his best teenagers there” He explained, a hint of disgust in his voice. “The CIA chief of operation received an invitation. I want to know what it says on the card”

“I’m not sure I’m good enough to reach anywhere near it” You mumbled. “But sure, I’ll try”

“No, I believe in you” He said, and he seemed pretty sure of himself. You raised an eyebrow to hide your surprise at his compliment. “What I’m wondering though, is why you’re not asking questions”

“Well, you are two in two so far about targeting the bad guy” You said after a moment. “You seem qualified to spot ‘em, and you’d be real twisted to to make up that scenario for a petty revenge, so I’m guessing you’re on the mark again”

“Huh. You might just be the only smart CIA agent I’ve ever met”

You snorted. “Well, the more it goes the more I’m questioning the integrity of my employer”

“You keep impressing me” 

“With what I saw, I believe the bar was pretty low to start with”

“Keep talking like this and I might need a cold shower”

“You’re an ass, you know that?” 

He let out a short bark of laughter. “If only you knew”

“I’ll do my best for the invitation” You brought him back on topic, closing the file and putting it beside your handgun. “How can I contact you if I get it?”

He paused, then took a step forward and grabbed your wrist. He fetched a pen from his jacket and wrote a number. “This is a burner phone, which I will destroy after this whole deal. Don’t try and trace me with that, it won’t end well for you”

“Yeah yeah” You rolled your eyes, pulling back your arm when he was done. You cleared your throat, trying to ignore his overwhelming proximity. “I gave you two fast passes just to trick you into seeking my help to finally bag you, I’m busted”

“Hey, listen” He backed up, holding his hand in surrender. “I make that threat to everyone. It’s only a disclosure thing, I didn’t doubt your motivation”

“To each their own I guess” You shrugged. “Alright. If this is all, please get out of my apartment”

“Oop, sure”

Baker blinked slowly. “And did you? Communicate him the details?”

“Yeah” You nodded. “I managed to get into the chief of operation’s office, break into his safe, memorize the date, time and place of the auction and communicate it to Red”

“Red?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Short for Red Hood” Tanev clarified, and judging by yet another glare from Baker, he wouldn’t speak anytime soon.  

“He kept it on the quiet, but after that the chief of operation did seem a changed man” You smirked, before dropping it instantly. “And I didn’t hear anything from Markstrom, it was like he disappeared for good, which he most likely did. So I guess the Red Hood succeeded in taking him down”

“Jesus Christ” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Why do I have the feeling it wasn’t the last law you broke?”

“Because it wasn’t”

“Are you going to make a habit out of dropping out of nowhere to ask me for favors?”

This time, you knew who had broken into your property without even looking. You put the keys into your car and turned the engine on, trying to warm yourself. The Red Hood pulled himself upright from your backseat, shaking his head.

“Your car is very comfortable,” He declared. “You have good taste”

“So that means yes”

“Back at it again with your superior deduction skills” 

“What do you want?” You went straight to the point, but you were just a little amused. You could have a worst stalker. 

“I’ve been thinking this through,” He began, moved his legs so he was properly seated on the backseat. “You are skilled and you’ve got balls of steel. I could use your help more often. A partnership, if you might”

“Why do I have the feeling it took a lot to admit that and reach out?” 

“Because I don’t just trust people” He said plainly. “They disappoint me, among other things”

“So why me?”

“Like I said, skills and balls of steel” He repeated. “You went against the fucking CIA not once, not twice but thrice to do the right thing. That’s enough of a test of will for me. And besides, your job would be an advantage that is hard to turn away”

“Makes sense” You mumbled as you put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. He buckled his belt like it was a reflex. “Will this partnership imply me shooting bad guys?”

“If that’s what you wish for” He shrugged, leaning forward in the space between the two front seats. “I won’t be the one to limit you”

“Okay, yeah” You nodded. “Where do we start?”

Baker was looking into nothing, processing your words. He shook his head slowly in disbelief before he met your glance. “I shouldn’t be surprised” He spoke after a moment. “But this is Everest high levels of stupid”

“At that time it did seem like a good idea” 

“Yeah, might as well jump off of a bridge…” He trailed off, eying you suspiciously. “Did you do that too?”

“Well, if we consider the time when--”

“You know what, don’t tell me” He cut you off. “Please go on”

“Alright” You held your hands up in surrender. “So, where was I?”

You and the Red Hood operated on the field like a well oiled machine. Your expertise and contacts with the CIA helped him get into places way more easily than alone, and your somewhat reckless ways were compatible with his mode of operation. You knew who he was as well, you found out after he nonchalantly took off his helmet after a stakeout. You had not been prepared for what you saw then, when you were faced with what you could qualify with the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

“Hey, you okay?” He waved a hand in your face, making you snap out your daze. You blinked a few times, shaking it off.

“Yeah” You replied. “I just wasn’t expecting this”

“Expecting what?”

“I mean, the helmet did give disfiguration vibes… Obviously I was wrong” 

“So you think I’m hot then?” He snorted derisively.

“I do” 

His head did a whiplash. “Huh?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” You backed away. “Sometimes my filter doesn’t work”

“No it’s--” He tried to find his words, then sighed. “I’m just not used to that, I guess”

“What’s the point of this?” Baker groaned, his head in his hands. 

“It’s a turning point that brought me here today” You explained, turning your palm up briefly. “You asked for details, I’m giving you details”

“I kinda wanna know what went down, to be honest” Tanev added sheepishly.

“Tanev, I’m going to drive you through the mirror if you do not shut up”

“Jeez sorry” He mumbled.

“As I was saying”

That day was the moment things changed in your relationship. There was this tension that hadn’t been there before, the little brushes of hands when you were side by side, the staring at the other while they weren’t looking, the unspoken invitations to stay a moment longer after a mission for a cigarette and a good conversation. He was one of a kind, you had to give that to him. He was passionate, driven, smart in a way that told you he never really had it easy but always made it work somehow; the way he always thought of the less obvious way to do things, how even his messes seemed calculated. 

It was raining in Chicago and the air was crisp. Your muscles ached from the fight in that warehouse against drug lords that enrolled kids in their schemes, that and from the unforgiving cold of January. You had one too many whiskeys back in that little studio flat he rented under a false name, and it led you straight to his bed. Trying to find warmth, trying to find a connection, it didn’t matter why, as long as you were as close as humanly possible to him. 

And it didn’t stop there. The night after, and the night after that, always in his company past the business hours. Your chemistry translated way beyond the field, for you found him in a partner in more ways than one. You grew quickly to feel love for him, more than you had ever felt for anyone. The number of times you woke up naked and tangled with him--

“Okay I don’t need to know this-- I do NOT need to know this” Baker yelled. If he could have flipped shit from the table, you’re sure he would have. 

“You told me to spare no details!” You argued. “This is a detail. I’m being as thorough as I can”

“You know what-- Forget it” He brushed his hand in the air aggressively. “Just get to the part we have interest in, for God’s sake please just skip to that”

“Okay, okay” You muttered, rolled your eyes. “It went well for the first months or so, it was great. Nothing to say on that front, I was happy and fulfilled in this new englobing partnership we had going on. That was my third mistake, to get into that kind of involvement with him. Because then, like all good things must come to an end, mine slowly began crumbling down in my hands”

“Okay” He sighed, half in relief. “Tell me more about that”

“Well, he started to show his true colors” You admitted, pulling your hands under the table. “Sometimes, he became something else. Something dark. And sometimes became most of the time, but I was too in love to see it. He became manipulative, controlling. He was everywhere, in everything I did. It’s like I didn’t even have control on my life anymore…”

“Where do you wanna eat?”

You looked away from the car window, your feet comfortably up on the dash. You took a deep breath and shrugged. “Dunno, where do you wanna eat?”

“Don’t really care” He shrugged too. “You decide”

“What about chipotle?”

“Sure” He nodded. “Chipotle sounds good”

Tanev shook his head sympathetically. “He wouldn’t even let you choose a restaurant?”

“Never” You looked down, sadness weighing your voice. 

“I’m so sorry you had to live through that”

“Thank you” 

“Alright, moving on” Baker broke the moment. “What happened next?”

“Next? Next came what comes every time in screwed up relationships” You answered, returning your hands on the table and crossing your fingers. “We burned like a meteorite as it tears through the atmosphere, falling to our demise to high velocity and taking everything in our wake”

“That was poetic” He pointed out sarcastically. “What the fuck does it mean?”

You raised an eyebrow. “We got dangerous for real, Agent Baker” You paused to take a reserved sip of the water. “If you thought I was reckless before, you’ll need to reevaluate your scale. I was in for real. I was his battle horse, his wildcard, his whatever that he needed to succeed. And I was good at it. The worst was, I didn’t even realize he used me as a smoke screen. He put me more and more often in fucked up situations that were way more dangerous for me than him, and I was naive enough to think it was love”

“No. This is not up for discussion”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You said you would let me choose--”

“I said I would let you choose, not let yourself get killed” He interrupted, slightly raising his voice. “This plan of yours is stupid dangerous. If it backfires, you are almost guaranteed of not making it out free, or alive for that matter. I’m not allowing you to take that risk. Not for me.”

“Again, ‘if’ being the keyword” You insisted, following him as he stomped out of the storage room. “I am capable of executing it flawlessly. I know I am, you’ve always told me I am”

He halted his steps, hesitantly turning to face you. His eyes softened as he sighed, taking your hand. “I know you can, it’s not about that” His voice was back down, even lower than his usual volume. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you for something I dragged you into in the first place, I would never forgive myself”

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead on his. “Okay” You finally said, nodding lightly. “We’ll find another way. Another plan. But we’re hitting that ball out of the park either way, I won’t let Preston get away with it”

He smiled. “Oh no, we won't indeed” He kissed the top of your head. “We’ll get him one way or another, I promise”

“I almost feel sorry for you now, Agent” Baker gulped. “I cannot begin to imagine what terrible things the Red Hood forced you to do under his manipulation. We however must continue this debriefing”

“Of course” You nodded quickly, breathing deeply. “So we planned our next move, but he wouldn’t tell me the final target. I found it weird, he always told me the targets. I don’t know, maybe he sensed I was trying to find a way out”

“And that plan was…”

“Yes” You didn’t have to let him finish his trailing thoughts, you knew what he was getting at. “So this brings us to 36 hours ago”

“Be as thorough as you can” 

“So the Red Hood gave me those instructions to follow” You began. “I was to draw the attention of the authorities to me in a city wide chase. Now, I am rather good with a bike, that I won’t hide, but outrunning police and secret services? That was impossible. I still don’t know how they got there, but it saved me. He would have never dared to come into the melee to get me back, and risk getting caught”

“Was he not afraid you’d talk to us?” Baker asked. “That was a pretty big gamble”

“He thought I wouldn’t talk I guess, probably for the same reasons I stayed with him for all this time” You said, biting the inside of your cheek until it bled. You hated to think about these words. “Because I believed I loved him”

“I guess that wouldn’t be too far fetched” He hummed. “Wouldn’t be the first time we saw it happen”

You nodded, remaining silent. Baker made eye contact with Tanev, then looked into the reflecting glass. He took a deep breath and returned his attention to you. 

“We are going to get you back to the holding cell while we process this information” He said. “But once we do that, you’ll be free, and with a new identity if you wish, as your agreement states”

“Thank you” 

“Just one more thing before we wrap this debriefing” He leaned forward. “You must know his name"

“Of course” 

“Then what is it?” He asked. “What is the Red Hood’s name?”

You looked down, taking a deep breath, then back again, locking eyes with Baker. Then, you spoke. 

-- 36 hours later --

The sunset over the valley was gorgeous. The mixes of pink and orange on the yellowed sky was straight out of a fantasy world, and Jason couldn’t help but appreciate the scenery. It was soothing, like it could swallow up his anxiety at least for a minute or two. He leaned on the wooden ramp, the sightseeing roadside station seeming not so cheesy at the moment.

He only tore his eyes from the burning sun when he heard a motorcycle approach from behind. He pushed himself off the ramp and faced the sleek black bike--the lack of use on it showing him it was brand new--then, the driver with a black tinted visor. 

You took off your helmet and smiled at Jason’s stern expression, whose eyes showed relief anyway. You turned off your bike and parked it, then got off and walked to him. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” 

You walked past him and leaned on the ramp he had been on moments ago, and he joined you. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered you one. He lit up both with his lighter, and you took a long draft before speaking. 

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice” You smirked, bumping your shoulder to his. “I did save your sweet ass, after all”

“I thought we agreed not to do that” He glanced at you sideways. His annoyance was also mixed with playful disbelief, like he both wanted to throw you off the cliff you were admiring the view from and do celebratory shots with you. 

“We did” You nodded, chuckling. “But circumstances changed. You weren’t out by the time I reached the monument, so I had to draw them away from you, or we would not be having this conversation. ”

“Still” He tilted his head to the side, before his head snapped in your direction. “Wait, did you call the secret services after yourself?”

You shrugged half heartedly. “Mayhaps” Your lips curved upward, while he shook his head. “I mean, it kinda was my fault too. I misplaced the bomb and it barely detonated. I had to flip to plan B, then they shot my bike. They had me surrounded, and my it was running low on life, so I skipped directly to plan fuck this”

“So you gave yourself up”

"Played the victim, pretended I wanted to exchange information on you for my freedom” You sighed, taking a drag of your cigarette. “None of which was relevant enough for them to even get close to you, worry not”

“They must have asked for a name” He hummed, now turning his full body toward you. “What did you tell them?”

“My grandpa’s name” You snorted. “He died two decades ago. Let me tell you, when they found out the last update on him was in the necrology of the 2001 Sunday paper, they were not happy campers”

“Then how did you get out?” He squinted his eyes.

“Oh, do not underestimate me, sweetheart” You grinned. “I’ve spent my whole career getting to know the buildings and the procedures for people like me. It was a piece of cake”

You were escorted out the interrogation room and into the small, yet cozy holding cell. You were on the clock, because the lies you’ve slipped into your story would unravel pretty quickly once they discovered that the name you gave them was a farce. Then, you wouldn’t be put in a minimal security room, but probably somewhere way less fun. 

“Hey wait” You called after the guard before he could close the cell door behind you. He paused his actions, waiting for you to speak up. “This wasn’t there last time”

He frowned and took a few steps into the cell, trying to spot over your shoulder whatever you were talking about. When he didn’t see it, he got closer and closer until he was all the way into the cell. “What wasn’t there before?” He asked, annoyed. 

You smiled. “You” 

With a quick jab of your elbow behind his head, he fell down unconscious on the floor. You grabbed his keycard and exited the cell, locking the guard in. You winked at the camera on the upper left corner of the hallway and made your way down to the garages as the alarms blared through the whole building. That meant it entered lockdown, closing all the escape routes. But you had your own fool proof plan.

Agent Baker began swearing when the hallway was plunged into the red glow of the lockdown alert. It hadn’t taken long for him to figure out you had led them in circles, and he had appeared a fool in front of his colleagues when he proudly revealed the name of a long deceased old man instead of anything tangible. He had been on his way to your cell when he realized the depth of this foolery, understanding you had been stalling them for this opportunity. 

“Sir, we are reporting engine noises in the garages”

“Fuck” Baker shouted, pushing the other man aside. Tanev was a step behind, his weapon drawn. They had stored your bike there, you must have gone back for it. “All units report to the garage, we’re having a break out. I repeat, all units to the garages”

They all flocked to the lower levels, ready to enforce the barrages at the doors and trap you with no exit. It was an excellent execution of emergency measures, but they definitely weren’t prepared for what came next. As they kicked the storage unit of your motorcycle, they came face to face with the bullet ridden bike with no driver in sight. Baker lowered his gun, squinting his eyes. Then, they widened comically as the dark smoke coming out of it and the strong smell of gasoline registered in his brain.

“Motherfucker” He spat. “Everybody out!” 

Seconds later, it exploded.

“You’re unbelievable” Jason scoffed, shaking his head. However, he now had a full blown grin to match yours. “I gotta give it to you though, blowing up your bike as a distraction was smart. Balls of fucking steel”

“Of course it was!” You replied, then reached in your pocket for your phone. “And it’s not even the best part, look”

You unlocked your phone and passed it to him, showing him your most recent picture of the CIA’s chief of operation dead with a letter opener through his neck. His eyes widened. “You got Preston?”

You turned around from your position, now leaning back on the ramp with your elbows resting on it. “The bike opened a window big enough for me to get the target” You said, finishing your cigarette and disposing of it in the ash bin on your right. “And with all those idiots guarding an empty garage, t’was easy enough”

“After all this time, you’re still impressing me” He nodded, holding up his fist. “Good fucking job”

You bumped your fist sideway with his, laughing at his baffled expression. The sky was getting darker and darker by the minute, but the air was still warm. You could hear the crickets in the high grass, and the silence was a peaceful one. You could admit that you had cut it close this time, that this gamble could have very well turned to shit, so you just took a moment to let the pressure slip away from your muscles, at least for now. You had the time to smoke another cigarette before you spoke.

“So now what?” You hummed, looking up to the bright stars above your head. “Markstrom’s ring is no more, and I’m pretty sure I not only lost my job by pulling that stunt, but also bought myself a ticket on at least three intelligence services’ most wanted list”

“Well, that’s nothing a good ol’ fake death can’t fix” He shrugged. “But until we find the right moment for your tragic public demise, I’m sure we can manage to find on our own some domestic assholes to beat up. What do you say?”

You met eyes with him, then raised your eyebrows. “I say let’s get to it”

[celiabowens]

Book recommendations, Literary Fiction edition(?)

A companion to this post (which should be updated, at some point lol)

Short Story Collections: 

Salt Slow by Julia Armfield: grotesque and disquieting collection about women and their experience in society, how they view and perceive their own body and desires. Pretty strong mythic, magical realism, body horror elements in here.

The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales by Oliver Sacks: fascinating collection in which Sacks reminishes some particularly odd stories of patients who had to cope with bizarre neurological disorders.

Home Remedies by Xuan Juliana Wang: a collection focused on the Chinese millennial experience. Stories about love and loss, family, immigration and the uncertainty of the future. (also there’s an extremely beautiful short story about a pair of Chinese divers that broke me forever!!!)

Bestiary: The Selected Stories by Julio Cortázar: unforgettable selection of short stories that mix surreal elements to everyday life and apparently ordinary events. Would also recommend All Fires the Fire by the same author.

Novels:

How Much of These Hills is Gold by C. Pam Zhang: one of the biggest debuts of 2020, it follows two recently orphaned children through the gold rush era. An adventurous historical fiction piece that focuses on themes like gender, identity and immigration, this is one of my favorites 2020 reads so yeah, I’d really push it in anyone’s hands to be honest.

Burial Rites by Hannah Kent: historical fiction inspired by the last days of a young woman accused of murder in Iceland in the 1820s. A quite bleak, but beautiful novel (the prose is stunning).

The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave: historical fiction novel set in Norway in the 17th century, following the lives of a group of women in a village that recently (barely) survived a storm that killed all of the island’s men. 

The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead: the 2020 winner of the Pulitzer Prize. The book follows the lives of two boys sentenced to a reform school in Jim Crow-era Florida. A bleak, but important book, with a shocking final twist (side note, I’ve been recommended The Underground Railroad by Whitehead as well, but I haven’t gotten to it yet. If you’re looking for something quite peculiar, if a bit less refined when compared to The Nickel Boys, The Intuitionist is a quite odd pulpy noir set in an alternate NY about...elevator inspectors *and racism*). 

The Leavers by Lisa Ko: haunting book about identity and immigration as the main character is apparently abandoned by his own mother (an undocumented Chinese immigrant) during his childhood. Mainly a story about living in between places and constantly feeling out of place. 

The Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa: when everyone would probably recommend Murakami (not much against Murakami besides his descriptions of women and their boobs), I suggest checking out some of Ogawa’s books. The recently translated The Memory Police, published in Japan in the mid 90s, is an orwellian dystopian novel set on an unnamed Island where memories slowly disappear. Would also really recommend The Housekeeper and The Professor, a really short novel about a housekeeper hired to clean and cook for a math professor who suffered an injury that causes him to remember new things for only 80 minutes. 

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong: Ocean Vuong’s debut novel, following a son writing a letter to his illiterate mother. The book seems quite polarising due to Vuong’s writing style (his poetry background is really quite clear and the book doesn’t really follow a regular narrative, rather than portrays events and memories in brief flashes), but I loved it and I’d really just recommend going into it without knowing much? It’s a beautiful exploration of language, family history, trauma, sexuality and more.

Exist West by Mohsin Hamid: this book was fairly popular when it came out (in 2017 I believe) and was often incorrectly marketed as magical realism. Hamid’s book is a brief and quietly brutal journey with a few fantastical elements, following a couple trying to escape their city in the middle of war, as they hear about peculiar doors that can whisk people far away. The doors are, of course, a quite effective metaphor for the immigrant experience and the book does a great job at portraying the main characters’ relationship. 

Family Trust by Kathy Wang: this has a really low rating on goodreads which...wow i hate that. Family Trust is a literary family saga/drama about a Chinese-American family residing in the Silicon Valley. It’s often been compared to Crazy Rich Asians, but I believe it to be more on the literary side and definitely less lighthearted. 

Pachinko by Min Jin Lee: historical family saga (one of my favorites tbh, I’m absolutely biased, but this book deserved more hype) set in Korea and Japan throughout the 20th century, following four generations of a Korean family. While I wasn’t the biggest fan of the prose, the book has really great characterisation and absolutely fascinating characters. (I’d suggest checking out eventual TW first, in this case). 

The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker: another recent read, The Silence of the Girls, while not faultless, is a pretty good retelling of The Iliad, narrated through Briseis’ perspective. The prose can feel a bit too modern at times, but it provides the reader with some really strong quotes and descriptions. 

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng: and also Little Fires Everywhere by the same author, to be honest. If you’re looking for really really good family dramas, with great explorations of rather complex and nuanced relationships? You should just check out her stuff. Vibrant characters, good writing, and some superb portrayal of longing here. 

Nutshell by Ian McEwan: i’m starting with this one only to grab your attention (if you’ve even reached this part lol, congrats), but McEwan’s one of my favorite authors and I’d recommend almost everything I’ve read by him? Nutshell, specifically, is a really odd and fun retelling of Hamlet...told from the pov of an unborn baby. But really, I’d also recommend Atonement (of course), The Children Act, Amsterdam? All good stuff. 

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles: I’ve read this book this summer and, while I’m still unsatisfied with the ending, I’d thoroughly recommend this? The novel follows Count Alexander Rostov, who, in 1922, is sentenced to a lifetime of house arrest in the Metropol, a luxurious hotel in the center of Moscow. A singular novel, funny and heartbreaking at once, following a vibrant cast of characters as they come and go from Rostov’s secluded life. 

Human Acts by Han Kang: from the bestselling author of The Vegetarian (which honestly, I thoroughly despised lol), Human Acts focuses on the South Korean Gwangju uprising. It’s a really odd (and at times grotesque) experimental novel (one chapter is narrated from the pov of one of the bodies if I remember correctly), so one really has to be in the mood for it, but it’s a really unique experience, worth a chance.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon: sort of a really chunky historical adventure novel following two artists in 1940s/1950s NY, who create a superhero and use him to wage a one man war on the Nazis. A bit slow in places (the pace can be uneven at times and the book is quite long), but an enjoyable novel that does a pretty good job when it comes to exploring rather classic themes of American contemporary fiction: the American dream and the figure of the artist (I think there’s a particularly interesting focus on how the artists navigates the corporate world and its rules) and their creative process.

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel: this is a pretty classic rec, the book really got a lot of hype when it came out? It’s a dystopian-ish novel set after civilisation’s collapse, following a post-apocalyptic troupe (of Shakespearean actors). It’s a really odd, but surprisingly quiet book. Not sure if a pandemic is exactly the right time to read it, but I thoroughly recommend it. 

The Garden of Evening Mists by Tan Twan Eng: I feel like this book is extremely complex to summarise to be honest. In short, it’s a book set in Malaya at the end of the 1940s, following a woman who, after surviving Japanese wartime camps, spends her life prosecuting war criminals. But truthfully this book is about conflicts and contradictions and in particular about remembering and forgetting. Lovely prose. 

The Secret History by Donna Tartt: and also The Goldfinch. I’m sure no one really needs me to introduce Donna Tartt?

The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton: quite cerebral mystery set in New Zealand in 1866. Honestly you have to be a patient reader who enjoys novels with a pretty complex structure to like this, but if you’re into this sort of challenging read...go for it? It’s a book of interlocking stories (with 10+ pov and main characters) with a really fascinating structure based on astrological charts, which provide insight to the main characters’ traits and personality as the mystery unfolds.

The Hours by Michael Cunningham: ok...do not watch the movie first. The Hours is an incredibly difficult novel to describe to be honest: it begins by recalling the last moments of Virginia Woolf’s life, as she’s writing Mrs. Dalloway. The book focuses on three separate narratives, each one following a specific character throughout a single day of their own life. Goes without saying that I’d suggest being familiar with Mrs. Dalloway itself first though.

An Artists of the Floating World by Kazuo Ishiguro: not one of Ishiguro’s most famous works (most start reading his work with Never Let Me Go or The Remains of the Day), but probably my favorite out of those I’ve read so far. The novel follows  Masuji Ono, an artist who put his work in service of imperialist propaganda throughout WWII. Basically a reflection and an account of the artist’s life as he deals with the culpability of his previous actions. 

Stoner by John Williams: I feel like this is an odd book to recommend, because I don’t think someone can truly get the hype unless they read it themselves. Stoner is a pretty straight-forward book, following the ordinary life of an even more ordinary man. And yet it’s so compelling and never dull in its exploration of the characters’ lives and personalities. Also, I’ve just finished Augustus by the same author, which is an epistolary historical fiction novel narrating some of the main events of Augustus’ reign through letters from/by his closest friends and enemies. Really liked it. 

Do Not Say We Have Nothing by Madeleine Thien: back to integenerational family sagas (because I love those, in case it wasn’t clear lol), Do Not Say We Have Nothing follows a young woman who suddenly rediscovers her family’s fractured past. The novel focuses on two successive generations of a Chinese family through China’s 20th century history. While not every character got the type of development they deserved, the author does a good job when it comes to gradually recreating the family’s complex and nuanced history. 

There’s probably more but I doubt anyone’s going to reach the end or anything so. There’s that lol.

[the-darklings]

Not gonna lie, Lucien grabbed me by the throat since the first attack on V and then my heart by the sewers scene ;; if you have time, could you mayhabs give us Luci stans a lil something with V? 👀

nature of doubt.

⤫ notes: so this is actually based in that original world I keep alluding to post-coa and uh,, Lucien and V actually have a very different relationship here (tho this piece isn’t considered entirely canon for them, either) and you’re getting a backseat into that relationship. Lucien/Reader is established here - more or less, considering how he is.

⤫ pairing: lucien x f!reader (+clara (oc!v)

⤫ word count: 4.4k+

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Your feet halt sharply at the sound of those words, startled into an acute silence.

The night hums around you, and you lean against the side of the greenhouse, peering through the blur of the glass. Humid heat keeps you warm from the night chill and you slow your breaths in order to hear better. You’ve come up to the terrace because you couldn’t sleep for the life of you, caught in your turbulent thoughts as you were.

Lucien being back should make you happy but something is different this time. You’ve kissed him and hugged the moment he came close enough to touch, and that might have led to a long and strenuous session in your shared bed. Bites and kisses and nails against the skin—just him, raw and passionate, and…

He always comes back from his disappearances with an appetite of a starved man—cruel, dangerous, prowling thing. Always dancing on that line of pain and pleasure. Never pushing more than you ask but there had been a strange detachment this time, a drift you know he felt as well.

Something, this time, felt emptier than usual. For both of you.

Coming up here so late has been more about getting some fresh air to clear your mind and get rid of that gnawing, traitorous whisper of soft brown hair. Hazel eyes and shoulder against yours when you replanted one of hundred plants in her greenhouse.

And it’s because of that, that you recognise the owner of that low, smooth feminine voice that speaks.

“Doing what?”

Of course, it’s him. Of course, the two most nocturnal members of the Pit of Vipers are the ones you have managed to stumble upon.

Instincts scream at once. They’re beyond dangerous individually much less together, and if they caught you spying they might be angry. Disappointed. That thought sits like curdled milk inside your stomach, tart and bitter.

Still. There is something that moves your body. Some need, a draw.

Leaning over the edge of the greenhouse, you spot the shadowed figures of Clara and Lucien. The latter stands with his back to you, his wispy blonde hair loose in the wind, a mess from your running your fingers through it earlier. Hungry. You had been just as hungry and just as needy for his touch.

Yet for some reason it…

It hadn’t been the same.

You love him so much, you do, and you think that maybe—just maybe—there is something inside his chest too. A small, fond thing you so rarely catch glimpses of but know is there.

Clara, on other hand, stands with her arms crossed over her chest, one side of her face bathed with terrace lights. It cuts a terrible, steely line—one dark, one light; and you suppose that’s only right too.

She’s tense though, her stare set as she drills holes into the side of Lucien’s pale head.

You know full well that is a terrifying position to be in. Her stare is downright chilling on a good day. Even more so when she’s angry. It’s made worse, you think, by the fact that she has a face that looks like it should be smiling. It’s a face made for kindness.

She hasn’t smiled once since you’ve met her. It stings more because you know she used to. Noah told you as much once; a sad, thoughtful expression crumpling his sharp, friendly features with sorrow.

Not since him.

The one no one speaks of openly, and certainly not Clara herself. A man with glaciers in his eyes, and tar-black heart.

“Disappearing like you do,” she says flatly, a fine lace of irritation in her voice.

Lucien clicks his tongue, shaking his head in amusement. “It’s what I’ve always done,” he returns dismissively. And you know that it’s an answer that will not go down well. He disappeared for so long you were starting to doubt he would ever return. Clara, since then, had been even more solitary and distant. You’ve always thought that Lucien needed her more than she needed him but this disappearance has proven different. “How is this time any different?”

She doesn't respond right away. It’s as if considering his question, wondering if he actually means those words and you swallow.

You shouldn't be here.

This is a private conversation and yet…

You’ve been just as disappointed by his actions. And you know that if you asked he would not answer.

He answers to no one but her—his leader, the only one he trusts and has chosen—and perhaps that’s the only way for you to get a glimpse into him as well. Find out where his head is at.

It was not so long ago that their bond used to make you jealous and insecure. A tiny part of you still has doubts—it’s hard not to, not with the looks they share, the mute acceptance between them, the way you sometimes just find them sitting together, shoulder to shoulder—but ever since Lucien’s last disappearance something has changed.

“You were gone for months,” she states briskly, her voice icy, and a shiver races down your spine hearing it. She doesn’t raise her voice. It’s smooth, controlled; a pleasant, ordinary string of words. She stands there, and simply looks at him, and it’s terrible somehow. “Even Step couldn’t find you. I couldn’t find you,” she adds after a slight pause, the tiniest of catches in her voice.

You’ve heard that catch a handful of times in the past. Mostly in the shadowed greenery of her greenhouse. Where you sometimes found the viper curled up and resting, hiding away from the world. You’ve tried sitting by her like Lucien sometimes does. It made you feel special, near euphoric the first time she allowed you to hold her hand in silent comfort. The first time she leaned her head on your shoulder.

The way she had sagged against you—atlas on her shoulders, expression fragile, soft—had stuck with you for a long time. So long, you can’t help but see it now.  

This is the first fracture you’ve seen in her demeanour in weeks though. She’s so controlled for how Lucien is untamed. But demons that stir under the Viper’s skin might be worse than his and somehow…

That thought is as thrilling as it is terrifying.  

The blonde doesn’t take much note of her words. Still staring out towards the twinkling New York streets. “Yes, I imagine it was rather annoying for him,” he says, deliberately avoiding her softer admission, an open fear. “Such a pity.”

It's wrong to say. Right now when every muscle in Clara’s body seems to have gone so taut with tension she bristles. Then, follows fire.

It thickens the air and even some distance away, hugged and hidden away by the shadows, you can feel something volatile bubbling in the air between them. It becomes near suffocating the longer Lucien remains impassive and disinterested in their conversation.

You’ve never seen him show fear, but perhaps, this once, he’s aiming for someone who can remind him of the feeling.

He knows it, too, you conclude when his head finally turns in her direction.

“I do it for you,” he snarls lowly, practically spitting the words, his grip on the railing tightening. “If I didn’t leave, I would skin your loyal little snakies and give you their skins as a present. By the time I came back to myself, it would already be too late, and you would hate me for taking them away from you. You would kill me for it, and maybe I would let you.”

Your heart slams into your throat at his calm, chillingly logical explanation.

You knew—to some degree—that him leaving was about protecting others as much as it was about allowing Lucien that room to roam. It’s hard to feel trapped, tied down, to something when you’ve spent years being treated as no better than an animal.

It makes you value that freedom just that much more.  

Your lungs burn yet you feel too afraid to inhale lest you miss her reply.

The woman is silent for a leaden, disturbing moment and you feel your heartbeat accelerate the longer she remains quiet.

“Do you really think you mean so little to me?” comes her chilling whisper of a question and goosebumps tickle across the length of your arms. “That I would kill you?”

She laughs but it’s an unpleasant, cold thing that makes you think of a viper circling her prey and Lucien’s chin tilts at the challenge, at the mocking tilt of her inquiry. “You may act like you don’t care for them but could you really kill them? Just like that?” she demands, her tone sharpening as if she’s wielding one of her blades. “Kill her?”

Your heart thuds; once, twice.

You’re not sure what you feel more surprised at.

The fact that she’s pushing or that she sounds so furious at the mere prospect.

It’s them, you remind yourself hurriedly, ignoring the flush of heat you feel in response to the honeyed, poisonous edge you catch in her words, not what she’s saying.

Yet it feels like a weak argument even in your own mind.  

Lucien pushes back from the railing, clenching his fingers experimentally, humming lightly under his breath before offering his verdict, “I won’t even hesitate.”

“You’re lying.”

It’s sharp, and immediate dismissal. So knowing that you don’t even doubt the call out because she knows him better than anyone. They’re two beasts snapping jaws and snarling and it makes for a beautiful sight. Captivating despite the danger. 

The terror you should feel around them doesn’t come. That should probably concern you more. You’re not helpless but getting even more tangled with these people is a death sentence.

Lucien steps closer to the leader of the Vipers, and it’s only then that you notice that his white shirt is still unbuttoned. His skin often feels cold to the touch but he’s never once complained about it. The pale canvas of his flesh is marred by scars and faint bruises alike. You’ve tasted them, traced them with your tongue just a few hours ago—so even though you can’t see them clearly, you know they’re there.

“Funny thing. Lies. Like you lie to yourself daily, I imagine, hm?” Lucien’s voice slices through the night air, fills it, stretches it into something even tenser. “You walk around like you want to destroy everything in your path yet you still hold yourself back,” he spits knowingly, his voice slipping into harshness, and his eyes narrow, inspecting the woman before him intently. “He still clings to you and you let him. Still love him.”

He spits the word love out so hatefully you nearly flinch. Like no bigger crime could be committed against him.

His throat grows tense, tendons trembling, and in that moment he looks near feral. Livid.

Because she’s in pain, you think sadly, and he wasn’t there for her, and now she carries it.

It saddens you.

“You have no right,” it’s a warning, a hiss of a statement.

Lucien comes undone in a span of a second.

His arm snaps out, locking behind the slim curve of her neck, his fingers sinking into the nape. He doesn’t drag her forward, he drags himself to her. She lets him, and that surprises you more. She watches him from beneath her heavy, quietly furious brow, silent.

“I have every right!” he fires back, his stare brimming, and he briefly presses their foreheads together but his next words are cruel, “When we crawled out of that filth it was you and me. And then you let some fucker steal you. Do this to you.”

She rips out of his grip with speed that’s a blur, her teeth flashing, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have abandoned me!”

Pain in her voice is like a whip against your skin and heart. They rip into you, linger under your skin. Is that how she felt? All this time. Alone. With no one to turn to.

It...

“You know that’s rich, Lucien,” she continues, her voice a low growl. “You really think I don’t see how you are with (Name)? Did you really assume you could hide something like that from me?”

Your gut coils at her tone. She sounds...small.

And then her words…

Oh.

Oh.

She must think…

Does she feel like Lucien is replacing her with you? It’s true that you have bonded and grown closer together but…

God, doesn’t she realise no one could come even close to her for Lucien? You’ve accepted their bond long ago though it took time and a lot of battling insecurities that still crop up to do so.

It’s startling to realise that she has even more of those. That beneath a woman who has carved her way into power with such ruthless efficiency is still, at the end of the day, just human. Capable of wounds and bleeding. Doubts and diffidence. It gives her a different light, a human light, one that makes you want to hold her hand again. Feel the fold of her long fingers around yours.

“Ah, my pretty girl,” Lucien begins, sighing softly, his voice silky with tendrils of desire, hunger. So he’s concluded the same, then. Based on his sudden change in topic. “She’s a greedy thing. I see how she watches you, too. A heart so eager and big she doesn’t know what to do with it. So eager to give...and take,” he purrs, his tongue wetting his lips, and you choke down a breath at the memory of that searing tongue on your body. “At least I can say that about her. Can you say the same about your spider?”

You suck in a breath, holding it in your lungs, wide-eyed and unsteady.

Why is he goading her like this? Does this truly get under his skin so much? No—you know it does. Lucien has a greediness of a child who never got toys or enough food growing up. Eager hands and darker eyes. Constantly clawing for more, claiming everything he touches and hoarding it, ready to bite and snarl at any hand that tries to take his things away from him.

He’s considered her his own long before he even knew you. That same silent burn of mine, mine, mine rages in his gaze every time he looks at either of you.

“Do not speak of him, Lucien,” this time her voice is soft, deceptively so, a fragment of a warning that’s the last second of stillness before a viper strikes. “This is the only warning I will give you,” she adds.

Lucien’s head shakes. “Wipe him away,” he warns in return, his voice ice. “Do it, Clara, because if he destroys you, I will scatter his remains across this Earth. He will know agony long before I grant him death. Let her in.”

This time your heart jumps straight to your throat and stays there, beating and trembling, trying to flutter away.

“She’s not a thing for you to decide what to do with.”

There’s an edge to her voice, to her stance. They’re both tense, their shoulders taut as they glare at one another.

You’ve never seen them fight before. Not once. The fact that you’re the topic of their conversation…

Lucien snorts, shaking his head back and forth. “I’m only stating what you noticed long ago,” he says knowingly. “What my pretty girl wants even if she won’t admit it to herself yet,” a pause, and he licks his lips again, his head turning to stare right into the darkness, into the spot where you’re standing, “Isn’t that right, my brave foolish girl?”

Your muscles stiffen with shock. Your flee instincts scream at you to get away but you only stare at them numbly.

Clara doesn’t look surprised by his words, either. Did she know too? This whole time? Then why let you listen to this. Why—

“Don’t be shy,” he coaxes, his voice beguiling and gentle; a dangerous purr. “Come on out.”

You shouldn’t.

They’re…

Too much, too dangerous—you called them a death sentence only minutes prior, and you know you’re right.

Yet you step onto the terrace and straight into the jaws of two awaiting snakes who watch your every step with rapt intensity.

It’s an effort to keep your steps steady and spine straight. Under their stares, you become intimately aware of every stitch of clothing on you. Namely the fact that you’re in nothing but loose V-shirt and worn sweatpants, having pulled on the first thing on hand before departing your room in restless haste.

The intensity of their regard makes you feel like you’re naked, however.

Gulping a quiet breath you try to ignore the way Lucien traces the dip of your collarbone where a love bite is still visible. He sucked on the skin relentlessly, following that with a scattering of open-mouthed kisses, soothing the twinge of the ache.

“I…” you try and sigh. “Sorry. It was rude of me to listen. I…”

Your voice fades when Lucien steps towards you, his footsteps inaudible but purposeful. Same hunched shouldered, tense prowl of a gait, his arm encircling your waist the moment he’s close enough. You lean into his touch despite your wariness, your breath tickling against his exposed skin but over his narrow shoulder, you can’t help but watch Clara.

Dark jumper, messy braid over her shoulder, and sunken cheeks. Tired smudges sit under her eyes, her stare empty, and she looks…

Sad.

There is no particular expression on her face—she’s not that obvious, and he taught her well, you suppose—but the air around her seems to be teeming with some melancholic ache.

Lucien’s mouth brushes over your ear, nipping once, and you expect a shiver of shame or embarrassment to flood through you but it doesn’t. It doesn’t feel wrong to have her witness these things, to watch Lucien’s rare show of intimacy so closely.

The argument between them seems to be forgotten, for now, all of you caught in your own spells. Lucien’s mouth drags downwards, his teeth scraping against the hollow of your throat and you gasp softly.

The sound seems to snap Clara out of her daze, and her expression tightens in a blink. You still can’t get over how pale and tired she looks. Worn. Everything about her seems to be muted today. It’s then that you also recall that you haven’t seen her the whole day. When you asked Hector he had only barked a harsh she’s busy and you had retreated after that, noting his foul mood—more so than usual.

Why?

You try to think if this day holds some sort of significance and—

Oh, oh, oh.

It must be today.

Your stomach sinks at the realisation. So hard and suddenly the sensation of Lucien’s mouth fades just for a second. Because just like that the man’s return also makes sense. He returned so he would be here just in case she needs him.

Two years since the night she was taken in Tokyo.

There must be so much turmoil in her today. No wonder you haven’t seen her out and about and now, out here, in the private space between them, her guard has worn far quicker than usual.

Lucien presses you flush against him and hums a pleased sound when you sigh at the feeling of his lips skimming over your jaw. His head tilts then, staring at Clara over his shoulder.

“You’ve made your point,” she snips the moment he does, her voice throaty.

She stalks past you both, her jaw set and lips pressed to a hard line. Your actions are instinct alone.

Your fingers wrap around her wrist, partially jerking from Lucien’s hold to catch her in your grip. Last time you’ve done something like this she flinched and yanked her arm away with a heated glare. This time she freezes, tensing, but doesn’t pull out of your hold. Her steady, strong pulse beats against your palm and you inhale at the contact.

Last time you touched her had been when she told you her real name.

Clara, Clara, Clara.

With her hands knuckle deep in a pot, a smear of dirt across the freckled nose, and near content look in her eyes. You know she never demands. Yet each member chooses to cement their loyalty to the Pit in their own time and on their own terms. Once the snake tattoo marks their skin, it’s forever. In return, Clara gives them her own name—the ultimate sign of acceptance.

You don’t have a snake tattoo. Yet she had given you her name still. She had noted your startled expression before it morphed and bloomed into a bright grin. That seemed to have startled her more.

When you had hugged her—breathing her in, absorbing her warmth, and savouring the comfort that comes with such simple affection—she had stood there, not moving. It took her several minutes to fully relax, melt into you with a sigh so gentle you barely felt it.

Now, your hand is on her skin again, even if circumstances are so different.

“Don’t go,” you say, fighting back the urge to tug her towards you. “Stay.”

Lucien shifts around you—another snake coiling—but he’s waiting and watching. Almost vibrating with energy you have no name for. Arm around your waist, hand resting lightly on your lower stomach, but you feel his stare digging into her.

He’s eager to see how she will react.

This. This feels right.

Lucien at your side and you holding onto her. A unit, a chain of energy. A thrill rushes through your hand and right to your heart at that conclusion; hot and fierce.

Those dark eyes peer at you, and there is something in her gaze—maybe longing, maybe regret—but it blows out like a candle in a stiff breeze.

Her stare goes to Lucien briefly and she tugs her wrist free. Your expression falls the moment cool night air kisses your palm instead.

Clara turns and disappears down the staircase. Her room is on this floor, just below the terrace and you listen to her fading footsteps. The disappointment you feel stings, bubbles in your chest and you pull your hand back, folding your fingers into a loose fist.

Lucien hisses under his breath, displeased, muttering something in French. His nails scratch against your stomach as he pulls his hand away.

“Why did you do that?” you demand quietly.

A soft breath and quick, hard kiss against your head, his fingers sinking into your shoulder.

“Because I will not let her run anymore,” he mutters coldly, and it carries through the night air, making you shiver.

Turning in his hold, you stare at him.  

“Have you two ever…”

He reads into your meaning without you having to force the words out. You’re immensely grateful for it.

“No.”

Your throat aches but you still wonder, “Kissed?”

“Yes. Once,” blunt and straightforward as always. For once, you find yourself appreciating that. “We both thought we were going to die, and neither of us wanted our last memory to be of rotting in pain and alone. Our humanity stripped away.”

You step out of his embrace, mulling that over. You can’t even begin to imagine what that would be like. Feeling that level of desperation. That lack of hope and despair. That kiss had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with comfort, with a need to cling to something so ordinary yet human in what they perceived to be their last moments alive.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” you finally ask, your words soft, thoughtful. “When she was taken. That’s why you came back. Because you knew she would need you,” you add knowingly, staring up at him.

Lucien stares back at you wordlessly. He doesn’t need to waste his breath and verbalize it for you to know you’re right.  

“She needs us both,” he concludes and there is no room for argument in that statement—for him, it's an absolute, a known fact. “She’s just too wrapped up in him to realise that.”

Him. It always comes back to him.  

The seething rage lingers in Lucien’s soft words, practically spat, certainly damning. Yet you never expected him to be as accepting of this as he has been.

“Why aren’t you mad?” you wonder, watching his profile, the dips of his skin illuminated by the artificial lights. In this moment he’s a wraith, a spirit, a restless ghost. “At the thought that I might…”

Do feel something for a woman you shouldn’t. Did that make you selfish? You often felt selfish for simply wanting Lucien. For hoping that one day he will be able to make peace with his demons and stay with you.

You can’t help but wonder if the woman who reminds you of a beautiful, haunted house could ever, possibly, let her demons go too.

Could...could she feel the same?

Your blood warms at the thought, your mind cycling through every moment shared with her over these last several months. Combing them for any signs and...

“Why would I be, pretty girl?” he retorts with a tsk and a cutting glance. He reaches out, fingers caressing the length of your chin. “I have no intention of choosing, you’re capable of loving us both I know that, and she needs to learn happiness again.”

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut, savouring the contact. There is that greediness in his hold when he drags you to him. You follow. This time there is new conflict but the energy between you seems to be back, settled. Pressing your forehead against his bare collar, you shiver at how cold he feels to the touch but feel happy at this return.

The missing piece finally has a name.  

“What did he do to her?” you mumble against his skin, so desperate to understand what no one is willing to share with you.

You want Clara to tell you herself, one day, but until she’s ready, if ever...

Lucien's voice is dark and low, barely audible when he answers, “He made her love him.”

You doubt anyone can make someone love another person. Not really. But now can’t help but wonder if Lucien feels like that man stole the Clara he knew—Clara that smiled—away from him and that’s what boils his blood. Something that he considered his own was taken from him and he was powerless to stop it.

“And did he love her back?”

He was a fool if he didn’t.

Lucien is quiet for a long, long time after that question, and you feel him staring out towards the twinkling skyline.

“There is a reason why he’s still alive.” 

. . .

an: yeah, little to no context and I don’t really expect anyone to read this or care but if you did and happen to enjoy it thank you very much for giving it a chance! love you guys lots. this was written a solid month back so discord gang this is familiar to you lot *wiggles eyebrows*  

[embyrinitalics]

Whumptober 2020 No. 27 — Extreme Weather

Masterlist Word count: ~1600 Universe: Breath of the Wild; sequel to “No. 15 — Science Gone Wrong” Pairings: Zelink Rating: K Themes: Frostbite/hypothermia, snuggling Read on ao3

---

They stumbled back into the cabin—wet, trembling, fingers bent and frozen—and set about staving off hypothermia however they knew how. Link stacked logs on the grate in the hearth with numb hands, and Zelda piled every pillow and blanket in the room into a nest in front of the fireplace. She peeled off her boots and damp socks, her jacket, and wriggled out of her sodden trousers with a great deal of effort. He was making significantly less progress, his fingers even more swollen and red than hers, and after a third unsuccessful attempt at unfastening a button on his jacket she intervened.

“Let me,” she insisted through chattering teeth, and he didn’t have the pride to argue. Even nearly frostbitten her fingers were deft, and after making quick work of his overcoat she helped him with belts and laces and everywhere else he was helpless, and once they were rid of everything that was wet they dove for the blankets. She mumbled from inside her bundle of wool, still quaking all over, “You shouldn’t have come after me.”

“You’re welcome,” he growled, burrowing deeper, and breathed on his aching hands.

The wind howled with the blizzard outside, making the rafters creak, and the egg beeped nervously to itself where it was huddled in the corner. Her eyes flickered over the walls, to the hearth, to the shelves, betraying her scheming, and then pinched closed.

“We need t-tea,” she managed, swallowing. “Safflina.”

The little guardian whirred to life, hanging the kettle over the fire without prompting. Zelda stood, taking as much of her blankets with her as she could, and yanked a chain of dried flowers off the wall. She spread the bundles out as soon as she was back on the floor, curling as close to the fire as she dared, and set about plucking the petals and seed pods off the stems. But it was a tedious task at the best of times, and her fingers were barely working.

“Is that really necessary?” he sighed, watching her pitiful progress, and she spared the energy to scowl at him.

“If I boil the stems along with the flowers, it will reduce the potency.”

“Skip the boiling, then. Can’t we just eat them?”

“I hate when you ask s-stupid questions!”

He reached forward with a growl, cupping her numb hands in his, and brought them to his mouth. She shuddered when he breathed on them, her eyes fixed on his in any icy glare that promised she was about to tell him to stop. But he took another, fuller breath anyway, warming her fingers with eyes full of challenge. Calling her bluff. She gave them an experimental bend rather than spit whatever vitriol was on the tip of her tongue, tingling fingertips curling against his cheeks. He breathed again, long and hot, pointedly ignoring the way her thumbs rested on the rim of his lips, almost close enough to taste. Ignoring images of her face glowing like a piece of the moon in the blizzard, and how breakable she had looked with tears of light streaming out of her eyes.

“What do you want?” she hissed bitterly, and he furrowed his brow at her over her knuckles.

“What do you mean what do I want?”

“I mean why are you still here? Why are you helping me?” She scowled at him when he breathed again rather than answer, frustrated. Or frightened. It was hard to tell. “You should have left me in that blizzard. There must be something you hope to gain.”

“You have serious trust issues,” he frowned, shivering, “you know that?”

“Why shouldn’t I? Everyone I’ve ever known either wants me dead or wants to use me as a weapon.”

“Not me.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I don’t like what I can’t explain.” She scrunched her hands, pulling away, and murmured, “Let me try again.”

The petals came away faster once she had some feeling in her fingertips, little clumps of red flowers tumbling from the stems onto the floorboards. Link snatched two cups from the table while she worked and helped her divide the growing pile in half for steeping. By then the water was hot enough to pour. She pulled the kettle off the fire, filled the cups to the brim, and set it aside. They watched the tea steam, still shivering in their blankets.

“I’m sending you home,” she murmured, “just as soon as the storm clears. The guardian will show you the way.”

“That is so like you,” he scoffed. “You’d rather rid yourself of the closest thing you’ve ever had to a friend rather than bring yourself to say thank you.”

“And that’s so like you: assuming we’re friends. Assuming I’m incapable of showing gratitude.”

“Then say thank you.”

“No.”

He reached for his cup, chugging it before she could get halfway through her objection. It burned all the way down to his stomach. All his extremities were still cold, but at least he was warmer on the inside. She looked more than a little jealous.

She shook her head when he reached for hers. “Two more minutes.”

But she was still shivering. He snaked his arms into her mound of blankets and pulled her closer, ignoring more protests, and buried his face close to hers, enveloping her back in the hopes that the tea in his stomach might radiate enough warmth that her teeth would stop chattering.

“You’re ridiculously stubborn,” he breathed on her ear, warming her and taunting her with the heat on his breath at once.

“It will be twice as effective if I just show a little patience.”

“I don’t mean the tea.”

“Are you still on about not thanking you for being a reckless—”

“I mean trying to force me to leave,” he said, and she turned, frowning, to meet his eyes. “Getting rid of me won’t be as easy as you think.”

She didn’t answer, turning back to stare into the fire like she could absorb heat through her eyeballs. But what did he know? Maybe she could. Exactly two minutes later, she reached for her tea and downed it. Once her teeth stopped chattering, Link set about rearranging their nest.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he sighed, laying some of his quilts down like a makeshift mattress, and pulling her down when he yanked her cocoon open to spread over both of them and she snapped at him. He wrapped his arms around her as she grudgingly gave into the warmth of their combined blankets, burrowing his nose in the back of her neck. “With any luck, we’ll wake up with feeling in all our toes.”

There wasn’t much by way of clothing separating them, every shift and shiver a consuming reminder of skin on skin. And she was softer than he had ever dared to imagine, so soft that he couldn’t help but let his thumb brush absently where his hand was splayed over her stomach, couldn’t help but feel. She turned her head to pass him a dirty look.

“Go to sleep,” he insisted, holding her tighter, and bribed by her enviable position between his heat and the heat of the fire, she didn’t argue.

They curled around each other, the little egg still nestled in the corner, and drifted off listening to the howl of the snowstorm.

Link woke the next morning from the best sleep he had ever had in his life. The sun was up, glittering blindingly on a white crystal carpet spread over the mountainside and the fresh heaping of snow on the pine branches. He wiggled his toes, counted ten in working order. Burrowed deeper in Zelda’s hair and breathed.

She shifted against him, trying to roll, and he propped himself up on his elbows so she could turn onto her back. She stared up at him with those calculating green eyes, more narrow and glassy than usual, and loosed a shaky sigh.

“Go, Link,” she whispered, pleaded, begged, and for a moment he felt his resolve falter. “Go home.”

“I told you: you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Don’t you want to? Don’t you have family?”

“I had an uncle,” he murmured, pulling the blankets a little tighter around her shoulders. “Buried him last winter.”

She closed her eyes. “You’ll only get hurt if you stay.”

He snorted. “Stop pretending like you know everything.”

“I’m serious. You don’t know how many people I’ve hurt. How many people I’ve—” she stopped, swallowing. “I can’t control this, and if you won’t go, you’ll get hurt, too.”

“Then I’ll be very careful,” he promised, as mockingly as he knew how. “I’m not leaving you.”

He watched a single tear slip out of the corner of her eye and pool at her ear, quashing the urge to taste it.

“Idiot,” she hissed.

He smirked at her, admiring that pretty crease in her brow, and leaned down to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Witch.”

She sighed, rolling onto her shoulder to face the fire again, and he slipped back into position at her back, pulling the blankets up around them and letting his fingers trace a lazy trail from her shoulder down to her waist. Don’t be afraid, Zelda, he wanted to whisper in her ear. I’m not. But he knew what she would say: that his courage was a side effect of his stupidity. And maybe she was right. Maybe he was a fool.

Her fingers came up to weave with his at her hip, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

[ftmtransthings]

Greyson’s Guide to Binding

i get a lot of questions about binding, and what methods are best. i used a lot of diy binding methods before getting a real binder, and since getting one i’ve tried a lot of brands. hopefully, this post will give you some insight into what will work for you, based on your needs.

for contex, i have a bigger chest. what works for me might not work for you, and it’s all about experimentation. that being said, i have a friend with a smaller chest, and she was kind enough to try chest binding for the sake of experimentation and different perspectives (thank you talia)

this does not encompass every brand of chest binder out there, or every method. these are popular ones and/or ones i myself have tried

disclaimer: do your own research, read reviews, and be very conscious of healthy binding

diy methods

swimsuit binding

this is a method of chest binding in which you take a smaller, one-piece girl’s swimsuit and use it to compress your chest, we tried athletic grade swimsuits.

talia: her chest wasn’t very compressed with the swimsuit. it was a little flatter, but if she were trying to pass for male it would not work.

me: my chest was honestly more pronounced with the swimsuit, and it didn’t do anything to help me bind. after about an hour of wearing it around my apartment, i also noticed that i had harsh red lines where the swimsuit dug into my skin. it also generally triggered my dysphoria

comfort: 7/10

effectiveness: 1/10

cost: 4/10

safety: 7/10

would you pass: no

would i recommend: no

tank top binding

for tank top binding, you take a tight camisole with a built-in bra and wear it backwards. you position yourself in the camisole, and then fold it up once or twice to form a binder.

talia: talia actually got really flat with this method. if she were trying to pass as a male, this binding method would get her flat enough. 

me: this wasn’t terrible. i had a little trouble securing myself at first, but once i did, it was decent. i wouldn’t trust it with a t-shirt or something, but if i was in a pinch i would probably leave the house in a big hoodie. i also didn’t notice any pain, discomfort, reddening, etc. while wearing this for about 8 hours around the house

notes: the binder was REALLY visible under my clothes, and it liked to try and unfold throughout the day

comfort: 10/10

effectiveness: 5/10

cost: 10/10

safety: 9/10

would you pass: maybe

would i recommend: probably, yeah

double bra binding

this is a super popular makeshift binding method. with the double bra method, you wear a compressing sports bra, and then a second sports bra backwards over top of it

talia: she was completely flat with the sports bra method. for someone with a small chest, this would work for passing

me: this was my go-to method before i got a binder. it was fairly effective, but if you don’t position yourself right then you have a weird lump in the front of your chest. my chest also shifted a lot in this. after a couple hours i felt kind of overheated and short of breath, and i vividly remember that i used to get really severe bruising on my ribs doing this.

comfort: 4/10

effectiveness: 7/10

cost: 4/10

safety: 5/10

would you pass: mostly

would i recommend: if you’re careful about how long you bind.

ace bandages

this is a method of binding that is proven to be dangerous, and you shouldn’t do it. you wrap ace sports bandages around your breasts to compress them

me: i struggled to even wrap my chest. it immediately dug into my ribs and restricted my breathing

notes: this method is extremely dangerous and can damage the breast tissue and may make you ineligible for top surgery.

comfort: 0/10

effectiveness: 0/10

cost: 7/10

safety: 0/10

would you pass: yeah, you’d pass out

would i recommend: no. do not do this.

legging binder

in this method, you take a pair of leggings and cut the legs off to make them into shorts. you cut out the crotch and you cut and resew the legs to be straps. you can google tutorials

me: this really didn’t work for me. altering the tights was a challenge, and there was essentially no compression. after wearing it for a few hours, i will admit that there was no physical discomfort

comfort: 10/10

effectiveness: 0/10

cost: 6/10

safety: 7/10

would you pass: doubtful

would i recommend: no

actual binding

kt tape - $10.99 USD for 20 strips

this method uses kt tape to pull your chest back and flatten it

talia: talia was perfectly flat using kt tape, and she found it reasonably comfortable

me: i had a little trouble figuring out how to use the tape, but once i got myself taped, i was surprisingly flat. the feeling was a little weird, but certainly not uncomfortable

notes: you have to keep buying the tape, it’s not a one-time purchase, if you use it every day, then it adds up very quickly

comfort: 8/10

effectiveness: 9/10

cost: 4/10

safety: 8/10

would you pass: probably

would i recommend: yes

amazon binder - $10 USD

the binder i bought was a jarazin clasp binder, but this is more a general review of clasped binders from amazon

me: i wasn’t very flat with this binder, and after a few hours of wearing it, i was extremely out of breath and in a lot of pain

notes: clasp and ziper binders are restricting on your lungs and not safe to use. i would not personally recommend anything with clasps or zippers to bind

comfort: 2/10

effectiveness: 3/10

cost: 7/10

safety: 2/10

quality: 4/10

would you pass: i doubt it

would i recommend: no

gc2b half tank - $33 USD

gc2b half tank binders stop at the bottom of your ribs. they’re a spandex type of material, and the front is a canvas panel

me: i’m not super font of the half tank binders. i know people with smaller chests really like them, but i always find myself unable to get super flat with them because the lack of support makes my chest shift to much. these are, however, what i use for swimming (under a swim shirt, over a one piece). i was fine after a day of wearing it, but when i used to wear one every day i would feel a lot of pain

notes: the material in the back of the binder will stretch out over time. you also can’t put this binder in a dryer really, or it will shorten its life. the stitching also tends to fray and unravel in places. the canvas is nice though, because it can’t stretch or move

comfort: 6/10

effectiveness: 5/10

cost: 7/10

safety: 9/10

quality: 8/10

would you pass: probably

would i recommend: yes

gc2b full tank - $35 USD

this is the same as a half tank, but it goes all the way to your waist. the canvas in the front still stops at the bottom of your ribs

me: this was my go-to binder for a long time. i like the full tank because i can roll up the bottom and place it under my breasts, and that support keeps me from shifting too much during the day. i do get a little breathless eventually, but other than that they’re usually fine

notes: the material in the back of the binder will stretch out over time. you also can’t put this binder in a dryer really, or it will shorten its life. the stitching also tends to fray and unravel in places. the canvas is nice though, because it can’t stretch or move

comfort: 7//10

effectiveness: 8/10

cost: 7/10

safety: 9/10

quality: 8/10

would you pass: probably

would i recommend: yes

underworks tri-top - $29.99 USD

this binder is a sports mesh with a compressing cotton panel in the front

me: i was really surprised by this binder. it didn’t seem like it’d be effective when i took it out of the packaging, but it made me very flat. i feel a little winded, but there’s no pain and it’s really breathable fabric

notes: the back of the binder is a really thin mesh, and the front is a soft, flexible cotton. i didn’t think it would work, but it’s actually my favourite method here and the mesh makes it really breathable and cool

comfort: 8/10

effectiveness: 9/10

cost: 7/10

safety: 9/10

quality: 9/10

would you pass: probably

would i recommend: yes

summary

least favourite diy: ace bandages

favourite diy: double bra

least favourite binder: amazon

favourite binder: underworks

[justinalovee]

Empty souls

1.03

Previous chapter

“Clarke! I need Clarke!” Murphy yelled loud as he could, waiting for the gates to open.

Murphy ran fast as could through the forest back to the base, while carrying Jill who was bleeding in his arms. He had grown more worried as she had stopped talking five minutes earlier. At least when Jill was cursing he knew she was awake.

“What the hell happened?” Clarke asked as Finn helped Murphy lay Jill onto a metal table once inside the drop-ship.

“Oh, we went dancing downtown.” He said, pointing towards the arrow sticking out of his friend's shoulder. “Grounders.” Murphy corrected, seeing the glare the blonde was giving him.

“She’s gone pale and lost a lot of blood.” Clarke places the back of her palm against her forehead. “We need to get her temperature down and to do a transfusion...but we don’t have any blood bags down here.” Clarke informed them.

“Take my blood.” Murphy said, rolling up his sleeve. He needed Jill to survive, he couldn’t do this without. “Well, don’t just stand there, do something!”

Clarke nodded. “Finn, go get me a needle. Murphy, you should cover her up, but keep her shoulder free. I’ll see if I can get any cold water.” Before she left, Clarke tide ripped up rags around her bleeding shoulder.

Murphy watched as both Finn and Clarke left the room. His lips went into a fine line as he brushed strands of hair out of her face. It would pissed Jill off that her hair was on show. Murphy covered up her nearly naked torso with his jacket and finished pulling her jeans up. When Jill was shot, she only had her bra on, with her jeans only halfway up her legs.

“Wow. I guess the rumors are true then.” Finn said as he entered the room again.

Clarke followed behind with a bucket of water. She glanced at Jill, whose light purple hair was tainted red with blood. “I didn’t think it was possible to have hair that color” Clarke said stepping closer to Jill to get a better look.

Murphy frowned. “Nobody mentions it.”

Clarke gulped down. “Finn, press this against her wound. I can’t promise this will work, but I will try everything I can.” Clarke said, before she tied a piece of string around Murphy’s arm.

“Please Clarke, just do anything you can.” Murphy practically.

Please don’t die.

______

A horrible stinging feeling in Jill's shoulder woke her. She felt as if her body was burning from the inside out. What happened? She had a vague memory of hearing Bellamy Blake yelling at Clarke, before telling her he would ‘fix this’.

“John?” She groaned. The Last thing she remembered was getting dressed by the small lake.

Murphy sprung to her side. “How are you feeling?”

Jill couldn’t help but notice how awful he looked. Murphy was covered in dried blood, his arms were bruised. He looked exhausted.

“I’m okay.” Jill said, shrugging her shoulders, which she instantly regretted. “What happened?”

“A grounder shot you in the shoulder and caused you to lose a lot of blood... I thought I was going to lose you, Jill. You had me worried, I thought I was going to lose you for good.” Murphy whispered.

“I’m struggling to remember.”

Murphy felt a pang of pain in his chest. This was all his fault, if he hadn’t taken her to lake none of this would have been happening.

Jill glanced up at his sad face before reaching out and stroking his cheek. Murphy leaned down to kiss her forehead. But Jill captures his lips with her own.

“I’m glad you are feeling better.” Bellamy grunted. “Murphy, we need to go before it gets dark.” He said in a flat tone.

“What? Why are you going?” Jill asked, panicked.

Murphy linked his fingers with hers and sighed. He was thankful Clarke had our Jill’s hat back on before she left. “We need to go on another hunting trip, we are running low on food.”

Jill frowned, “you better be careful John.”

Murphy kissed her on the forehead and nose. “I’ll be discreet, okay? Just stay alive here for me.”

“Come on John, we haven’t got all day.” Bellamy said, glancing at Murphy.

Jill was only on her own for a short while before Clarke came to check up on her. Jill wasn’t certain what was more painful, her wound getting cleaned or watching Wells mop over the blonde while she drooled over Finn.

______

Bellamy glanced around to make sure nobody was in earshot of him and Murphy. “So what’s the deal with Jill’s purple hair?”

Murphy grunted as a response. Fucking Clarke and Finn couldn’t keep their mouths shut.

“I’ll just ask her instead,” Bellamy shrugged.

“Don’t.”

Bellamy stopped walking and glared at him. “You either tell me or I’ll ask the butcher queen myself.”

Murphy snapped. “Fine. Her mom took experimental drugs while she was pregnant and it caused Jill’s hair to turn purple, but after she was born the ark kept running tests on her.”

“Why do you care so much?” Bellamy asked. He was curious why a selfish person like Murphy would risk his life for Jill.

“We were good friends.” Murphy shrugged nonchalantly.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“We needed each other, okay? Neither of us had anybody for a long time on the ark. It was just us.”

Bellamy began walking at a slower pace again. He couldn’t imagine caring about somebody so much who wasn’t family.

______

“Steph, wait!”

Jill shouted as she ran after the younger girl. She still felt dizzy from laying down for so long, but nobody else was going after the redhead.

“You need to stop, Stephanie! You're going to get yourself killed!”

Finally, the younger girl stopped running, Jill caught her breath before moving to yell again. Except she couldn’t. A large hand covered her mouth and pulled her backwards at the same time a spear went through Steph’s body. Jill tried to scream as she watched the bloodied body fall to the ground.

“Don’t say a word.” Bellamy whispered into her ear as he dragged her away. He had noticed her running in the opposite direction as he reached the camp's gate.

Jill fought against him at first. She wanted to save Steph. Why not? They had pulled Jasper back from death's door.

“What the fuck is going on?” Murphy asked as he stepped towards them, with Miller behind him.

Bellamy let go of Jill, who glared at him before storming into camp. The three of them looked at each other before following her.

“Harrison! You son of a bitch!” Jill hissed.

Harrison smirked at her as she shoved him with her one good arm, which amused him further. “You can’t get enough of me, can you, darling?”

“Fuck You!” Jill hissed before slapping him across the face. “Steph is dead because of you!”

“Wha...what?” He asked as his smile faltered.

“Because if you and your stupid prank she ran into the woods sacred and the grounders got her.”

Harrison put his hand on Jill’s bad shoulder, provoking her to let out a loud whine. “It’s not my fault she was stupid enough to run into the forest! It’s just a shame they didn’t spear you! You guard fucking-”

Jill cut him off by kneeing him in the stomach, making him crumble to the ground.

“Don’t even think about it.” Murphy said in a warning tone as Harrison got back on his feet. “Jill come on, you need to get your shoulder looked at.”

Bellamy was impressed. Jill could take down Harrison with only one arm. He glanced around wondering if anybody else in the camp was impressed by that performance as well. It might benefit him if Jill was on his side.

______

“What happened?” Murphy asked as they returned to his tent.

Jill could feel stray tears falling from her eyes. This reminded her of Charlie. “That prick Harrison knew she was scared of spiders. He had been collecting them and flung them all on her at once. She freaked out and ran away...I should have stopped her.”

“This isn’t on you. What happened to Steph wasn’t your fault.”

“So...what’s your take on all of this? The grounders, radiation, deadly animals.” Jill asked, changing the subject.

“I think that our people are probably the most dangerous here. Do you want me to help bring your stuff to my tent?” Murphy asked.

Jill nodded. It wasn’t even a question if she would stay with him or not. Murphy wouldn’t have accepted a no from her, and she realized this. He didn’t trust all the others in the camp, especially Harrison.

______

Bellamy had a conundrum. He had been watching Jill and knew he needed her to help run the camp. She wasn’t emotional like Clarke, or opinionated like Finn, and didn’t have his hot head temper. Jill would balance them out.

He had heard the whispers in camp, some were questioning if following Wells and Clarke was a better option. Having a badass like Jill could aid his cause.

“You seem distracted. What are you thinking about?”

Bellamy turned to face Roma who was sprawled out naked on his bed. He liked Roma, she was happy with no strings attached fun.

“How low on food we are getting.” He said. It was a lie, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. He was sure telling Roma he was thinking about another female would cause some kind of physical pain. “Can you gather another hunting group ready now?”

“The usual people?”

Bellamy nodded. Roma got dressed as he pondered his next move. He would need to get Jill on her own, so he could talk to her. Dragging her away from Murphy would be a challenge

.

Next chapter

[something-like-a-heart]

Musings on musical heartbeat sharing

While I was spending time with my best friend tonight, I mentioned that I’d had a couple more heartbeat music ideas, and I asked him whether he’d be okay with me bringing the recording stethoscope next time I come over.  He smiled and said, “Sure, that would be nice.  Bring it any time.” He’s not a cardiophile, and I do admit that sometimes I have to ponder the ethics of involving someone who’s not part of our community in musical experimentation of this type.  (And if it were anyone but him, I would certainly be reconsidering the wisdom of it as well—but in all our years together, he’s earned my trust.  If I can be certain of anything, it’s that he will never use this to hurt me.)  But though for many reasons I may not be the most impartial judge of this, I figure I’m probably okay. 

Simply put, if my motivations or enjoyment of the experience were different—if my cardiophilia was more sexual than it is, or if listening to his heart turned me on, for example—I wouldn’t have any moral ground to stand on, because our relationship, while close, is not a sexual one and it would be creepy at best for me to be recording his heartbeat because I would then be involving him in a sexual act against his will.  And (I hope) we all know how much of a stickler I am for consent.  Last time I dated someone, I had my right to grant or withhold consent to physical and sexual acts repeatedly violated; having such a personal experience of how terrible that is, it would be particularly heinous of me to do that to anyone, but especially so if I were to do that to somebody with whom I share such a close and trusting relationship.

He, like me, is a musician.  Although he doesn’t share my musical appreciation for the sound of the human heartbeat, he respects it and he has said before that he’s happy to help with my musical experimentation.  I share the results with him, of course—it’s only fair, and I think he finds it interesting.  One particular composition, a fairly simple one involving a piece I composed on the harp while listening to one of his recordings (and using that recording as percussion), especially met with his approval.  Recording that piece was particularly a pain in the ass, too, because I didn’t just loop a sample from a recording of his heartbeat like I probably should have; I actually used a fairly long section of a long recording that we did.  Constantly changing the tempo of my playing to match the beat of his heart was a challenge, but eventually I managed it.

I’m also lucky in that he appears to actually enjoy our recording sessions.  I’m not sure why; after all, as I’ve said, he’s not a cardiophile.  But because I have that headphone splitter, we both listen when I’m making a recording of his heartbeat, and I suppose that there might still be enough novelty in the experience that he can find some enjoyment in them for that reason. 

And perhaps I’m reading too much into this, but I actually feel like our friendship is closer now that I’ve been sharing this part of my life with him on occasion for almost a year.  I can’t quite put my finger on why, but having listened to his heartbeat together several times, and sometimes having listened to my heart as well (once when I was trying—unsuccessfully, damn it—to show off my murmur, and once when I tried out a two-steth setup to record our heartbeats at the same time), it seems to have changed something about the way that we relate to each other.  Listening to someone’s heartbeat can be an incredibly intimate act, regardless of whether sex or sexuality is involved.  Perhaps that’s why.

Anyway, it’s late and I’m rambling.  But I don’t think I could have gotten to sleep without writing this out.  Also, it appears that later this week I will have another musically-inspired steth session with someone I love, and that’s not a sentence that I thought I would ever be typing out before I got up the courage to ask him for the first time last year.  This, like so many things about our friendship, makes me happy.

[cancerbiophd]

Hi Julia! I will be graduating from grad school next summer and I've been accepted to a R&D position in the pharmaceutical industry, which was my dream so I'm very excited! As someone who also made the transition from academia to industry, do you have any tips or advice on how to handle the different expectations? Thank you!

Hello Rose! Congratulations!! That’s so wonderful to hear. You’ve worked hard for this!

I’m very much still in the process of learning to navigate the transition myself but I will tell you all that I’ve learned so far. I’ve found that grad school has actually prepared me quite well for industry because of all the translatable skills I picked up (and even from college and other life experiences). So if you find this list is filled with some familiar things, then that’s a very good sign!

Have a method to deal with feeling overwhelmed. Going from academia to industry can feel like moving from a small rural town where you knew everybody to a big bustling loud crowded city. Oftentimes it will be sensory and information overload, and it’s easy to feel anxious most of the time. It’s best to have in your emotional tool-kit a few plans on how to navigate challenges like figuring out unfamiliar protocols and tasks, what to do if you make a mistake, how to decompress after an anxiety-inducing phone call or presentation, etc. 

I recommend not forming any emotional attachment to your projects, because unlike grad school where we worked on basically one big thing for many years, projects can come and go very quickly and seemingly unexpectedly in industry. And most of the time these decisions are not 100% up to us in R&D, but the business side of things, because if a project isn’t meeting a company goal (whether financial or otherwise), it’ll be put on hold or cut. (But that’s not to say R&D doesn’t have input, but we don’t often get the last say). 

Know your go-to person or persons for questions, from your manager and fellow coworkers for project-related questions to contacts in IT, HR, etc. And be protective of your right to ask questions and receive answers. This is part of your job, and this is part of their job as well. Everything that comes out of your department is a team-effort, after all. And time is money (and company goals fulfilled)--always remember that. And that includes your time as well, so taking 5 min to ask a question and getting a straight-forward answer is much better than spending 5 hours confused and doing something wrong! Not a day goes by where I don’t ask a bunch of questions (and most of them are: what does this abbreviation stand for? Because in industry, apparently if it can be abbreviated, it will be.)

Set clear expectations and goals with your manager, and check in with them regularly. Project goals are much more concrete and common in industry where project timelines (sometimes set by the business side) guide every decision, vs academia where decisions can be more experimental and free-flowing. Finding out your pace in this timeline and delivering what your manager expects is a two-way street where communication is key. Whenever I get a new project, I like to tell my manager “let’s touch base on my progress tomorrow” so we can a) catch any of my mistakes early, b) estimate when I’ll be done/ready for the next step, and based on that, c) see if we need to have more help. 

Follow what your fellow coworkers do in terms of small workplace-culture-things, like email etiquette (eg. reply to one vs reply all), when to start and end each work-day, how to respond to manager requests (my team likes each of us to reply with “ok will do!”), the best way to communicate (we prefer instant messaging via slack), etc.

Stay organized and prepared. Time is money in industry, and staying organized and on top of things saves time (and thus money). I’ve also found that it’s always better (and expected) to be able to provide an immediate answer to questions during meetings, rather than “I’ll get back to you” (unless it really is something that’ll take a while to figure out). So have your notes ready and well-organized. 

Related, document everything, or at least know the reason behind your decisions. Mostly because you may be working in a very large and interdisciplinary team (think sales, operations, marketing, etc) and they may not have the science-know-how to understand some R&D choices. Also higher-ups may not be able to remember every minute detail of a project, so it’s good to have all that on hand. The other day my manager actually asked me to remind her of the decisions we made during a meeting on one of her projects. Good thing I had taken notes!

Take the opportunity to learn who everyone is and what they do at the company that you meet. Company directories and LinkedIn profiles are great for this. 

Pay attention to the paperwork. Companies run on rules and regulations and contracts and legal this and that. Our choices can have more consequences now than when we were in school. I usually like to get 2nd and 3rd opinions on things (either from coworkers or from a more experienced friend or family member) that I’m not 100% sure on. 

Be prepared to have more trust placed in you and your decisions. Not really a huge piece of advice, but more like, hey, head’s up! Because one thing that was jarring for me as someone coming straight from grad school where our self-esteem was repeatedly pummeled down was how much more respected I am now. My feedback and project decisions are actually welcomed, trusted, and acted upon. This is in part to my degree, my experience, and the culture of my team, but wow, I haven’t felt this valued in such long time. 

Related to that last point, professionalism counts more now. Academia offers a bit more freedom in terms of how an individual dresses and acts, but company environments put more emphasis and expectations in those things (especially for customer/client-facing positions). Depending on your company, you may have a dress-code and be held to a certain level of professional etiquette. 

And lastly, take it slow, and trust that effort will never betray you. The learning curve can also be pretty steep--my coworker tells me that it’s at least 6 months for my position. I like to finish each work day by reflecting on something I now know that I didn’t when I woke up that morning--it really helps keep my self-esteem up and the feelings of imposter syndrome down. 

That’s all I got for now! My inbox and chat are always open if you have any other follow-up questions. Congrats again on graduating and your new position!! 

[in-tua-deep]

tua rewatch with the roommate

Episode five

Oh fuck the “I found you. all your bodies.” scene

“We died?” “Horribly.” throwback to the ben convo o o f

“If perfectly arranged under rubble and otherwise unharmed counts as ‘horribly”’  - roommate

I like that Diego says he’s going to kill Hazel and Cha-Cha like it’s a challenge?? lol five doesn’t care if they live or die he only cares if u do you big dumbass

“Well I know none of the main characters die bc there’s a season 2... and i’m pretty sure they’re all in s2... like all of the family?”

I mean luther is kind of valid for being frustrated that five didn’t share about the apocalypse but also like,,, the first person five told about it (Vanya) suggested he might be insane. so. i can understand some reluctance on his part on top of the whole “the last time my siblings fought this the Whole World Died Including Them i would like them as far away from apocalypse stuff as possible”

okay okay so five says “they turned me into the perfect instrument” so do y’all think that implies experimentation like in the comics or ????

all i can think about during the kennedy scene though is my high school history teacher. he went over the assassination in intimate detail and i’m pretty sure he was writing a book about it and everything. mr. hansen if you’re out there - 

i like feral beard five more than mustache five tbh if i’m picking 

“Someone ELSE shot the president? Was he supposed to shoot kennedy or was he supposed to kill the person who shot kennedy?” - Roommate

love that five tells luther to grow up over murder,,, though to be valid pretty sure they did actually murder people as kids SO. grow down?

fuck i love mary,, will you love me like you loved me in the january rain??? just shoot me in the heart

GOD rob is such a good actor

“wait a second... how is he wearing pants?” oh roommate you have a big storm coming

i have some serious questions about the commission and their methods of communication. where do?? the tubes come from? where do they go after?

Allison: i have a bad feeling [about leonard]

where are these instincts for everything else tho??? her marriage?

“Vanya. she really is trying to look out for you. i really would trust her. you could invite her to come along so she can see he’s perfectly fine??” - Roommate, whose instincts regarding not trusting leonard-harold are spot on

apparently my roommate knows people who put salt in their coffee. i have. so many questions.

“That’s suspicious?? that’s suspicious right?? did he do that? is he a secret serial killer? is he a FUCKING secret serial killer?” roommate when they talk about helen cho going missing

“What do you mean stop showing up it’s been like. a day” - I mean. the roommate has a point. 

Klaus’s depression bath is a mood :(

did klaus put eye shadow on before his bath or did he get his hands on eye shadow in vietnam?? the questions that will never be answered

Five is so enthusiastic about having someone who understands... he doesn’t even notice absolutely Not Being In The Mood,, klaus is grieving and five is just like !!! where did you go!!!! like it was a vacation

klaus: yeah i’m ten months older now. when i’m done being depressed i will lord that over diego for the rest of our natural lives.

does five write in all caps all the time?? why? 

roommate: I wonder what the upper size limit on the knives her can use. like is it machete length? forearm length? what are the limits on his powers. if he sharpened a very sharp mechanical pencil could he use it? if he sharpened a piece of the chandelier? at what point does something become a knife?

me: could he hurl mia (my cat)? mia and her knife feet?

allison also writes in all caps to write leonard’s address

we stan agnes and hazel in this household

“I never said we didn’t !! i just thought she was just a random extra in the first episode and every time we cut away i think that’s the last we’ve seen of her” - roommate because i keep saying that this is an agnes stan household

“OH THERE’S THE PATCHWORK COAT i was afraid it didn’t come back” - okay though good question he definitely didn’t have the coat on the bus. what is it with klaus and his magically appearing coat????

oh :(  oh klaus :(  every time klaus is sad i am also sad :(

honestly a family conversation IS the threat in this family

god though this random vet in this bar is actually an asshole though like. klaus doesn’t owe him shit. klaus served. he’s clearly having a moment with the photo. that could have been a family member or something who died i don’t even know

agnes: i’m a twitcher :)

“like a twitch streamer?” -Roommate

PLEASE give me twitch streamer!Agnes au

look i just enjoy hazel and agnes

roommate: honey you’re too young for her

me: NO DON’T BE MEAN TO THEM,,, agnes deserves a boytoy

“does diego drive a manual?” my roommate once again focusing on things that i do not

five: i have to find the people whose deaths could save the timeline

my roommate: is it agnes?? is he going to kill agnes????

i’m still laughing about that fact that luther is holding dolores.... over the fire escape... she couldn’t drop that far lads

luther’s dumb sometimes but he does have some nice heart to hearts with his brother,,,, honestly he and five get along pretty well in the early episodes. kindred spirits. body dysmorphia and isolation squad.

my roommate has to keep remembering social media doesn’t exist in this universe

i am still confused as to why

that won’t stop me from giving everyone iphones and youtube accounts in my aus though

diego can curve ANYTHING he throws, usually knives, according to cha-cha’s research. but that doesn’t explain the spoilers i have seen about s2 sO

Klaus: You also told me that licking a nine volt battery would give me pubes

HOW DID I FORGET THAT LINE

oh diego got a bullet graze forgot about that as well?? does he ever get like. medical attention for that? diego?????

it really has been like. maybe two days since helen cho died. is no one??? concerned????? they just immediately jump into replacing her??????????????????? hellO? 

“very clear camera angles to show that this actress did not actually play the violin for this role” - i mean that’s fair but ellen is trying rip

me: who’s your favorite character so far?  roommate: that’s a tricky question. klaus is very entertaining to watch. allison is the most reasonable and i’m very interested to know, well, she seems like the best combination of reasonable and has the least selfish intentions. diego and luther i feel like are both good in a bland way in that they’re both doing good in the best way they can which usually involves punching people. five is fun. five is very fun. five is as fun to watch as klaus, they’re both very fun actors to watch on screen. they’re more expressive than diego and luther tend to be.  me: so which is your favorite?????  roommate: first instinct says allison, though she probably has the least dynamic or interesting arc so far

are hazel and cha-cha the best because their victims never see them coming?? like. they aren’t really THAT competent.

“I do LOVE the aesthetic of an ice cream truck playing ride of the valkyries” - my roommate is valid

“LOVE the hypersaturated background in this scene. it’s more fun that having it be desaturated.”

five looks so baby in this scene with the handler :(

still unsure where five got that handgun but i’m vibing

hate when she touches his face !! awful!!!

the handler’s little “all of them??” like yeAH ALL OF THEM even though they irritate the living FUCK out of each other. siblings man

ben gets shotgun for the getaway !!! go ben!

“I’m starting to think... given how space and reality seemed to be warping during her playing... that her medication... isn’t for anxiety...” - oh, oh roommate

ah i blocked out the leonard vanya make out as well

“DIDN’T YOU MEET HIM TWO DAYS AGO?” - yeah i feel u roommate

yup there’s helen’s body

“CSI call crime scene investigation - that’s going to start to smell real soon”

pogo: and you understand that the children can never know

me: actually pogo fuck you

and that’s episode 5 everyone thank you and goodnight

episode six

i do love a good flashback to klaus

klaus: sees a shirtless soldier and instantly falls in love

they don’T EVEN QUESTION HIM just “KATZ GET THIS MAN A PAIR OF PANTS” and they go with it?? he just APPEARED and they don’t even care

klaus was really just vibing in the 60s huh

wait this is like 1962 or 63 right

when does s2 take place?? also the 60s right???

didn’t kennedy die in 1963 i feel like what i know about s2 contradicts that date but i could have sworn they said a round trip to 1963??????

luther is SUCH A MOOD in the family briefing.

“aww he’s a bad liar” - roommate

“I realize that [the umbrella] was necessary for the title drop but where the fuck did that come from”

@ the handler please stop touching five,,, but also five has such. non reactions to her touching him. which worries me. like she grabs his shoulder walking alongside him and he doesn’t even look at her

why are there gas masks in the briefcase room...

can you IMAGINE if your boss toted a child into the room and introduced him as the Legendary Time Travelling Assassin that the whole office had a betting pool over who would die that one time and is Definitely approaching 60 not 13... and then called him LEADERSHIP MATERIAL. implying that this child will probably get a promotion before you do?? can you IMAGINE?

“again... two days ago...” roommate about leonard and vanya

vanya really chose literally just the worst time to come back to the academy huh

okay but vanya going off?? valid, but also,, i mean. it IS their dads fault that they don’t have any relationship with vanya?

luther: it’s about the moon  roommate: critical role moon theory

hey like. how did the family get together in the first timeline holy fuck. it’s hard enough to get them together when they Literally Know The World Is Going To End

so remember diego getting grazed with a bullet yeah well he has a sling on now which makes sense!! and yet. when five got grazed by a bullet he SLAPS A BANDAID ON IT. someone please address this.

five is such an asshole coworker i love it

i wonder if dot is a mother. or just a nice coworker. she keeps trying to talk to him and invite him to lunch aww

i wonder if it’s purposeful on the handler’s part to call him “mr. five” instead of “mr. hargreeves” to like... further isolate him from his family? by removing his last name they’re sort of removing his ties to his siblings considering it’s not like they’re related by blood

forgot how much i hate the bathroom scene !! wow !! hate it so much!!! there’s so many violations of social etiquette in such a short scene! it’s so deeply uncomfortable!

luther: stop it pogo! you know everything our dad did

i am remembering once again how much i hate pogo all over again!! reginald literally locked klaus in a mausoleum!! he abused the kids! pogo didn’t even speak up about sending luther to the MOON,,, oh luther :(

he just learned his dad exiled him for no reason he has lots of rights his entire world view was just shattered wow i am like infinitely more sympathetic to luther on the second watch

“I knew allison and luther was a thing. you told me allison and luther was a weird thing. still not a fan.” - my very valid roommate

they could have made the fort so much more sibling-y instead of romantic and it would have been so much better honestly

oh dave :(

“I wonder who her primary care physician is and if she can find out what that medication was...” roommate i wish i knew

“I’m trying to decide if he knew ahead to time to try and get at her specifically or like... i don’t know when he took the figurine I was like ‘doesn’t he own an antique shop is he there to steal antiques from the family home’.” roommate on leonard

forgot the handler gifted five a suit. also don’t like that. don’t like her talk about his body and everything either.

“is it too much to ask to give him two outfits? one he can wear now and one with the new body?” - roommate

honestly with hazel’s talk on budget cuts i’m not surprised he only gets one suit

STOP TOUCHING HIS FACE,,,, HANDLER. STOP TOUCHING HIS FACE

five and his sweet tooth. don’t take the candy five. come on. what did your father TEACH YOU. honestly reggie probably was like “let them get kidnapped it will probably teach them a life lesson”

“there were like... villages that needed rebuilding after disasters. he could have been sending these packages to legit lunar research facilities. legit facilities would have adored to have that information.” 

okay but people KNEW he was on the moon. cha-cha mentioned it. it was in vanya’s book. why were scientists not knocking down reginald’s door demanding the research??? if i was a moon scientist i would have the mansion staked out trying to demand info jesus

“love his eye fluttering in the way of ‘oh shit i got something in my eye i can’t break character scene is still going scene is stILL GOING’“ - hilarious observations from the allison luther fort scene 2.0: grown up version that gets erased

did they just leave the fort up all those years. did no one USE the green house??? did grace lovingly work around it all that time?

oh :(  dave :(

grace is capable of lying and pogo is a shadowy motherfucker

“okay now that they’re actually putting it into the plot i understand why you don’t think he’s trustworthy but you really got on my back about that”

in my defense i just hate him tbh i did not like him when he first showed up and i never particularly liked him tbh

allison: i think you’re the only person who knows who i am and likes me anyway

me, remembering the theory that allison rumored luther to love her: HMMMMMM

okay but i think the luther and allison dance scene is fucking HILARIOUS. absolutely ridiculous. i mean i hate that it’s incest but also the fucking LIGHTS DESCENDING. the RANDOM WARDROBE CHANGE. 

roommate likes the green underskirt thing under allison’s random dance dress

are they just doing this in public???

ugh. the kiss. ugh. erased that from my memory as well

“they clearly want romance in this show but they painted themselves into a corner with the siblings thing” - roommate

five and his fucking STAPLERS isn’t this the second time he’s knocked someone out with a stapler?? the bank robber and now gloria??

five please your siblings were finally doing some decent work on their own issues :/

five is the kind of dramatic as fuck entrances 

“love how he just grabs [allison’s] coffee. kid needs a coffee after all that.” - roommate

five actually does a good job of rallying the siblings though?? they just broke the fuck up in the og timeline

“something tells me that harold jenkins might be leonard”

oh roommate

episode seven

uh oh harold was born

i feel vaguely bad for him

“me the night before a convention” - roommate on harold’s tape and cosplay and everything

okay but how did reginald even KNOW harold jenkins had no powers?? did he? keep tabs on all the forty some kids not just the seven he kept?

but also why the fuck are these people laughing at An Actual Child fuck all of them honestly

“did HE kill hargreeves?? I mean. he’s got motive.” - roommate

harold really said “i think my superpower is actually this hammer motherfucker”

how did he get twelve years?? was he tried as an adult?? was he in juvie? how old WAS he

twelve years ago... they’re 29 soooo seventeen? he did NOT look seventeen? he was NOT seventeen in that flashback what???

roommate theorizes that harold ran off after the murder and committed petty crimes until caught and tried for murder when he was seventeen so was maybe 13 in the flashback

okay so i looked up the timeline and he got out in 2014 or something so he was like 13 in the flashback which makes SO much more sense honestly but also what the FUCK was he doing for five years

“he’s actually laying out all the facts as he knows them and I appreciate that.” -roommate about five briefing the team

five?? the only member of the family with communication skills? it’s? somehow more likely than you think?

“allison’s pants that she’s wearing now are the most perfectly tailored things i’ve ever seen. not even a wrinkle when she’s standing still. do you know how hard that is to do?” again my roommate noticing the things i absolutely do not

five. five. you have a GUT WOUND and also jumped a BUNCH OF TIMES. you are not blinking into the police station and getting the file. you need some SLEEP. and REST. and WOUND CARE FIVE FOR FUCK’S SAKE. you still have a GUNSHOT GRAZE on your upper arm and a SLICE on your wrist from DIGGING OUT A TRACKER. FIVE.

diego wants to be batman SO BAD.

five crossing his arms and Not Uncrossing Them because he’s literally HOLDING HIMSELF TOGETHER.

wow luther is really handling this so much worse in this timeline rip

luther is losing validity points for CHOKING KLAUS i knew this happened but i didn’t remember how awful it was !!! bad and terrible! and luther is very drunk and very sad and very angry. oh. he’s saying he never left the house and never had friends for nothing :(

klaus had the realization that reggie was an asshole YEARS ago and he’s just kind of like “aww. luther :(” 

klaus is trying so hard

“Klaus has had the most heart to hearts with the most siblings honestly.” - roommate

allison at the beginning making her laugh in the office with the EYES, five on the steps of meritech, diego after the vet bar, luther on the couch...

wow cha cha really thought hazel was talking about how meaningful his partnership was with her when he was talking about agNES

five limping up the lawn and staggering up the stairs and clinging to the rails baBY SIT DOWN. YOU ARE BLEEDING.

“inspiring leadership” “one of the greats” what a sibling moment honestly.

five really said “i think i will pass the fuck out now”

five really said “hey i am literally willing to die for this mission because this mission is the safety and lives of my entire family and i love you guys :(”

except he doesn’t because five is decent at information sharing but getting feelings out of him feels like pulling teeth at times smh

is leonard trying to vicariously live his “normal child born on the umbrella academy day discovers they have had powers the WHOLE TIME” dream through vanya??

we yell about how leonard and vanya have known each other for like a week but i mean same for hazel and agnes!! he’s literally asking her to run away with him and she says yes !!!!! agnes is here for the romantic adventure with this man she’s really living her first hot girl summer and living for it

“she’s having her own little rom com! she thinks she’s living in a rom com not a dark sci fi!” - roommate accurate as usual

she just called ben the emotional support ghost and i mean... she ain’t wrong

honestly klaus should have just left luther to his rave, he didn’t get to party in his teens or during his college years or anything

i do appreciate the viking yell of “B R O T H E R” that luther greets klaus with though because that’s exactly how i greet my own siblings whenever i see them

oh klaus :(

oh klaus :(

he’s having war flashbacks, cravings, is in withdrawal, AND experiencing sensory overload while reliving one of the more traumatizing moment of his life

oh klaus :(

five in a bed for the second time of the season which is nice for him. if only the first time wasn’t because he passed out drunk and the second time wasn’t because of a whole shrapnel wound. i am now that captain of the Let Five Sleep brigade holy SHIT like at least they imply that the others sleep five is just feral and ready to go at all times

are the police allowed to just. remove someone’s arm sling? is that permitted? his arm could be fucked up? i mean. it is? he was shot?

“I saw everything my brothers and sister could do ruin their lives” VANYA some REALIZATION up in here,,,, admitting that the umbrella academy wasn’t exactly a desirable place to be is actually some real growth for her and leonard just fucking shuts her down? fuck that man

VANYA SEE THE RED FLAGS FOR WHAT THEY ARE COME ON

oh klaus :(  oh luther :(  oh :(

“love his corset side pants, like benedict from violet evergarden” - on the topic of Klaus’s pants

“I made everyone else so I must have made you” says god except for the fact that the kids just... surprise popped up instead of coming about the natural way. maybe god DIDN’T made them????????

oh klaus :(  prepare for disappointment :(

oh i didn’t notice the photos of the umbrella academy in the barbershop the first time i watched this

so klaus gives an age for the mausoleum... thirteen... do you think that was before or after five left? statistically it’s probably after bc it was only a couple of months after they turned thirteen that five vanished

Klaus’s “we were just kids” breaks my heart every time

if i was one of reggie’s kids i would have just not gone to the funeral. rip to the hargreeves kids but i’m different

he doesn’t even call klaus klaus in death, he still calls klaus number four. fuck that man.

“i was gonna say i’d have been very very surprised if they kept him dead” - roommate on klaus waking up

“Five bucks says he set these guys up to try and get something out of her” - the roommate being very perceptive

cha cha is VERY rude to my girl agnes

honestly why DIDN’T hazel just kill cha cha after her whole speech and threats about killing agnes slowly in front of him???? like he literally watched her try to kill him as well

why wasn’t diego arrested in the original day that wasn’t actually?? he was being considered already. he still left the house, albeit with grace instead of allison. why wasn’t he arrested then???????? 

roommate thinks it’s interesting how committed the show is to their old timey shit. she used a nicer words like anachronisms but the point is: w h y

are these episodes even longer than i remember?? holy SHIT

[s-trawberryv-eins]

A Poorly Kept Secret

NOT MY GIF

Prompt: Fake not dating for @lets-hargrooves writing challenge!

Summary: The plan was to keep it secret a little longer. Sam has other ideas.

Warnings: Violence, injury, angst.

A/N: My terrible and LATE entry for the Valentines Day Writing Challenge. My prompt was fake not dating. I kinda strayed but I think (?) it still counts! It’s absolute trash, it’s sh*t, don’t waste your time! Hasn’t been proofread, try not to throw up when you read it!

Bucky Barnes x reader

Avengers x reader

Word count: 2839

Masterlist

“Good evening Agent, Sergeant.” As Y/N and Bucky strolled into the empty common room hand in hand, the were immediately greeted by FRIDAY. “You’re both required upstairs straight away.”

Sharing a look of confusion, the pair headed straight to the elevator with a shrug. As they waited, Barnes realised he really didn’t want to let go of the girls hand. Tonight had been their third date, and his feelings for his teammate had grown quickly.

“I wish we coulda stayed out longer.” Y/N smiled at his confession, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

“Me too. But I’m gonna run the risk of assuming we’d both be up for another date, so I’m not gonna cry too hard about it.” The smile on her face made her cheeks ache, but she relished in the feeling. Taking a step closer to the soldier, she kept her eyes on his, staring up through thick black lashes.

“I would 100%, most definitely be up for another date, Miss Y/L/N. In fact, I insist upon it.” Barnes’ words had her blushing again, and she subconsciously scolded herself for falling for the man so quickly.

“I’ll make the reservations.” Bucky left no room for disagreement but found she didn’t mind so long as they were going out again.

“Where?”

“I’m not telling.” And then her lips were on his and she swore she’d never felt anything like it before. Soft and hot, seared into her brain for the rest of time and thank god because to forget this would be to commit a crime punishable by death. Bucky’s hand that held her own was pressed against her back, holding her ever closer. His other hand rested at the base of her neck as he ran his thumb over her flushed cheek.

It wasn’t their first kiss, but it was most definitely their first kiss. And as they separated, breathless and surprised by Y/N sudden initiation of the intimacy, they stayed close; foreheads resting against each other, hands still entwined. As if the universe had been looking down on them, the elevator doors opened not a second too soon, allowing them to have their moment in peace.

-

After no less than fifteen minutes in the board room, the team was fully briefed and boarding the Quinjet, headed for the Appalachian Mountains. Tasks and objectives had been delegated, and everybody knew their roles.

“Hey Y/N? Where were you tonight?” Natasha and Y/N had planned to train together, but the latter had bailed after making plans with Bucky.

“Oh. I was on a date, actually. Some loser I met on my run this morning. Definitely won’t be seeing him again.” Scrunching her nose up in faux disgust, Natasha laughed and went to sit with the girl to press for details. The lie came easily enough; she was rather gifted in the field of espionage after all.

Something in Bucky’s chest sank a little at her words. It’d been his idea to keep it between the two of them, but it wasn’t pleasant. When Sam approached, it only made matters worse.

“Why the sour face? You mad cos people here can actually get dates? Ha. I’ll set you up Barnes!” Trying his best to tune his friend out, Bucky made himself comfortable. It was going to be a long flight.

-

After three days, the Winter Solider was becoming increasingly frustrated with the current state of affairs. Barnes and Barton had been paired up and given the job of the eyes in the sky. The site they were aiming to infiltrate and take down was located on the east side of the mountain range. Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier were to keep an eye out, and slowly dispose of the guards who stood around the perimeter.

The facility was expecting two ‘specialists’ to arrive from England. After the team had located the expected, they grabbed them before they’d made their presence known. Upon learning that the facility did not know what they looked like, only their names, Y/N and Sam had volunteered to go under cover; Bucky wasn’t happy, but he was even more unhappy that he couldn’t really protest.

The rest of the team were to infiltrate the site and free the hostages being held there for human experimentation, before taking the whole thing to pieces.

The only problem was, this couldn’t be an in and out mission. It relied heavily on Falcon and Y/C/N disabling the surprisingly high-tech security system.  In order to stand a chance, they had to be trusted enough to be left alone - an unlikely feat.

“Romanoff,” Barnes’ watchful eye spotted two guards approaching from the right, a blind spot the redheaded assassin was working around. “3 ‘o’ clock.” With his eye trained perfectly on the scope of his weapon, he offered a countdown for Black Widow to position herself accordingly.

“In 3...2…” In the space of a second, Natasha had cleared the space, Bucky had fired, and his targets were down. Clockwork.

A thankyou from Natasha and she was back to work. 

“If everything’s gone to schedule, we should be clear for entry in 3 minutes. If not, we’ve got trouble and we need to get those two out of here.” 

An arrow fired, narrowly missing the Captain as it soared through the air and pierced the jugular of an approaching target. Steve’s eyes tracked the path of the arrow, scowling when they landed on the man who let it fly.

“Nearly had my eye out, Barton.”

But with a soft smirk and a tilt of the head, the marksman replied “no chance, Cap. I never miss!”

“If you’ve done flirting, shall we?” Tony’s voice rang out, summoning those on ground level to the rendezvous point. As they approached, Steve stood forward, waiting for Tony’s signal to attempt entrance. The blond reached for the door but jumped back into a defensive stance when the buzzer sounded, and the door seemed to open by itself.

Everyone readied for a fight, unsure of what they’d find waiting for them behind the large steel contraption when a voice crackled through.

“I’m sorry guys. We were made.”

-

The doors peeled open, loud and creaking, adding to the tension that stood in the moment. Two guards stepped into the light, one gripping Y/N by her neck and the other Sam. It was clear that they’d not lasted long in the facility by the way the bruising had coloured on their faces. Yellowing already, it was proof that their friends had been suffering several days.

Bucky stood breathless; unsure of how to respond to the threat in front of him, he did the only thing he felt he could. Shouldering his weapon once again, he trained it on the face of the man who held the girl he was falling for, unsure of whether she was even still breathing.

Upon watching Barnes take aim, Barton followed suit, waiting for instructions from his Captain.

“We’ve got a lock.”

“Negative! Y/L/N and Wilson could be dead before you’ve even released. Stand down.” Drawing a shaky breath, Bucky was set to follow orders when a gravelly feminine voice broke through the comms tech. 

“Do it, Bucky.” Panic bloomed in his chest, a feeling he’d never felt before.

“Do it or he will. You don’t really think they’ll let us leave alive, do you? We saw too much.” As the words left her mouth, the grip on her throat increased. Bucky couldn’t breathe. Her words were true, he knew that much. But was he really capable of shooting his teammate, of shooting Y/N?

“Stop talking or your friend dies.” Sam was hanging onto consciousness by a thread, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

“South east wing has an elevator-“ Sam screwed his eyes shut as he felt the gun press into his back, and he readied himself for death.

“Bottom floor-“ the gunshots fired before anybody could blink. Y/Ns body crumpled to the ground, as did the men holding the two Avengers captive, but Sam stayed on his feet. Spinning around to assess the damage, the team snapped back into action immediately. Steve called for a medical evacuation whilst Sam located the shot the girl had suffered.

“GSW to the shoulder. She’s losing too much, she’s been...she’s been bleeding for-“ A hand came to sit on Wilson’s shoulder, gently prying him from the girl.

“Sam? Hey! You’re in shock. Let Tony take a look.” Natasha pulled Falcon along, barely flinching when he threw himself into her arms.

“Good shot, Barnes. In one side, out the other. And into that guys chest by the looks of things. You too, Hawkeye.” Tony assessed the damage before coating the bullet wound in an antibacterial spray.

The men simply nodded, but Bucky barely heard a thing for the sound of his blood thundering through his veins. 

-

“Sam, please. You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I’m the one who shot her, for crying out loud.” Bucky tried to reason with his friend, who, since returning home from the mission, had buried himself in a ditch of guilt, shame, and helplessness as Y/N remained unconscious, hooked up to a range of machines in the med bay.

“You weren’t in there, Barnes! You weren’t…I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t make it.” Sam’s confession had Bucky’s heart jump up and land in his throat. He’d been gripping on to the hope the doctors had given them, and he’d been remaining laughably optimistic since they returned. But if she didn’t pull through? What would any of them do?

The Winter Soldier looked his friend up and down; Sam had been in bad shape when they wheeled him from the Quinjet, but the wounds were mostly superficial. After a round of antibiotics, a good nights sleep and a day of bed rest, he was feeling better – physically, at least. The same couldn’t be said for Y/N.

An angry infection had spread from a wound on her leg, poisoning her bloodstream and preventing her healing. Surprising, but much to Bucky’s relief, the gunshot wound had been the least of her problems when she’d returned. The infection had rendered her entirely out of action, consciousness only coming in fleeting moments before the girl slipped back into a sleepy state again.

“It’s been three days. She should be awake.” Sam’s words loomed over, hanging in the air like a threat. It had crossed Bucky’s mind, but he refused to allow himself to go there.

“Sam! Bucky! Tony wants us there; he’s got an update.” Wanda appeared out of nowhere, and vanished just as quickly, but the boys took no notice as they made their way to the med bay.

-

Upon arriving, Steve, Natasha, Clint and Tony were already there.

“Well?” Wilson took to demanding answers instantly. “Tony?”

Stark’s eyes were clouded over, seeming darker than they ever had before. “Y/N’s awake for now but-“ sucking in a breath before continuing, the team didn’t waste a second.

“I’m sorry.” Tony’s voice rang out after them, but they never heard it. Grief hit in a tidal wave, and every second felt more precious than the last.

Joining the rest of the team in Y/Ns room, Bucky felt sick to his stomach. A thousand ‘what if’s rang through his brain, a million questions that would never get answered. It seemed that the universe would never again smile down upon him, as if he’d been testing his luck even taking more than a glimpse at the girl.

“Why do you all look so miserable?” With a voice weak from dehydration, Y/N reached out to grab Sam’s hands, tugging him closer with the little strength she had. When nobody responded, she grew nervous.

“Seriously?”

“Y/N/N, we spoke to Tony…” Confusion crossed her face, brows furrowing as she tried to decipher why on earth the superheroes in front of her looked shaken to their cores. It was only after a second of thought that it clicked.

Pushing herself up into an upright position, the girl rolled her eyes before shouting the man guilty of the long faces in the room.

“TONY STOP TELLING PEOPLE I’M DYING!” A second later, it seemed to click. An exasperated sigh from Natasha and she and Clint left the room, promising to come back later on after they’d found and killed Tony. Steve pressed a kiss to the side of her head, and also took his leave to go and stop Nat from killing Tony.

“So you’re okay?” The look of shock on Wilson’s face never left, despite the sudden reassurance that she wasn’t in fact dying.

“Bucky, help me up a sec?” Pushing the covers away from her body, she used the super soldier as leverage to pull herself to her feet. Turning away from him, the girl leaned on him for support, her back pressed against his chest as if to reassure them both at the same time. Bucky sighed as she leaned into him, grateful to be close to her again, even if it wasn’t quite as close as he wanted to be.

Dressed only in cotton shorts and a hoodie, her legs were bare.

“Look, Sammy. It’s a little sore, but it’s better. See?” Gesturing to the hot pink jagged scar that trailed down her thigh, she waited for Sam to settle.

“And-…and the bullet wound?” A smile danced on her lips as he slowly started to believe her.

“Bucky’s a real good shot, Sam. Didn’t hit anything important, and it’s healing real good. Just a few bruises.” Sam stayed silent; arms unsettled at his sides, gaze stuck on the floor. Y/N sensed his unease, and after squeezing Bucky’s hand firmly, she let go of him. On wobbly legs, she made her way over to her shaken friend, and pulled him in for a firm hug.

“I’m okay. You’re okay. Tony did a mean thing and I’m sorry. You protected me, Sam. They’d have done so much worse if you hadn’t stopped them. You saved me, Sammy.” As if a light bulb came on, the hug was suddenly returned tenfold.

After almost a full minute, Wilson pulled away, a determined look in his eye.

“You’re okay. I’m gonna go kill Tony too. Just in case he isn’t dead enough already.” With a sad smile and a reassuring nod, Sam left the room, leaving Y/N and Bucky alone.

“You promise? You swear to me right now that you’re okay?” The soldiers resolve melted away entirely, and with too large strides forward the girl was in his arms again.

“Y/N? I mean it!” The fear in his voice was prominent, and it took Y/N by surprise. Nodding despite herself, she fought to reassure another one of her teammates that she was healing well.

“Bucky? Look at me, Buck.” Taking his face in her hands, the look in his eyes broke her heart completely. The icy blue was clouded with fear, with the sadness that he was struggling to let go of.

“Bucky, darling? I’m alright. I’m worn out, and I’m in a bit of pain, but I am okay. I swear to you-“

He was the one kissing her this time, and it frightened her how good it felt. Urgent and wanted for far too long, Bucky seemed to pour everything he had into the kiss. But then he pulled away frantically, as if something had burned him.

“I SHOT YOU! What the fuck?” The shock on Y/Ns face dissolved into a fit of giggles as the Winter Soldier stood wide eyed before her.

“We’ve been on three dates, and then I shot you. Oh God.” The giggling continued until a loud gasp sounded from the doorway. Spinning around, her jaw dropped open to see that Sam had returned midway through their conversation.

“YOU’VE BEEN ON THREE WHAT”

“Sam…” The warning tone in Bucky’s voice did nothing to still the obvious excitement ready to bubble over and out them both to the team.

“Sammy, we need you to keep it a secret okay? Please, please don’t tell anyone yet?” With a suspicious eye, Sam looked the pair up and down.

“Okay! I hate you! Fine!” Storming out of the room, Falcon marched off down the hallway, a string of curses leaving his mouth as he did so, earning a belly laugh from Barnes.

Grabbing Bucky’s hands in her own, Y/N looked up to meet his eyes. “Will you sit with me a while? It gets kinda-“

“EVERYONE! BARNES AND Y/N ARE DATING.”

Fear quickly filled the girls bones, she was entirely unsure of what this meant. Would Bucky run and hide? Would he want to call it quits? Was it over?

As if sensing her unease, Barnes raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“I guess that’s that then.”

Reaching forward, he grabbed her hips and pulled her forward with a gentle force. Lips collided, a warm passion wanting to be explored. The sergeant held the girl ever closer, but the kiss softened.

No urgency, now they had all the time in the world.