#and he may be 70 but hes still 6 foot nothing and i have no strength and i still managed to throw the bastard down

[hballegro]

I had a dream where there was a murder mystery and some of the suspects were Obama, the couple from Ruthless People, Scott Bakula [like, present day, not QL era], three people from my middle school, and like half my immediate family, and upon getting an ending I didn't like [Scott was the killer] I woke up, remembered 90% of the dream including a final chase sequence, decided that ending SUCKED and I didn't wanna be awake yet, fell RIGHT back asleep, and returned right back to my fuckin dream and got a different ending that I now cannot remember [it wasn't any of the people I listed, but I also can't really remember who it was? It was a guy, and he was affluent, but I dont remember rip]

You WISH you were me

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

For the next several days, Bakugou stopped in towns along the train route that were in the easterly direction to see if any other strange reports had been made. He wasn’t sure if the first man’s attack had anything to do with his friend, but in the towns, he was able to confirm a sighting of a green streak, there were coinciding reports of attacks in the days preceding them. Always a similar story, late at night, didn’t see the attacker, and bite wounds on various parts of the body such as the arm, shoulder, or even neck. The other thing they had in common, were the victims were found in drunken stupors. Was it a coincidence? What was another coincidence, is after the first victim, the rest were all what police classified as problems. With or without quirks, they were bad men who had lists of crimes under their belts. That meant whatever was causing the attacks now appeared to have a specific target.

Bakugou stood in the Ena township police station, tapping his foot to release some of the pent-up energy. “Yesterday,” he questioned the desk sergeant, “are you telling me that attack was just yesterday evening?”

The man nodded. “The victim is still in the hospital being treated for low blood levels. They’ve had to keep him sedated through the IV infusions because he wouldn’t stop screaming about a man with green eyes.”

“And there’s no other incidences?” The officer shook his head. “That means the attacker could still be here.”

“Wait, do you know who it is?”

Bakugou shook his head no. He wasn’t about to tell some beat cop who he suspected it could be. “It’s just based off the pattern I’ve been tracking. There are usually a few attacks over the spans of one to three days, and then they just end. So, if this was the first, it means there will be more.”

After speaking with the cops and getting a map for the area of the latest attack, Bakugou staked out the scene. There are no traces left behind to say who or what had caused the attacks, but what he did notice of the area is it was a seedy side of town. The victim said he’d been pulled off the main street into an adjoining alley way around 1 am, too quickly to even get a scream out. He remembered the time because the bar he’d just left had hit its closing time. The alley was narrow, and empty save for a few dumpsters for neighboring shops, no doorways or lighting, perfect for hiding in.

‘Tonight, is still a new moon…’ Bakugou noted, which added to the dark cover of night. After his reconnaissance, he went back to his tiny hotel room to get a few hours of sleep. It was going to be a long night.

It was a decision he didn’t know if he would come to regret someday, but in the end, the blonde hero realized that his flashier costume would make him stand out way too easily. So, after foregoing his costume, Bakugou dressed all in black for the undercover work. He climbed to the roof of a building, dead center of the area the attacker might choose in the hopes that the green lightning seen by eyewitnesses will be the tell-tale sign he’ll be able to use to track the person. Patience wasn’t exactly his virtue, but it was the only way he was gonna catch the guy.

The first night’s stakeout yielded nothing. No sightings, no attacks. Which could mean anything or nothing. Previous attacks didn’t always take place every night in a row, but it could also mean the attacker had moved on. Did they catch-wind of him being there and fled? Damn he hoped not! This was the closest he’d come to catching up to the green lightning! Two nights later, Bakugou was growing disillusioned. Every day he checked back with the authorities to make sure no other sightings had been made in town or in surrounding cities, and with the answer being ‘no’ each time, there was a small glimmer of hope he was still in the right place at the right time.

But as he laid on a rooftop on the night of day 4, a lot of thoughts were plaguing him because there was nothing to do while waiting but think. Sometimes he would run the events of that AFO fight though his mind trying to remember any little details that may help him. Other times, it would be about Midoriya and what could have possibly made the man run off like this. Those thought’s either left him broken or wanting to strangle the guy for causing them so much pain. Midoriya better damn well be ready to do a hell of a lot of apologizing to their friends and family!

Bakugou grimaced at the last thought. Such personal emotions he would rather lock away into some box deep within the recesses of his soul than to admit the truth. He told himself he was doing this for their friends. He tried to convince himself that he was doing this for aunty Inko and to make All Might proud. These were a part of the search, yes… but not the full reason. The blonde had to admit he missed the stupid nerd. Midoriya was his childhood friend, and no matter how much shit he gave the guy, he was the one person he could count on. He was still determined to beat the mouse and become the Number one hero… but he was also proud of how far Midoriya had come in the last three years. It would be a shame for it all to be thrown away now.

Just as he was ready to call it a night, Bakugou heard a muffled scream from a nearby street. He rushed over as quickly as possible, racing into the alley way just as the unconscious victim’s body is being laid down. Bloody hell he was right all along!

“DEKU?!”

All he could see was the person’s back, but he’d know those red shoes anywhere. The mousy green hair looked even wilder than normal. Midoriya still had on his costume, but it was torn up with a raggedy cloak swaddling his upper body. Simply put, his friend looked like a homeless man off the streets. The figure froze for a second, then without turning to face off against Bakugou immediately flashed with green and took off into the sky. Green lightning!

“DEKU YOU, FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!” Bakugou blasted off after the man. Damn it, his gear would have helped with the propulsion! He couldn’t remember him being so quick before, what the hell was going on? Midoriya was streaking away, zigzagging along roof tops, and heading towards a section of industrial warehouses. If it wasn’t for the quirks electrical output to tell him where to go, he could easily lose sight in the darkness.

He gritted his teeth and pushed his quirk to its limit. There was no way Bakugou was going to screw up this opportunity. So, if he couldn’t catch up, he could knock the nerd out of the sky! “ARRGHH!!!” He sent repeated AP-Auto shots towards Midoriya at medium power, growing angrier as the man dodged the first few volleys. “THAT’S IT!!!!” In his rage, Bakugou increased the spread like buck shots of crackling fire ringing around the fleeing figure, and he kept up the pace in rapid succession.

“AHHHHH!”

The scream pierced the night and Bakugou saw several hits knock the man off course, barreling the body straight for the ground. It wasn’t his intention to hurt, but damn it, Midoriya shouldn’t have run in the first place! He turned on the turbo and reached the man just as he was trying to get back on his feet.

“Don’t fucking think about it!” Bakugou grabbed the man’s shoulder and whipped him around. “Goddamn it Deku! What the fuck is your problem?!”

“K-Kacchan, wh-wh—”

“Don’t you Kacchan me, you bastard!” He gripped tightly so that Midoriya can’t squirm away easily. “Did you think I wouldn’t come looking for you idiot!”

“Yes.”

It was as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Okay, he should be surprised by that answer. When had he ever acted like he cared when it came to Midoriya? But that didn’t mean such a quick and blunt response wouldn’t hit him like a brick to the head. And you know what, he has shown he cared in his own way. Damn it! When has he ever just left the man behind? His fist balled up and cocked back, striking Izuku hard on the chin and sending him back to the ground. “Stupid fuck!” Bakugou spat the words out before dropping to his knees on top of the man. “I ought ‘a beat the crap out of you right now for even thinking that!”

But Midoriya shoved back trying to push the man off. “What the fuck are you talking about?! You don’t give a shit about me, never have! When the hell did you start caring?!” He kicked and twisted, fighting the larger male. “Get the fuck off me! I can’t stay here!”

“You are coming home with me Deku whether you like it or not!”

“NOOOOOO!!!” Midoriya activated his quirk up to 70% and bucked Bakugou off him. “It’s too dangerous, Kacchan just get away from me!” He took a stance to spring himself back into the air, but the blonde scrambled and jumped on top of him, pushing him back to the ground. “Get off, I don’t want to hurt you!” Midoriya screamed. This was getting out of control. Exhausting so much energy on Bakugou was stirring up his hunger and if that happened, he didn’t know if he could control himself.

“What the fuck ya gonna do, drink my blood too? What the hell is going on with you Deku?! Goddamn it tell me what the fuck happened in that forest!”

“Y-You know about that?”

“How do you think I tracked your ass down?!”

The pain is his stomach was rising fast. Midoriya winced as the rush of blood sounded off in his ears and other tell-tale signs progressively made its entrance. This was not good! “Kacchan please,” his voice whined and pleaded through the aching throb in his core, “let me go before something happens.”

“I don’t care what it takes Deku, I can’t lose you again.”

“I-I’m so sorry Kacchan.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen as he saw a dark red sheen enveloping the whites of Midoriya’s eyes. Is this what happened when he’d attacked all those men?

Every last nerve was fighting against control. It was an option Midoriya didn’t want to use, but if he could control it just a little longer, all he wanted to do was give himself a head start. “Please,” he begged one more time, “just forget about me Kacchan.”

“Get it through your fucking head! I’M NOT LEAVING YOU!”

That was the last thing Bakugou remembered…

[phonecallwithsatan]

Rain

a.n.: ugh sorry for my leave of absense. was depressed. something new... now writing for Spencer, i hope yall like it! if youre here, hey, if youre not, welcome back! <3 gender neutral fluff, maybe at 1.5k 💛

y/n surprises Spencer with his favorite book amidst admiring his hair while sitting in the car with rain pouring down in D.C.

✩

Being the Representative for D.C.’s at Large Congressional District was your dream job, and is your dream job. It does however leave for no free time, but today was different.

You were able to take off surprisingly earlier than usual, which led to a rare night off. Luckily your boyfriend, Spencer Reid, also had a free night from the B.A.U., something that was also rare for his line of work. You were planning to meet him at his apartment at 6. 

The leaves on the sidewalk had turned into mush piles of orange and red as your boots walked through piles of water and leaf-mush. You were walking to your all-time favorite book store in D.C., the one Spencer had taken you to countless times.

You looked up and saw that the already darkened sky from the Autumn weather had clouds rolling in, leading to more rain. Luckily you were already at the book store, stepping in and brushing your boots off on the doormat at the entrance of the store.

“Hi, Grace!” Your favorite sales clerk was working today.

Grace looked up from her book and smiled at you. “Hey, y/n. We got some new shipments, do you want to look through them? I haven’t put anything new out yet.”

“After I look around if you’re not busy? I’m kind of in a rush,” you looked down at your watch and saw that it was 5:30. You may not make it for your date at Spencer’s apartment. 

Grace nodded and you carried on into the depths of the bookstore, cascading your eyes on the different colors of the book spines, some cracked, some not, and some nearly falling off. 

You plucked Fahrenheit 451 off the wall and recognized the cover to be from the 70s, smiling at yourself because of the glorious find. You’d always known this bookstore had amazing books, but not something like this. This was your favorite book, and you probably owned copies, but not this one.

Ray Bradbury was displayed at the top, followed by the title, finishing off with a woman’s face at the bottom, lit up in between a blaze of fire coming from two books. Spencer would freak out if he saw this, you thought to yourself.

You had decided to look for his favorite book too. 

Still under B in the book store, you searched through more of Ray Bradbury’s work until you found your boyfriend’s favorite- The Illustrated Man. 

You found two copies. One which was the other that Spencer kept around his house all the time, and one that had a particular cover you hadn’t seen before. Pushing the other book back into its spot, you tucked Fahrenheit 451 under your arm and flipped to the first few pages. You gasped at the publishing date. 1951. An original.

Spencer would be running circles if he was next to you. You looked down at your watch when the thought of Spencer came to your mind. 5:51, read the clock. You took the book and walked up to Grace who asked you for the new shipment once again.

“Not today, Grace,” you said as you placed both books on the counter. You looked outside as Grace was ringing the books up and explaining the significance. Rain. Hard, pouring rain, ruined your chances to get to his apartment at a reasonable time and pace. You were planning to take the Metro to his apartment but those plans were diminished when you saw the bolt of thunder paint the sky a slight white for a moment.

“$9.53 for today, y/n.” Grace said. She must have not known about the covers, even though she had just explained the history. 

You gave her your card and she fiddled with the new system. You took this time to call your boyfriend. He never said no to picking you up.

The phone rang once when he picked up.

“Hey, y/n. Where are you?” He asked not-so-patiently. 

“Spencer, can you come pick me up? I’m sorry but it’s raining, like, really hard over here. I’m still in the city.”

Your man stuttered and you heard him run to get his keys.

“Yeah, where are you? I’ll come.” The keys jangled in the background.

“I’m at Second Story,” you said. You knew he would be mad.

“Without me?” You heard the door of his apartment open.

“I’m sorry, Spence, I was in the area.” 

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He hung up and you went back to Grace. She was wrapping up the books and the machine was screaming for you to take your card out of the chip reader. 

You took it out and placed it in your wallet. You loved this place mostly because of the atmosphere, first off. The second was because of the memories you had with Spencer.

Grace carefully wrapped the edges of your book with the brown wrapping paper that you knew and love. It was her special touch.

“Hey, while you’re wrapping those, can I look through the boxes?” She looked up and nodded. You turned and knelt down to open the first box. You picked up a few biographies, some cookbooks, and a Sci-Fi novel with an interesting cover. Just as you were about to pick up the book, your phone started to buzz in your pocket. Spencer. 

You got up and saw a text from Spencer. Here.

You thanked Grace and grabbed the books from her hands. “y/n, I marked 451’s wrapping on the side so you don’t mix them up.” You thanked her once again.

 Pushing the door of the bookstore open, you scanned for Spencer’s blue Volvo. You finally saw it parked with its signature circle headlights shining bright way at the end of your street. You began to walk through the hard and cold rain and quickly tucked the two books in your coat so they would not get ruined. 

You were still far from the car but you saw Spencer get out and walk to you. 

“Spencer!” You called out, confused as to why he was getting himself all wet. 

You were getting closer to the car but further from dry clothes. Spencer smiled at you and opened the car door, making you grin at the gesture. You sped up and cupped your hand to his face mid-stride before getting in the car. He closed the door after you placed your right foot in the cars interior.

He jumped around to get to the driver’s side and you waited for his expression for when you gave him the book.

Spencer got in and closed the door before smiling at you. He leaned over and kissed you, not too eager but also not too light, you took one hand and cupped his face once more before pulling away. He didn’t move from his position and placed a hand on your leg.

“Thanks for coming to pick me up, I got you something actually.” You took the books out of your coat’s protection after he said, “of course.”

You made sure his book did not have the marking on it before giving it to him. Spencer took his hand off your leg and took the book in his hands before shedding the wrapping off. 

He looked up at you, then down at the book, just to look up once again.

“y/n, you found this in Second Story? I can’t- thank you, y/n/n,” he cut himself off before flipping through the pages and back to the beginning to look at the publishing date of his favorite book.

He kissed your forehead and you felt his hair drip on your face and you made a face and you looked up at his half wet and half dry hair. His expression changed when he saw yours. He quickly forgot though and he went back to analyzing the book you picked up for him.

Rolling your eyes, you lifted your hand and ran it through his hair, previously slicked back which was now hanging down in sections. You pushed it back and past his ear, going back to tuck it in so it wouldn’t pop out again. You took this chance to go ahead and go back up and comb your fingers through his damp hair and watch it separate and slick back because of the water.

Raindrops hit the glass infront of you while the wipers worked hard.

Spencer’s hair was one of the first things you had noticed about him when you had started dating. He liked to style it in different ways but he always played with one piece that stayed behind his ear. That piece would always pop up while he was working, reading, writing, you name it. Even now, it had managed to escape.

You took this particular piece and began to lightly twirl it around in your fingers. You leaned in a bit and leaned your arm a bit on his body to get a better look at the book in his lap. He analyzed the pages and you were very pleased with the outcome. You spun around the slightly curled piece and ran your hands once again through the side of his head, tucking the piece in behind Spencer’s ear where it usually stayed. You smoothed it down by using the backs of your fingers. Your thumb grazed his cheekbone as you once more moved it up to secure the piece in.

He was flipping through the pages and began to talk about the novel he had in his hands. You loved listening to him ramble.

Your hand moved to the back of his head and you ran your hand up the direction of growth, feeling the wet pieces mix with the dry ones. He explained the unrevised wording in this and that page, and you watched his dimples appear and disappear with every pronunciation of “a” and “s” that came in a word. 

You scratched lightly at the back of his head before moving onto the nape of his neck. There, you had noticed that he had gotten a haircut so there were no stray hairs. You massage lightly and then noticed him tilt his head towards you. This was his favorite. 

“I mean, look at the font. This is nothing like the ones I’ve seen before.” He continued on and you noticed that his hair dried quickly. You left his neck and moved back up to the front where a good amount of hair was dry and frizzy. 

You smoothed it out once again and heard him hum lightly. His hair was soft and had noticeable layering because of the haircut. Your fingers glid through his brown locks and you slid it back this time, taking some of the hair behind his ear with it. 

Instinctively, he took a hand to tuck it back but he met yours instead.

He looked up and took your hand from his head into his, leaving the book in his lap.

“Thank you, y/n. Truly, I just, can’t even process that this is in my hand.” He continued to talk to you about the first edition novel and your poor boy couldn’t finish his sentence as the loud thunder startled him. You laughed and watched the sky light up in various places in front of you.

“Come on, sweet boy. Let’s go home.”

“Home?” He asked.

You let home slip out in your sentence even though you probably spent a good amount of your time there. You probably slept there four times a week.

“Your apartment.” You corrected yourself. You looked away, mentally kicking yourself that you let home slip in.

“So, home,” Spencer said, looking away and taking his hand out of yours to hold onto the shift knob.

You looked back and as he switched to drive. He took your hand back to his as he turned the wheel to the left to exit his parallel parking spot. He looked over and smiled. 

“Yeah,” you responded. You took your hand out of his quickly to brush that annoying piece back behind his ear and took his hand in yours once again. “Home,” you said.

[kingofthenorth49]

Wannabe COVID Police

Christmas has come and gone for another year, and despite their best efforts, we didn’t allow Tim Houston, Robert Strang, Justin Trudeau, or that crazy Tam to ruin our holidays. We still did everything we would have normally done just did it with our personal safety in mind and didn’t worry about the actions of the herd. It worked out just fine didn’t it? I know MANY of you who did the same thing, including some of the aforementioned. Getting it perhaps?  I know a few more of you have woken in the past month or o to the fact that all is not as it seems, and nothing good is coming our way.

Yes, my tin foil hat is on too tight today. I’ve about reach my bullshit saturation point with all this crap that’s going on in the world and the fact that people are either much more stupid/gullible than I expected, or we truly are living Orwell’s vision.

Now it’s time for my annual personal reflection and strat session to set up 2022, and based on the fact that 2021 was an absolute shitshow from just about every metric, I’ve got some serious thinking to do with some difficult decisions to make because we are at a crossroads as the human race and if you can’t see it you are part of the problem, and I mean that coming from a good place to make you realize you aren’t helping.

I posted a video this morning to my social media account that highlights this fact in under three minutes. This video if you think about what is really going on in it shows very clearly that we are screwed as a society, so  for those lucky enough not be subject to my multiple daily rants/posts trying to wake people the hell up before we cross the Rubicon, let me describe the scene that plays out in the video.

There’s a guy standing outside his car with the driver’s door open in what appears to be the middle of an intersection, fully masked, and he’s yelling at the guy who is filming him to put on a mask and stay away from him because the unvaccinated videographer is a threat to his very being. He’s obviously gotten out of his car to confront the random mask wearing anti-vaxxer on the street.

Here’s what is wrong with the entire scenario based on the current science.

1.       Yelling dude is fully vaccinated and states so multiple times. A vaccinated person by definition is protected from the threat if indeed they have received the required courses of an effective vaccine. For the sake of this discussion, I won’t point out the fact that these vaccines are non-sterilizing and therefore cannot prevent transmission. Oops. So technically if the vaccines are safe & effective, the person at risk is the unvaccinated videographer.

2.       Yelling dude is wearing a mask, and while a mask is not a respirator and provides no protective factor to the wearer ( based on cloth density, type of fabric, number of layers, and fit) it may provide some exhalation restriction for large diameter (>10 micron) moisture particles. Keep in mind a Corna1984 virus particle is 0.2-0.4 microns in diameter so a mask pore opening of 40 to 70 microns will do nothing to stop them unless they are attached to one of the aforementioned moisture particles that happen-chances to strike a thread on exhalation. Think about it, ever smelled something even when wearing a mask? Of course you do, they aren’t respirators. So once again yelling dude is protecting the videographer.

3.       Yelling dude is more than 6 feet from the videographer. So science tells us that exhalations travel less than 3 feet under normal breathing/talking scenarios as per the laws of Brownian movement (and not linearly either). The 6 foot guidance is a safety factor of 2. Yelling dude is wearing a mask. There’s very low risk to either party despite yelling dudes yelling, and then the risk profile is higher for the videographer.

4.       They are standing outdoors. Anyone who knows anything about particle movement outdoors and the virus knows that the odds of you catching the cooties  outdoors is almost the same as you winning power ball, even without any masks. It’s asinine to think anything else because unless your French kissing an infected person for 15 minutes straight while standing in a field of flowers, the odds of you accumulating enough viral load in you upper airway, the 0.4 micron particles are going to disapate to the wind the minute they leak from your orifices. Again, the risk is virtually non-existent to either party in the video.

So my point is from a safety perspective there’s low risk of a cootie exposure here but Yelling dude felt it necessary to stop and educate the videographer for whatever reason. Well the problem is the whatever reason because you need to critically look at these interactions as a barometer of the level of public intelligence on this plandemic and the amount of vitriol building in society between factions. See yelling dude is not only misinformed, he’s irrational to the point of aggression and he’s not alone. Every single day we see cases like these, where people are losing their minds and it’s my position it’s because of the incompetence or criminality of our leaders. I firmly hold those we out in positions of trust responsible for where we are by wither act or omission, and from what I’m seeing it’s getting worse really fast.

Last night I watched a video of another “Karen”  on a flight where she confronts a dude sitting in his seat eating with his mask off. She is irrational and screaming at him to put his mask on despite the fact she is incorrect in every assumption that lead her to the point that she has confronted this total stranger and put herself at great risk to correct his behavior. The reason I say great risk is because first of all she might think she’s a mama bear, but the laws of physics don’t care, if he didn’t show the restraint he did, it would end very badly for her. Despite her obvious super human status she never things to consider that while she’s standing there screaming at dude in a packed airplane that her mask, in fact, is pulled down below her chin. I’ll stop here for emphasis.

Lastly mama bear isn’t considering the risk she’s exchanging for this interaction. She’s no longer behind the safety of a section 230 protected keyboard, she’s standing 35,000 feet up on a Federally regulated aircraft flying under the FAA and US criminal code where her behavior can land her with a $1,000,000.00 fine and a prison term not to exceed 20 years. That’s a pretty hefty price to pay to wanna be a covid cop. I’m sure after she struck him about the face she stopped to consider her future accommodations and lifestyle. Nope. Watch the video.

Folks we seriously are n the precipice of the collapse of society, and I’m not being dramatic I’m being serious. Our leaders are implementing policy that makes no sense, some of it is downright nonsensical  and ass backwards, and some things you look at and shake your head because they tried it ten times and it didn’t work but yet again they are heading down the same road thinking it’s going to lead them to a different pace.

They are either that fucking stupid or we are being purposely lead into tyranny. It can’t be any other explanation, but I welcome your thoughts. Sorry for the f-bomb, but I really did think 1984 and animal farm were works of fiction, not how-to manuals.

Anyway, I digress. It’s a beautiful Sunday morning out here on the coast and the sun is shining. Think I’ll go take the wildebeest for a walk and clear my head before brunch. It’s good to be alive when you know where to look, problem is getting others’ to see where you’re gazing.

Be good to one another folks, we are going to need one another more than ever. Stay calm and try to stay rational

Jim Out.

[jjungkookislife]

The Key to My Drawer Ch. 9

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: bf2l, angst, 18+

wc: 2.9k

warnings: cursing, Tae is angry, Tae punches yoongi (once), miscommunication, manipulative (?) yoongi, insecure reader, tae flip-flops with his emotions, ~_~ = flashback

date: July 6, 2020

The pile of letters has dwindled significantly with less than a handful left.  You figure you’ll be done reading them all by time Taehyung gets home tomorrow afternoon.  It’s late, you’ve spent the entire day reading his letters.  You’ll read one more before going to bed.  You yawn as you curl up under the blankets, looking at your phone to send Taehyung a goodnight text.  He replies immediately, sending you a heart emoji.

Yoongi came by today. He said he wanted to talk before we left for Hoseok’s bachelor party. It’s been a long time since he and I have been in a room together, just us.  Don’t worry, I didn’t punch him… hard.

He came to apologize and to say he wouldn’t stand in our way.  We’ve been on amicable terms, but I don’t know if we can rebuild the friendship we once had.  He said you made it crystal clear that you weren’t interested in him or anyone else... I don’t understand what that pertains to... 

He said he knows you’re my girl…

Everyone knows... 

I don’t want to have a grudge against him; it wasn’t his fault he fell for you too. 

Maybe if I had said something sooner, he wouldn’t have?  Or maybe he would have anyway and everything would have been more complicated?  I’m not sure and I don’t want to speculate.

I’ll admit, I didn’t know what he was talking about, but then it seemed to click.  It probably had to do with that night I went to your apartment and let myself in because you weren't answering your phone.  It happened a few weeks before our birthdays.   You weren’t answering your phone, and I panicked.  I know we hadn’t been talking as frequently as we used to, but no matter how mad or upset we were at each other, we never ignored the other.  We’ve always been able to communicate… I didn’t know if you and Yoongi were a thing, and honestly, I didn’t want to know as I rushed over.

I hadn’t thought about THE KISS since last year... 

I let myself in before going into your bedroom.  The sight of you curled up and sobbing broke my heart.  I hesitated to go to you.  I’ve never hesitated before, but now I did.  It killed me to see you hurting and knowing it wasn’t my place to comfort you… not anymore.

I’m an idiot.  I know that now, baby.  I’m an idiot and a coward and I know I don’t deserve you in the least bit, but I hope you can forgive all my shortcomings.  I know I can never, ever make up for the time we’ve lost, but I hope you’ll allow me to love you for the rest of my days.  

“Tae?” your voice cracked and so did my heart.  You looked so heartbroken… I thought it was because of Yoongi.  I approached you cautiously, kneeling in front of you.  You tried to wipe your tears, but more just flowed freely.  

“I’m here, love… I’m here…”

“Tae…” you threw your arms around me, clinging to me as you wept into my chest.  I cried with you, our hearts breaking simultaneously.

I held you in my arms, rocking you until your tears ceased.  

“What happened?” I asked softly, not wanting to make you cry again.

“Everything,” you shuddered as you climbed back into your bed, pulling your knees into your chest.  A sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes, opening them to stare at the ceiling.  A few stray tears rolling down your cheeks.

I bit my bottom lip, not knowing what to say.

“What’s wrong with me Tae?” You asked, turning to look at me.  Your bottom lip wavered, you were fighting back a sob, but in the end, it escaped.  “What’s wrong with me?”

I sat beside you, wrapping my arms around you, but that just made you cry even more.  You didn’t want to hear ‘nothing was wrong with you’, and I didn’t know what you meant at the time.

“Yoongi… he said some things,” you mumbled.

“What things?” I was angry. My hand curled into a fist.  

“It doesn’t matter, it wasn’t anything but truths…” you stated cryptically.  I didn’t understand, I thought Yoongi had broken your heart.  I was an idiot, baby.  I swear, I am.

“You’ll find somebody who loves you.  I promise, love.  You’ll have someone who will take care of you and your heart.  Who will love you for you.  I promise.  Someday, you’ll find someone who truly loves you.  You deserve that and so much more…” I really put my foot in my mouth, huh?

I’m an idiot.

You weren’t crying over Yoongi, were you?  You were crying because of Yoongi… he wanted to talk to you about moving on from me, and you refused.  You had hope that I was in love with you and I said all those things… and while I do mean every word… I hope you know that I will love you, and I know I’ve made mistakes and can probably never make up for them.  I still hope you find somebody to love because despite loving you, and wanting you to selfishly love me back, I do hope you find somebody to love.  After all the pain and heartbreak I’ve put you through, I don’t deserve you and I know that… I know that…

But… the selfish part of me, the one that seems to gnaw at my chest and rip its claws into my flesh, wants you to choose me… to love me.  Baby, I don’t deserve to be with you, I’ll be the first to tell you, although from what Yoongi said I know he already said his piece.

I love you… I have loved you and I should have told you a long, long time ago.  I hope I’m not too late, baby.  I pray with everything in me that I’m not too late, but if I am, baby… if I am, I hope you find somebody…

I don’t want to cry; I don’t because I don’t deserve to.  Not after everything I’ve put you through, love.  You deserve the world, and while I want to be the one to give it to you, I understand if it’s too late.

I don’t even want to write about this, baby.  I don’t, but I don’t know what else to do.  You’ve finally fallen asleep and I’ve let you out of my arms so you can try to get comfortable.

I’m so sorry your heart’s been broken.  I wish I could fix it, baby.  I don’t.. I don’t know what to do.  I know it’ll be rough moving on, but I’ll be here for you.  As a friend or as a… distraction.  Use me, love; use me to heal if it’s what you need.  I love you, Y/n.  I do… I hate to see you hurting.  I hope someday I can take all your pain away...

You shook your head, wiping at the tears that had started to run down your cheeks.  You grabbed a tissue and blew your nose.

Everything was just a huge misunderstanding.  That night makes sense to you now.  So much sense…

~_~

Yoongi had asked to meet with you and you had allowed him into your home.  It had been a few months since he had kissed you, and while you didn't reciprocate his feelings, you wanted to salvage the friendship.

Yoongi understood, he knew he didn't stand a chance… not when you had already given your heart away.  

“I know I shouldn’t have kissed you, I’m sorry.  I am but Y/n… please.  Taehyung’s not going to tell you how he feels.  He’s had his entire life to and what are you going to do?  Wait for him until you’re 60?  70?  Think about it, Y/n.  Really think about it.  If you’re not going to tell him, and he’s not going to tell you, what are you doing?  You’re just saving yourself on the off chance you end up together.  I at least said something, and yeah, I knew you weren’t going to give me a chance, but I couldn’t go on in silence.”

“Yoongi, that’s not fair…” you murmured.

“I can move on from you now, Y/n.  I won’t pine for you anymore because I know I said what I had to.  If anything, I feel sorry for you.  It’s your life, your choice… but do you really want to wait for a man who will never tell you how he feels?  Or tell him how you feel?  We’ve all watched from the sidelines… we’ve all watched this grueling game of cat and mouse.  Trust me, Namjoon and Seokjin discouraged me from telling you how I felt but now I’m free… yeah, it sucks getting rejected but I’m free to move on.  Are you still going to wait for him?” Yoongi’s words are harsh, and they’re not coming from a place of love despite how he might be trying to sugarcoat them.  Your face sours, and Yoongi softens.  He may have been too harsh.  He sighs, carding a hand through his hair as he heads to the front door, his hand on the doorknob.

He looks at you over his shoulder, his heart sinking to his stomach as he sees tears run down your cheeks, but it’s not his place.  It’s never been his place.  It will never be his place.

Yoongi opens the door, turning away from you, his voice firm, “I hope you find somebody, Yn.  I genuinely do because you deserve to be loved…”

The door slammed shut, and you broke.  You ran to your room, curling into a ball, sobbing your heart out.  Yoongi was right… Taehyung was never going to tell you how he felt.  Why were you still so in love with him?  Wasn’t he tired of playing games?  Weren’t you?  

You ignored his messages, not wanting to see him.  

But of course, he showed up anyway.  His presence caused more tears. How many more would you shed for him?  

When you awoke the next morning, you promised yourself you would move on, but it didn’t take long for you two to fall into your same routine and eventually, you slept with him again on your birthday.

Taehyung was it for you.  He’d been it for you for a long time and although sometimes you wondered if he was worth the effort, you knew deep in your heart that he was.  You knew you should have said something on your birthday or even on the drive to your parents’ place, but it never seemed like the right time.

Now half the year had come and gone… and Taehyung was away.

~_~

“Tomorrow,” you told yourself.  “Tomorrow I’ll tell him.  Come what may, I’ve waited long enough.”

You exhale shakily, before grabbing the letter to finish it.

Anyway, I hate thinking of that night.  I know it was months ago, but Yoongi coming to my apartment a few days ago just brought all those feelings and anger back.  I get it now; I do…

Yoongi came over, and yeah, I punched him, but not right away… I guess I should start from the beginning?

Yoong reached out to me for the first time since the kiss.  I didn’t want to ignore him, but I also didn’t want to see him.  He said he wanted to talk in person, clear the air before we were forced to spend a weekend together for Hoseok’s bachelor party.  I gave in; I told him to come by my place and he did.

I promise this is important…

It was awkward… so awkward.  We haven’t really talked since then.  

“Well…?” I prodded as he took a seat on the couch, I sat in the recliner with Tannie at my feet.  He rubbed the nape of his neck before sighing.

“Have you told Y/n?” He asked.

“What does it matter to you if I have or haven’t?  It’s none of your business.”  I was immediately defensive, angry.  

“So no,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair.  “What’s it going to take, Taehyung?  How much longer are you going to keep her in the dark?  Do you enjoy toying with her emotions?”  Yoongi scowled as he crossed one leg over the other, his dark eyes set in a glare aimed at me.

“No!  I love her…”

“Tell her, man.  Tell her before she finds someone else… she’s waited long enough…” Yoongi sighed, shaking his head.

“I know..”

“Say something, I’m begging you.  I can’t see her going through this any longer.  I care about her, I do but she’s never going to tell you she loves you.  Do you think I  was the only one in love with her?  I wasn’t, I was just the one who actually had the courage to say something.  You better hope nobody else does, Tae… she’s not going to wait around for you forever…”

“Who else loves her?”  I blinked, what was I missing?

“It doesn’t matter, Taehyung.  It doesn’t fucking matter, okay?  She loves you and only you.  Trust me, I know.  She’s your girl, Tae.”

“She’s n-”

“Shut up!  She’s your girl, Tae.  She’s always been your girl.  We’ve all known that.  She’s always been your girl.”

“Is it that obvious?”  I asked.  

Yoongi gave me an incredulous look, “you’re fucking kidding me.  Mother fucker!  Taehyung, your parents have been planning your wedding since you were in high school!”

I stood, pacing back and forth, he was right.  But do you love me?  The way I love you?  

Do the nights we made love mean something to you like they did to me?  Or was that just sex?  This is so confusing, what do I do?

Yoongi rose from his seat, sighing.

“Look, I don’t expect us to be friends, but please tell her.  She deserves that much or let her go.  I told her to move on, but she won’t.”

“You told her to what?”

Yoongi pales, biting his lip, “I told her to move on.”

I punched him in the face.

I may have exaggerated, but I did apologize after.  

He shook it off, saying he would do the same.

“Tell her.  She deserves to find love with you or move on from you.  Don’t keep her from finding happiness, Tae.  I know you love her, she loves you too.  There’s nothing but fear keeping the two of you apart.  I shouldn’t be telling you how she feels about you but I also can’t stand to watch her pine after you anymore.  I love you both dearly and even if we’re not friends now, I’m still rooting for you…”

“Yoongi…”

“I’m begging you, please tell her… please.”  Yoongi wiped at his eyes, before taking his leave.  I watched him go, unable to stop him.  

He was right.

I should have told you years ago, when I first fell in love.  I’ve had several times to do so, several opportunities to tell you I love you… that I’m in love with you, baby.  I have been for such a long time.  It shouldn’t have taken Yoongi begging me to finally tell you.  Yoongi is right.  It’s not fair to keep you waiting on me.  You need to have the chance to find love because I’ve lost my chance, haven’t I?

I’ve been selfish all these years.  I’ve been selfish in keeping you to myself without actually making you mine.

So I'll tell you.  I will.  I just need a way to do it.  I don’t just want to blurt it out in the middle of an episode of Naruto in the living room.  You deserve better than that…

You shouldn’t have had to wait so long for me.  You deserve better.  I know you do, and I’ll be happy for you if you want to find someone better than me because you’re so deserving of it, Y/n.  You are.  You truly are.  

I just want you to be happy, whether it’s with me or someone else.  You’ve been put through too much to settle for less, baby.

So wait for me, love.

But only if you want to because...

It’s coming…

I’m coming…

Wait for me, baby…

Just a little longer…

I love you, Yn.

You’re crying again, although you never really stopped.  Your eyes are raw, and your throat hurts as you wipe at your nose before reading the letter once again.

Taehyung’s going to tell you…

He’s finally ready to tell you, and you’re ready to tell him…

All the heartache, all the pain… it’s coming to an end! 

You laugh through the tears, grinning madly.  Taehyung loves you!  He’s in love with you and every letter proves it and although you’ve both put each other through the wringer time and time again, you’re ready to accept his love and give him yours.  Yes, it may seem foolish of you to forgive him for not telling you, but you never said anything either.  None of that matters right now.  You’ll be able to talk it all out, but you just need to tell him.

You eye your phone, shaking your head.  You can’t do it over text, it's too important for that.  You’ll have to wait until he comes home tomorrow… just a few more hours.  You’ve been waiting since high school, you can make it through a few more hours.

You curl up in his blankets, inhaling his scent.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow… your life would change completely.

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

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[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicMas20 Day 3: Married in Vegas

I hope December is treating everyone well <3 Today’s offering is ‘Married in Vegas’. G requested it to be included in FicMas months ago, and it’s here. In pieces, because I may have over-estimated how ‘ready’ it was to be seen. 

It also degenerated into something terribly depressing, when I was definitely going for something happier, rom-com meets coming of age, so large chunks definitely need to be rewritten.  

Oh, and if you want more of a specific fic, you NEED to tell me, or it will simply languish on my harddrive, forgotten forever.  

Onwards!

--

I meet him on a Thursday night, in the shitty little bar where I work. We talk, he drinks, and then he leaves.

By Saturday night, I am Mrs Alice Whitlock-Hale, with a ring bought from some cheap jewellery vendor and a plastic flower crown in my hair.

It was the best night of my life.

--

Okay, so I could start at the beginning. But the true beginning is a four-year-old girl being left behind when her mom runs away with her baby sister, and the middle is when, at fourteen, that girl is thrown out of her father’s house. She tries to go home once, at sixteen, only to find out that her dad and step-monster moved away. Left the state and left her behind without so much as a forwarding address.

But that story is depressing as hell, so we’ll start when things get interesting.

My ‘husband’ – Jasper Whitlock-Hale - was a strapping 6-foot-something soldier fresh from his last tour – honourably discharged, he was quick to inform me when we first met, and I could tell that was a point of some pride for him.  

I worked at a bar called ‘Sassy’s’. It had been opened in the 70s and I was pretty sure it hadn’t been cleaned or redecorated since those halcyon days. The current owner was Bruno – his son, Emil, was the manager. They were both decent, in that they paid me on time and never groped me. It’s pretty sad when those factors qualify as ‘decent’, but you tend not to be too picky when you’re applying for work at places like ‘Sassy’s’.

Especially when you’re an underage runaway.

How were we still in business? Well, we did dollar beers after nine at night (it wasn’t good beer), and we served pretty good nachos, and we had a huge flat-screen television. Oh, and we ignored any kind of gambling that happened in the dark corners.

It started off as a totally normal night – the usual crowd waiting for their cheap beers, wiping down sticky tables, and killing time. If I was lucky, there wouldn’t be any decent sports playing tonight, and no one would bitch much if I switched the channel over.

He walked through the door just after nine, limping quite obviously. He was wearing a button-down shirt, jeans and a worn leather jacket. He looked kind of haunted – but that isn’t exactly unusual in Vegas; if you don’t arrive with regrets, you’re probably going to leave with them.

He also looked too young, too clean and way too promising to be a patron at Sassy’s. I was slinging beer at that point, as he approached.  

“Beer, please,” he said as he sat at the bar.

“Dollar, thanks,” I said with a smile, grabbing a chipped – but clean – glass, and grabbed a dish of peanuts. They were pretty good – more than often, they were my dinner.

“Thanks,” he nodded once, staring at the amber liquid for a moment. He looked exhausted.

I kept working – stacking fresh glasses, packing the dirty ones into the ancient dishwasher behind the bar that Bruno had installed last summer, so proudly. Pretty sure it was older than me, but it meant that I didn’t have to deal with the washing-up anymore, so I smiled and thanked him, as if I didn’t spend at least half a shift trying to get the damned thing to work.

“Mija!” Luis ducked his head out of the kitchen, passing me a plate.

“Thanks,” I said. “Need a drink?”

“Nah, just fine girly.”

Luis had it easy. He was in college, so this was a part-time gig for him – he only came in two nights a week. He earned twice what I earned, but we didn’t get as many orders for food, so he got to sit in the tiny-ass kitchen (seriously, two people couldn’t fit back there) and study. He’d make me dinner every shift we worked together, which was nice of him. Tonight was grilled cheese.

On quiet nights, I liked to prop the kitchen door open, and sit on the bar and listen to him talk about his classes while I ate. He was always hinting about me going to college, about financial assistance and scholarships, but it just wasn’t going to happen for me.

I had a mouthful of food when the group in the corner started yelling for more drinks. These guys knew Bruno and Emil, so I had to tolerate their smart-ass mouths. They liked to tease the ‘princess’ who worked there. I got that from a lot of regulars, but these guys liked to imply that I was a whore, and tell me they’d wait for me after work to ‘test me out’.

Luis said it was because they were testing me, and they were pissed that Bruno never fired the white girl. Camila, one of the ex-waitresses, was the daughter of one of them and that was why they never tipped me. A form of protest. I never breathed a word about it, and treated them just as well as any other customer.

“Beers, gentlemen,” I said, sliding the tray onto the table. “Can I get you anything else?”

“I’ll say,” one of them leered and another slapped me on the ass. I rolled my eyes and turned to go back to the bar.

“Rough night?” the guy at the bar said as I returned.

“What? Oh, them,” I shrugged, picking up my sandwich. “They’re here every night.”

“They act like that all the time?” he asked.

“Yeah, but they’re just blowing off steam. Don’t like that I kept my job and one of their daughters didn’t,” I said. “Can I get you another?”

“Please.” He watched me move carefully. “What’s your name?”

“Mary,” I said, placing another beer in front of him, and grabbing a soda for myself.

“Jasper, ma’am,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Jasper. You from around here?”

--

By closing time, Jasper had nursed four beers and half my sandwich – which he inhaled like he hadn’t eaten in a while. We’d chatted. He’d just returned from his third tour in the Middle East – he didn’t say much about that, though I heard some pride in his voice when he mentioned it.

We talked about Vegas a bit, about the things he missed when he was overseas (his aunt’s chocolate cake, the cool forests of Washington state, and books). He was just passing through Vegas, here for a few days. Trying to adjust back to civilian life.

He stayed as I cleaned up, loading the dishwasher and scrubbing down the benches and tables. He watched as David and Sammy came up to pay, smirking as I leant over the bar to reach the money, giving them an unwilling flash of my pitiful cleavage.

All twenty-six dollars of it, in crumpled bills.

“Thanks,” I smiled brightly, handing them a receipt and a package of matches with the logo on it. They grunted at me and left. Their table was a mess of napkins, peanuts and glasses.

“Hope they tipped you well,” Jasper said as he watched me load the tray.

“Oh, they don’t tip. They hate me,” I said, as I piled the garbage onto a tray.

“How long were they here?”

“Since five. It’s fine, really,” I said. “It’s tradition.”

“No, it’s being an asshole,” Jasper muttered.

Luis chose that moment to leave the kitchen, bag on his shoulder.

“It’s closing time,” he sung at me, just like every night. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

I snorted. “Well, Jasper, it’s been nice talking to you, but I have to lock up,” I said with a little regret. He was a nice guy, and nice guys didn’t spend a lot of time at Sassy’s.

“Do you need a lift home?” he offered and then froze. “Sorry, that sounded really… seedy. I was going to offer to split a cab.”

“Thank you, but Luis gives me a lift,” I said.

“Okay. Do … you work any other nights this week?” he asked, almost shyly.

Luis was doing his best to be invisible, grabbing the trash and dragging it out the back.

“Tomorrow morning, from eleven til seven, I said. “Beer is full-priced, I’m sorry to say.”

“Okay. Thanks. It was nice talking to you,” he said again, fumbling with his words.

“You too. And if I don’t see you again, have a good time in Vegas,” I said, and, leaving money tucked under his glass, Jasper finally rose and limped out.

I sighed; dumping the glass in the sink and counting out the four dollars for the till, I jammed the tip into my bra. There wasn’t much else to do – I was opening tomorrow; we opened from 11am til 1am, so it would be me who unpacked the soda in the backroom, and the glasses and ran a mop over the perpetually sticky floor. So I could go into the kitchen and change out of my uniform and go and find Luis.

Once the hot pink wig was peeled off, my black hair stuck clammily to my face. My make-up had mostly melted off and it was a relief to tug on my leggings and hoodie and grab my bag.

Luis was waiting for me in the car as I locked up.

“So, you and soldier boy,” he began as soon as I got in.

“Ugh, really?” I pulled my tip out of my bra. “He was alone, and flirting with the waitress. Won’t see him again.” It had been a quiet night – fourteen dollars, plus whatever Jasper had left me. I mean, on average, I made maybe twenty-five dollars in tips a night.

And I stared. Two twenty dollar bills were staring at me, along with six dollars. A forty six dollar tip for four dollar beers. And half a cold grilled cheese sandwich.

“No, he didn’t like you at all,” Luis drawled.

“Shut up,” I grumbled, but inside I was giddy. He was dashing, and smart and polite. And now I could make my rent.

“Here were are. Sleep well,” Luis pulled up in front of the apartment block.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, spinning my keys around my finger, and headed home.

The apartment block was a grim brick building of roughly eighty apartments. I lived in number 48. Well, I rented a room in number 48. The apartment was really Victoria’s. Victoria had two kids and never actually told me what she did for a living. Nothing would surprise me. She was a bitch, didn’t give a shit about her kids, but rented out the third closet-sized bedroom complete with air mattress and a locked closet full of canned soup to me for the princely sum of eighty bucks a week.

//

What did I know about my new husband?

He walked with a limp – I was guessing an injury that got him discharged from the military.

He had a twin sister – one he spoke of with equal parts affection and irritation.  

He liked history – American military history, specifically.

He was raised in Texas, until his mother died when he was 10. He and his sister were packed off to live with his mom’s best friend and her husband in the wilds of Washington state, where he stayed until he finished high school. He never mentioned his father.

And he was a consummate gentleman.

I, on the other hand, lied my head off.

Well, I only told the usual lies – I was 21, earning money for college, hoping to be a nurse one day. Oh, and when he asked about my family, I told him they were dead. It was better to keep it simple, it meant there were no questions.

We got married on the Strip, Saturday night.

And when he woke up Sunday morning looking hilariously horrified at the fact we got married, I might have exaggerated how drunk I was.

That makes me sound like the worst kind of person, and I don’t think I am, really.

I mean, he was dressed very nicely, he had a black AmEx, and was clearly educated. But I didn’t want to take advantage of him, truly. I wasn’t looking for money or anything. He was so nice, so handsome and he made me feel safe. And before she left me, my mom always told me that life was meant to be full of adventures, and I had to get out there and grab them with both hands. She didn’t leave me with many good memories, so I kind of held onto that advice.

Just once, for a moment, I wanted to pretend to be the type of girl who could marry someone like Jasper Whitlock. The kind of girl who got to stay in beautiful hotel suites.

He kept apologising to me, seemingly more shocked that I had slept on the hotel couch than the idea we had gotten drunk, married and might have had sex. He looked completely panicked, pacing and muttering and staring at me like a stranger.

I took advantage of the giant bathtub and the endless selection of bath gels and lotions whilst he tried to be subtle about the panicked phone calls he was making, his knuckles white as he gripped the damning piece of paper that declared us husband and wife in the state of Nevada.

I emerged smelling of cherry blossoms and lavender. I mean, I only had the previous night’s clothes – my black mini-skirt, leggings, a Sassy’s tank top and my poor flats – but at least I was clean and tidy.

“I need to shower,” Jasper managed as I came out. “There’s coffee and juice if you want something.”

“Thanks,” I smiled.

As I went to grab a drink, his phone buzzed and I looked down to see the messages flash across the screen, one after the other.

ROSALIE (CELL) 9:17:04am: Cut the tramp loose. C spoke to E & u can annul when u get home. JFC.

CARLISLE (WORK) 9:17:11am: I’ve spoken to Eleazer, and he’s willing to work this out.

EDWARD (CELL) 9:17:24am: Tell me this is a joke or something. Rosalie keeps shrieking every time she calls.

ESME (CELL) 9:17:31am: Rosalie told us. Bring her home with you and we can fix it. Love you XOXO

BELLA (iMessage) 9:17:49am: R u ok? Saw on R’s FB what happened.

EMMETT (CELL) 9:18:00am: Did u srsly marry a stripper in Vegas?!?

EMMETT (CELL) 9:18:09am: Rose is losing her shit. Nice knowing u.

EMMETT (CELL) 9:18:34am: At least send pix of what she looks like dude.

I turned away from the phone, though it was fascinating watching the messages pop up. My cellphone was a beat-up second-hand Sidekick Tiffy had given me for my seventeenth birthday, the back bedazzled in pink and purple, and the only text messages I got were from Luis, Emil and Bruno, about work.

Or Victoria, bitching about the rent.

I grabbed my drink and sat on the couch, flipping on the television whilst I waited for Jasper to finish in the shower. He emerged, looking calmer, though pale and hung over, snatching up his phone, with a towel slung around his hips. I tried not to stare – goddamnit, this guy should not be marrying strange bartenders in Vegas. He would have absolutely no trouble getting a date. I knew I was bright red, refocusing on whatever cartoons were playing on the screen.

Jasper took me to breakfast at the hotel restaurant afterwards - I felt super underdressed with my sweater over my top, as I was served the fanciest eggs I had ever seen. Jasper crumbled a bagel up and drank about a gallon of coffee, barely meeting my eyes. I figured I might as well take advantage of my wedding breakfast, and also helped myself to fruit salad that included fruits I wasn’t aware were even available in America, and a doughnut that looked hand-painted with icing.

“I have some appointments today,” Jasper said, finally, when he finally pushed his plate aside. “We could meet for dinner later.”

I popped the last bite of doughnut into my mouth and wondered if he was planning on leaving town, leaving me behind.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

--

I had the day off, surprisingly enough. Normally on my days off, I had plans – sometimes I worked for a catering firm I was registered with, for some extra cash. Sometimes I’d hit the thrift stores to try and pad out my meagre wardrobe, or go and sketch or read in the park. I hated hanging around the apartment, since Victoria, James and Laurent kept unpredictable hours and could be there all day.

But today, I had nowhere to be. My phone needed charging and I could do with a few extra hours of sleep – a headache was definitely lingering. Plus, if breakfast was any indication, I needed to dress up for dinner. I was pretty sure that breakfast had cost more than my entire wardrobe. But I had one dress that was passable.

Luckily, the apartment was empty when I slipped in and collapsed into my bed, noticing only for a second that the hotel couch was far and away more comfortable than the ancient air mattress Victoria provided.

I was woken at five pm by a text message from Jasper.

360-555-0134 5:03:44pm: My meetings are done. Just heading back to the hotel for a shower. Our reservation is for 7:30pm. Pick you up at 7?

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face – I hadn’t been sure I’d ever hear from Jasper again. But he was taking me out to a fancy dinner. Hell, I would have been over the moon if we went to a movie and ate hot dogs in a park. Flipping open the keyboard, I tapped out a response.

775-555-0182 5:04:59pm: Sounds good – am sending my address. Hope your day was good.

I had two hours to get ready for the fanciest meal of my life.

I could so do this.

—

Considering my resources, I didn’t think I looked too bad. I’d left my hair loose, since I didn’t own a curling wand or straightener, and managed to paint my nails with the half-empty bottle of nude pink I’d found amongst my stuff.

My dress was a black polyester number I had fished out of a basket at the thrift store and had cost me eight dollars. It was a baby-doll style and I thought it made me look older. My shoes were black wedges that were nowhere near fancy enough, but I didn’t own any proper heels.

I had run to the drug store around the corner for a lipstick, a deep crimson that made me feel much older and more glamorous. The effect was somewhat spoilt by the fact I didn’t own a decent coat, just a purple cardigan and a hoodie. And the only purse I owned was a silver crossbody-bag that looked like I had only paid two dollars for it.

At seven on the dot, I emerged from my room to find Victoria, the kids, James and Laurent eating pizza.

“Look at you, baby,” James was practically drooling as I walked through, jamming my wallet and phone into the tiny bag. “Told you she was gorgeous.”

Laurent made a non-committal sound but his gaze never left my legs, ew.

“Where are you going?” Victoria demanded, glaring at me. She definitely preferred me as skinny, bedraggled Mary instead of girly Alice.

“I have a date,” I said.

“A date? Finally working for the money, Mary?” Victoria said. “Thought you were too good for that.”

I made a face at her. “A date. With a guy. Where he takes me to dinner and we talk.”

“You didn’t come home last night,” Victoria said carelessly, and I caught a dark look pass over James’ face. “Excuse me for assuming that you’d come to your senses.”

I swallowed my vulgar response and grabbed my keys. “Don’t wait up.”  

//

My stuff was packed up – in the end, I had only a small duffle bag and my messenger bag of stuff for nineteen years of life.

Jasper was planning on driving back to Forks over two or three days. He had considered – and offered – to pay for us to fly back, but I’d never been in an airplane before, and figured a road-trip would give me time to prepare to meet Jasper’s family.

//

I wasn’t expecting it. Not for James to half-punch, half-slap me, and shake me by the throat. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs burning, slightly disoriented from the blows.

James half-threw me against the fridge, the handle digging into my back. I dropped my bags as he grabbed me by the scruff of the shirt and pulled me back towards him.

“You think you can leave?” he spat at me. “Stupid bitch, think you’re better than this?”

I tried to pull away, but I was too small.

“You’re just like Vic. Just like ‘em all. You’ll come crawling back when that prick gets bored,” he purred at me, one hand sliding down my stomach and I suddenly was terrified. “I’m not picky, I’ll take you back – when you beg.”

“James.”

We both jerked around to see Laurent standing in the doorway, with one of Victoria’s daughters in tow.

James pasted a bright smile on his face. “Just sayin’ good bye to Mary here. Takin’ her chances in sunny California.”

Laurent looked from me to him and shrugged. “Coming?”

James looked back at me and sneered. “Yeah. The trash can take herself out.”

Within seconds, they were gone, and I was alone. I span on my heel and headed to the bathroom.

I stared at myself in the mirror. My throat was red, where he’d shaken me, and my eye and cheek were already swelling – and my lip was split. My back and shoulder ached, plus my right ankle was tender.

Thankfully, the collar of my cardigan would cover up my throat, and my sunglasses would cover up my eye. Hopefully, my lip would stop bleeding by then. Nothing that indicated James had hurt me. But I didn’t want to hang around, in case he came back.

Snagging my bags off the floor, I dropped my keys on the kitchen table and fled apartment 48 for the final time.

--

Jasper was waiting in the bar with a coffee and the paper when I showed up. I’d tried so hard to dress nicely – a blue shirtdress and lavender leggings – but the women in the hotel foyer made me look like a middle school student.

“Hi,” I smiled as I reached the table.

“Good morning,” Jasper said, jumping up to take my bags. “Can I get you anything?”

“An oj?” I asked, looking around at the fancy surroundings. I wasn’t sure anything as pedestrian as an orange had ever crossed the threshold of this place.

“Certainly.” A hotel employee suddenly appeared at Jasper’s elbow. “Could you put these bags with mine? And the lady would like an orange juice, and perhaps the brunch menu?”

“Of course, Mr Whitlock,” the employee said.

I wriggled around in my seat, gazing around the bar. One woman was wearing the most incredible red and gold heels, and another had an embroidered floral dress that was to die for.

“The hotel had some computer difficulties this morning – we should be able to leave soon,” Jasper said to me, drawing my attention back to him. “I’d like to make it to Boise tonight.”

“Sounds good,” I said, as a waiter swept to my side, placing the fanciest glass of juice in front of me, and a tasselled menu. “Thank you.”

“I’ve already eaten,” Jasper said, looking guilty. “Early start. But please, get whatever you want.”

“O-kay,” I said. I wasn’t very hungry, and my throat hurt after James’ assault, but I needed to eat – I wasn’t sure if we’d stop for lunch. Rule number one was never, ever turn down free food.

A hotel employee appeared at Jasper’s elbow the second my breakfast plate was cleared, to let us know that the ‘issues’ had been fixed, and our luggage was in the car.

It was happening. We were going.

Mary-Alice Brandon: now leaving Las Vegas.

//

The motel was neat and pretty clean, with two double beds and a TV. We’d grabbed burgers through drive-thru, and were ready to settle in for the night.

I had some ancient pj bottoms and a tank top to sleep in, and didn’t think of anything else as I left the bathroom, my hair hanging loose.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jasper was at my side in a second, his eyes wide.

“What?” I gave him a confused look, and belatedly realised that my make-up was washed off and in my tank top my throat was bared, the bruises that James had given me so much darker and angrier than before.

“Oh, um, my landlord’s boyfriend had a problem with me leaving,” I said uncomfortably.

“Jesus,” he murmured. “We can find a doctor in the morning.”

I waved it off. “I’ve got painkillers in my purse. Just have to wait til I heal.”

//

Jasper was determined to buy me clothing as soon as we finished breakfast, and I gave up and let him drive me to the Gap outlet. It was a novelty to be able to purchase whatever I need, something I wasn’t used to, as I carefully chose jeans and dresses. I also picked up a winter parka on sale, when Jasper warned me how wet and cold Forks was.

But when Jasper went to pay, he gave me a Look. “My sister spends more on a single pair of shoes,” he grumbled at me as I gathered my bags.

“I’ve got everything I need, I swear,” I said. “Probably too much, honestly.”

//

On the way from Seattle, I tried to memorise everything about Jasper’s family and friends, so not to fuck this up worse than it already was.

There were his ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, Esme and Carlisle. They had one biological son, Edward, who was 22 and married to Isabella, with a toddler named something strange. Ness, Jasper called her.

Jasper’s twin sister, Rosalie, was engaged to a man named Emmett, who was also one of Jasper’s best friends. They were building a house in Forks, and were getting married at the end of the year.

Jasper’s best friends were Emmett and a man named Peter, Jasper’s roommate in college, who now worked at a law firm in Seattle and had a girlfriend named Charlotte whom Jasper called ‘an angel’, and designed wedding dresses.

I felt like I needed flashcards.

[apapertrail-journalsir]

“the drunkards disease.” 6/18/21 3:04pm Final Copy

They say to just start writing even if you don’t want to, same as most things; practice makes perfect.

Now, with that being said, I want to talk about my father today the only way I know how to, through a piece of paper.

Which “technically” is just a handwritten projection of my own thoughts, so I guess I’m just venting to myself right now.

How Original.

My father has been in the hospital for days now, not getting any better. He’s been told his pancreas is dying, which is causing his liver enzymes to be fucked up. This as a result, will progressively lead his liver to fail. Concluding this sick and twisted domino effect.

“the drunkards disease”

I remember in my adolescent years, always complaining about my parents excessive drinking, of course words couldn’t even begin to describe the severity of what went on in my “home” every night after I got home from school. Every time I stepped foot down the school bus stairs onto the worn down asphalt of my street, it was like I was preparing to march into battle. Anxiety would suffocate me as I approached the front door.

This was a every single day reality for me and the only people who truly understood, were my siblings.

I read online that although it is possible “in EXTREME cases”, most heavy alcoholics don’t develop these issues until around 65-70 years old.

My dad is 51 and most likely won’t see the day he turns 52.

I am a fully committed pessimist unfortunately, not even a raging optimist can argue with the test results.

But would you like to know what frustrates me the most, leaving me tossing and turning wide fucking awake in the earliest hours of the morning?

The fact that he’s not telling me anything!

Don’t get me wrong, our relationship is in complete ruins but regardless, don’t you think that if he got his results back he should be updating me on something as important as that? It would be worth mentioning that I asked about the test results three times that same day.

Only to be thoroughly ignored, ALL THREE FUCKING TIMES.

The whole situation is just all types of fucked up.

I asked my youngest brother what hospital he was being treated at and he confirmed that my father is at the one only about 15 minutes away from my house. I’ve been debating back and forth for two damn days now on randomly showing up unannounced to his room in hopes to see him one last time, but when I get there what am I even going to say?

I genuinely don’t even know this man anymore and vice versa.

What the fuck do I say to the man who cold heartedly kicked out his first born son while still a teen. Selfishly leaving him to fend for himself on the unpredictably violent streets of the inner city. Meanwhile, he soundly rests his bald head comfortably in his materialistic kingdom of a home, filled with nothing but regrets and ruled by his new, stink eyed, pot belly queen.

The same exact man who looked deep in his sons struggling eyes and said he would never give up on him, and then did.

So now, here I am crying about a shitty and selfish man, who should have never been a father in the first place!!

Stupid.

I will admit, I do understand why that man is the way he is, he never truly had a solid chance at mental stability. Given away at birth and raised by his adopted parents, only to find his own adopted dad, dead in the kitchen by his own hand.

So, you tell me if you think he had a chance?

On second thoughts let me revise that, he did have a split in the road decision but took the wrong route, only to end up a bitter old man.

He had a chance, until his hand met that bottle. Refusing to put it down for a little to long.

Foolishly picked up, as a very effective maladaptive coping skill to numb the constant pain that subsides deep down inside his blackened heart.

Then, this same man hypocritically crucifies ME for struggling with addiction and chemical dependency issues so bad the majority of my life,

HM, I WONDER WHY???

MAYBE, IT’S BECAUSE THAT’S HOW I WAS TAUGHT TO DEAL WITH PAIN MY WHOLE CHILDHOOD!

Fuck.

I don’t know how many times I’ve attempted to explain my BPD and it’s anchoring roots, birthed from the seeds planted during the most impressionable years of my childhood.

Damning me to grow up to be a very mentally unstable and insecure shell of a man.

Still, they would without fail deny deny deny taking part in my inevitable downfall at all.

Acting like a bunch of clueless chickens with their heads chopped off, running around screaming... “what could we have done!?!????”

A fuck ton.

Yet you were always WAY to self absorbed and heartless to realize what you were ultimately doing to your oldest sons underdeveloped brain.

A sensitive brain.

So nowadays, I’m over it and bridges have burned.

I may bury my feelings the same way, but at least I never gave up like a fucking coward.

Where were you?

You weren’t fucking there,

so what’s done is done as what’s said is said.

In conclusion, I wholeheartedly swear to everyone reading this disaster-piece that it will be a cold cold day in Hell if I EVER abandon MY OWN son for struggling and needing his father. Just to shun him away as he continuously BEGS and BEGS to make amends in a attempt to solidify our damaged relationship once more.

I’m shedding tear after tear, still alone, preparing myself to mourn a man I once called “Dad” and now is nothing more then a painfully saddening memory... for the rest of my days.

You may ask me why I care so much about a failure of a father/husband. who has absolutely no place in his heart for his own son,

only for that stupid fucking bottle?

Because,

I loved you dad.

i.r.

[the-kings-of-games]

Ship meme for Kizunashipping! (A bit mature with a section on sex)

General:

Rate the Ship - Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OT3 to rule - Literally my most favorite YGO ship!

How long will they last? - Since this meme asked about children, this is going to be post series. The answer to this question? They last forever because their bond never broke again.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Simultaneously and slowly, like a plant taking root deep into the dirt and taking the longest time to bloom. It may be slow and may not be seen, but it is there, always. They grew up together and decided to stay together.

How was their first kiss? - Comforting. Some boy Crow didn't care much about kissed hom, and Jack said it doesn't count if he didn't want it to count. So Crow wanted one that count. He got it from Jack first and then Yūsei, and then they kissed each other. It was cute because they were still kids then.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - They never got married; it's enough that they're stayed together. Post-series they get into an arrangement where Yūsei owns a house and Jack and Crow come back during their time off from being pro duelist. They all call it home and have seperate bedrooms for privacy, but it's always okay to ask to share the bed and whatnot. Most often, when Jack and Crow are home, they share the bed because they end up missing each other a lot.

Who is the best man/men? - Hypothetically, Brave, Kalin, and/or Leo.

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Hypothetically, Akiza, Sherry, Luna, Mina, Carly, and/or Stephanie.

Who did the most planning? - Hypothetically, Jack. He understands quality and requires it at all times in his life.

Who stressed the most? - Hypothetically, Crow because he doesn't like spending money so frivolously unless it's food or gifts for other people.

How fancy was the ceremony? - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 - Something low-key because Yūsei puts his foot down.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - All of Neo Domino invites themselves to the wedding, no lie. Angelica Raines live broadcast it.

Sex:

Who is on top? - Jack takes the lead most often becuase he likes the control and being listened too; however, their dynamic is kind of complex? It's a lot of how their mood is.

Who is the one to instigate things? - Crow 70% of the time, Jack 27%, and Yūsei ~3%. Not definite numbers but Crow is the one who's not shy about being horny or asking about it!

How healthy is their sex life? - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 - They understand boundaries, and nobody gets mad if someone says no. They like having sex with each other, so someone is bound to say yes. It's just like one of the ways they just spend time together. Penetration is not necessary, just another way for them to feel good.

How kinky are they? - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 - They've done a lot of stuff together; their longest partners are each other. Jack likes slow sex and being watched as he performs; Crow likes it rougher and is a screamer; and Yūsei likes receiving and giving oral sex.

How long do they normally last? - Depends on the mood and who's calling the shots that time. If it's Crow, maybe fifteen minutes, maybe less if it's a quickie. If it's Jack, it can go on for up to an hour. If you're asking how long they can get back up though, hours.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Depends on the mood. Nobody is really keeping count, they lose track.

How rough are they in bed? 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 - In the heat of the moment, they might bite and scratch each other. Crow likes being held down while Jack likes to hold his friends down. Yūsei knows how to add just the right amount to bring it all over the edge.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 - They usually stay in the same bed for some post-coitus nap or sleep. They take of each other too, aftercare is very important to Jack. Crow gets a bit clingy, and Yūsei likes cuddling in general, though the one who leaves soon afterwards is usually him becuase he wants to get back to work.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - One (1) daughter. She was an accident, and she looks everything like Crow with the orange hair and the gray eyes. Her name is Sky Hogan!

How many children will they adopt? - Actively, none. They all, of course, donate and put a lot of effort into charity work since they're rich and successful now, and often, they go back to Martha's orphanage to help out and hang out with the kids. They have a lot of adoptive brothers and sisters.

Who gets stuck with the most diaper? - Yūsei. He's the main parent since he's not going from place to place as a Turbo duelist. He's the stable parent with the stable job and schedule.

Who is the stricter parent? - Yūsei. And he's also the embarrassing one. (He's a direct challenge with Jack on that.)

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Also, Yūsei, but he can't really pull that off much when Sky becomes a teenager because he did shit when he was just a teen and she finds out about it. (All three of her parents did shit, anything she is nothing compared to what they've been through.)

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Yūsei. Actually, he and Sky make it together, usually the night before.

Who is the more loved parent? - Yūsei. He's the go-to for comfort.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - Yūsei, though Sky tries really hard to make him miss it.

Who cried the most at graduation? - Jack. He'll cry at the drop of a hat for his little princess.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Crow. He used to be a cop, so he doesn't even have to pay the bail.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Crow. Basic things mostly.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - You'd think it's be Jack, but the guy's go-to meal is ramen. Okay, he's the pickiest one but only for certain things, like coffee.

Who does the grocery shopping? - When they're all available to do so, Crow.

How often do they bake desserts? - Jack likes the eccentric cooking. He does it once in a while, and they're good. You can also just ask him.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Meat, but whatever can fill their stomachs.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - No anniversaries, they've been together since they were kids and never kept track of that stuff. Jack, however, is the one to be most romantic and do the nice surprise stuff. Because he feels like it.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - No one really. They're good staying in together.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - As of now, none.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - Jack. He likes a clean environment.

Who is really against chores? - Nobody gets to complain, not that they do.

Who cleans up after the pets? - Bruno can look after himself, thank you very much.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - They were all raised by the same woman, and she taught them to do their chores right.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - None, they're very open to having people come over.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - You're not allowed to lose money.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Jack.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Bruno can take care of himself, thank you very much.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Not really.

What are their goals for the relationship? - Being together.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Crow or Yūsei. Jack likes having a schedule.

Who plays the most pranks? - Crow. For shits and giggles.

[sailing-elitsha]

Hallelujah

Thinking about a header for this report I am struggling, it’s from boring because of no wind from all directions in the doldrums, over: exited to come closer to the Amazon river, over: we saw Neptune, over: not being sure if we can do this up to total exhaustion. We have been so tired that we could not even show excitement and joy anymore by our safe arrival in Paramaribo, after a very difficult 11 days stretch.  Let me first write everything down and see which heading we will choose.

Very quiet Dick said, “I saw you praying with your hands folded.” “Yes, I did that.” Whoever up in heaven, the universe or wherever feels I could have meant him or her: Thank you. Dick agreed.

Towards the end of this stretch, we could not think straight anymore, did not sleep because of the funny moves, Elitsha made, encouraged by Jip and Janneke, and the waves. Sometimes we really heeled onto our side after sliding down steep waves or swell. Realistically and objectively, there was no real danger, but at times it felt differently. Elitsha did a great job.  And let’s be honest, while in a force 8, in gusts 45 knots on our wind vane at sea with a currant of 3,5 knots, 12 knots showing on our log, knowing shore was close even though you do not see a thing and to sail in a river mouth with low tide, you make one wrong move……… everything can happen. But we did not make a wrong move. Dick knows what he is doing, and I am not too bad a sailor too.  Most importantly: when I was losing it and panicked there was Dick for me and when Dick was tired and miserable, I was there for him: Interesting self-studies of a relationship therapist, I am telling you. Do not do this if you don’t have a good relationship. But if you have good relationship, this is so special and amazing to go through together.

And… perhaps or most probably, this is normal and not a big thing for cruisers on an ocean crossing, but for us as beginning cruisers, it was a big thing. The challenge was, that for the last 4 days we hardly found a longer stretch of sleep than 1 or 2 hours and that breaks you at the end. That was, I think, the reason why we were desperate to arrive and stay somewhere for a while.  

But let’s start at the beginning:

We started relaxed after leaving Fernado de Norunha. Although, sailing without wind is never relaxing. You are looking for wind all the times, changing your sails and finally if you can’t stand the slapping of the beams and sails anymore you start the motor and you get annoyed by the noise of he motor and the fact that you are a sailing boat and not sailing……all of those things. Fortaleza just didn’t want to come closer, and Suriname seemed unreachable far for us. The promise was that we at least will find the strong current which would push us along from Fortaleza to the Amazon delta and Suriname.

On the 8th of Mai at 2.23pm Brasilia time we saw Neptune and served him an Oude Jenever. He seemed to like it. We originally wanted to go and swim with Neptune but just at that time Neptune on his turn treated us with some wind and we made 7 knots: 3 of them from the current. But in the doldrums, you are happy with everything what moves you along. Anyway, he (Neptune) had to do it with the Jenever, and we kept on sailing.

Just before the Amazon river at the end of day 6 of 11 it started blowing. Yeah!!!!!!!! 180 miles a day and no motor anymore. That’s great. Forecast: 12-15 knots with gusts of 20 knot. Lovely!!!!! From late afternoon of day 7 the constant wind was 32 and the gusts up to 40, RAIN and it started with a close-by lightening flash and a thunder clap. And that carried on till close to Paramaribo. The funniest: Nothing of all was forecasted on the Iridium weather report: as I said: ENE wind 12 – 15 knots, gusts of 20 knots and some possible thundershowers, but in our case they were not gusts any more, but constant hard wind 30 knots plus for 3-4 days in a row. The Amazon, even we passed him on a big respectable distance, and later the Suriname river brought trees down to the sea. You had to have your eyes everywhere. A whale, a humpback, close to the Amazon, just next to Elitsha, I saw him thinking: you are here and not in Africa? (we see whales in Hout Bay on a regular base), that close he was. For weeks we didn’t see more than a handful ships. They were huge, okay, but we saw them on AIS far before we could see them in real. Now there were lots of fisher boats around who didn’t feel like using AIS (they don’t want to be seen by their colleagues), tankers from Venezuela who switch on AIS only last minute, and this all at night, without moon and stars assisting…...and then………..always this “gale wind”, waves and massive swell.  Another thing made us nervous: the “shallow” water.  After having sailed for month now in blue water, REALLY blue water of 4 000, 5 000 meters deep, we suddenly sailed up the plateau of the South American Continent: only 200 meters of depth. You should think: That’s deep enough, Sylke. Yes, but it’s just what you are used to, right?! And we were used to 4000 to 5000 meters. The water was green, closer to Suriname, when we had no more than 20 meters it was yellowish. The Amazonas brought trees with big branches and fields of green-brownish weed, leaves…. and always the strong wind, the rain and thundershowers and you can’t step out of this train or leave the movie……you have to hang in there. This paired with not sleeping and being exhausted and Navionics giving us problems at this very moment, we saw the lights of French Guyana as the lights of Suriname (same character) and panicked that we would have passed Paramaribo already. After having struck sails and heading Elitsha into the wind, to check out if we are right or wrong, we finally followed our way towards Suriname with only the Genua, which was still fast enough. Holger, one of our shore captains confirmed, that we have the entrance of the Suriname river 20 mile ahead and not behind us. Ufff, what a relief. We still didn’t see land………. only 60, 50, 40, 30 foot of water under Elitsha, no entrance buoy in sight…….  Via radio we got in touch with  MAS ( Suriname Harbour authorities). Anneke, our other shore captain, had arrange contact and allowance with them already. In times of Corona regulations this is essential. You can’t just go to a harbour. Everything has to be pre-arranged. When we called MAS, to ask if we were somewhere close to the entrance buoy of the river mouth, a deep voice in Dutch with a heavy Surinam’s accent answered: “ik zie jullie on AIS.” YES!!!!!!!!!!! Eventually, we saw not the entrance buoy, but the first green buoy and shared this” achievement” with him. His dry and short reaction: “Mevrouw, u bent op de goede weg!!!!!” (“Lady, you are on the right way”). Not more and not less, but it was like music to our ears. It was low tide and our echo sounder told us, 20, 10 and then 9,60 foot. Elitsha needs at least 5,50 foot of water to float. We motor sailed (to be more controllable). Still 30 knots of wind, rain, and buoys not visible all the time. On the river we almost got stuck twice in the mud: 6 foot on the depth sounder. We were blessed to have sailed for years on the Dutch Waddenzee. This was very similar. The only difference: ELITSHA is not a flatbottom with leeboards.  It looked exactly like you sail from the Stortemelk into the Schuitegat towards Terschelling with low tide and it felt exactly like that.

I could tell you more about my fear of sailing over the many wrecks alongside of the coast, our chart showed us and Dick’s fear of hitting ground in the bottom of the waves (that’s why he looked for more shallow water without swell and waves), about comforting and encouraging each other that we will make it, that the fishermen would look out, that 30 - 40 knots of wind is actually not that bad and we are not in real danger but that we just needed some sleep and rest, after 2 antibiotic courses and, and………  And then we just arrived……just like that!!!! We picked a mooring buoy, made the dingy ready to go and went ashore. I did not eat for 4 days, actually ate the other way round (if you know what I mean). In the bar of the Marina, where everybody welcomed us, we ate and drank because we felt, we must celebrate. But the feeling was not there like in St Helena and Fernando. We went back to our brave ELITSHA and slept like we got paid for it. The next day we celebrated full time. We ate the whole day, talked to everybody who came across. We did 5 washes in the Marinas washing machine, had I don’t know how many showers and Elitsha got a very good clean up: you don’t want to know how it looked like inside her: flour everywhere, everything everywhere and because of the salt water everything was sticky, wet and just ick.

Now we have a fruit bowl and candles on the table, new sheets on our beds, nothing moves, and we can just move without getting thrown into one of the corners of the ship, fall of the toilet and stuff like that. Okay its rainy season and if it rains, it REALY RAINS, buckets of water coming down, but that is not such a problem: cleans the boat and fills the water tank. A bar with nice music and good food where you meet nice and friendly people, a shower, free internet: that is what we were craving for.  We are on the Suriname river in Domburg, close to Paramaribo. We hear the howler monkeys on the other side of the river, where it’s already  pure jungle. I am telling you, it’s REAL heaven.

I remember from the old days of sailing in Holland: the feeling of arriving after a tough stretch in bad weather and under poor conditions is unbeatable. Leaving under difficult condition makes you nervous, hanging in it, you just do what you must do, and arriving is heaven.

Wednesday we will go for the stamp in our passports and on Friday we will sail with ELITSHA  70 miles down the river to meet caiman, anaconda, howler monkey and jaguar in the real jungle. No Sonny and Crocked anymore, Dick as Tanzan and I will be Jane.

………to be continued.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Four Eighths

airing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word count: 4.5K + Warnings: Coarse Language, slight angst, character building (Four), he’s kinda redeemed for being such an ass in the last chapter! If this were a movie, there would be a shopping montage (Preferably with La Roux Bulletproof playing), also very reckless driving (Eight is a god damned bad ass!) 

*Disclaimer, as promised this is a more lighthearted chapter, still with a slight bit of angst, but I feel like that’s just a given when it comes to 6 Underground fics!

Missed Chapters ONE,  TWO and THREE.... Maybe read those first? Might help you understand what’s going on here!

Chapter Four:  I'm having fun, don't put me down

The trailer door slammed shut behind you, as you stalked towards Five’s trailer, your wet hair being blown in all directions by the sudden gale which had picked up at base. You were mad, you were beyond mad, you were at the point of furious! “Who the fuck does Four think he is? He doesn’t have a fucking clue what I can do!”  You snarl under your breath, not that it made any difference. You could’ve screamed the words from the top of your lungs, and you doubted anyone would hear you over the wind. As you rounded a corner, Five’s trailer came into view, her and Two sat on the steps leading inside, both looking up at you when your shadow cast across them. Your eyes were hidden behind a pair of heart shaped sunglasses, the cheerful eyewear masking the look of rage piercing your eyes. Plastering on a smile, you leant against the side of Five’s trailer, resting your clasped hands behind your back. “Sorry I took so long, sleep kinda happened.” You smirk.

Five waves you off, smiling softly. “No stress, if I were still a medical practitioner, I’d be yelling at you right now to go back to bed, and finish healing.”

“You do that anyway. Medical licence or no…” Two grins, earning a shove in the shoulder from Five.

“That’s beside the point! None of you actually have to listen to me when I tell you do something! When I wore a name badge and stethoscope, people would do exactly as I said!”

“Thanks Five, but really, I’m alright. I don’t need any more sleep. I feel fine.” You grin, feeling your anger slowly ebb away. Five eyes you from head to toe, as if she were expecting a mortal wound to appear somewhere on your person. “Seriously Five, it’s okay. I’m no more injured than I usually am after attacking the punching bag!”

At this, Five cracks a grin, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Two, you’ve turned her into you! Next thing we know, Eight’ll be running around with a gunshot wound in her back, telling us all that she’s fine!”

“How is that possibly a bad thing?” Two gasps, looking between Five and you, a tiny smirk working its way onto her lips. “We need more people like me in the world, and I’m honoured that Eight is just that!”

“Besides, eight is divisible by two! So of course we’re going to end up like each other!” You laugh, kicking one foot up behind you, planting it firmly on the side of the trailer.

“By that logic then, eight is also divisible by four, would that make you and Four similar too?” Five grins. Your breath hitches in your throat, the last thing you want it to think about that arrogant Brit. No, you were nothing alike. You would never question someone’s place on a team before they’d had the opportunity to prove themselves.

“Definitely not. He and I are two very different people.” You answer almost too quickly, both Five and Two noticing your sudden shift in posture. Your back had gone pin straight, and your hands had moved to rest in front of you, fingers locking then unlocking over and over.

Two stands up, stepping over Five who was on the step below her. “Well, I don’t know about you, Eight. But I know that after a good fight, I always like to get a big meal. There’s a diner in town that serves pretty decent food. Ready to head on in?”

Pushing away from the trailer, you nod twice, smiling gently at Two. “That’s sounds great.”

“I’ll get the keys from One, I’ll meet you both at the car.” Five offers, closing her trailer door, and heading towards a shipping container. You were still learning where everything at base was, but if you remembered correctly, the one Five entered was the communal rec room. It was often where One and Seven could be found, battling it out in a game of pool.

*****

The silver McLaren 570S sped down the highway, going well over the speed limit, though considering that you had only passed three other cars the whole time, it didn’t much matter how fast you went. Two had offered to drive, as she claimed to know a short cut to the small town you were visiting, and as it was your first time leaving the base in weeks, Five had offered you sit in the passenger seat to take in the scenery, which you would’ve done had it not been blurring past you at a rate of knots. Eventually, the car slowed down as you entered a small populated town, driving through the quiet street at an acceptable speed. “Where are we stopping first? Shopping or lunch?” Two asks, turning to face Five in the backseat.

Five gazes out the window for a moment, contemplating her answer. “Lunch makes the most sense, it’s the right time for it…”

“I was thinking shopping first. If we eat later in the day, then we’ll have an actual excuse to not have to eat whatever Three makes for dinner tonight.” You offer, tilting your head to the side as you wait for a response.

Two chuckles, nodding her head. “I may like Three, but his cooking is atrocious.”

“Shops first, it is then!” Five grins, as Two drives further down the street, until she pulls into a parking space. The three of you climbing out, before instantly being hit with a sticky, humid breeze, making you all wish you had remained in the air-conditioned car.

The two women lead you down the street, as you look at each of the shops you pass. A few small clothing stores, a grocer, chemist, realtor, arcade, cinema, three diners, one Italian restaurant, and finally you come to a home décor store. “They don’t have much, but it’s enough to make things a little more comfortable.” Five offers with a smile as she pushes the door open for you all.

Inside, the store was set up in multiple different sections. One for bathroom, another for children’s rooms, kitchens, lounge rooms, and of course master bedrooms. Moving further into the store, you leave Two and Five to look through the lounge section, as you make a beeline for the bedroom portion of the store. The store offered just about everything you could possibly need for a bedroom, though as you weren’t in the market for a new bed, or furniture at all for that matter, you were left with only a small portion of the display area to look through. There was a tall floor lamb which you select, along with a matching smaller lamp that you intended to use by your bed. Next came bed sheets, the ones you had been using since you arrived were clearly hand me downs, not that there was an issue with that, but you did want to new ones. Finding a few sets that you liked, and also hoped would fit your mattress, you move on to the more decorative side of things. A string of twinkling fairy lights was added to your basket, along with a cream coloured rectangular rug. As you looked further around, you came across decorative throw cushions, which you quickly snatched up five of, all in different colours and patterns, only to then find a throw blanket which matched one of the five, which you found yourself needing!

Making your way back to the front of the store, you found your travel companions causing a ruckus in the kids room section, where they were attempting to build a fort with the few items available to do so. The store clerk looked as if he was having an aneurism, though he was unable to say anything that would make the women stop. “If only One could see you both now.” You giggle, heading over with your arms and basket full of décor.

Two pokes her head up from behind their fort, smirking at you. “Why do you say that?”

“When he was telling me about all of you after we first met, he told me I had to behave well around you two, because you were the adults of the team.”

Five bursts into laughter, as Two joins in with her own giggles. “Fuck One, he sees what he wants to see when it comes to us! He wouldn’t notice if we walked around with fake moustaches drawn on!” Five gasps, shaking her head fondly.

“One time, during a briefing, Seven didn’t show up, but instead stuffed a jacket with paper, and blew up a balloon and put it under the jackets hood. He set it up perfectly, it actually looked like someone was asleep on the table! Unless you got too close, then it was obvious what was going on. One got through the whole meeting, and only when everyone stood to leave, and the fake Seven didn’t, did he notice something was wrong!” Two has a fond look in her eyes as she tells you her story. “If he thinks we’re the adults, then that’s fine, but we know the truth!”

A part of you longs to stay with the women, and help them build their fort, but the other part of you feels the urge to rescue the poor store clerk. Turning to face him, you smile kindly. “Hi there, could I grab these all please?”

The young boy blinks in shock, tearing his gaze away from the two grown women destroying the store. “Uh- sure! Just follow me.”

You do as he says and follow him to the register, he looks no older that fifteen or sixteen perhaps, and clearly has had no experience with dealing with a situation like this. As the youth reads out your total, you smile and pull out the credit card from your purse. Two had handed it to you before you left, saying that is was One’s card, and was only to be used for the essentials. When you had asked if shopping for your tailer counted as an essential, she had looked directly in your eyes and said, that home decorating was the only essential. “Can you add an extra 70 bucks to the total please?”

The boy blinks at you in surprise, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Why’d you wanna do that?”

You shrug lightly, twirling the card between your fingers. “Because I feel bad for the mess my friends have made. Figure this might make up for it a bit.”

He doesn’t question you again and does as told, presenting you with your new total, to which you happily pay.  By the time the small items had been bagged up, you were left with two lamps in large boxes, and a rolled-up rug to try and figure out how to carry out to the car. “Oi ladies! Leave the poor shop alone and come gimme a hand here!” You yell across the store, hearing the giggling from the two women cease.

*****

Loading your purchases into the car had been one hell of a hassle, while the McLaren was built for speed, it was certainly not built with the intention of ever using the trunk! After much swearing, and the threat of returning the rug, the three of you had managed to get everything safely inside, slamming the trunk closed, with the vow to not open it again until you were back at base. Next, came a very late lunch. It was well after three when you entered the diner, only a handful of other patrons there at the odd time of your arrival. A middle aged woman with flaming red hair directed the three of you to a booth at the back of the diner, handing out plastic menu’s. You all placed your orders, heeding Five’s warning and staying well away from the nachos. “Four had them once, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so unwell…” She had advised, to which although the thought of Four being sick did spark joy in you, you would rather not find out if it was a one-off thing or not.

Once your meals were handed out, conversation flowed freely between the three of you, no question was off limits now that you were away from the base and One’s prying eyes. “Alright Eight, I’ve been trying to figure it out all afternoon, but I just can’t. So you’re going have to answer it for me. What’s the go with Four? When we mentioned him back at base, I genuinely thought you were about to cry, or scream. Maybe even both…” Five begins, dabbing the corner of mouth with a napkin.

You pray that the ground will open up and swallow you whole, at least then you’d have an excuse for not answering. Of course, they had noticed your reaction earlier, you’d never been good at hiding your emotions, your dad used to warn you to never play poker! Both as an anti-gambling campaign, but also because he knew that if you did, everyone would know straight away if you were bluffing or not. You look  across at Two, who although has her mouthful, looks just as curios as Five does. Sighing deeply, you rest your elbows on the table, hissing quietly as you press against a bruise you didn’t know you had. “I’m just tired of the way he’s been treating me is all.”

“Wow, that was so informative. I feel so enlightened! Thank you so much for sharing such a heart wrenching story with us, I know that must’ve been hard for you.” Two grumbles, glaring at you over her meal. You had hoped that maybe they would accept such a basic offer, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

“It’s just that he’s been ignoring me since I arrived! Every time I try to talk to him, he just pretends he can’t hear me, and then there’s the times when I’m talking to someone else! He walks right up to us, and just starts talking over the top of me, no apology or anything!”

Five clears her throat, looking at you softly. “I don’t think he means anything by it Eight. He was like that with all of us when we first met him, he just seems to take a while to warm up to new people is all.”

At that, you can’t help but laugh, causing the two women to look at you in surprise. Out of all the reactions you could’ve had to Five’s comment that was not one they had expected. “Is there more that you’re not telling us?” Two presses on, placing her fork down and giving you her full attention now.

Your fingers comb through your hair, pushing the sweaty strands away from your scalp. “I uh- overheard him talking, or rather shouting with One today.”

“Bloody hell, those two fight like cats and dogs sometimes, you’ll get used to it eventually.” Two shrugs, leaning back to press herself against the booth’s chair more comfortably

You shake your head, breathing out deeply. “No, it’s not that. Christ I couldn’t give a flying fuck whether they scream at each other all the time or not, what I do care about though, is the way he talks about me when I’m not around.” You take a sip of your ice water, the cool glass rather soothing against your palm. “He was questioning One as to why I’m here. He thinks that what I do is pointless, and that I shouldn’t be a part of the team. Apparently, you don’t need a hacker, and that having me around is a liability. Then he accused the fight today of being a fluke, basically saying the Three was an easy take down for me! Oh, and then there was this whole thing about you needing a driver instead of me, and when One said that the team would continue taking it in turns of being the getaway driver, he basically said that I wouldn’t be able to drive a getaway vehicle even if I wanted to!” By the time you finish you feel fresh tears clawing at the backs of your eyes. You squeeze your lids shut, until you feel the need to sob subside.

With your eyes shut, you don’t see the looks exchanged between Two and Five, who were conducting a silent conversation, with you none the wiser. “Eight, I’m not trying to excuse Four’s behaviour, or his comments. But there’s something you should know.” Five sighs, resting a comforting hand over your shoulder, smiling gently when you look at her beside you. “Four, well he’s been part of the team for a while, he joined well before I did, so he’s come to know a fair few people in his time with the Ghosts. By now, you’ve probably realised that there’s a number missing in our team, Six. He was with us for our first mission in Florence, but things didn’t end well, and he didn’t make it. Four and Six, they were practically joined at the hip, despite what One always told us, warning us to never get too close to each other, they did anyways. They were best friends! Six was our driver, and when he was with us, you could always find the two of them dicking around, going for joy rides, just being overall stupid young boys, but at least they were having fun. When Six died, it hit Four like a ton of bricks, for weeks he kept to himself, he disappeared for nearly two weeks, none of us had any idea where he went, we still don’t. But then, he suddenly returned, and begun acting as if nothing had changed. Even though, in his world, everything had.”

A crease forms between your brows as you watch Five, tears are brimming in her eyes, but just like you, she’s too stubborn to let them fall. “Since then, Four’s been, different. He puts on a brave face, but we all know that there’s something eating him from the inside out. But he refuses to talk about it, and we can’t force him to. One uses it to his advantage, reminding us that this is why we don’t form attachments, but we don’t listen to him. Forming attachments keeps us human, even if it hurts sometimes.”

You blink slowly, taking in Five’s words, a deep pang of sympathy pounding in your chest. All of what you had just been told, it made sense to why Four was so quick to defend Six when he was arguing with One earlier. “I get that he’s been hurt, and that maybe he doesn’t know how to deal with the loss of Six. But why is he taking it out on me?”

This time, it’s Two who answers you, drumming her long fingers on the table. “He’s doing exactly what One has been telling us to do for years, not making attachments. He would rather have you hate him, than to get close to you, and have something happen. He can’t do the same with the rest of us, he’s known us too long now. But you? You’re new, he doesn’t know anything about you, and if he can keep it that way, then neither of you will be hurt if another mission ends badly.”

“But that doesn’t explain why he was talking about me like that to One! If he was saying it directly to me, then sure, I’d understand because yeah, I really am close to hating him after those comments. But when he was talking to One, he didn’t know I was there!”

“You didn’t have to be there. Gossip travels quickly when there’s only seven of us around, secrets don’t stay secret for long. One way or another we all find everything out. Four knows this as well as the rest of us do. Anything that he says to One about you, will eventually get around base until it reaches you. This time, the process just skipped a step, and went straight to you, before the rest of us found out.” Two offers with a tired shrug.

You pick at the remainder of your meal, mulling over this new information, unsure of how to process all of it at once. The table grows quiet, the three of you all lost in your own thoughts. “So Four doesn’t hate me really…. And, he doesn’t think that I have no place in the team?”

“I can’t guarantee anything, but I’d bet you fifty bucks that that’s exactly right. He doesn’t know you; he can’t hate you.” Five laughs, and you feel some tension leave your shoulders, finally feeling somewhat relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Biting down on your bottom lip, you gaze across at Two, then at Five, both of whom raise their eyebrows, they could see the cogs in your mind turning, but they had no idea what plan you were formulating. “I may not be able to do much to change this situation. But the least I can do is prove him wrong.”

“What’ve you got in mind Eight?” Two smirks, sitting up straight and pushing her plate to the side of the table.

*****

If you thought the McLaren was travelling fast on your way into town, then the drive out meant you were practically flying! The leather steering wheel was soft against your hands as you swerved in between cars, paying little to no mind as to which lane of the freeway you were legally supposed to be driving on. “Jesus Christ Eight! Would you mind not killing us please?” Two gasped, as you narrowly avoided a head on collision with a semi as you overtook a Winnebago, despite her vocal protests at your erratic driving, the sparkle in her eyes proved that she was enjoying the ride just as much as you were.

Five however was not having a grand time, and looked to be on the verge of carsick. “Eight, there are breakable things in the back of this car! Please slow down! Think of the lamps!”

You look at Five through the rear-view mirror, raising your eyebrows behind you heart glasses. “Why have the speedometer go this high if you can’t drive that fast?” You challenge, pressing down on the accelerator further, the engine revving in a delicious purr.

Whereas on the way into town, even with Two speeding as she was, the trip had still taken forty-five minutes. This time around, you were easily halfway back to base, and had only been driving for fifteen minutes. “Fucking hell Eight, we’re supposed to be dead! What happens if the police pull you over? How do you explain that three dead women are currently driving at a highly illegal speed down a freeway?” Five tries again, though it only causes you to laugh, even Two was finding the whole ordeal rather humorous.

Watching Five in the mirror, you see her open her mouth, ready to ask you to slow down again. Before she has the chance, you flick the radio on, the opening psychedelic tune of Devin Townsend’s True North urging you to speed along further. The music soaks into your entire being, and as you drive, singing along, you find yourself not caring what anyone thought of you in this very moment. You were truly living your best life, and there were genuinely no consequences for doing so.

 *****

 Four had once again cornered One, or so he thought.  Four was under the impression, that if he yelled loud enough, that One would listen to what he had to say and would kick you out of the team. For three weeks now, he’d been trying to think of different ways to prove that you weren’t a good fit with the rest of the Ghosts, but nothing he said seemed to deter One’s line of thought. None of them had a bloody clue what the next mission was, but according to One, you would be necessary. Four failed to see how, there was nothing you could do, that the others couldn’t. Sure, they would need a bit of training to get there, and to be able to get things done as quickly as you did, but he was positive that he could hack into a museum’s security cameras just as quickly as you supposedly had!

“I’m not having this discussion with you again Four.” One groaned, rubbing at his forehead with his thumb and index finger.

“But you’re not bloody listening! What if she double crosses us? Instead of breaking into a computer to steal the information we need, what if she sends it to someone else? Or gives away our location and plans?”

“Why? Why would she do that? Who would she send them to? According to all official documents, she’s dead. Just like the rest of us. There’s literally no one out there who would make a deal with a dead person, just on the off chance they actually delivered on their promises!”

Four frowned deeply, his brows furrowed and scar pulsing in his frustration. Why was this so difficult? Why couldn’t One just listen to him for once? All he wanted, truly, was for you to be safe, and to return to your old life! As glamourous as One had likely talked up the life of a Ghost, it truly wasn’t all it was cracked up to be! No one else should be subjected to this life, there was too much pain and death involved with this way of living, and you had no reason to experience it.

From behind the two men, a cloud of dust could be seen rapidly approaching, red clouds of dirt billowing around until they parted in lieu of the speeding McLaren. One moment it was miles away from the men, and the next, he could feel the heat radiating from the car as it breezed past him, before performing a donut, and coming to halt with the bonnet facing him. The tyre marks in the dirt showed just how perfect a stop the car had come to, there was no fishtailing, just clean tracks. Five was the first to emerge from the car, pressing a hand to cover her eyes, while the other rest atop the car door. Two pulled herself out next, grinning between him and One, before turning and popping the trunk. Finally, out you came, from the driver’s side no less, a cocky grin plastered to your lips as you waved at One, raising an arched eyebrow up at Four.

“Jesus Eight, I said you could drive home! Not warp us here!” Five groaned, as she helped you and Two collect things from the trunk of the car.

“Right, so who the fuck taught you to drive like that then?” One yelled out, earning a grin from you in his direction.

“When you run perpetually late like I do, and go to school on the opposite side of the city, you learn how to navigate traffic pretty damned quickly.” You quip back, slamming the trunk closed, and pocketing the keys. You, Two and Five all making your way towards your trailer.

“Don’t. Don’t fucking say it One.” Four warns, holding up a hand to the grinning man before him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about? I wasn’t going to say anything. Especially not anything about how impressive Eight’s driving skills are.” One shrugs, eyebrows raised in a look of utter innocence.

Four Eighths Taglist (If you want to be added just let me know) @not-the-cleavers​ @jinxfirebolt18902​ @sj-thefan​ @softnorris​

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Chapter Five out now

[shes-an-oddbird]

Evaluations

After escaping the time loops in 7x09, Mack and May take the time to evaluate Deke’s combat training, Daisy’s recovery and how well Sousa is adjusting to his new prosthetic. 

I've literally been working on this, I think since 7x09 aired. I just really wanted to write May being protective of Daisy but also she's hyper aware of what's going through everyone's mind so it kept expanding. Seriously, Season 7 might be my favorite but we were robbed of May looking between Daisy and Sousa and just rolling her eyes so hard.

Also I love Deke dearly, he's just so easy to tease. If I wasn't so eager to have this done his part would be much longer.

AO3

Daniel picks up quickly on the fact that the team is mourning the loss of Enoch and decides its best to give them space. He had not known the – Man? Robot? Alien? – well, but he did know he was an important member of the crew and a friend. They needed time. So he picked up the device Simmons had given him to read up on the 70 some odd years of history he was unfamiliar with and departed to the rarely used sleeping quarters on the Zephyr.

It wasn’t long before he was asleep in the bunk they had given him. It wasn’t much but it was more comfortable than the metal chair he had been sleeping in. Not that sleeping in that chair hadn’t been his choice or that he wouldn’t do it again. He just couldn’t leave her side, not after what she’d been through. Besides, she was the type to rest for five minutes and call herself a hundred percent ready to go.

Daniel knew that type. Could see one a mile away.

Her well-being, that was his reason behind the ache in his neck and stiffness in his back.

Not his crush on her.

And there was definitely a crush. If his being woken from his slumber by an extremely vivid dream of kissing her was any indication.

He knew that he liked her. Pretty much from the moment he met her he was impressed and with every second spent with her since she amazed him even more. Still he hadn’t meant to fall like this. Not again. This was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. And the kiss, that had felt almost real. More like a memory than a dream.

Regardless there was no falling back to sleep. Hours had passed, possibly even a whole night’s sleep worth. Had they jumped again? Someone would have told him. He wanders back out to the Zephyr’s command center and finds Agent Coulson and Agent Rodriguez silently observing the control panels.

“What’s going on, where is everyone?” Daniel asks as he tries to figure out what was so interesting on the large screens.

“There’s no count down.” Agent Rodriguez gestures to the timer.

“And there should be?” He still didn’t have a very good grasp of how it all worked but to be fair, it didn’t seem like they did either.

She nods. “According to Simmons, yes.”

“Where is everyone else?” Usually, at least as best he could say from the short time he’s been with them, the control center is always bustling.

“We’re waiting it out, hoping a new countdown will start but until then May and Mack are using the time to do evaluations.” Coulson explains.

“On?”

“Deke’s combat training and Daisy’s recovery.”

Oh. This takes him by surprise. Could Daisy really be up for training yet? He had seen up close what she went through and even with the healing chamber supposedly accelerating her recovery he wished she would take it easy.

“They’re down the hall if you want to join them, we were kicked out.” Agent Rodriguez looks more amused than irritated by this statement.

“Kicked out?”

“Simmons made us leave because we were making Deke self-conscious.” She adds with a roll of her eyes.

“Might be fun to watch, you’ve not had a chance to see May in action, at least not that you remember.” Daniel has tried very hard not to think about the time loops since the situation had been explained to them. The idea that there was all this time lost, hours upon hours of time helping Daisy and the others that he didn’t remember, it was unsettling. What had been said? Daisy had thanked him, said she couldn’t have solved it without him but didn’t elaborate. Still it would be good to familiarize himself with the team’s skill sets. And he was happy for a valid reason to seek out Daisy’s company. Maybe he could pry a bit more information out of her about the loops.

He took the narrow hallway down past the lab and med bay, enjoying the ease with which his new prosthetic allowed him to walk. It was incredible. Almost like the real thing. He could feel the sock and shoe on his foot, could wiggle his toes. The sensations, as simple as they were, were a little distracting. He nearly walked right past the gym.

As he came to the door he peered through the small window, inside he could see Agent May and Deke standing in the middle of a mat. He enters slowly, hoping not to disrupt. To his left are Mack, Simmons and Daisy. Mack is holding a clipboard in his hands and is marking down notes as May directs Deke to move one way or another.

“Good Morning Sunshine, sleep well?” Daisy’s voice chirps over the shouted commands from the mat. She’s sitting on the edge of a narrow table while Simmons does an examination on her. He considers leaving and coming back when she’s done. Daisy is dressed down to what he thinks must be modern day undergarments, but no one else in the room is bothered, Daisy herself seems comfortable, and Agent May, he realizes, is dressed similarly.

“How long was I out for?”

“Probably 6 hours, we weren’t going to wake you unless we decided to move to the Lighthouse.”

Daniel nods. “So what’s going on here, you okay?” He asks her but looks pointedly at Agent Simmons for an answer.

“I’m fine.”

“She’s better.” Simmons corrects.

“I’m fine.” Daisy repeats.

“She’s better.”

Daniel can tell immediately that this is an argument the girls have frequently.

“You are well enough for some basic training.”

“You might want to tell May that, she doesn’t go easy on anyone.”

As if on cue there is a yelp as May hauls Deke over her shoulder and the man lands flat on his back. “Ow!”

“Learning how to fall properly is part of training.” May explains as she takes a few breaths. She looks exhausted.

“Do you need a break Agent May?” Mack asks and Daniel knows he’s not the only one who has seen the look in her eyes.

“This is all him, not me.” She snaps back.

“Take a short one anyways.” Mack orders.

“Hey, I’m the one lying on the ground.” Deke complains as he pushes himself off the floor.

“Don’t worry Deke, you’re done for the day.”

“Finally.”

“For what it’s worth, I thought you did alright.”

Deke looks at him irritably. “What are you doing here, I thought we kicked all the spectators out?”

“Actually, if Agent Sousa’s is up for it, it might be good to see how you’re adjusting to the new leg.” Simmons suggests.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Mack agrees. He’s surprised by the suggestion but more than willing to submit to an evaluation. Personally, he’d like to know firsthand how his limitations have changed.

“Deke can show you wear to find some sweats.”

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He returns to the small gym to find May and Daisy already sparring with each other and its honestly hard to look away. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen two people move so fast and so gracefully at the same time. Mack is watching the pair carefully, clearly taking in each move Daisy makes to make sure she’s as fine as she says she is. Simmons just looks nervous.

“You don’t think she’s up for this yet.” She signs heavily and shoots him a weak smile.

“I think even she knows she’s not.”

It was the answer he expected and did nothing to ease his worry.

But if there was anything he had learned about Daisy it was that she was determined. Strong and determined. She expertly dodged everything May threw at her, tumbling out of the way and giving back everything she got. He thinks its oddly pretty for fighting, dance-like even. In his experience hand to hand combat is brutal. He thinks of Peggy, slamming people into walls and knocking them senseless with whatever was in reach. He thinks of Jack Thompson who’d go at anyone with his fists until they were bruised and bloody. Even he wasn’t immune to it. Having been armed with blunt force weapon since he’d lost his leg, it was an easy go to. There was one person who comes to mind who fought with that sort of grace. A Russian assassin with a background in ballet.

Daniel is ripped from his thoughts when he sees May go to toss Daisy to the floor. Daisy tries to stop it, flipping into it. He hears a loud cry as her feet hit the ground and she stumbles back. A small quake shakes the room and May surges forward to catch her but instead they both crash to the ground. Simmons gasps and rushes on to the mat and Daniel is glad that she moves even faster than he does because it makes his own concern less obvious.

“Daisy!”

“What the hell was that?” May demands, quickly pushing herself up.

“You didn’t have to catch me.” Daisy bites back.

“You were terrified.”

“I was just – startled, most people are when they’re hurdling towards the ground.”

May sits back on her feet and watches Daisy wearily. “That’s not what that was.”

“I’m fine.” She says again. She is looking up at Simmons now and determinedly not at May.

“Then why haven’t you sat up.” Simmons scolds her. Daniel’s worry is starting to eat away at him. He really wants her to just pop back up like its no big deal. She groans and slowly eases herself up. She wobbles just a little and he can’t help it anymore. He kneels beside her and offers her a hand up, his other hand already supporting her from the middle of her back.

“I’m really okay, a little dizzy.”

“Let me run a couple quick tests.”

Daisy’s eyes squeeze shut. “I really don’t think – “

“How about a snack and some water.” Mack suggests. “Take a break, we’ll give it another go in a little while and if it happens again, Simmons gets to run her tests.” Daniel appreciates Mack’s tact. Agreeing readily, Daisy takes his hand and allows him to hoist her off the floor and back onto her feet. His hand hovers at her back even once she’s got her balance back.

Jemma still looks uncertain. “Fine, but a healthy snack.”

“Oh god, she going to give me an apple or rice cakes.” May’s already walked away to get her own water and Mack isn’t paying attention, so he realizes her words are directed at him. He smiles at her disdain for the health foods and finds himself wondering what her preferred snack of choice would be. She squeezes his hand and shoots him a smile. As she starts to follow Simmons her hand stays clasped in his until she’s out of reach and their hands fall back to their sides.

“May, go ahead and get started, I’m going to make sure she doesn’t put up too much of a fight.” Mack doesn’t look back and May doesn’t say anything at all, so Daniel turns his eyes on her. She’s watching him curiously from across the room.

May unnerves him. When it was explained to him exactly what was going on with her, her hyper empathy, feeling the emotions of those around her instead of her own, he didn’t believe it. But seeing with his own eyes just moments ago how Daisy’s fear had affected her, and earlier Deke’s exhaustion, he supposed he had to accept it as reality.

“How’s your hand to hand?” She steps up in front of him on the mat. Five minutes ago, he would have answered with a confident decent but after watching the pair spar...

“Rusty.”

“Your file gave you more credit than that.”

“I tried not to let the lack of appendage slow me down but there were definitely obstacles, I’m hoping this will help with that.” He gestures to the new prosthetic.

“Only if you trust it.” And with that she lunges at him. She is nowhere near him, not even trying to land a hit on him. She goes for his right side and rather than shift the weight to his left to avoid her he instinctively depends on his good leg, tripping over his own feet and ending up flat on the mat.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, you’ve spent more than a decade learning to not rely on that leg, I imagine that will be a hard habit to break.”

He senses her statement is unfinished. “But we will?”

“We will.”

He nods and climbs back to his feet, intentionally leading with the left leg.

He is fairly quick and has always been a fast learner. As he adjusts to leading with his left leg he manages to avoid May’s advances a little longer each time even if it’s still for no more than a few seconds. He does manage to take her by surprise once, catching her by her wrist on the way down and tossing her to the ground next to him. He thinks maybe she’s impressed or maybe she’s just impressed because he is with himself.

“Not afraid to knock me down, that good.”

“Why would I be?”

“That 1950’s mentality.”

“You think Peggy Carter would let me think that way for very long.”

He thinks he catches a small smile but its only for a second before they are back at it again. Over the next two rounds she must decide he feels a little too confident with himself and sends him to the ground by swiping his feet out from under him in less than a second.

“What did you mean earlier, when you told Daisy she wasn’t afraid of hitting the floor.” He asks as they start again.

“I know what if feels like to be afraid of falling, that’s not what I felt.”

“But what was it?” He hits the ground again. This time it hurts more. Like maybe her training gloves were off. Rather than holding out a hand as she had done every time before she stands above him, looking down at him, scrutinizing him.

“Why do you need to know?”

“I just want to be able to help her as best I can, if she needs it.”

He can’t tell if she believes him. She just glares at him as he returns to his feet once more.

“Its not a fear of falling, it’s a fear of failing.” May finally answers. “I could feel it, her technique was fine but she’s not fully recovered and she was wearing down more quickly than she normally would have, I know I trained her.” This doesn’t surprise him at all. The relationship between them definitely read like a balance between mentor and pupil and mother and daughter. “It’s normal, she needs more time, but it’s not completely unlike her to be irrational in her expectations for herself and she thinks she needs to be fine now, when she fell she was – I don’t know if she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to land that flip again or if it hit her all at once and she was afraid she’d never be a hundred precent again but whichever it was, it truly scared her.”

“But you said it, she just needs more time.”  

“I also used the word irrational.” May reiterated. “I’m telling you this because she trusts you, I can feel that too, among other things,” she rolls her eyes and he knows that his crush on Daisy is not just his secret anymore, “but you genuinely want to be there for her and she might actually let you do that and if that’s the case I’m willing to give you any help I can provide.”

“She really means a lot to you.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she does nod.

Before Daniel can say anything in return the door swings open and Daisy bounces back into the room with Mack following behind her. A smile stretches across his face as Daisy’s eyes seek him out and she holds up the half-eaten apple in her hand.

He hears May scoff and the next thing he knows is that he’s lying on the mat again, staring up at the harsh overhead lights. There is a distant laugh and the light thump of more feet on the mat. Daisy appears above him looking just slightly concerned but mostly amused. “Did you even try to ease him into it?” She asks May.

“Didn’t need too.”

Daisy holds out a hand for him which he gratefully takes.

“She didn’t throw you around too much, did she?”

“Not at all.”

“You’re lying.” He is. For the first time in years his other body parts hurt just as much as his leg, maybe even more. “Wait, where are you going?” Daisy asks May as the woman leaves the mat. She picks up her water and takes a few long sips and then a few deep breaths.

“I can’t do it, if they’re going to be in the same room, you have to finish the evaluations.” And with that she leaves.

“What was that about?” Daisy crosses her arms and shifts her weight. Her tied back hair swings behind her and he can’t decide if its blonde or brown or some odd shade in between but whatever it is its safer to concentrate on than her exposed shoulders and bare midriff. He blinks at her several times before he can comprehend the four simple words she’s said.

“My fault,” he answers suddenly, “I think, I mean I’m pretty overwhelmed with my leg and everything, if she can feel that – its probably disconcerting for her.” That sounded better than she couldn’t deal with the second-hand feelings from his crush on her daughter-figure.

Daisy turns her attention on him. She has that look in her eyes again. The same one she had when she thanked him after they had escaped the time loops. Like she knows something he doesn’t. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

“Sousa, you okay to go a few more rounds so I can check Daisy’s progress?”

He looks from Mack to Daisy. She tilts her in question, “you up for it?”

“Of course, whatever you need.” Her smile softens and he recalls May’s words. You genuinely want to be there for her, and she might actually let you. Daniel really hopes she’s right.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Saturday 26 May 1838

8

12 ¼

fine morning F61 ½° at 8 ½ am A- went to the cathedral about 8 or after to sketch the interior and returned at 9 35 – I sat writing till 10 – then breakfast – changed our room – from the small one to the next adjoining a large very good room and breakfasting and moving our things till 12 – our garçon Paul Voisin a nice civil good countenanced unmarried aetatis 31 man from Lyons – does not like here – would be glad to be in a private house again – would be glad to go with us – lived 15 years with la marquise de Montague – was then in the army – then not getting a good place at Lyons came to Paris and from there here – in bed at 12 or 2 and up at 4 – so hard a place, nobody could stay long – he makes 800fr. a year – but would rather have less in a different place – had 350 fr. a year with the marquise de M- and livery – she lived in the r. de la université, but is not now in Paris – lives in the country – A- and I out at 12 35 – took a commissionaire to shew us the way, and then sent him home – Mr. Mumm or somebody, a very civil young man, protestant it seemed, and speaking English very fairly – a German shewed us over the cellars, and afterwards shewed us into a large good salon, and gave us champagne and biscuits – the wine Mousseux and very fair but not so good as Moets’ of Epernay in 1833. should I have as good of Moet at 3/. a bottle? ordered a dozen of his 1ere qualité at 4/50 per bottle to be sent off on Monday and would be in Paris on Tuesday or Wednesday to my address rue St. Victor n° 27 à Paris – thought we might get this dozen over to England for Lady Stuart – en petite cadeau – about an hour at the cellars (at Mr. Mumms’) underground and above – 3 stories of cellars to the depth of 36 to 40 ft. ventilated by grates communicating from the bottom cellar to the top – each story divided into separate vaults perhaps the loftiest 7 or 8ft. high in the centre – perhaps 4 or 5 yards wide and 20+ long – in the lowest story 3 men corking – one filling up the bottles – another putting in the cork, and driving it down with a machine (has only had it about 15 months) on the principle of a corn or button-stamping machine, and the 3rd man tying down the corks, (the tightness gained by a small steel thing round which the string is turned and held fast while the other end is pulled tight) – It is not long since everybody left off gaudon (rosin) and covered the corks with lead-paper – a great improvement

Monday 28 May 1838. no good wine in champagne says our landlord of the Ecu at Epernay since the year 1834.

asked for champagne tranquille – cannot have it now – not till next year – not ripe enough now – that of 1834 will not be ripe till next year – taken with the double-incline clearing racks  the bottles ranged in an angle = about 25°? require turning twice a day for 2 or 3 weeks till all the sediment has sunk down to the cork – then the cork taken out (a difficult operation saw it done) and with the cork out gushes the sediment in the froth that escapes and the bottle being refilled is immediately re-corked – vintage in October – wine remains in cash till April May or June – about 6 months – Mr. Mumm has no vineyards of his own – buys the grapes – shewed us his great ton = 19,000 bottles = 70 such casks as we saw lying about – sends wine to America in boxes containing 12 bottles and 50 ditto has a house in London, Francfort and Cologne – Inquired respecting the ventilation of cellars – he said wine should have good pure air – Madeira should be kept warm and may do without air, but good air cannot do it any harm if the temperature be attended to – the breakage of champagne = 50p.c. the time of year now coming on – best to order champagne for a years’ consumption – should not be kept too long – he owned that the Bordeaux wines (Claret) for the English market were mixed with hermitage and brandy – on leaving Mr. Mumms’ at 1 55 sauntered in the little Jardin des Plantes – nothing particular in it – 2 or 3 little  serres, not much in them – then to the Cours the very nice shaded promenades – then Champs Elysées of Rheims – very pretty cool and pleasant (hot and very fine sun today) sat there writing in pencil in my rough note book all the above of today till now 2 ¾ - and then to the cemetery close by – i.e. close by the Porte de Mars leading to Flanders (the gate by which we entered yesterday) and the ‘Mission’ i.e. croix de la mission erected in 1825, and now turned to a monument to the memory of the brave who died fighting for the liberty of France (viz. the revolutions of the 3 days of July 1830) – sometime in the cemetery spite of boiling sun – among the tombeaux and epitaphs one of the latter by a father to the memory of his daughter, Marie Antoniette Sophie l’Inglois decêdée Thursday 5 December 1822 dans sa 21me année – after 10 foregoing lines ends thus

‘ô mon chere enfant, attends en paix

ce père malheureux ! attends-le sous cette terre

Qui d’après un homme religieux et sensible,

‘n’est que la cendre des morts pétrie avec les larmes

de vivans’ pretty idea  

not aware at this moment that the ancien porte de Mars (arc de triomphe of the Romans) was so near

from the cemetery thro’ the streets and marché to the palais archiépiscopale

the archbishop M. le cardinal de Couci set off to Paris a day or 2 before the outburst of the revolution of July 1830, and has never been here since – at Goritz with the ex-royal family – the bishop of Numidie does the duties of the archbishop – the archbishop much regretted – a very good man – did a great deal of good –the palais worth seeing the grande salle surrounded by the pictures of the king crowned here from Clavis downwards very handsome – pity that damp is spoiling some of the pictures e.g. Louis XVI. at the end of  the salle – Charles X. taken away – the picture still in the palais but his place in the salle vacant, and several fleurs de lis here and there defaced – (as also the fleurs de lis on the shield of Louis 15 in the Place royale – how puerile!) – the grande salle 130x36 pieds and height = about 36 pieds up to the square – ceiling domed – large poutres (beams) across the room partly gilt with 2 rings in each beam towards the side of the room for suspending 2 chandeliers – 4 windows on each side the great entrance door by flight of steps from without – 4 doors on the opposite side of the room – the great fire-place at the end of the room and over it St. Remy crowning Clovis – shewn into what Charles x intended turning into the chapel – the painted glass windows put in – but all stopt by the revolution – this place was the palais de justice after the revolution of 1789 and 3 stories of prisonniers were in this very spot – the duke of Orelans was lately at our hotel (the Lyon d’or) but did not see the Palace – no! said I, he is still a Bourbon, and the sight could not be agreeable – from here went home at 4 ½ for A- to have wine and biscuit and then out again at 4 52 and off to the church of St. Remy – a 20 minutes walk and there at 5 ¼ - under repair – expected to be done in 2 years from this time – very curious old church – the whole of the nave boarded off – had been new roofed and now full of workmen – 2 stories of double aisle round the apsis and choir and a narrow gallery above the upper story immediately under the painted windows – do not remember to have seen this sort of 2 storied double-aisle – went up to the upper story – same dimensions apparently even as high as the story below – the vitreaux – (painted glass) – very ancient – date not known – supposed to be as old as the church – evidently very ancient – all the ceilings of aisles and choir stone-work plastered and painted in imitation of brick-work – the new vaulting (new roof of the nave) done in wood – the old stone roof too heavy on the walls – the 2 stories of double aisle run all round the nave too – see as we return, that the new roof is not quite so steep as the old one – as seen from the old walls of the town the eves are all in one line but the ridge of the old roof of the choir is about 3ft. higher than the ridge of the new roof of the nave – just peeped into the nave after having seen the high altar and chasse containing the relies of St. Remy – the chasse of solid silver before the revolution of 1789 – now of cuivre argenté – the relies exposed to the faithful

SH:7/ML/E/21/0110

for 9 days in October every year – the figures round the high altar not finished sculptured at the back because stood originally against a wall – done under the orders of a cardinal of Lorraine 300 or 400 years ago – interesting as representing in marble statues the 6 ecclesiastical and 6 lay paises de France and their officers who assisted at the sacres (coronations) of the kings of France – looking towards the altar

the left

‘Duke de Bourgogne’ holding the crown

D. de Normandie – a standard

D. de Aquitaine – a standard

Comte ‘de champagne’ – a standard

C. de Flandre – the sword

C. de Toulouse – the spurs

the right

archduke de Rheims holding sa croix

Ev. duke de Laon – a crosier et l’ampoule

Ev. d. de Langres – a crosier et containing the oil and sceptre

Ev. comte de Beauvais – a crosier

Ev. c. de Chalons – a crosier and the ring

Ev. c. de Noyon – a crosier et la selle the kings’s saddle

immediately at the back of the altar in the space between the last Evêque and last court is a St. Remy seated in his archiepiscopal robes and mitre teaching Clovis kneeling at his feel and a Diacre or assistant holding the cosier and an open book – Left the church (much interested) at 6 20 – sauntered back along the  boulevard very lately planted with young elms – cart road in the middle and 2 allées (promenades) (old rampart) the Vesle river running close along its foot on the other side the old wall – on our right towards the town, great deal of garden ground – pépinières and sale vegetable gardens – delighted with our walk back – nowhere such good views of the exterior of the cathedral – too short – too lumping as a whole – wants the lantern tower the lengthiness of York minster, and its freedom from flying buttresses at the east end which look like steps to graduate the high roof gently down to the ground – the effect of this is bad – as if the building could not support its height at that end – never travel without a view of York minster – take it all in all, has it an equal in the world? when very near our hotel at 7 the light so beautiful on the cathedral turned into a courtyard for a better view – the gentleman of the house civilly asked us in and the wife shewed us in the garden – she said the effect would be still better in about an hour – she regretted the great numeros of pigeons jackdaws, crows etc that inhabited the exterior of the building – to us these birds give life to the scene and improve the picturesque – she said the crows assembled on the wire all along the ridge of the roof so as sometimes to form an almost continuous line from end to end, and all regularly flew away to les champs at 9pm – as good as a clock for 9pm we inquired about Mr. Mumm as to the street in which he lived – she did not know the name – supposed we had seen the cellars of Mr. Muller or Mr. Roeder (a German we said he spoke English well and was a protestant) – asked who was really the most renommé négociant en vins in Reims – Madame Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin- I said the town was full of dyers – yes! but only 6 or 7 great dyers in the town – It turned out her husband was a dyer and also a wine merchant – she said we ought to see les filatures en laine (woollen spinning mills) – it seems they have power looms here – she says trade has been very bad, but is now reviving or revived and pretty goof again – Had ordered dinner at 7 – not in till 7 ½ - dinner immediately but the lateness an excuse for a bad dinner – no épinards – nothing left – I sent for one mutton cutlet for I had literally nothing but cold fish not eating the bit of beef or the little redone overdone poulet or asparagus – sat over dinner and dessert till 10 – then wrote till 11 – very fine day – F67° at 11 pm

[notquitecanon]

New Routines// Criminal Minds x Marvel Crossover pt. 4

Part One   Part Two   Part Three 

“So Captain Rogers,” you started, watching him look around the room in curiosity before he corrected you.

“Please, call me Steve, ma’am.” He nodded, eyes settling on the computer sitting on your desk. You nodded in return, pretended to take note of that but actually scribbling notes about his body language. You had already worked up a ridiculously preliminary profile on the three-hour train from DC, but the combination of the extenuating circumstances and outdated material made it hard to get a feel for his personality. You scratched out ‘profile’, and wrote down Psychological Eval at the top of your notes. It would be easy enough to bend a normal psych eval and throw around a few improvised questions for Steve. 

“Alright, Steve, as long as you don’t call me Ma’am.” You smiled, before continuing, “Like Director Fury told you, I’m just here to assess how you’re doing mentally. As he said, my name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” 

You paused, a snap decision to tell him a little about yourself flashed through your mind. You hoped it give him a little confidence in your work, or at the very least build some rapport. “I formally worked in the FBI, with the BAU. I was recruited to SHIELD a little under a year ago. Before we get started, do you have any questions?”

“Sorry, what is the BAU? And Director Fury said something about a Psych Eval.” He asked, one eyebrow raised, and hands folding in his lap. You smiled, apologizing quietly.

“BAU, behavioral analysis unit. We’re specially trained to ‘profile’. We use behavioral cues to analyze, prevent, and catch criminals. But, this can also be used just to learn about people and how/why they do what they do. And a Psych Eval is just a series of questions that helps me understand where you are mentally with what’s going on.” You watched him listen intently as you explained. “If you have any more questions, please feel free to stop me. Ready?”

And with a nod, you began as you flipped to a blank page. Most questions were fairly standard for an evaluation, and he answered flawlessly- showing you that he could at least come off as well balanced, but he also seemed exceedingly genuine. Forty-five minutes later, you were nodding along as he answered a question. Finally, it came to a natural pause long enough for you to interject, “Thank you for your honesty, and due to the uniqueness of this situation, I’ve drafted a few questions for you. 

The blonde man in front of you, nodded eyes catching a helicopter outside the window. When he zeroed back in on you, you smiled before reading off the question, “As you’ve seen, a lot has changed. And while I know you haven’t had a chance to explore, what seems to be the biggest change?”

“Well, obviously, there’s the physical things. Clothes are different, the city is different- I almost didn’t recognize Time’s Square. I don’t know if I’ll ever wrap my head around technology- computers used to be the size of a room, and now they’re barely radio sized. But, the biggest change is the people.” He explained, eyes looking past you and out of the window to the New York streets.  His interest piqued your interest. 

“Can you elaborate on that?” You asked as you shorthanded notes. He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing while looking at his hands. 

“I mean this with all due respect. You. Director Fury. The people on the street. People have changed. You’re a woman who was a field agent for the FBI, I only knew a few women who carried a gun in the 40′s and they had to work endlessly just to get a foot in the door. You take orders from an African American man and people genuinely respect him, no more segregation. That’s amazing, I didn't think I’d ever get to see that. People seem more abrasive on the street, but are so much more accepting.” He seemed to ramble, but every word was perfectly chosen.  Not knowing what else to say, you softly smiled bobbing your head up and down.

“A lot of that progress was actually made in the 60′s/70′s and still even today.” You remarked, finishing off your notes as you looked up to him. He smiled down at his hands before meeting your eyes. 

“Well, if I woke up and nothing had changed- I’d be a whole lot more worried.” 

Immediately after you excused yourself, you were ushered into a meeting with Director Fury. He quickly skirted around his desk and into his seat, leaning into his desk as he prompted, “Well...?”

You quirked an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side, “Well what, sir?”

His good eye narrowed in on you, deadpanning as he continued, “Could he work in the Avenger’s initiative?”

You sighed, flipping through your notes. “Do you want him because you think he’s a good fit, or because he’s an American Hero and the public will react well?”

He just stared at you, tell you your answer. Finally, he continued, “Are you telling me he’s not a good fit?” 

“I don’t know yet, There’s still a lot to learn.” You nodded, not liking the gut feeling you got. You had a lot of respect for the director, but every now and then his hidden intentions made you uneasy. 

“Like what?” He pressed, voice stern as he leaned in. You slid the file across the desk as you squared your jaw. 

“Well, I only did a baseline, slightly modified psych eval. He fell asleep in 1945 and woke up in 2011- like every veteran, it’s likely he has PTSD, which he would know as shell shock or combat fatigue.” You began, eyebrows furrowing at the eccentricity of the situation, “He’ll need to be reintroduced to society, socialized to today’s societal norms. And that could arise or create issues all in of its own.”

Fury flipped open the files, eyes darting over your notes as the two of you fell into silence. It was a loaded silence, and you felt the pressure of it as you watched it. Slowly, your brain ticked through ideas. “Sir, I may have an idea?” 

He motioned for you to speak without looking up from the file, you nodded as you began training your eyes on the hair tie you were fiddling with, “First, you move him to DC. Closer to SHIELD headquarters first of all. Secondly, New York’s a lot to take in any way.  DC is still a big city, but is less likely to overwhelm him as much. Over a period of 6 months, you can assign an agent to reintroduce him to the world. Monthly, have him meet with a psychologist to gauge his progress. In six months- that would be June, right?- I’ll meet with him again.”

You paused, looking up to see Fury watching you intently, so you kept going, “Then, after the six months, I’ll draw up an official profile, and we can revisit the Avenger’s Initiative conversation then.” 

He stared at you for a moment, eye narrowing before nodding, “We’ll cut out the middle man. You’ll be in charge of getting him out in the world, and monthly you’ll report to me about his progress. In six months, we’ll discuss his involvement in SHIELD.” 

Your eyes widened and you resisted the urge to drop your jaw, “Sir, you want me... babysitting... Captain America?” 

He smirked, the file in his hand slapping against the pristine desk. 

“Think of it as real-time profiling.” He chuckled as he walked out of the room. You couldn’t do anything more than gape after him. 

____

Two weeks later, coming up on the end of January, Steve was issued a clean bill of health- even with the super immunity, they played it safe by revaccinating and running a ridiculous amount of tests- and the two of you were relocated to DC. In those two weeks, you set to work. You were issued a SHIELD credit card, to use for ‘Steve related costs’- funnily enough, Steve was still awarded his pension, adjusted for inflation. You bought him furniture, new clothes, a cellphone, and tracked down his belongings. You mentally thanked Howard Stark for paying to have Steve’s belongings stored.

Annoyingly enough, they placed you back in your old apartment which made it incredibly annoying to unpack your belongings. Steve was your upstairs neighbor. He was almost your next-door neighbor, but you suggested even a floor's worth of distance would give him a better feeling of independence. You had gotten the feeling that Steve valued his privacy.  You now regretted your suggestion as you heard him pace around at all hours of the night. Despite sneaking into several Nazi bases, he was a very loud walker. 

Despite his nocturnal habits, Steve was nothing but polite and thankful as you helped him. He’d been extremely attentive when you taught him the basics of how to use his cell phone (how to add contacts, make calls, text, take pictures, download apps and music, use google), and he picked it up pretty fast. It was a slower process teaching him how to cook, so for the first few weeks, he usually ate with you, or stuck to sandwiches. You got him 

The task that truly overwhelmed you was figuring out how to go about actually reintroducing him. Coma victims felt lost enough after a month, but 72 years (give or take) was a long time- and a lot had happened. Politics, History, Technology, Culture, Pop Culture. The task made your head spin. Spencer was a big help, more than happy to take you up on your challenge of creating a thorough timeline of everything he could think of- which was a lot. Everything from politics to pop culture, but you redacted the bits about the serial killer knowledge. 

The timeline was very helpful, as Steve would break it down by decade. In the 1950′s he took interest in rock ‘n’ roll (he was not a fan), the Korean war, the beginnings of Vietnam, Alaska and Hawaii becoming a state, and the invention of color TV. Then in the 1960′s, it was JFK (election and assassination), The Space Race (he was astonished that not only was there a man on the moon, but we also had colored video of it), integration of Ole Miss (and then consequently the Riots of Ole Miss), the Cold War, Cuban Missile Crisis, The Beatles, Civil Rights movement, the height of Vietnam, and Nixon.

Steve decided he was better off for sleeping through the sixties, “There was a lot going on, even in the 40′s I was basically propaganda for Stocks and Bonds, who knows what I would have “represented” with all that going on.”  

Then in the 70′s, it was Disney World, the end of Vietnam, Star Wars, death of Elvis, and things becoming digitalized. 80′s was similar: the election of Reagan, first space shuttle launch, assassination attempts on Reagan and the Pope, first female supreme court judge, first woman in space, Chernobyl, decommissioning of nuclear warheads, and the fall of the Berlin wall.  Then in the 90′s, it was the Hubble telescope, Gulf War, dissolvent of the Soviet Union, OJ Simpson trial, and successful cloning of a Dolly the sheep. And then, the most modern, the 2000s, the second Bush presidency, 9/11, invasion of Iraq, Hurricane Katrina, the rise of cell phones, first iPhone, North Korean tension, the election of  Obama, and death of Osama Bin Laden. 

You were very careful to keep most of your opinions to yourself, as it was very important to let Steve decide his own opinions. When he wanted to know more about the subject, you always jumped in to help him research- it was like a refresher course in World History. (Spencer Reid was a constant contact, and you were grateful he didn’t ask what you were up to, and Garcia was amazing at finding playlists to really explore the music of the decades, and for fashion trends.) 

Like Natasha, Steve had become a friend. Believe it or not, under all that 1940′s manner and modesty, he had a good sense of humor. And after spending nearly all of his time with you, he finally loosened up and showed you. Of course, it helped that he was honestly one of the best guys you knew. He was honest, well-mannered- a perfect gentleman. Just as you listened to him, he listened to you when you were having problems (usually when one of the BAU got hurt or was going through something). Helping him get used to the world felt less like an assignment and more like off time. 

It took a while, but by March you settled into a weekly routine. Monday/Wednesday was reserved to show Steve around the city, exploring new things and old- introducing him to new and old things. Fortunately, DC was a hotspot for museums that Steve seemed to enjoy. Over the past two months, he seemed to warm up to you- you’d even dare to call yourselves friends. Tuesday was reserved for Natasha, she’d come and hang out with you- and work out with you, you might have passed your field test, but that didn’t satisfy her. 

“I’ve seen a lot of agents that passed this test get their asses handed to them. I’d rather not see you do the same. Well, unless I’m the one doing it.” She smirked after, in fact, heading your ass to you. You’d just rolled your eyes and get up to go again. “But you are getting better. It’s getting slightly more difficult to hand your ass to you.”

Afterward, she’d hand you a water bottle and take you to lunch/dinner. Every now and then, Clint would come with her. You and Clint weren’t close, but it was comforting to know he tolerated you. Or at least pretended to for Natasha’s sake. 

Thursdays were reserved for the BAU, when they were in town. Sometimes that meant stopping by the office with coffee offerings and ‘book club’ with Reid, and sometimes that meant ‘family dinner’ at Rossi’s. Derek slowly seemed to completely forgive you, but still gave you shit on a near-daily basis. Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia made girl’s night a more frequent event, and you were still working on convincing Nat to come with you one night. And on the rarest of occasions, Hotch would call you up to babysit Jack. 

Fridays were to recover from Thursday nights- (Surprisingly babysitting was almost exhausting as a night of drinking at Rossi’s). Friday afternoons were reserved for Fury to call you and harass you for details about Steve. 

Weekends were for larger expeditions like taking Steve to neighboring cities. Boston, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, and Richmond were all on the shortlist, and New York was a constant. Thankfully, Sunday ( or at least Sunday Afternoon) was reserved for you. 

That was your time to rest, relax, and recharge. On rare Sundays that you were already home, Steve would stop by after his morning run after picking up coffee and breakfast from his favorite breakfast place you had shown him- an old fashioned diner with amazing breakfast- as a small thank you for your help. (Truthfully, you only knew about it because Gideon had treated the whole team to breakfast after the jet landed one day at six AM).

But on most Sundays, you got home mid-afternoon. You’d run some errands, maybe cook yourself dinner and a movie. But most importantly, you were home and ready to rest and relax.  

So at 7:23 PM, you were startled out of a nap by your phone vibrating off your desk. You shot up looking for the source of the disturbance, slowly becoming aware of your surroundings as you dove off the couch for the offending device. Quickly reading the caller ID, you tried to clear the sleep out of your voice as you picked up. 

“Hotch?” You asked drowsily, propping yourself back up on your elbows as you drug yourself up. Your eyebrows crinkled, it had been a long time since you got an impromptu call from Hotch. 

“(Y/N), we need you to come in.” He started, straight to the point as usual. Your mind became steadily more cleared as you wrenched yourself off the comfortable couch. “We have a case, and it’s bigger than we can handle. We’re calling in JJ as well.” 

You were speeding into the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee- knowing this phone call meant a long night- as you responded, “Hotch, you know I want to. That I’d be back in the BAU in an instant. But I have to get clearance from my supervisors, take off of my assignments, and that could take-” 

Your worries were cut off by both Hotch’s voice and a knock on your door. You listened to Hotch’s voice as you set out a mug before letting Steve in- not even sticking around long enough to smile at him as you returned to the kitchen. 

“You’re already cleared, and cleared to use SHIELD intelligence. Anderson is coming to get you in 30 minutes. Pack a go-bag. You’ll be briefed in person. This is highly sensitive.” His voice was stern, but you picked up on how fast he was talking- a habit he had when was anxious. You bit your lip, putting the mug back in the cabinet and retrieving a travel cup instead. 

“Hotch...” You paused, eyes flicking to Steve who looked at you with concern in his blue eyes, he’d probably just come back from an evening run and was hoping to mooch off your dinner, “Is everyone alright? Are you safe?” 

“It’s Emily. I’ll see you soon.” 

And with that the line went silent with a click. You sighed, relishing the last minute of peace before spurring into action. Leaving your phone on the counter, you went to retrieve your old go-bag. Steve was hot on your heels, “(Y/L/N), is everything alright?”

You didn’t miss a beat, retreating into your bedroom- which Steve never followed you into, instead, waiting in the hall as you threw things into a bag. You shoved business clothes in, neglecting the pajamas- knowing the team wouldn’t sleep until the case was solved. Dry shampoo, face wash, deodorant, toothbrush and paste, and makeup were quick to follow; these were the toiletries that you could use in a police station bathroom to freshen up. Just like old times. You’d honestly forgotten to answer Steve’s question, mind-boggling all of the very few details Hotch gave you. 

He’s calling JJ in- so this is a multibranch operation, probably organized crime, It involves Emily, she worked for Interpol, so international organized crime... You breezed past Steve again, tossing your bag onto the couch and gently tossing your SHIELD tablet on top of it. Just as quickly, you turned to go back to the bedroom but ran smack into the super-soldier. You’d almost forgotten he was there. But he grabbed your arm, minding his strength so it didn’t feel threatening. “(Y/N), what’s wrong?” 

Even with the analytical part of your brain working through the situation, you couldn’t help but worry for your friend and the possible danger she was in. You wanted to cry but knew it wouldn’t help anything, instead, you took a deep breath, “My old team just called me in, there’s a case they need my help with. One of my friends might be in danger. If they’re calling me in, it has to be bad.”

He slowly let go of your arm, and you could tell his mind was somewhere else, but he offered a quiet sentiment as he let you pass, “With you on the case, your friend has nothing to worry about.” 

Not knowing what else to say, you retreated back to your room to get dressed. After slipping into some of your old work clothes, you attached your holster and slid your loaded gun into it. Taking a deep breath, you looked in the mirror, Just treat it like a routine case. You don’t even know if Prentiss is even hurt. Just do your job. 

____

You repeated that in your head as you buzzed about the apartment, finally, with Anderson ten minutes out, you shouldered your bags to leave, or at least to wait outside. Nervous energy bubbled in your stomach as you turned to the blonde who was still eyeing you with worry, “I shouldn’t be gone more than a few days. You should be fine but if not, call Fury and he’ll send someone. There are leftovers in my fridge. I’ll have my phone if you need me and-”

Steve cut you off with a soft smile, knowing your rambling wasn’t an insult, “(Y/N), I’m a grown man. I lived on my own for years before I was even a soldier. I’ll be fine.” 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair and smiling apologetically “Sorry, Steve, I know.” 

“Just be careful, don’t do anything stupid or reckless.” He ordered. This time you actually smiled, recalling all the stories of his own reckless stupidity. 

“That’s your MO, Mr. I’ll Sky Dive into a Nazi base by myself.” You teased, pausing when your phone dinged. Anderson was waiting. Steve chuckled, ducking his hand and crossing his arms over a broad chest. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckled as you turned to leave, “Seriously, be careful.”

You turned back for a moment, nodding your head like a promise, “I will.” 

_________

Shorter than usual and I don’t really like it, but I think Y’all know what’s coming. Also, should I put a romantic interest in this?? 

Taglist: @irishfaulk97 @viarogers @toboldlyscream @benji-booxx

[venomous-five]

Who are the Five Venoms?

this is the most extreme special interest I’ve had in a while so I will. try to be as succint as possible lol

Anyway! The Venom Mob! Who are they? They were a group of five individuals who starred in kung fu movies from 1978-1982 together. In that span of five years, they made 19 movies that count as official Venom Mob movies (i.e. 3 or more of the venom mob are in starring roles)

So! Once again! WHO ARE THEY?? 

Well, since their first official movie all together was The Five Venoms (or Five Deadly Venoms for its western release), where they played six students of the Venom Clan and were given designated numbers, I will go down that number list to introduce them!

#1: Lu Feng 

Lu Feng is part of what I call the 146 combo (Lu Feng, Phillip Kwok, Chiang Sheng), the three of whom are arguably the core of the venom mob. He starred in all but *one* of the 19 venoms movies, thirteen of which he was a bad guy.

Almost always played the villain (like, 70% of the time)

Fantastic with weapons (especially staffs!!! spears!! tridents!! variations thereof!)

imo the best actor among the Venom Mob (like, I’m talking abt his micro expressions and emotional range?)

in context ^this expression KILLS me... that’s the face of “I can’t kill my friend but I’m going to die by his hands” ;; !!! like!!! I need to lie down

also the more I think abt it the more I think it has to be seen in motion because he like. does this shaking thing with his hands and face that tears my heart out

#2: Wei Pai 

This guy... doesn't really count as a venom tbh, because he later pursued dramas instead of kung fu. But I still consider him to hold the place of #2 in the venom lineup, even though I only think of the venoms as the five other guys. Just wanted to make sure you knew who #2 is even though I won't talk abt him lmfao

not actually a venom

#3: Sun Chien

Sun Chien had been making a name for himself in taekwondo way before he got into the movie business, and his skill in taekwondo really shines through in these movies (speaking as someone who does taekwondo). His characters are usually noble in nature (like... all gentle and brotherly n stuff) BUT that’s not to say he never plays villains.

his kicks are to die for

he’s like the tallest venom

Thick Eyebrows

like omg I can’t say this enough HIS KICKS!!

That’s his foot!! Behind Lu Feng’s head!!!!! im gonna eat a lemon

#4: Kuo Chui (Philip Kwok)

ok this guy is a straight up cutie imo... also!! He’s part of that 146 combo I mentioned earlier! I should probably mention now that #1, #4, and #6 all met at the Fu Sheng Opera House when they were kids/teens, so! That means all three of them have their roots in acrobatics (WHICH IS CLEAR IN THE AMAZING WORK THEY DO IN THESE MOVIES) and they have a shared history of working together! anyway anyway, Kuo Chui played the hero like... the entire time. In all of the venoms movies, including official and unofficial, he only played a villain once. (His villain role was in Chinatown Kid btw)

just like Lu Feng, is amazing with weapons

always played the hero in the movie

like the exact same height as Lu Feng (which helps them pull off some super nice looking stunts)

acrobatics!!! hot damn dude!

#5: Lo Mang

ok um first of all. muscles. like I don’t think I can stress that enough. He has the most defined muscles I’ve ever seen, and I’m pretty darn sure they’re just... like that. As a genuine martial artist (his main style was Mantis if ur wondering), I don’t think he’d be so careless as to dehydrate himself just to make his muscles visible. Like, I’m 99% sure he was just such a hard worker in his field that his muscles just.. looked like that...

muscles

is shirtless in almost every single movie. and. tbh I am not complaining lol

dies in practically every movie (I’m sorry, that’s not really spoilers that’s just fact.. he’s renowned as the venom that always dies lmao)

#6 Chiang Sheng

where do I even start. Chiang Sheng is by far my favorite venom (Kuo Chui is a close second). Among the venoms, he was definitely the best acrobat. I’d even argue that he may be the best acrobat in kung fu film (KEEP IN MIND THOUGH THAT I HAVE ONLY REALLY WATCHED VENOMS FILMS none of the others have enraptured me quite as much..) Chiang Sheng is generally the fan favorite (he has the nickname “Cutie Pie” which. is so fitting because he is SO cute), both for his looks and for his skill. He might not be the best fighter among the venoms (he’s certainly not lacking tho), but he is, in my opinion, the best performer. Every time he’s on screen my eyes are glued to him. Oh! And he’s the final piece of the 146 combo. The three of them when choreographed together are monsters.

cutest and youngest looking of the venoms (and fairly androgynous imo)

actually the oldest venom! second oldest is Kuo Chui, who is a few months younger than Chiang Sheng

best acrobat, best dodger, best at backflips etc

on that note, he’s renowned for his light style skill, which means he can move around as though he weighs nothing. sometimes he just looks like a paper plate that’s being blown around in the wind, yet he’s going exactly where he wants to go lol

he’s also. so tiny. look at this brief series of pictures (he’s on the right in each one)

..s-small.........

(anyway, I think if I go on any longer this will go from an introduction to an essay. I will have so much more to say about them in future posts; like the different movies, their different characters, the many relationships between the actors’ characters, stuff like that. Let me know if there’s anything specific you want to know more about! I can gush about these guys for a long time, and I am promising right now that I will be gushing about them. For a long time.)

[simping4fics]

That 70s Show Prompts

Hyde is big mood, lets go.

1. “I was never happy. I was just less pissed off.”

2. “I sat next to God once on the bus. He told me the meaning of life, and then he gave me a pretzel.”

3. “I’m running a dojo of coolness.”

4. “Are you sober?” “No, Aquarius.”

5. “Help me with this crossword puzzle. I need a [number] letter word for disappointment.” “[name].”

6. “God, what did you have for breakfast this morning? Carnation Instant Bitch?”

7. “My head hurts.” “That’s your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity.”

8. “Look, if I could run across the beach into my own arms, I would.”

9. “When my time comes, I wanna be buried face down so that anyone who doesn’t like me can kiss my ass.”

10. “I like my women like I like my wine- red and full of alcohol.”

11. “[name], get your hand off my ass.” “It was an accident.” “It’s still there!” “It’s still an accident!” “[name], it’s still there!” “...Yeah.”

12. “Tsk, you poor French-kissing bastard.”

13. “Take it back or I’ll pinch you.” “[name], if you pinch me, it’s going to cause a serious problem in this relationship.” “Fine.” *kicks and runs*

14. “Well there are bigger issues here, people! [name] is single- WOOHOO!”

15. “May I suggest, the footing of your ass?”

16. “Sonofabitch!”

17. “How’d you'd like to own a little bit of my foot up your ass?”

18. “You morons just hung vacancy signs on your asses, and my foot’s lookin’ for a room.”

19. “Hey. Lego my eggo.” “Hey. Lego my foot in your ass.”

20. “What’s goin’ on?” “Oh, just a classic case of hand stuck in vase...”

21. “What? Car sex isn’t good enough anymore?” “I would love car sex... Or just sex... Or just a car.”

22. “I’m going to die alone with nothing but a room full of candy and pornography to keep my company.”

23. “Mr. Sexy’s pizza. Our special today is sexaroni-”

24. “Could you be anymore annoying?” “Yes!”

25. “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful-” “I pity you because you’re dumb.”

[technicolordeams]

So some things happened this past week since I wrote my last entry and I'm rethinking my stance on leaving or not. I was able to talk to the one girl who is befriending me and my pastor had a long talk about what makes me me and what I struggle with. I followed what my therapist told me to be which was to be more assertive. I felt very awkward and scared to do it but if I didn't, I'd end up right back where I was feeling anger and abandonment. So for now, I'm still on hold on what to choose to do.

But a couple other things popped up. Not too big but unsettling. My mind just blanked on one of them so I'll just type about the one that's stuck out the most to me right now since it happened literally within the past hour.

So obviously I have problems eating enough to keep my weight stable, let alone gain any without a LOT of work. I've been struggling with it since my gallbladder decided to take a shit on me and demand to be removed which happened on my birthday. During that time I started getting suicidal again and I hadn't dealt with those intense emotions regarding it in several years. But since December it decided to rear it's ugly head and bite into me as hard as it could ever since. It's been 8 months now with very little improvement. And during that time span my health has tanked. I developed breathing problems after my surgery which was horrific enough as it was (imagine not being fully awake but aware that you are out of control of your body and unable to utilize your coping techniques. Just like having a massive panic attack like seizure feeling but you are barely able to be aware of anything besides the viceral fear and blackness because I couldn't wake up. Just... Out of control. And you have no idea how long you were in that state before the nurse could sort of pull you out of it and even communicate more than like two words and slowly peek my eyes open a fraction. Yeah, that's what happened. I had major fear over that for at least a month. Sleeping was hard enough from the surgery and adding in that... Yeah no.) Anyways, since that started up and obviously after surgery it's hard to eat and stuff like that normally. But after the surgery I was (am) having breathing problems. I would have endless coughing fits that would even hit me and make me unable to take a full breath without coughing horribly whatever air I could get right back out. It also made me almost throw up several times (which is my biggest phobia that triggered my eating disorder to go out of control and send me into hospital stays and feeding tube hell). So at least I lost 10lbs since the surgery or even before that. I creep closer to 15lbs though most likely. I haven't been keeping track of it very much because of how much distress I've been dealing with. And I've been dealing with A LOT. Things I wonder if I will be able to get up from without more intense medical help that I probably can't get because of covid.

I've gone through several tests to see why I'm having coughing fits and every answer is that they don't see anything wrong. Well, the ENT appointment I went to the day before I went to see the pulmonary doctor really screwed me over tbh. The ENT doctor gave me steroids that day that I took that same night and told me that the pulls wouldn't affect the asthma test they were going to perform next day. It did. So I had to wait like two months before I could go back and be re-tested. But then covid hit and those practices have been closed ever since. So I can't get an accurate reading on what's going on. They did spot that I had some breathing abnormalities but because of the steroids, they couldn't say for sure. Mind you I had to literally book these doctor appointments and tell my dad you have to take me to these because he didn't think it was that important. Which has pretty much been like everything doctor related that has come up this past year. Just had to put my foot down and tell him I NEED to go to these and I'll be going whether you agree with me or not. Which adds to the distressed feeling and like I'm overreacting and being too paranoid or some shit. Also because I couldn't get actually tested for asthma properly, my regular doctor had to prescribe me with an inhaler but insurance won't help because I have not been diagnosed with it. So I had to cough up (almost literally) over a $100 for medicine that we don't know is right for me or not or whatever.. so that's like $60 every two months? Idk. Which is a lot considering I have a bunch of other bills to pay which includes when I got my wisdom teeth removed (ALL FIVEEE because I'm that extra) which cost $3,000. I have to pay my mom back for another at least year? I don't even know anymore at this point.

I've also been dealing with vision blackouts recently where I almost pass out when I get up here and there. My blood pressure tanked and went to like 70/52 and pulse all over the place. That's better now at least. Chronic fatigue, dehydration, can't sleep very well... Etc. Vitamin D and B12 are on the lower side of the normal range and my body isn't producing enough carbon dioxide.

Now along with all of this bag of shit, I have lost every friend I thought I had and the feeling that I can call anyone friend anymore. I am terrified of calling anyone a friend now because I am afraid that if I let someone in, I will be taken advantage of and lied to like I have in almost every type of relationship I've had since I was little. I am afraid of speaking because I am afraid what I say will offend or upset or whatever someone when all I do is mean well (usually unless you're an asshat). It has made me regress back to my childhood where I couldn't trust anyone and I had nobody except for a penpal on the east coast to keep me company through msn messenger, emails, or rarely phone calls. She was the only one I could call my best friend for a long time and the only one I could open up to about things and the only one who tried to consistently cheer me up when I was hospitalized at 16 by spamming me with emails. I will forever love her and no matter how far we've drifted apart over the years, I will still love her and respond to her as quickly as possible if she ever needed me again. But if we never talk again I'm okay with it. We were there for each other during really bad times in out lives and I like to think we kept each other somewhat sane. She has done more for me than I could ever ask anyone and I'll always be grateful to have "met" her.

But since all of the shit happened with my ex friends... I don't feel safe to get very close to anyone or open up to anyone. Even the girl who defended me and stuff when I was being bullied and manipulated hardly speaks to me now. I wouldn't want to talk to me very much either if all I had to talk about were extremely negative and talk about dying. I can hardly go to my parents about things. I am home alone with just my puppy that likes to get into mischief about 80% of the day. Hardly interact with people online. Usually I just now watch YouTube videos about what's going on with people. I find very little satisfaction playing video games or anything honestly. I have lost art, something that I loved dearly and way too much. I cannot go out most often due to my health. I am stuck at home. I can hardly go outside too. It's too hot (sometimes heat can trigger flashbacks), I found out I'm allergic to grass, and last week I broke out in hives from God knows what so I can't go outside even more. I was put on steroids again for 6 days which causes your immune system to weaken so it won't produce histamines that causes the INSANE itch because every topical and oral medicine OTC would barely help at all. All I do each day is very basic hygiene, sleep when I can, eat as much as I can, and try and relax while taking care of my puppy.

Only two good things has come from all of this: one, I can finally work with a trauma therapist. Hopefully she can help me. Two... Ah I forgot what the second one was actually. Maybe being able to talk to my psychiatrist more frequently? Not sure. I'm very tired right now again lol.

All I know is that I feel very much alone and there's nothing I can do about it. The world outside is extremely dangerous and I am trapped inside my mind too frequently. And there is no extra help I can get.

So all of this led up to my main grievance for today- so far at least lol long ass story to tell just to explain what I'm upset about. My mom earlier asked me if she could give me advice. I told her it depends on what it's about. But she said it anyways. Told me to check my weight each week. She knows I'm not in the most stable state of mind and she knows that me checking my weight constantly can cause a panic attack of it goes down. (thankfully it hasn't really in a month. Only reason why I know is because I had to go to my doctor's twice the past month) I told my dad what she said and he just told me to say okay and leave it at that.

I know I don't want to go back to the state I was in in 2017. I don't want to go through that hell again. Even if I did want to, there'd be way more restrictions with the threat of covid ravaging our place and infecting everyone there. When I pass the eating disorder clinic that I was forced in when I was 16, there is literally nobody there. Maybe a couple cars but they obviously are not treating kids right now. I may be wrong but it would be very dangerous. I know over at the ERC I went to in 2017 is extremely limiting any visitors from coming. The apartments when you graduate to living in temporarily while you go to just a day program only allow maybe two people to stay there at a time and instead of walking to the van pickup spot, they pick you up at your apartment. Psychiatric wards here, or at least one of them that my therapist and I talked about going to, is still slightly operational, but it's over Zoom. So you literally can't get very good support. If you fall off the deep end while at a meeting nothing can be done to help you right there and then if you run away from the meeting.

My psychiatrist told me that if I do feel that I'm in grave danger (I think the trauma therapist I met also said the same) was to go to the ER. But I am afraid to go to the ER and then be turned away quickly and also take a chance that I might catch Covid while there, not to mention the price... And since my parents are essential workers, any one of us could come down with it at any time or be a carrier without knowing. So I'm isolated from people in real life and I don't feel safe talking to anyone online as well. Even if I had someone who wanted to talk to me to begin with that isn't some creepy horny guy wanting pixel sex... I can't think of anyone who I could potentially talk to about anything in my life... I'm just so lost and afraid of both the virtual and real world... Who can I turn to besides my therapist, psychiatrist, or maybe parents depending on what is bothering me, and of course God? I'm told I need a support system. But I can only talk to the doctors so much and my parents aren't very good at being compassionate... I have no one.

I also think about how badly I want to be hospitalized for a little while just so I can get fluids and rest and proper care but that most likely will only happen unless suicide was a big risk.

I am utterly alone...

If anyone reads this long post to the end, you're a crazy human being. xD Going to stop rambling now and put the dishes away and put the pup away for his nap and try and get one in myself.