#and whoever was responsible for the footage just decided to not cut that part

[trustymikh]

Still thinking back to that one promotion(?) clip from the pokemon anime where protagonists are going down a street with different advertisement screens. One of them shows submas doing a perfectly synchronized move, facial expressions and all, but at the end of it you can see Emmet straighten a bit and shift back into a smile

[neon-lights-stardust-nights]

I think I like how this idea of faers escape goes tbh

~.~.~

After Nygma received a panicked email from an account Crane had only ever used in short correspondences during tense alliances… Edward didn’t need to read the whole thing to know something was wrong. He’d recently gotten an actual chance to talk to Kronos again, and their conversation seemed to have the desired impact.

It’s Kronos. For the love of god, do not delete this email. I didn’t want to log into my own, I was afraid he’d notice somehow. Johnathan will likely still notice, but maybe he doesn’t read through his own sent emails very often? I’m stupid, who the fuck does that besides me.

It went on, I have decided. I want out. John’s not going to just let me go though, we both know that. I’m not asking you to send in the rescue brigade. You’ve been underground lately, laying low. I respect that. I just need help, somehow, someone. Doesn’t matter who at this point. Please, Ed.

And that’s all it said.

“Doesn’t matter who at this point,” that line stuck with him. For a moment, that felt like a subtle cry to send Batman in. Still, he wanted to review other options before jumping head first into the shitshow that might cause. Laid up in bed, legs bent to prop up his laptop while he typed away, Nygma spent a few days with headphones in on and off. Mostly doing research.

First order of business to him was if fae had any family worth scoffing at. Not really. He knew of faers Arkham stay, but next wanted details. He wouldn’t send Kronos to Arkham on purpose, but maybe emails and security footage could dig up anything. Any friends fae made during would be useful. A little part of him rooted for Two Face—Harvie was easy to negotiate with when you involved chaos, and Harvey’s malformed sense of justice could be manipulated. Getting into everything was easy (they really should up their cyber-security!) Nothing was worth looking at though. Everything mentioning faer never seemed to bring up anything worth scoffing at.

It was after that third day of combing through workers IMs emails and that Edward heard the phone ring. He wished the damn thing was less loud, heard well over the music he was playing. The volume button got a bit of abuse, him repeatedly pressing it to push the slider up until it hurt his ears a little. These things were cheap, but laying low meant not being able to replace his emergency over-ears for anything better.

Though Edward thought letting the phone ring out would be the end of it, he heard it over the roar of the bass drum regardless. Faint, covered by techno music, a sound from the outside world. His phone was ringing again. His eye twitched, focus on the transcripts of guards’ pointless banter wavering some as the annoying, shrill sound of his home phone played out.

The ringing ended. Edward held his breath, waiting. After a few moments, he let out the most contented sigh… Only to have such relaxation immediately shot dead by more ringing. The headphones came off, laptop pushed onto the mattresss.

“Alright, fine!” He stormed over, yanking the thing off the hook. It came up to his ear, and he decided to just let them have it: “whoever the hell you are, you must have too much free time! Can’t you get that I’m busy?”

“Hello, Edward.”

His blood ran cold. Hugo fucking Strange? He’d been incredibly careful! “How the hell did you get this number?”

“You aren’t the only one doing digging,” was the response he got. “You, however, have been sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“And?”

“Why?”

Edward scoffed. “Rather domestic of you to just call me, isn’t it?”

“You���re dodging the question,” he pointed out.

“Because I’m not answering it,” Edward retorted.

“If what I’m being shown is correct, and I have every reason to believe it is… You’ve been snooping other places too.”

“Cut the crap, Strange. What’s stopping me from hanging up on you? Right here, right now?”

“Zacharie Ratkovic. Though, if I’m correct, fae prefers Kronos these days.” Edward’s silence was telling enough that he pressed further, “why?”

“What proof do you have that fae’s involved in this,” Edward bit back, a little too quickly.

“Practically everything I can trace back of your snooping is about faer. Legal information, medical documents, and the list goes on. I want to know why.”

“And I’m going to just tell you, because?”

Strange chuckled, “last I remember, Kronos escaped Arkham to reunite with a certain Johnathan Crane. Yet if your own emails are anything to go off of—“

“Jackass,” Edward groaned, grit teeth and exhaustion coming in clear through the phone.

Ignoring him, “—Kronos is looking to escape.”

“Whatever help you’re offering: no. I said I’d handle it, I’m gonna handle it!”

“I do not mean to trample your ego,” and the faux care put to his voice was nearly mocking to Edward. “But how exactly do you plan to wrench Crane’s prized possession from him without causing a ruckus?”

There was silence on both ends. Edward’s eyes narrowed as Strange broke it, smirk practically audible. “Don’t tell me you have no plan?”

“That’s what I was working on, you idiot! And I do have a worst-case-scenario sort of thing up my sleeve, but I’m obviously saving that for if nothing else looks promising!”

“And what is that exactly?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s what it is.”

Perhaps he was having a spot of fun, quoting the email at Nygma. “Doesn’t matter who at this point.”

“Oh my god, you’re looking right at it. You’re looking at the email right now, aren’t you? Rubbing it in my face. That’s exactly how you get a man to work with you, you insult him.”

“Quite frankly, I’ve put up with plenty of insults from you. I could always hangup, and pretend I never heard about this little escape plan.”

Edward sighed, rubbing at his forehead some with two fingers. He wouldn’t admit that the help would be nice, even if it weren’t Strange on the other end of the line. “What’s your grand plan, exactly?”

“Simple. I have the men and resources to storm his hiding place. They will either retrieve faer, or give faer the opening to escape on faers own.”

“Eloquent,” Edward mumbled with an eye roll, sarcasm dripping like honey from his words. “You just want faer to build you shit for yourself, don’t you? Bombs and bullets like what fae was supplying me, like what fae’s suck supplying Crane, and like fae could supply you.”

“It certainly sweetens the pot,” Strange mused, “but even if that is all I have to gain from this: do you have other options?”

“Sending a tip to Batman about a hostage sounds like an option.” Strange didn’t respond, which got a good chuckle from Nygma. “C’mon, didn’t you read it earlier? Doesn’t matter who it is I send to help, Kronos just wants out!”

“And send faer back to Arkham?” Strange tsk’d at him, “as though Kronos would forgive you from throwing faer from wolves to lions.”

“Shut up, alright?”

“You’re awfully intent on avoiding my offer.”

Edward threw an arm into the air, phone held to his ear by his other shoulder. “And you’re awfully intent to keep offering! Kronos is scared shitless of you, just as scared as fae is about a potential Arkham stay. How do we know he’s gonna do that, anyway? Maybe he’ll take pity on faer, drag faer back to wherever he lives. Poor thing’s probably gonna be six feet in fear toxin, and knowing him, he has a cure!”

“And there’s an equally likely chance that he will leave a hospital to sort out a very scared, drugged man. I simply would like to point out that either option will be uncomfortable, but pain often must be endured for the sake of progress.”

Edward paused. “Why am I arguing with you? You’re going to do this whether or not I let you.”

Something caught his eye. On his caller ID, another call that couldn’t come through because of Strange. With dawning horror, he realized that was Crane’s number. There’s only two reasons Crane could be calling right now…

“I may have already started the arrangements.”

“You got his IP address way before I ever started snooping through anything belonging to Arkham,” Edward whispered.

“Perhaps. Or I acquired it when I caught your wandering eye. You don’t really know, do you?”

“I don’t like the answer either way.”

“This has been fun,” and Edward was stuck staring back at his laptop. “Goodbye, Edward.”

He didn’t say anything. He just slammed the phone back into place, rushing to his living room. Anything that large scale would end up on television. Laptop with him, he closed out all those old transcripts. Now he was trying to hack into cameras, into anything that could at least let him make sure he didn’t doom faer.

[toastedside]

For Better and For Worse

Batmom!Reader x Batfamily

Warning: angst, fluff in the end

Note: The last chapter for the miniseries! It was fun writing this, and I know it's been too long since I actually posted the first chapter. But it was fun. Enjoy!

Masterlist, Previous Chapter

Batman landed on his foot silently. His eyes scanned through the warehouse, before him was a gigantic machine with empty compartment that would fit one person. He quickly typed on the small computer on his wrist, sighing silently to himself as he waited for his scanning result to come.

“Batman,” come Superman’s voice through the comm. “Are you in?”

“I’m in,” Batman confirmed. “There’s a machine inside. It looks like somebody deactivated it before we come. I’m trying to transfer their data into my computer to get some information.”

“So Red Robin and Superboy were right,” Superman said again. There was a slight quiet sound of the wind behind him. Batman assumed he was flying as he answered through the comm. “The warehouse is empty as well. I think they had abandoned it.”

“We can’t be really sure about that,” Batman’s let out a huff as his computer displayed the transfer data has been finished. “I’m going to decipher some codes. Keep an eye on possible threat.”

Batman grunted softly as he squatted down to take a better look of the main controller device. It looked unassuming and tame while it was deactivated, but one better look alone could tell him that it would be deadly. He typed an override code on the main controller, his lips pressed firmly together as the machine slowly coming back to life.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of movement that he had known too well. “I already told you to let the League take care of this.”

“Yeah, but it was me and Conner who found it,” Red Robin came into the light. He quickly approached the main controller and eyed it silently. “I have just successfully deciphered few codes that might help. If there’s anyone that could help, it would be me.”

Batman stared at him for a few moments. He weighed his options before let out a tired sigh. Figured there’s no way Red Robin would back out now. “Only to decipher the code. After that you leave the rest to the League.”

Red Robin nodded before he dove in right away into his work. Batman lingered for a few moments to watch, but as the machine starting to wake up more and more from its slumber, he left Red Robin with the controller device as he investigated. He studied the empty compartment silently, taking notes in how the machine was built.

“B, what did you type to activate the machine?” Red Robin called. There’s a slight confusion in his voice that robbed Batman’s attention.

“The code that have been transferred to my computer.”

“That’s not possible,” Red Robin whispered. Now he sounded so alarmingly surprised. “It’s different from what I decipher earlier. B, I think– I think there’s an error in this.”

Batman was about to open his mouth when the machine whirling dangerously. Red Robin quickly tried to type in an override code, but the more he tried, the more the machine whirling dangerously and begun to rattle. He lifted his eyes briefly and saw Batman tried to tame the machine, his shoulder pressed against the empty compartment as he grunted loudly. Suddenly, the whole room was too bright from him to see as a bright, white light coming from the core of the machine shone brightly. Red Robin called for Batman a few times before the machine whirled for the last time and exploded, sent Red Robin flying across the room and the machine crushed underneath the rubbles into oblivion.

=======================================

The footage cut off right away after the explosion, leaving you heaved for a sharp breath as the camera went blank. You could see the reflection of you own face on the screen, how horror seeped right through your skin and welled in your eyes. You were unaware with tears that streamed down your face until you saw your reflection. Behind you was your children, all wide eye from witnessing the footage.

“So that was the explanation for your dislocated shoulders months ago?” Dick asked, his tone was demanding and worried.

“Yeah. I am sorry I didn’t tell any of you sooner,” Tim said bashfully. Cass silently approached him and pulled him into a half-hug. Tim smiled in appreciation. “But did you see the light zapped from that machine briefly before it blows up?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think that light was what took Bruce away,” Tim said firmly. He had spent so many nights watching the footage over and over again, he practically could recite it in his sleep. “That would explain the lack evidence of his dead body. Besides, if you notice,” Tim pressed play on the footage again, and paused right few seconds before the explosion. “He was already gone when the machine blows up.”

“Are you trying to say that machine was a transfer device?” Damian asked, his eyes watched the paused footage before shifted into his brother.

“Could be. I tried to work with all sources that I have, but I can’t possibly decipher all the codes since the machine blow up before I could transfer everything,” Tim rolled his chair in front of the Batcomputer, his fingers swiftly typed few codes that he had known by heart. The monitor showed a half-finished string of codes. “See. It’s all half-baked. My strongest theory that I can come up with it was the machine use the same technology used for Zeta Beams. More or less.”

“So… B isn’t dead from the explosion, he was transferred into another place before the machine blows up?” Jason asked slowly.

“Another place, another timeline, or dimension.”

“Shit,” Dick cursed. His fingers ran through his hair as he stared into the footage again. “If you were right, then Bruce is trapped and possibly having no idea on how to go back.”

“Call the League,” you finally found your voice back. You were surprised you could muster a coherent sentence with a firm voice. “I know what you’re all thinking. But this is dangerous. Call the League.”

“We have all the sources we could possibly need!” Damian argued. “From what I know, they abandoned the warehouse. The machine could still be there. We just need to salvage some data and move in motion after that.”

“I know that all of you are more than capable, but I am your mother. I have my limit. I have lost my husband; I am not going to lose my children too.” The firmness on your voice left no room to argue. You stared into your children one by one to emphasize your argument. “This is their mission after all. You all will work side by side with them. And none of you will work without them. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, let’s go upstairs and eat some dinner. I’ll call Clark first thing in the morning, for now let’s just take some rest.” you ushered your children towards the staircase leading into the house.

Dinner was normal to say the least. But there was a growing tension that everyone had tried so hard not to talk about for their mother’s sake. You practically could see all of your children twitched in impatience and anticipation, all minds already long gone into a battle that still yet to happen.

“We’ll find him, Mom,” Dick said with a kiss on your temple at night before bed. You mustered your best reassuring smile, cradled your son in your arms. For the first time in a long time, you were scared for your children’s life.

Sleep seemingly unwilling to come that night. You spent the night tossed around relentlessly; mind wandered far into all possible scenarios that you could come up with. Was Bruce really out there, trapped in a place he didn’t belong? It had been three months without him, you didn’t want to get too hopeful. But a tiny part in your heart longed to be with him once more and wished to hold him in your arms again.

====================================

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you again,” Diana beamed as soon as her eyes caught your presence. It made her smile, as you walked towards her and quickly accepted her invitation for a hug. “I miss our girl’s night.”

You chuckled at the mention of your sacred night. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called you sooner.”

“No, no. No apology. I understand what you’ve been through was hard and hurtful,” Diana was quick to squish your apology. “Besides, looks like somebody’s a little jealous that she isn’t invited into our small reunion.”

You followed Diana’s gaze, and a smile twitched at the corner of your lips at the sight of Dinah lurked in the corner. You laughed, gestured for her to come. Dinah came right away, a frown formed on her lips as she crashed you into a bone-crushing hug.

“My God, you have no idea how relieved and happy I am when you called!” Dinah breathed. She patted your back gently.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called sooner.”

“I am glad either way,” Dinah said as she released you from her hug, but her hand lingered on your wrist before she let out a sigh. “We are here for you, all of us. We always will. And we’ll find him.”

“I don’t want to be too hopeful,” you said sullenly. “But whatever happen, I hope it helps the League to find the trail of whoever responsible behind this.”

The League had been called first thing in the morning, and now you had all of the superhero cramped together inside your house. You watched from the back of the room the briefing that Tim gave to the League upon the lead and dots he had connected in past three months. Your heart sank into your stomach like a sandbag upon watching the footage again where your husband presumed died three months ago.

Alfred came few moments later with a tray full of refreshment. He decided to stay at the back of the room with you, watching all of your children had meeting with the League.

“Even though I have witnessed this thousand time over, it’s never getting any easier,” you sighed as you broke the silence. “It feels like I am sending my children into a suicide mission with no precaution. To save their father. We don’t know the threat that might wait for them out there.”

“We never could shelter our children forever even if we wanted to. They ought to spread their wings out there one way or another. It’s their thing after all, they would never sleep before they find the answer,” Alfred offered a consolidation. “The best we can do is to make it as safe as possible. You have done that.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Alfred.”

==================================

It had been three weeks since the last time you witnessed all of the Justice League member cramped together inside your house for a meeting. Your children had been sent on a mission alongside the League. You couldn’t say you like it, but you saw the childish excitement Damian tried so hard to hide from the thought of fighting alongside the League, and opted to at least look approving. You were proud nonetheless.

The house was a little empty without most of your children’s presence as they’re out for a mission. Spared for Damian who was constantly sent home to attend school. Alfred had helped you to take care of Wayne Enterprise in Tim’s absence as you tore yourself in half between your work in hospital and taking the lead for the company, but it was still manageable at least.

Damian would tell you about the mission progress all the time, which sadly wasn’t much. But they still had baby steps progress nonetheless, and progress is still a progress. They have managed to salvage some valuable parts from the machine, but it wasn’t much of a lead to give them answer.

You get off from your car after you gather some courage to walk into an empty house again. The day had been long and tedious, you had just chewed out marketing department this morning and had to tended some patients in the afternoon. All of your muscles are sore and you wanted nothing but a long hot bath.

The house was empty just as you suspected. But you found a surprise as you stepped into the study room to grab some book to read. The grandfather’s clock was opened ajar, meaning somebody must have went downstairs into the Batcave. It could be Alfred cleaning up, but you found herself going downstairs.

Your eyes widened as soon as the sound of murmured conversations come into your ears. You descended down further; head perked up at the familiar sound you had missed so much. “Guys!” you practically shouted as you ran towards your children. “Oh my God, you’re all here.”

It was Jason who caught you first and welcomed you into his embrace. Your other children soon followed and trapped you in the middle, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. All of your fatigue and stress suddenly lifted from your shoulders now that all of your children are home safe and sound.

“How was your mission? All good? Are you guys safe?” come the string of questions you couldn’t help but to ask. You quickly check all of your children for any obvious injury, and you found yourself let out a long, relieved breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“We are, Mama,” Jason gently placed his hands on your shoulder to ground you. “We figure we might come home for a little while. It’s been a long time after all.”

“Yeah. I miss your beef stew,” Tim chimed in. “Can we have it for dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you said as you gently cradled Cass in your arms. Cass clung into you like a baby koala for dear life, her nose nuzzled into your collarbone seeking for comfort. It made your heart soared and dropped at the same time, knowing that she found comfort in your presence and the fact that she must’ve had deprived for comfort that she actively seeks for it.

All of you shared blissful moment together, all shared some jokes and recite few relaxed and funny moments happened during mission. You were glad nonetheless, with Cass laid her head on your lap, Damian pressed against your side, and all of your children are here laughing and reciting some stories, you couldn’t ask for a better way to end the day.

The Batcomputer suddenly beeped, alerted everyone that somebody is coming. Dick quickly rose from his seat and take a solemn look to the computer screen. “It’s Uncle Supes and Wonder Woman,” he announced, a little confused at their arrival.

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. Does it mean all of your children had to go for a mission again?

The door to the Batcave opened not so long after, revealed two hero came into the light. All of your children were already on their feet and geared up, ready to dive back into the battle once they’re needed. But a strange expression coming from Diana and Clark somehow told you that it was not a mission.

“Clark? Diana? Is everything alright?” you were concerned. You found yourself pulled Damian into your side and firmly held him, afraid of letting your son go once more.

“Y/N, you might want to sit down,” Clark gently said.

Diana gently took you into her arms and led you into the nearest chair. You were still a little puzzled, your heart racing against your chest. Diana then gently placed her hand on your shoulders, her eyes solemnly staring into yours with an unreadable expression. It frustrated you greatly.

“Diana, what is going on?” you demanded.

“Hold on for a little while. But I need you to sit down.”

“What–” you opened your mouth to protest, but was cut off abruptly at the sight appeared in front of you.

You blinked rapidly, afraid that it was some mind trick that you weren't aware about. You found yourself awestruck, unable to move, but at the same time unable to believe your own eyes. You heaved few heavy breaths that sounded like you were half laughing and half crying, your mouth went agape at the sight alone.

“Holy shit,” you could hear Jason cursed loudly. “Holy shit. It works.”

So it was real, then.

There he was. Your husband. The one and only Bruce Wayne. Completely alive albeit looked a little gruff and exhausted. He had some rough stubble all over his chin, and the usual light in his eyes had dimmed. You could only stare and stare, your mouth let out few incoherent noises that was only above whisper.

Bruce slowly approached you. As if he was afraid, but the corner of his eyes lifted up happily at the sight of you stared at him like a deer caught in the headlight. From this close distance, you could see his eyes glossed from tears that started to well in his eyes. You watched him kneeled in front of you.

“Honey,” Bruce said as he gently took your hand into his. “I am so sorry.”

“Bruce,” you let out a shaky breath, sounded as if you were strangled. Your unoccupied hand shakily covered your trembling lips, eyes widened in disbelief. “Is this… is this really you? Are you real?”

Bruce gently took your hand and placed it on his rough cheek. There was a growing eye bag underneath his eyes. He looked so much older and tired than the last time you had remembered him. “It’s me. It’s me. As real as I could be.”

There are few beats of silence before you let out a strangled cry. You cupped his face with your hand, thumb gently stroking his cheeks. The stubble on his chin felt rough underneath your skin, but you found yourself loving the way it felt. “Bruce Wayne, you little shit! You promised that we will die together when we’re grey and old in our nineties!”

Bruce let out a surprised chuckle. It was warm and familiar, and you had missed it so much. It had been way too long since the last time you heard his laughter. “Therefore, here I am. Coming back to you to fulfil my promise.”

You smiled shakily as you laughed through the tears that stubbornly streamed down you face. You leaned closer to rest your forehead against his. “Don’t pull that stunt on me again.”

“I promised you I will always come back to you. And I do.”

“What happened?”

“The machine that I investigated had sent me into far past. I was trapped there unable to come back home, but I managed to survive. Until I met Barry, he said that he able to finished and decipher all the code gathered and redesigned the machine to bring me back. And therefore, here I am,” Bruce explained. “The warehouse was a trap set up to harm me. But Tim managed to inserted some codes before it exploded, so it sent me into different time instead of kill me in explosion. We figure it was a part of Injustice League’s scheme.”

“All I could think about was you. I worried about you and the kids. Sometimes the only thing that could get me through the day was the thought of that one day I will finally able to come back home to you.” Bruce placed a tender kiss on your knuckles. “You have managed to save me over and over again. Thank you.”

You couldn’t muster up any single words, so instead, you threw yourself into his embrace. Soon all of her kids would join and trapped you in the middle. Although Jason acted as if he hated it, you knew that deep inside his heart he was relieved to have his father back. Dick didn’t even bother to hide his excitement; he was just happy his family was whole once more.

That night, for the first time in forever, the night didn’t feel long and tedious. Or torturous. But neither of you and Bruce could able to sleep in a wink, you and him just hold each other close and greedily craved for each other’s presence. No words exchanged between you and him, however. But you were relieved. You were reunited with your love once more, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[eerythingisshaka]

PTA III

[Trevante Rhodes x Reader]

Word Count: 2.2K

Summer had come and gone in the blink of an eye yet felt as long as finals week when you were earning your teaching degree.  School ended last quarter with a clumsy splat seeing as the first wave of virus knocked everything out of order very quick. You stressed out running lessons to the school for kids to pick up and working with families with limited to no internet access pulled your patience to its thinnest layer.

So when all had officially finished, you had to take the time to yourself as best as you could.  In a normal summer, you would plan a getaway to just about anywhere you hadn’t seen before and the more solo the better.  Sipping something alcoholic in a warm climate with the Sun toasting your skin to its peak melanated beauty was all you would need to pack you full of endorphins that could last you into the next year.

But that wasn’t the plan now.  Travel restrictions keep you from going out of town and you can’t even get a decent dinner anymore seeing as most restaurants are dine out only.  The only silver lining you can muster is the mask mandates allowing you to keep from smiling at strangers in awkward politeness when they get in your way.  It is a layer of protection for your sanity and solitude.  

However that wasn’t the only silver lining you have from the summer.  Mr. Rhodes, or Trevante as he has to still remind you, became very generous with his time with you outside of the classroom.  As much as you try to keep things professional for your jobs sake, he won’t let you be for any little thing.  Your email has message after message from him asking about simple math for everyday things that apparently Nemour needed refreshing on, followed by a ‘so how you been doing?’

Email 1

“Dear Ms. (Y/N), I am contacting you in regards to my son, Nemour.  While in the grocery today, we came across a sale for oranges, 3lb. for $5.  But then this other store has 5 lb. for $6.  Now he is itching to know what price would be the better one to go for?”

Your response:

“Dear Mr. Rhodes,  Although my primary concentration is History, you can tell Nemour that he should go for the second deal with 5lb.”

“Perfect, that’s why you’re the teacher!  So...how’ve you been?”

Sometimes you reply, and sometimes you leave him on read, it depends on how conversational you feel.  But as time progressed, you got excited to see his emails asking to remind him what the 3 branches of government are or what amendment means what?  He even got you on video chat to discuss.

“What?!  So slavery isn’t really abolished on that bullshit?”  Trevante exclaims in awe.

You throw your hands up, aghast as if you just learned it yourself.  “That’s the thing about American government.  They will throw a loophole where you least expect it and throw a parade like the shit ain’t bout to pop out.”

“Damn!  That’s like some Trojan horse shit honestly,”  he shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer.

You snap your finger, “Exactly, my man, exactly!  That’s why nobody can agree on anything worth a damn.  There’s gonna be a clause somewhere that adds some shit that makes the whole thing rotten. But you didn’t hear it from me, so don’t let Nemour know I’m saying this kind of stuff.”

He twists his face in confusion.  “Why wouldn’t I?  My son got a right to know about what this country is founded on.  Everyone does.”

“Yeah I know.  Just...when topics like these pop up it’s difficult to keep it all…” your voice trails off as you search your bedroom for the words you are looking for.

“Politically Incorrect?”  he offers.

You nod a little.  “Kinda, yeah.”

He sets down his beer, sitting a little closer to the screen.  “You shouldn’t have to worry about that.  History is literally set in stone.  If we didn’t have it, we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves now.”

“Do we know what to do now though?”  you ask in a higher pitch, squinting like you stepped in hot coals.

Trevante took a minute looking at you before dipping his head down to chuckle.  You could hear the pounding baritone in his chest from your speakers.

“What?  What’s that about?”  you ask.

He sits up again, stroking his beard, “It’s cute when you make your face like that.  That’s all.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your scarf further down your forehead to make up for slipping.  

Trevante tuts at you.  “I need a bucket or something to catch these compliments you keep throwing away that I toss at you.  You don’t believe me or what?”

You give a very dignified look, “I believe I am beautiful.  I just don’t believe in entertaining a parent, is all.”

Trevante sighs.  “Summer don’t count (y/n).  You’re not his teacher now so what’s the issue?”

You look off to the side and back at him.  The crisp white t shirt he has on is obstructing more of the view of his body then you care for but the tightness at the sleeve around his bicep makes up for what you know is already there.

“Hello?”  he says.

You blink a few times, crossing your arms.  “Hm?”

“You go off into space a lot too.  What’s on your mind when you do that?”

His arms around your waist that tightly bind you to his body as you inhale his sweet cologne that is perfectly distributed from his neck to chest.

You scratch your neck, and tell a half lie.  “Oh, just this new school year.”

“See this is a perk of having a teacher friend.  Fill me in, what’s up?”

“Well, all I have right now is that we are doing hybrid learning, so some classes at the school and some at home.  Now the district just need to provide the materials for the kids to be able to do that.  The internet, the laptop/tablets, and make sure we can all connect and no one is behind on lessons.  And since I am on the front line, I have to get creative with the lesson plans and keep people on task and on time.”

Trevante nods.  “Well me and Nemour are excited to see what you have for us next year, whatever it is.”

You smirk at the encouragement.  “Thank you Tre, but I can’t guarantee we will be together for the next school year.  That’s decided at random.  Plus the grade he is in next year is the last one I teach.”

“Nah, we gonna be in there.  If I have to sign a petition or boycott like these hot breathed whites out here not wearing masks, we will be in your class this fall.”

You bust out laughing at his determination.  “Dang, Tre!  Don’t go starting a ruckus up there cuz of me!  He will still be taught well, whoever he has a teacher.”

He makes a cut it motion across his neck.  “Nah, we only rock with the best and that’s you up there.  I will make all the, what you call it?  Ruckus?  That shit!  So I will be seeing you first day in the fall, ok?”

You feel heat spread over your skin from shyness.  His brash attitude comes out and makes you feel like a superstar.  “Ok, I’ll hold you to it.  How’s Nemour doing anyway?”

Trevante nods, picking up his laptop as he changes rooms.  “He is doing well, being a regular kid.  Playing and doing his chores.”

You nod.  “Great!”

He closes a door behind him as he lays the laptop down, you can tell he is laying across his bed on his stomach as he speaks.

“He has been asking me a lot more questions about police and like, if they stop me or him, what’s gonna happen and what do we do?  Should we run away?  Can we not live by cops, stuff like that.”

You heart breaks hearing this. “Wow, and this is coming from a child?”

He nods, resting his chin on his forearm.  “It’s part my fault.  I’m always looking at the news and if he sitting at the table eating breakfast or whatever, he’s gonna see it.  I cut it off when they show bodycam footage though cuz that is nothing but toxic.”

“I can’t count how many times I had to see them replay that man dying in the street.  And in front of people watching, they don’t care who is watching cuz what can you do?  You can’t interfere or that’s a charge on you but he could’ve lived.”

Trevante looks spaced out for a second hearing this.  “I know, and that’s why it’s hard explaining to Nemour what everything is about.  I give him the basics though:  Do what the officer says, don’t argue, and don’t get into shit that’s gonna get the cops called  on you either.  But it sounds played out to even say.  What did everybody else do that’s dead now?”

“Nothing.  Sleep in their bed, going to the store, jogging.  Not a damn thing that warranted a bullet.”

Trevante gives a small shrug, looking sad like he is staring at his reflection in a pond.  “Yeah, so he been grappling with that and that’s a lot for a kid his age.  That’s why I want him to be your student still too cuz you’re one of the only Black teachers there and I honestly think he is uncomfortable with white people right now.  We went to the store the other day and he calls himself protecting me saying if the man getting bread bothers me, he put on his little Timbs so he can stomp him for me.”

You gasp at the thought, giving a weak smile.  “I mean, that would go viral for some child to curb stomp a big old white dude.”

Tre smiled some too.  “I think Nemour was this close to saying ‘Don’t worry bout it sweetheart.’  I can’t let him look at no internet again.”

You put your foot up and say, “He finna give him that SPLAHH!”

Trevante laughs heartily, wiping his eyes, “You more hip than I thought too.”

“I had some wine earlier, so that might’ve helped.”  You put a finger to your mouth and pull up the glass from the nightstand.  

“Oh shit!  So this is Turnt Teacher!  Go head then, don’t let me stop you”

You wave him off.  “You aren’t stopping anything.  If nothing else, you keeping me going.  All this house shit is working my last nerve, it’s nice to see a familiar face every once in a while.”

“I think so too.  You’ve been a great addition to some weeknights this summer.”

You put a thumbs up as you sip your wine.  “Are we still doing a movie tonight?  I think it’s my turn to pick.”

Trevante curls up a lip.  “Nah, I don’t think so.”

Your heart sank a little, already having queued up a selection to watch.  “That’s ok, it is late.”

“Yeah, but really I wanna see you in person.”

Your body tensed at the invitation.  Thinking over the last few months of chatting, he has warmed up to you as an individual, but you aren’t sure if that feeling can translate outside of a screen.  Behind the camera it’s safe, you can be cute and mysterious but vulnerable and clumsy and it all comes up roses for him.  In person, cute and mysterious can seem pretentious and vulnerable and clumsy could just be a weirdo geek to him.

“Well,” you start, “I would but...you know this...pandemic is just…”

“I know,” he says.

“...awful, right?  So I just don’t think I can comfortably do that...now?”

Trevante thinks for a second.  “We can stay within the parameters of the guidelines though right?  Six feet, masks, no crowded space.  If you want, we can do that.  I just…” he sighs heavily, looking tired as he rubs his eyes, “...I have been getting stir crazy and you are the main one I have been keeping contact with outside of family, yet I only spent time in person on Valentine’s Day that one meeting we had.  And you had a date later!”

You laugh at him, remembering their first meeting that could’ve been an email no doubt.

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

“Do you wanna go out with me?  Be honest!”

“Tre, I told you-”

“See?  You even call me Tre now.  We familiar right?  I don’t usually have to beg like this but ma’am, you almost got me on bended knee!”

“Uh…”  you start to feel bad but your mouth stops working under pressure.

“Six feet,” he reminds you.  If nothing else, that makes you less inclined to want to go because what can you do?  No kissing that’s for sure.

“I don’t want to confuse Nemour,”  you rebuttal.

“He will be watched by a guardian, trust me.  He won’t be cramping out grown folks business.”

You feel a flutter in your stomach that fuels your excitement.  A plan to go out, with a man no less!  This could turn the summer around or be a disaster on the horizon.

“Don’t overthink it.  You’re a smart woman, but I don’t want you to overcalculate this.  You wanna see me, I wanna see you.  We’ll play it safe, and finally see each other in some natural light.”

You nod slowly, a smile creeps across your face as his argument finally sways you.  “Ok, I’m in.  Pick the time and place.”

Tag you!

@chaneajoyyy​

[toomuchtv95]

My Savior Part 2

Characters: Jay Halstead x Reader, WIll Halstead, Jake (OC), Antonio Dawson

Word Count: 2.2k+

Chapter Warnings: Kidnapping, Fluff, Swearing

A/n: So, I know I was supposed to get out a couple of days ago, but with everything going on in the world right now I just needed a few days to process everything. Now because of the stuff happening around us, my place of work was unfortunately closed down temporarily which means I have some time to work on this. I am now working on part 3 and I plan on having a smut scene in it so just a heads up on that. Also, there might be more there 3 chapters it all depends on the ending of the next chapter and the feedback I get. Anyways, let me know what guys think of this chapter. 

Enjoy! :)

A/N: Excuse any major grammar mistakes hopefully Grammarly caught most of them.

Series MasterList

(I do not own the gif. Credits to whoever owns it.)

“Hey, Will have you seen Y/N? She said she was going to wait for me outside, but I didn’t see her. I figured she came back in here.” Jay walked into the hospital looking for Y/N, but instead, he saw his brother standing at one of the computer stations.

"No, after I took out her stitches, she left, and I just assumed she was waiting for you to pick her up.” Jay ran a hand down her face before pulling out his phone and giving you another call. When you didn’t answer, Jay started to get worried especially when your husband was still out there. “Jay?”

“I’m worried. I’m going to have Hailey ping her phone.” Jay dialed Hailey’s phone and told her what was going on. Once Hailey pinged your phone, Jay hung up the phone and headed outside with Will right behind him. “Hailey said that Y/N’s phone pinged right outside the hospital.”

"Okay, I'll go this way and you go that way." Will didn't think twice about helping Jay look for you. Growing up Will was like an older brother to you, considering you were an only child. As Jay walked towards the west parking lot, he dialed your phone number again and that's when he heard your ring tone from a distance. Once Jay ran towards the sound, what he saw made him panic even more. Squatting down, Jay picked up your phone that was laying on the floor next to your purse. Jay knew exactly what was going on and who had done it. Angry boiled underneath Jay’s skin as grabbed your stuff and headed back towards the main entrance of the hospital.

“I need to see the parking lot security cameras.” Jay saw Will walking back and Will saw that Jay was holding your purse. “That sick son of a bitch took her. I need to find them now or he’s going to hurt or worse.” Jay felt sick to his stomach just thinking about what Jake was going to do to you.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s talk to Godwin.” Both brothers head back into the hospital to find Godwin and get access to the security footage.

Jake dragged you into the house, your feet dragging against every step it took to get to the house. Jake pulled out a chair from the dinner table, tied both your hands and feet to the chair so that you were incapacitated of doing anything. He stared at you for a moment gave you a sinful smile. Jake crouched in front of you as he removed the handkerchief from your mouth. He grabbed hold of your chin so that you were forced to look at him. “You think you could just leave, and I wouldn’t find you?” Even though you were scared out of your mind, you didn’t want him to know that.

“This is your out. You can just leave. Find someone else. You said it yourself, that I was a worthless piece of shit. So why bother taking me with?"

Jake stood up to circle around you then stood behind you and leaned over and whispered in your ear, “because you are my wife.” As a chill ran down your spine as you closed your eyes to stop the tears from rolling down your face.

“You won’t get away with this. The cops are looking for you.”

Jake circled back around and came face to face again with you. "You think that your little detective boyfriend is going to come to save you? Be your night in shining armor?” Jake grabbed a handful of your hair and force you to look at him. “We will be long gone before he finds you anyways.” Without hesitation, Jake placed a rough kiss on your lips before replacing the handkerchief on your mouth. You wanted nothing more to vomit when his lips were against yours, but you needed to get through this and hope that Jay and his team would find you soon. “I have to finish making plans.”

Jake pulled out his phone and disappeared somewhere down the hall. As you left alone, the tears finally emerged and rolled down your face. Maybe this is was destiny. You were stuck with Jake for the rest of your life and thought of that makes you sick. Before you won’t think twice about spending the rest of your life with him, but now you would do anything to get away from this man you so-called your husband. Maybe you missed all the signs but, how could you? He put on the perfect act. Tricked you into falling in love with him and marrying you. He promised you a life together and this is not what he meant. Abusing you is one thing, but to kidnap you were on a whole new level.

An hour passed when Jake reappeared, and he was angry about something. “Change of plans. We’re leaving now.” Panic spread through your body as shuffled across the room to up tie you from the chair, but something stopped him. “What was that?” As Jake pulled out his gun from his waistband, the front door flew open and relief washed over you. Jake instantly stood behind you and pressed his gun to your forehead causing you to flinch.

“Let her go!” Jay slowly walked into the room with his gun raised. “Adding kidnapping to your list of charges? Murder, gun dealing, and domestic violence wasn’t enough?”

“She brought this on herself." Jay took a few more steps into the house causing Jake to press the gun harder to your forehead. "Don't take one more step or I swear I will put a bullet in her head.”

Jay stopped in his track not wanting to make Jake do something irrational. “You used her as a punching bag what did you expect? You think she was going to stay with you forever?” Jay couldn’t help but lock eyes with you as he saw the pain and hurt in your eyes. The way Jay looked at you wasn't the cop in him, it was the man who was still in love with you even after all these years.

“She got in the way. She deserved what she got.” Anger filled through Jay’s body hearing those words escape Jake’s mouth. Jay took another slow step into the room and Jake’s fingers instantly went onto the trigger.

“Don’t think about or I will put a bullet in your myself.” You shut your eyes the moment you head Antonio Dawson’s voice behind you. After a few seconds of silence, you opened your eyes to see Jake was being handcuffed and dragged out of the house.

Jay walked towards you as he holstered his gun and removed the handkerchief. "Are you okay?" You nodded your head in response as Jay crouched down to cut the ropes from both your hands and feet. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Cause if he did, I swear-” You crashed body into his and let more tears roll down your face. “Shh, it’s okay. Your safe now.” Jay wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. Jake was sentence to 20yrs in prison without probation or early release which was a relief to you. Two months have passed, and you were still trying to adjust to life without Jake. For the first couple of days, you were shaken up, so Jay suggested that you talk to someone to help you and at first you hesitate, but after some convincing, you decided to talk to someone. Since talking to someone, you started to feel better about things. On another note, things between you and Jay have changed, and maybe for the better. Being back with Jay felt like the two of you never separated. All those feelings you have held back for the last 10yrs were starting resurfaces and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. You were still married, and that makes things complicated.

Jay walked into the apartment around 10:30 pm which his later then usual but he said he was working late on a case. Jay kicked off his boots, unclipped both his badge and gun and tossed them along with his keys onto the table by the door. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You smiled up at Jay as you closed the current book you were reading and set in on the coffee table. Jay walked over the empty side of the sofa and plopped himself down, exhausted. “You okay?”

Jay has never felt this comfortable with a woman expect for you and for you to be back in his life felt like a blessing. To say that Jay didn’t love you anymore would be a lie. Jay never stopped loving you, but things right now things were complicated, and he doesn't know how to handle it. “Tough case is all.”

“Wanna talk about it?” You sat crossed-legged on the sofa and faced Jay. Jay nodded head no, which you knew not to push. The two of you sat there for a moment before you spoke up, “I talked to your lawyer friend today.”

“Yeah?” Jay looked at you with hope.

“Yeah, she said that we have to file even if we assume or know that he won’t sign them. Then there’s a waiting period and if he doesn't respond or refuses to sign, we can then file for a default divorce.” You looked down as fiddled with the loose strings at the end of your sweater.  “She said that she hopefully that once we fill for a default divorce the judge will grant me a divorce because of everything has happened.”

Jay reached over and held your hand. “You deserve everything good and he wasn't the guy was going to give it to you."

“Yeah, well I deserve someone like you.” You whispered as you looked down in hopes that he didn’t hear you. Things between you and Jay were complicated and you didn’t want to make things more complicated.

“Y/N.” You put out your hand out to stop him from saying something that he might regret.

“I’m gonna head to bed. I got an early shift in the morning.” Kissing Jay on the cheek, you got up from the couch and headed into your bedroom. “I’ll see you in the morning”

As you walked into your bedroom, you sat down on the edge of your bed and ran a hand through your hair. Before you married or worked at Jake’s bar, you were a nurse practitioner and you loved it. Unfortunately, you had left about a year ago, because of Jake. Jake started to get weird about you working at the hospital and not being able to keep an eye on you. He had forced you to work at the bar when he was there so that he could an eye on you. You never wanted to give up your career. You saved lives and that all you ever wanted to do. Once, you started working at the bar, you started to notice your bank account slowly draining not only from paying back your student loans but because of Jake. He was taking your money to use for gun dealing and god knows what else.

A soft knock filled the room causing you to pull out of your thoughts. “Y/N, can we need to talk?” The door opened and Jay leaned against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. You looked up at Jay giving him the cue to talk. “I meant what I said back there. He was never going to give you everything you deserved.” Jay took a step into the room and stood a few feet in front of you. “There is nothing in this world I would want but to be with you again, but you are just getting your life back and I don’t be the guy that slows that process down.”

"How could you think that?" You stood up from your spot on the bed and stood directly in front of him. “Your right I did just get my life back and it’s because of you. So, don’t think that you are going to slow me down, because you’re not. You are the reason why I’m still going. If it wasn’t for you, I would still be with someone I never loved. Being with you these last couple months, just made me realized that I still love you and I know still married, it’s messed up, but you are the one who is going to giving me everything I deserve.”

The next thing you knew, he had slammed his lips to your and nearly knocked all wind from your lungs. You hardly had a moment to react before he pressed his tongue to the seam of your lips asking for access, which you allowed. You laid your hands on his upper biceps pulled him closer. Once the two of you pulled away after a few moments Jay leaned his forehead against yours. “I still love you too, and I am sorry that I let you go all those years ago, but I’m not doing it again.” A soft smile appeared on your face as you pulled Jay in for another kiss.

Tag List: @nervousmemzie @hehurst23 @anamile6878 @esauthor @stephmazz1990 @daenerys-targaryes @bellageorge03 @haileymatthewss @useyourmarners @kadygirl @get0verit @yienell-mariee @olihju @lovelydivs @stuffedcabbagepatch @chrisrandumness @shipatheart @jocelyn1718 @shadyfox242 @boo20-05 @beachfan412 @mheart27 @supyfish @aparkel @httphiddlestan @haleyjs86 @onechicago18 @ladyate @whatisanniedoin @citylightsla @thevelvetseries @wemma554 @samiam9525 @detectiveinchicago @tyzerman91 @foulstatesmandragonbear @spiridakos-wp @katie1996 @glittermakesmesmile @itsdesiree86​ @chloebear26 @delcateswift @rosemusic18 @transparentwombathorsedreamer @detective29 @cjhorseback​ @sgtsophie​ @onechicagofan20​ @katiehud @corie-the-writer @give-jack-a-lightsaber @yzas-stuff

[slut-kiss-g1rl]

geostorm <3

FADE IN:

INT. COURTROOM

GERARD BUTLER is at a COURT HEARING... in the FUTURE!

GERARD BUTLER

It is the future. Natural disasters have become alarmingly commonplace. Hurricanes, mudslides, floods, you name it. The level of destruction is catastrophic.

RICHARD SCHIFF

To be clear, this is the FUTURE you’re talking about?

GERARD BUTLER

The nations of the world have finally decided to take action. So, pooling our resources, we’ve invested heavily in environmental research and clean energy, and cracked down heavily on industrial emissions standards-

(laughs and laughs and laughs)

Just kidding! We’ve built a giant orbital platform that shoots the bad weather with space missiles and space lasers, of course.

RICHARD SCHIFF

So you’re the genius who built the space station. But instead of just making you the chief engineer, which would make sense, we made you director of the whole multi-national program, despite the fact that you have no administrative skills or political experience and mostly get what you want by yelling at people and punching them in the face?

GERARD BUTLER

That’s correct, you useless government fucks. You can all lick my sweaty gonads.

(moons everybody)

RICHARD SCHIFF

You’re fired and we’re giving your job to your little brother Jim Sturgess. At least he can do a passable American accent.

GERARD BUTLER

Och, ye dinnae hae ta be a deck abote et!

INT. SPACE STATION

Engineer RICHARD REGAN PAUL is aboard the WEATHER STATION when he notices that somebody has stuck a SMARTPHONE on an important CIRCUITBOARD.

RICHARD REGAN PAUL

Oh crap, somebody’s sabotaging this hundred-trillion-dollar space program using consumer electronics! I better draw everybody’s attention to this and alert my superiors!

(falls down and hits head very hard)

Duhhhh I mean I should hide this evidence and tell nobody yessss.

He stashes the EVIDENCE, but shortly afterwards the CORRIDOR he’s walking through is SEALED and all the WALL PANELS START BLASTING OFF!

RICHARD REGAN PAUL

What the fuck? Why would we design them to be able to do that? What possible situation could arise in a space station when we’d need to get rid of the WALLS in a hurry? This makes no-

(spaced)

The SPACE STATION then proceeds to turn a bunch of VILLAGERS in AFGHANISTAN into SNOWMEN.

INT. WHITE HOUSE

JIM STURGESS is having a meeting with the movie’s entire supply of Oscar-nominated actors.

JIM STURGESS

So yeah, we kind of murdered a bunch of innocent people with a giant ice ray like Mr. Freeze, oops. We need to send up an international team of brilliant engineers to the space station to investigate what went wrong, despite the fact that there’s already an international team of brilliant engineers ON the space station.

ACADEMY AWARD NOMINEE ANDY GARCIA

No way, Jim. As the president, I can’t have foreigners touch this station which has been funded and staffed predominately by foreigners! We’ll send up Americans.

ACADEMY AWARD NOMINEE ED HARRIS

ONE American. I mean if we’re going to half-ass this thing, let’s half-ass it, y’know?

ACADEMY AWARD NOMINEE MARE WINNINGHAM

I am also in this scene for some reason.

JIM STURGESS

Ugh fine, let’s send up Gerard. It’ll take some doing though, he and I haven’t really gotten along in the vague amount of time since you gave me his job. Seriously, the timeline is super nebulous, it could have been anything between a week and five years.

ED HARRIS

I have faith you can convince him, Jim. As your father figure and mentor, you know I support you in everything, and if you ever need somebody you can implicitly trust-

JIM STURGESS

We get it, you’re the villain, whoop-de-doo.

(leaves)

EXT. LOSER SHACK

JIM goes out to see GERARD, who is hanging with his DAUGHTER.

JIM STURGESS

Hey bro, the space laser’s been acting up. Think you could pop up to space real quick and fix it? Thanks.

GERARD’S DAUGHTER

Dad, no! You can’t go back to space! It’s too dangerous! Don’t abandon me like this!

GERARD BUTLER

OH GOD NOT THIS FUCKING TROPE. Yeah, parents should never do work that takes them away from their families for any amount of time or puts themselves at risk, no matter how important it is. I’m a shitty father because I’m agreeing to go save hundreds of millions of lives, possibly including yours. Shut the fuck up, you little turd.

GERARD immediately storms off and goes to SPACE.

EXT. HONG KONG

Suddenly the movie remembers the CHINESE BOX OFFICE and cuts to HONG KONG, where DANIEL WU is heading home with some SHOPPING.

DANIEL WU

(looks around)

Aw fuck. A famous capital city in a disaster movie? This isn’t gonna end well.

Sure enough he drops some EGGS on the ground and they immediately begin to FRY!

DANIEL WU

Holy shit the ground is apparently as hot as a stovetop! You’d think this is something the people in the street would have noticed, but uh, I guess all our shoes are made entirely of thermally nonconductive silica fibreglass?

(jumps in car, speeds off)

And our tires too, don’t forget our tires!

DANIEL drives through the streets as the pavement CRACKS and FIRE erupts out of the SUPERHEATED PAVEMENT!

DANIEL WU

Damn, the space station must have done that! Not that we ever explain how geothermal energy could possibly be controlled by space lasers!

INT. SPACE STATION

GERARD arrives aboard the SPACE STATION to meet the team of ENGINEERS.

ROBERT SHEEHAN

Welcome, Gerard! I am an asshole. A smug, unlikeable asshole. The exact kind of jerk you’d think would turn out to be the saboteur. Which is kind of awkward, because I DO turn out to be the saboteur.

AMR WAKED

It’s okay, I’ll cover for you by red herringing as hard as humanly possible in every scene I’m in.

(lurks sinisterly)

ALEXANDRA MARIA LARA

Meanwhile I’m the station’s commander. I exist to be your sort-of love interest with whom you never get beyond meaningful eye contact, and to make you seem hypercompetent by standing around uselessly while you do everything important.

GERARD BUTLER

Okay then, now that everybody’s in position let’s get this 2012-but-with-weather/Gravity-except-stupid-and-with-more-explosions hybrid on the road! Bring on the barrage of gratuitous global annihilation!

ALEXANDRA MARIA LARA

Actually there’s nowhere near as much of that kind of thing as the trailers promised. But if you like scenes where someone stares at tiny gobbledegook on a computer screen and explains what plot points it discloses, we’ve got a buttload of that!

GERARD BUTLER

(puppy dog eyes)

ALEXANDRA MARIA LARA

Oh fine, here’s one to tide you over.

EXT. TOKYO

Giant hail in Tokyo!

INT. SPACE STATION

GERARD BUTLER

Ta! Now let’s look at that satellite that fried Hong Kong.

ROBERT SHEEHAN

Uh, oops, unfortunately that malfunctioning satellite got smashed beyond usefulness because the hydraulic arm which was holding it malfunctioned!

GERARD BUTLER

Fine then, let’s look at the surveillance footage from when Richard Regan Paul got spaced.

ROBERT SHEEHAN

Um well we can’t see the footage of that wall malfunction because the footage has also malfunctioned.

GERARD BUTLER

Wait though, there’s still a useable recording in a leftover bit of wall that got stuck in a solar array panel! Let’s go for a spacewalk and get it.

ROBERT SHEEHAN

Sure thing WHUH OH while you’re trying to retrieve that malfunctioning bit of wall, your space suit has malfunctioned!

GERARD BUTLER

(bouncing off every part of the space station)

HEY YOU KNOW WHAT, I’M STARTING TO THINK THAT MAAAAYBE THERE’S JUST A SMIDGE OF SABOTAGE GOING ON.

ROBERT SHEEHAN

Damnit! Turns out that by the time you’re committing sabotage to cover up your sabotage to cover up your sabotage to cover up your sabotage, it starts to get kinda obvious what you’re doing.

(pause)

Nnnnnot that I have anything to do with that. Right, Amr?

AMR WAKED

(hovers creepily at the edge of frame)

ROBERT SHEEHAN

Exactly.

GERARD retrieves the DATA from the WALL FRAGMENT, but finds that he can’t ACCESS IT.

GERARD BUTLER

Oh crap, only a high-level government official could have restricted the data like this! That means that SOMEBODY extremely high-ranking is behind all this, but we don’t know who!

ALEXANDRA MARIA LARA

It’s Ed Harris. Everybody has figured this out already.

GERARD BUTLER

I have to tell Jim about this. But they might have bugged our comms, and my message may be intercepted by whoever the traitor is.

ALEXANDRA MARIA LARA

It is quite obviously Ed Harris.

GERARD BUTLER

I better use a code.

(calls Jim)

Hey there, Jim! Just thought I’d stop in the middle of this deadly crisis to randomly reminisce. SOMEtimes I think about that old WHITE porch we used to have at our HOUSE, where our pathetic inbred ASSHOLE of a father used to get FUCKED up on tequila and whale on US with a wrench. Glad that’s all OVER.

JIM STURGESS

A high-ranking government traitor? Why that could only be-

ALEXANDRA MARIA LARA

ED HARRIS, IT’S ED HARRIS YOU IDIOTS, THERE'S NO OTHER REASON FOR HIS CHARACTER TO EXIST

JIM STURGESS

-the president! America is soon scheduled to hand control of the space station over to an international committee. The president must be causing these disasters in order to retain control!

GERARD BUTLER

Right. Because after a fuckup of this magnitude, obviously the last thing people will want to do is remove the administrators responsible for killing everybody.

JIM STURGESS

And he’s not gonna stop with these penny-ante special effect showcases, either! He’s trying to chain a bunch of them together and bring on a geostorm!

GERARD BUTLER

You mean the tiny, ugly-ass sports compact from Isuzu?

JIM STURGESS

Not a Geo Storm, a GEOSTORM! A made-up, probably impossible meteorological phenomenon where it storms everywhere on the planet at once! According to our computers, this precise sequence of weather disasters - including the ones which the space station hasn’t caused yet - will lead to a geostorm in EXACTLY the nice, round timeframe of ninety minutes!!

GERARD BUTLER

Fuck! Fine then, let’s do an emergency shutdown of the station so it can’t frag the planet. This potentially apocalyptic orbital weapons platform DOES have an emergency off switch, right?

JIM STURGESS

Well, yes... but, ha ha, it turns out it can only be activated using the president’s biometrics. So if the most dangerous thing ever made malfunctions, it can only be stopped if you can get the president into the right specific room quickly enough.

(shrugs awkwardly)

Fortunately, I have been provided with a convenient secret service girlfriend who can grab the president for us!

ABBIE CORNISH

Okay then, I’ll-

JIM STURGESS

Plot devices don’t speak, honey.

ABBIE CORNISH

Then why does this movie have any dialogue at all?

INT. DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION

JIM and ABBIE go to find PRESIDENT ANDY at the DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION in ORLANDO. But first they run into ED HARRIS.

JIM STURGESS

Ed, thank god I ran into somebody I can trust! We need to grab the president so we can shut down this Bond villain-esque weather scheme.

ED HARRIS

Uh, okay. I have the president right here in this gun. Stand still so that I might fire him at you.

JIM STURGESS

Wha - YOU?! EVIL?!? DWAAAHHH?!?!?

ED HARRIS

Don’t patronize me. Anyway, part of my plan is to set off a giant lightning storm here and kill everybody in line of succession ahead of me, so I become president!

JIM STURGESS

Are you fucking kidding me? We’ve gone to the trouble of pointing out it’s an election year! Do you honestly expect an administration that ran an environmental program so badly that it KILLED THEM ALL to get reelected?

JIM and ABBIE grab ANDY and run for it! Then a fuckton of LIGHTNING starts DESTROYING THE DNC!

BYSTANDER

Man, those Russian hackers have really stepped up their game.

(incinerated)

ABBIE CORNISH

Quickly, we can get away using this SELF-DRIVING cab we just commandeered! Since I’m driving it there might seem to be no reason for us to point out that it’s a SELF-DRIVING cab, so I guess now the audience has already figured out we’re shortly going to be pulling some trick where it SELF-DRIVES. We’ll still act like we’re being clever, though.

ED HARRIS

Chase that cab, my suicidally dedicated minions! Meanwhile I will teleport to the road ahead of them, so I can set up a rocket launcher ambush! Nothing screams “accidental death” like getting blown up by a fucking rocket launcher. FIRE!

MINION

Uh, you sure you don’t want to wait until we can see who’s driving? Disregarding any possible self-driving tricks, cabs are pretty interchangeable and that could in fact be entirely the wrong car-

ED HARRIS

I SAID FIRE!

They BLOW UP THE CAB! But then ANDY appears and shoves a GUN in ED’S FACE.

ANDY GARCIA

That’s right, we sent the empty cab driving towards you at sixty miles an hour! And now here we are, having caught up to it on foot within the next twenty seconds. My legs are KILLING ME.

ED HARRIS

Come on Andy, you should still let the geostorm happen! My theory is that the massive catastrophe which is going to demolish the face of the planet will handily attack only our political enemies and we’ll be fine!

ANDY GARCIA

Goddamn, how is it that each new layer of your motivations is even dumber than the last?

EXT. EVERYWHERE

Meanwhile DIRECTOR DEAN DEVLIN looks under the COUCH and finally finds the movie’s MISSING DISASTER EFFECTS, and they all start happening at once! Ice storms in Rio! Fire storms in Moscow! Tsunamis in the desert!

GERARD BUTLER

Opposite weather, is it? In that case I’m guessing London is currently having a pleasant sunny day HEY-OOOHHH!

ALEXANDRA MARIA LARA

But we’re not doing so great here in space either. Somebody’s set off our self-destruct system, and the station’s gonna explode in [amount of time left in which the geostorm can still be averted + just enough time for a thrilling escape]!

GERARD BUTLER

Wait a minute, according some kind of plot mumbo jumbo, the only one who could have started the self-destruct protocol is... ROBERT! You little traitor, you’re working for Ed!

ROBERT SHEEHAN

Okay okay, you’ve got me, but SURPRISE I had a gun strapped to the underside of this desk and now you haven’t got me at all, HA!

GERARD BUTLER

What was your plan if I’d confronted you in literally any other room?

ROBERT SHEEHAN

Clearly I must have guns strapped underneath every surface in the entire space station.

(opens fire)

Aw yeah, no better strategy for staying alive than shooting bullets in a room which is separated from the vacuum of space by a single pane of-

ROBERT accidentally SPACES HIMSELF! The movie does not reveal whether, in his last moments of consciousness, RICHARD’S FROZEN, ORBITING CORPSE happens to collide FOOT-FIRST with ROBERT’S CROTCH, so one is forced to assume that it DOES.

INT. SPACE STATION STOPPING ROOM

Back on EARTH, ANDY arrives in the ROOM he has to be in so that he can turn off the SPACE STATION.

ANDY GARCIA

All right, we did it! I just used my biometrics to activate the thing, so now the world is saved! Right?

JIM STURGESS

Actually Gerard still has to get to another specific room on the station itself and press a big “YES” button for it to actually work.

ANDY GARCIA

OF COURSE. What was I thinking, we can’t let this emergency shutdown be activated merely by having the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED FUCKING STATES TURN IT ON WITH HIS OWN SPECIAL BODY SCAN. No, we need the extra, mega-secure step of having some engineer click “confirm”!

JIM STURGESS

Look, we wanted to do the president kidnapping scene but still give Gerard a big action climax, this was the only way.

In SPACE, GERARD and ALEXANDRA make it to the SPECIAL ROOM, shut down the SPACE STATION and SAVE THE WORLD!

ALEXANDRA MARIA LARA

Phew, and with one second left to go! That’s right, because we turned off the weather machine when we did all the bad weather instantly cleared up; but if it had gone on for even one more second it would have become a global superstorm which would have wiped out most of humanity. What a sensible premise!

GERARD BUTLER

Unfortunately while we were able to get everybody else off the station, there’s no time left for you and I to escape. But I knew this when I stayed behind. I may not have been a good father, but I hope my daughter can at least appreciate the sacrifice I made by dying in space in order to save-

ALEXANDRA MARIA LARA

Are you seriously copying Bruce Willis’s death from Armageddon?

GERARD BUTLER

Oh FUCK you’re right. Screw it, let’s just jump in a spare satellite and fly to safety then.

ALEXANDRA MARIA LARA

Hooray! I’m not even gonna ask why a weather satellite has room inside it for passengers!

They HOP ABOARD the SPACE EX MACHINA and fly away!

EXT. LOSER SHACK

Months later, GERARD, JIM and GERARD’S ANNOYING DAUGHTER are all hanging out and fishing.

GERARD BUTLER

Neat, our family’s come un-estranged! What a happy ending. Why if we keep the focus on stuff like this, and the fact that in Brazil the dog didn’t die, we can ignore the fact that millions of people just got horribly murdered!

JIM STURGESS

And the rebuilt space station is now in international hands as intended, and they’re gonna make sure none of this can ever-

GERARD BUTLER

Wait, what the fuck? They’re doing the space station again? After the last one turned out to be a city-destroying death ray which could be commandeered by a single nerd with a smartphone? That’s the least plausible ending this movie could have possibly had!

JIM STURGESS

Uh huh. Yeah, I’m sure in real life politicians the world over would instead start seriously committing themselves to environmental policy. Hmmm?

GERARD BUTLER

...Okay yeah this way’s more realistic.

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

>:(

[quixotic-writer]

Adult Entertainment (part 2)

request: basically everyone

summary: Sal had made a bold statement saying he could last longer than Q watching porn. They both decide to put those words to the test and placed a bet in typical joker fashion: loser gets punished by the winner.

Warning: Smut ahead!

———————————————————

It had been about a week since their porn escapades that doubled as a steamy night in and they were ready for their next challenge, one that Sal had proposed afterwards: how much could they handle before they came undone untouched?

Rules were worked out between the two: They weren’t allowed to cum for a whole week to up the challenge, their hands were to be restrained the night of, they both would have their own dildo to use for some sort of pleasure (Sal suggested it), they would both throw together a playlist of porn to play for them to watch on the couch together. They would have no clue what videos they put into the playlist for the other so when they finally put themselves to the test, they would each be pleasantly surprised. Bottom line was: first one to cum gets a punishment. Simple and clean cut rules and regulations for another hot night.

Knowing the rules, it didn’t stop them from finding certain loop holes that they both didn’t mind but drove them crazy. There was only two words to describe the excruciating week: Edging and teasing. Sal’s favorite thing to do was to bend over in front of Q, giving him a full show of his ass or “accidentally” grind his ass against Q at any opportunity he could. The farthest he’s gone to torture Q was waking him up with a surprise blow job and pulling away to go and shower once he was close, this was the moment where Q almost lost his mind. As for Sal, Q would start talking dirty to him, sweet nothings serenading him and tantalizing his senses, then he would start rubbing his hands over his bulge and sometimes go as far as to start jerking him off. The moment Sal was close to cumming, he would back away and just leave him in that desperate state and quickly reminded him of the week’s rules. A taste of his own medicine.

By the time the seven days were finally done and over with, they felt so sensitive and as though the mere thought of release would be enough to get them hard and close.

They gathered all their things for the evening in the living room, the screen was already lit up and loaded up with their filthy playlist of porn, the blinds were drawn to a close to hide their dirty shenanigans from wandering eyes, and both men were stripped down to their boxers each sporting a semi hard on.

“How you feeling about this baby?” Q questions to Sal as he helps tie up his arms behind his back.

“Like this is going to be the hardest i’ve cum since my teenage years.” He jokes. His wrists are tightly (but safely) bound behind his back and the sensation of the restraint turns him on. Q helps remove his boxers and sees already how hard Sal is and feels himself twitch at the sight. “You don’t need to prep me by the way, got that bit covered.” Sal gives him a wink and Q felt his soul leave his body, but little did Sal know that Q had a surprise up his own sleeve.

Sal managed to help sloppily and loosely handcuff Q despite his arms being behind his back, he got on his hands and knees and took the band of his boxers between his teeth and gently pulled them down allowing Q to spring to life. When Q turned around to go sit on the couch, Sal felt as though he could’ve unraveled right then and there.

“Brian Quinn you naughty man.” In between the mountains of flesh tucked away was a butt plug that Q had snuck inside of him earlier that day to prep himself.

“Wasn’t used to having something in me, so I took the extra step.” Q reaches for the toy and slowly pulls it out, sad that he feels so empty, but eager knowing something better is to come. “Well Sally boy, time to put your money where your mouth is. Lets see which one of us can last longer.” Q sat himself on a dildo, slowly sinking down relishing in the full sensation of it all with a low hum. Sal joins in next to him with his own toy slowly entering him until he was fully seated with the toy poking at his prostate, making him close his eyes and bite his lip.

They take a moment to catch their breath and stare at the screen with a thumbnail of the video to play with a giant pause symbol over it. They look at each other, then to their tied up arms, then to the remote sitting on the coffee table in front of them.

“Brian Michael Quinn if you do what I think you’re about to do.” All Q does is smile and take his foot and press the play button on the remote with his big toe. Sal looks to him in disgust and makes a mental reminder to sanitize the shit out of the remote after all is said and done.

The first video begins and it was Q’s first pick: A basic vanilla porn, missionary position, minimal action, just something to get the blood pumping. Q sat in his seat and shifted slightly and felt as the toy moved around inside of him, gently grazing that special bundle of nerves, he bit his lip and hummed. Sal was trying to resist all urges to start bouncing on his toy and finally get the release he craved, but he was stubborn enough to hold himself back just to prove a point. Video one was short and over with pretty fast, but it did leave the two standing at full attention and already leaking pre-cum at the tip.

Next was Sal’s choice in video, things were slowly starting to pick up now. It was the same video of that girl riding a guy the first time they had watched porn together a week ago. Memories flooded quickly into Sal’s head that sent shockwaves to his cock and he found himself bouncing a little to release some tension. When his eyes glanced over to Q, he watched as his dick twitched in agony, now was time to play a little dirty.

“Brian, Nothing will ever compare to the way you fucked me hard that night. The way your hard cock slammed into my tight hole and filled me right up, fuck Bri, it drives me mad just thinking about it.” Sal spoke in a sultry seductive tone and watched as Q’s eyes began to haze with lust and his hips began to flick upwards in search of pleasure. He remembered the sensation vividly and recalled the way Sal felt and looked that night, the way he channeled a whole new side of him that was so sexually charged, and the dirty talk. The dirty talk is what turned him on the most, the way Sal described how horny and desperate he was without him. “Seems that you’re thinking about it too, huh? Thinking about slamming into me until i’m a whining mess below you begging to cum because i’ve been teased all week, watching me lose control in your arms and knowing you’re the one that made me unravel.” Sal kept painting such a clear picture for Q and he felt himself getting closer and closer to the euphoria he’s sought for a whole week.

But the realization that he was so close made him stop all his movements. Despite the disappointment and feeling the welling sensation die down in his pelvis, he knew what Sal was trying to play, and he refused to lose for such a pitiful reason, he would prove he had more self control. Q brought himself back down and watched the rest of the video through and knew his next choice was coming up on the queue.

When the video began, Sal’s senses felt heightened and as though his pores were shooting out lightning. Q bit his lip and smirked as he watched Sal begin to frivolously bounce on the couch next to him. Checkmate.

On occasion if the couple was feeling extra daring or knew they’d be apart for a while, they would whip out whoever’s phone was closest and hit record. It was their own personal collection of self made porn that they would indulge in whenever the mood struck them individually. Q had built up quite the collection and often turned to it when his imagination just wasn’t enough to get him off. Now he used it as his personal ammunition, and he knew he was getting exactly what he wanted.

The screen was lit up with the low quality phone footage of Sal bobbing his head up and down on Q’s dick. Filthy wet noises emanating out of Sal as he took Q further and further into his mouth making the man above him a filthy moaning mess.

“Fuck baby, your pretty little mouth feels so good around my cock. Come on now, you can take a little more darling, I know you can.” His voice is smooth and baritone, he speaks softly as a hand comes into frame and tangles into his hair and brings him down more soliciting a few gags from Sal as his nose hit Q’s stomach.

Sal at this point was fucking the toy inside of him like his life depended on it with the video playing fueling him further. He forgot all about the bet, he didn’t care if he lost, he didn’t care what his punishment would be, he wanted one thing now and he was focused on getting it. Q knew at this point he had gotten what he wanted, and all he wanted now was to watch the man he loved unravel before him. He smiled in victory and had already began plotting his special arrangements for Sal once this was all over.

“Sal, please, if you keep that up i’m gonna bust baby.” Sal felt heat rising fast in his abdomen, each time Q’s voice echoes from the TV, he felt it building quicker. His hips bucked in desperation

“Sally baby, are you close?” Sal lets out a whine in response unable to form actual words. It was enough to give Q an answer. “Look at you, getting off watching yourself pleasure me. Sensitive and desperate, so easily submissive to your desires. You’re a dirt little slut for me aren’t you? Do it then Sally baby. Cum for me on the dildo just like you did when you were horny and needy.” And just like that, with mere words and another slam of his hips downward, Sal was sent into blinding ecstasy. His torso going tense as he hunched over at the relieving sensation, hot thick ropes of white shooting out of him hard.

He collapses on his side allowing the toy to slip out of him gasping for breath feeling the energy draining quickly as sweat drips down the temples of his head. Q manages to slip his hands out of the cuffs that were (thankfully loosely wrapped around his wrists and get up off the couch to untie Sal.

“Are you okay? Did that feel good?” Sal, still in a haze smiles and nods and takes a gentle hand to Q’s cheeks and brings him in for a kiss. “Do you think you could handle more?”

“I haven’t cum in a week and i’ve got a lot of pent up energy.” Q’s eyes go dark as he gives his signature devilish grin to the man in his arms.

“Well then, my love. It’s time for your punishment then.”

———————————————————

A/N: I know this is a wee bit shorter than what I normally write ( ; w ; ) I was planning on adding the punishment to this part, but I decided why not make that a whole part in itself.. either that or i’ll come in and edit this to attach that extra bit. I’ve been slightly busy these pst few days but I just wanted to get something on here for my non-wattpad/ao3 users

[mc-amps]

The Interview That Never Happened

Rating: Everyone

Warnings: None

Pairing: JuminxMC

This is the article I wrote for @juminfanzine It was such an honor to be a part of that project~ It was also an interesting experience writing this, since it’s so different from a normal fic. I hope you enjoy!

The plan was to interview Jumin Han about C&R’s upcoming pet café. Getting time to talk with someone like Jumin was supposed to be the hard part. He was the future CEO of a highly acclaimed and successful company after all, not to mention a celebrity, appearing in magazines, commercials and even having a scandal or two involving women trying to get a bite of his fortune. As a reporter, I thought the hard part was over, and that the rest of my time would be a breeze.

However, I was quite wrong.

This interview would prove to be my most difficult. Mainly because the interview itself never happened. Instead of trying reschedule, I decided to write about my experience. It was certainly something I would never forget.

The morning started normal enough. The sky was clear and blue without even a hint of foreboding clouds, and the bright sun gave off a warm and inviting atmosphere as it illuminated the C&R building. I made sure to arrive fifteen minutes early with my questions and voice recorder ready to go. Everything was perfect.

The front desk’s stylish receptionist greeted me with a charismatic smile and told me which elevator to take and what floor to go to. It wasn’t until I reached my destination that everything changed. While the lobby had been busy and bustling like a well-oiled machine, everyone worked frantically as if something had malfunctioned. Phones rang and fingers clicked against their keyboards endlessly. It would have been just like any other office, but there was an electric unease and tension in the air.

After avoiding a close call involving someone holding a stack of papers and a mug of steaming, sloshing coffee, I encountered Jumin’s assistant, Jaehee Kang, however, she didn’t notice me. Instead a mess of paper on her desk along with a phone call dominated her attention. She spoke in a hushed tone. Whatever the call was about, it sounded intense. All I could do was wait for her to finish. She soon hung up with a slow sigh and adjusted her glasses. Unfortunately, she still didn’t look up from her papers, so I tapped at her desk, causing her to practically tumble from her seat. I felt bad, but she managed to compose herself with almost inhuman grace. Though that faded once I explained the interview situation to her. The color drained from her face and she swayed a bit, before once again readjusting herself with a sigh. She then went on to explain how she forgot about the interview and that today would not be a good day anyways, before offering to reschedule.

This was a unique situation. I had certainly dealt with rescheduled and even cancelled interviews before, but it never happened on the day of, let alone mere minutes before it was set to take place. I was on a tight deadline. We needed this interview.

And I insisted it had to happen.

Eventually, Jaehee gave in. She took a defeated swig from her steaming mug, before rolling her shoulders and leading me through the labyrinth of cubicles. After several moments of seemingly fruitless searching, we found him, or rather, heard him. Jumin Han’s iconic deep timbre sounded a lot more booming in person.

Something I found rather interesting was Jaehee’s reaction. Instead of cowering in shocked fear, she simply apologized and told me she would take care of this. Was this something she experienced on a regular basis?

By that point, it wasn’t difficult to spot Jumin’s tall frame towering over a young man’s desk. Interviews had portrayed Jumin Han as someone charismatic and polite, albeit somewhat dry and monotone, however, the man standing before us was much more frightening and cold. He spoke in a harsh, yet subdued tone. It lacked emotion, but his anger was quite evident. He didn’t lose his temper either, which made things all the more chilling. The office fell silent. Not even the telephones or fax machines sounded. It was as if they knew not to interrupt this man.

I couldn’t quite make out all of Jumin’s harsh words, but once the employee burst into tears and gathered his belongings, the outcome of this conversation became clear. Jumin’s icy mask stayed in place even as the employee wept in pure anguish. I found myself disgusted and came to the conclusion that Jumin Han was an absolute tyrant. I felt outraged, but admittedly not brave enough to call him out on his cruel behavior.

Soon, the now ex-employee finished packing up. His crying had died down to sniffles as he left the office, head down. Even after he was gone, time stood still with no one typing on their computers or making a peep.

It wasn’t until Jaehee cleared her throat and called out for “Mr. Han,” that the spell broke. Without a word, Jumin narrowed his eyes, staring expectantly.

I wanted to tell Jaehee to forget the interview. Deadlines or not, I didn’t want to be responsible for getting someone else fired. However, before I could stop her, she adjusted her glasses and explained the cat café interview in a calm and concise manner. My heart stopped when Jumin interrupted her with the shake of his head. Wearing an annoyed frown, he announced that in five minutes, there would be a meeting in the conference room. A mandatory meeting. He then turned to me, cold as steel eyes piercing my soul. This was very uncomfortable to say the least. I had to wonder if he was about to throw me out, but instead he said I could sit in the meeting, then afterwards he would see about the interview.

By this point, I just wanted to cut my losses and leave, but something told me that disobeying Jumin would make matters even worse. I trudged after the herd of nervous workers into the large room. Not one of them said a word as they took their seats around the large table. I could almost taste the nauseating cocktail of anxiety and tension.

Jaehee kindly pulled out a chair for me next to the door, before scurrying to her seat. Jumin meanwhile took his spot up front. He silently tugged at his cuff links as he gazed at his peons. A simple gesture made terrifying by the likes of him.

Was he going to fire everyone here? I had the feeling he could get away with it if he truly desired to.

Just as he cleared his throat and furrowed his eyebrows, there was a knock on the door accompanied by a soft apology. A woman stepped into the room, but she wasn’t clad in the office attire. Instead she wore a pink sweater dress along with tights and boots. Whoever she was, I felt awful about the wrath she was about to receive.

However, instead of reacting with calculated malice, Jumin’s eyes widened and he suddenly didn’t look so frightening. He then uttered the words I never thought I would hear: “Sweetheart?”

This was Jumin’s wife?

The mood in the room instantly shifted as Mrs. Han approached her husband. The tension dissolved and everyone could breathe again.

“. . .how is she?” Jumin asked. The amount of worry that leaked from his voice was surprising, considering how cold and calloused he previously acted.

Everyone watched as Mrs. Han placed a gold trimmed pet carrier on the table. With a calm, angelic smile, she opened the door and pulled out a white, fluffy cat. It turned out she came straight from the vet. The diagnosis? A small infection that could easily be fixed with antibiotics. Otherwise the cat, Elizabeth 3rd, was healthy.

Jumin and Jaehee let out simultaneous sighs of relief, though something told me for different reasons.

Elizabeth 3rd happily meowed at Jumin, causing some of the employees to chuckle. She was quite talkative and stared at her master with large, adoring blue eyes. At first I thought the poor feline was a horrible judge of character, but then I caught a glimpse of Jumin and saw something utterly shocking.

A smile.

Not just a small upturn of the lips, but an opened mouth one, showing off his perfectly straight and white teeth. The grin wasn’t huge, but it was still something I had never seen in any of the footage of the future CEO.

Mrs. Han spoke to Elizabeth in a baby voice, asking her if she wanted to see her “daddy.” She then handed the cat off to Jumin, who scooped her into this arms and held her close as if she was a human toddler. He practically buried his face in her snow white fur, not even bothered by the small strands that were sure to cling to his dark suit.

“I was. . .quite worried,” he expressed in a soft voice.

Mrs. Han rubbed her husband’s arm and gave him reassuring words before saying something quite interesting. “I hope you didn’t get too stressed out wondering about the results. I had a feeling it would be a good idea to come here straight from the vet.” She punctuated her words with a knowing look in Jaehee’s direction, causing the assistant to nervously smile. Something told me these women had a connection. Maybe Jaehee had tipped off Mrs. Han about today’s rampage?

Jumin lovingly smiled at his wife. Once again, it was another expression I hadn’t seen from him before, though his expression soon returned to something more serious as he announced that everyone could take the rest of the day off. He then turned to Jaehee and instructed her to contact the employee he had fired and offer him his job back along with a generous raise. With a frazzled nod, Jaehee scurried out of the room, completely forgetting about me once again.

I didn’t mind, in fact, it was a treat to be able to watch Mr. and Mrs. Han before slipping out. He was quite tender with her, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head as they spoke. She even made him laugh as she pretended to talk in a squeaky voice for the Elizabeth 3rd. Somehow, despite all the odds, this woman brought out a side of Jumin that very few had witnessed ever before.

The day had been full of surprises and emotions. It turned out the future CEO of C&R wasn’t as robotic or cruel as some might have thought. He was capable of strong, albeit icy emotions when stressed over the ones he cared about, but he also could be incredibly warm and loving towards them. Truly, this man was the definition of a big giant teddy bear.

[the-quiet-winds]

Cathedrals in My Heart (part 1)

so this posted earlier, and i went to make a tiny edit and the whole post got deleted so... it’s me, it’s @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts, we wrote a thing. like, reblog, do what you all do. part one of three.

[Part 1: Come Out of the Things Unsaid]

It was small to start off with. katherine was just getting used to being able to say she had a mum again, that she had someone to look out for her, and she was loving it. It was just tiny things that caught in her brain and made her frown slightly. jane fussing over boleyn’s hair, or helping patch up cleves’ horse riding injury, or even the way she exasperatedly told boleyn off for hiding aragon’s bible. it all felt a little bit too much like everyone else was trying to push into her space, and katherine doesn’t exactly know how she feels but she isn’t happy about any of it.

jane, conversely, is following her maternal instincts where it leads. she may not be as old as the other queens (cleves and aragon were, at least when they died, over ten years her senior) but she has all of this willingness to nurture and care and no where to use it. so, unfortunately or fortunately, depending on your point of view, she uses it on on the five women in her life

jane doesn’t even notice the glare katherine gives boleyn after jane finally gets her to stay still long enough to sort out the fact that one of anne’s space buns had been falling out for the last half an hour. to her, it doesn’t diminish the relationship she has with katherine to care for the others too. but katherine was still young, her brain was full of complicated emotions she wasn’t quite able to handle because of her past trauma, and sometimes she had a very childish habit of being jealous, which turned into the even more childish habit of kicking boleyn under the table and pretending it was an accident (katherine wasn’t proud of that particular immature move but she’d be lying if she didn’t get a tiny bit of satisfaction from the way boleyn yelped when she’d kicked her)

boleyn recognized at this point that the kicks under the table, the missing brushes and pins from her dressing room table, the opened and flat sodas, and the micro-small tears in in her costume all come from one particular source: katherine. boleyn doesn’t understand why she’s out to get her, but then it spreads. pages in aragon’s bible are ripped out. one of parr’s notebooks is soaked. one of cleve’s bottles of wine is shattered in the yard. even one of jane’s homemade pillows has a corner cut off and stuffing threatening to spill out. katherine is reckless yet retreating into herself, and no one can figure out why. katherine even cuts into one of her own blankets, trying to convince everyone that she is most definitely not the culprit

boleyn has seen how it escalated, but she can’t work out why. there’s no point asking katherine about it - she’d deny it was her in the first place. jane was another non-starter, all the queens (except katherine herself) knew at this point that unless there was evidence, jane would take katherine’s side. she finally decides to talk to parr about it, and finds her wearily drying the pages of her soaked notebook over the empty bath.

“I think I know who’s responsible,” boleyn begins. “It’s-“

“katherine, I know,” parr says tiredly. “I just can’t work out why.” she pulls two sodden pages apart and sighs. “i’d like to find out soon though.”

boleyn’s about to reply, but is interrupted by aragon loudly proclaiming from outside the door that whoever broke her rosary was going to pay, possibly with their life

she comes storming into the bathroom, shattered white, yellow, and red beads filling her hands, slamming the door with her foot. “i’ve had it up to here with the bullshit in this house.” with a heavy sigh, she deposits the broken pieces in the garbage can. “whoever is doing all of this is getting kicked out,” she says murderously. “it’s howard,” parr and boleyn say in a quiet perfect unison. “we don’t know why, though,” parr adds quietly

“maybe because she’s a little bitch,” aragon says, glaring at the door as if imagining katherine on the other side. parr raises an eyebrow and aragon backtracks just a little. “okay, so howard’s not a little bitch. but whatever temper tantrum she’s throwing is getting really old. she knows how important my rosary is to me.” she sits down on the side of the bath and groans in frustration.

“but we can’t work out how to get her to stop if we don’t know why she’s acting out in the first place,” boleyn points out.

“for once boleyn makes a good point,” aragon nods. boleyn makes a face.

“rude.”

parr looks at her mischievously. “sorry not sorry”. “ladies,” aragon interrupts, “we need to figure out what is causing this god-forsaken attitude. suddenly and without warning, cleves enters, fists clenched around one of her gold chains, drenched in blue paint. “some bitch is going to die tonight,” she hisses as she futilely tries to clean the paint off. “cleves, you’re not allowed to kill howard,” parr says patiently after closing the door once again (and locking it this time). parr and aragon sit on the side of the tub, boleyn on the floor, and cleves stands at the sink as they all wait for another to have some brilliant revelation or epiphany

“ladies? any ideas?” parr prompts.

“we ask her nicely to stop?” boleyn suggests. she almost keeps a straight face too but cracks when cleves snorts with laughter.

aragon glares at them both.

“how about we wreck some of her stuff?” she suggests. parr shoots her a look.

“that’s definitely a no.” all four of them stay in silence for a few more moments.

“maybe we need to catch her in the act so she can’t deny she’s doing it. then we show the evidence to her and ask her why,” cleves suggests. parr nods, but thinks for a second.

“or we could show the evidence to jane,” she decides. “if anyone’s going to get the truth out of her, it’s going to be jane.”

they all murmur in agreement. "how do we do it?" boleyn asks. a devilish grin makes its way onto cleves' face. "we set a trap." and that's how, later that evening, "aragon's" bible (which is really just a new one they bought at a second-hand bookstore for a whopping £5) is laying inconspicuously on aragon's bed, with boleyn's phone tucked behind a picture frame directed straight at what would soon be a crime scene, taking everything in in glorious high definition

aragon announces loudly that she’s heading out to the evening sermon, and jane calls back from the laundry room to make sure she stays safe when she walks home. boleyn, pretending to be reading a magazine, notices katherine shooting daggers at aragon’s back as she leaves and she grins to herself. looks like howard has fallen for it. katherine goes up the stairs, apparently to go to her room, but she stops at the sight of aragon’s door slightly ajar, the bible resting innocently on top of the bed visible from the hallway. she glances around, making sure nobody can see her, before she darts into aragon’s room

boleyn's pricked ears hear kitten-light feet go into aragon's room, and she smirks behind her reading. cleves, in the bedroom next to aragon's, pauses in her cleaning at the poorly concealed sound of ripping paper, and she, too, chuckles to herself. howard is going down and they know it. she quickly puts some low music on and pretends not not to notice as katherine skirts past her room and heads into her own.

aragon gets home from the sermon and, as she expected, the bible is ripped up. she quickly ends the recording on boleyn’s phone and then makes the scene that katherine would expect her to make, walking into her room to find that her bible was destroyed. she screams and shouts and blames everyone, and in the chaos boleyn slips into the room and grabs her phone. parr plays her part and pretends to calm aragon down, while cleves notes katherine’s tiny smile as she pokes her head around the door of her room to watch the chaos before disappearing again. half an hour later they reconvene in aragon’s room. boleyn plays them the footage and they all smile to each other: katherine was caught right on tape tearing the pages out.

"we need to show this to jane," aragon states, and the others agree. "but how?" questions boleyn. "we would have to get jane alone with all of us, and that is easier said than done." no one could argue with that. jane spent the most time with katherine out of any of them. getting them apart for long enough to show jane the tape would take another genius plan, so they sat in silence and contemplated

“the easiest way,” parr says slowly, “would be to get howard out of the house for a while. a couple of hours maximum.”

“but how?” aragon asks. “she doesn’t go anywhere regularly enough for us to be able to work out if we have enough time.”

“one of us could take her somewhere?” boleyn suggests. “like, shopping or something. and then once we’ve spoken to jane then we text whoever’s with her that it’s safe to bring her home.”

“is she gonna want to go anywhere with one of us after how she’s been treating us though?” cleves frowns. parr sighs and shrugs.

“it’s worth a try asking, I guess. unless anyone has any other ideas?”

cleves' eyes light up mischievously. "ladies, I have a brilliant idea." she explained her plan, complete with a few ideas she got while watching something called "youtube", and all the queens agreed wholeheartedly. and that's how katherine got a mysterious and random call saying she won a free dance class at a studio thirty minutes away. only there was no class, and the caller, a woman with a thick cockney accent, was actually just boleyn from upstairs, using a random number that cleves had somehow put in the phone. the four crept towards the top of the stairs at the sound of katherine and jane's conversation. something suddenly turned bitter, with katherine spitting something along the lines of "can't you just be happy for me for once" before she stomped towards the stairs. the queens scattered into their respective rooms at the sound, followed by howard roughly slamming her door. no one heard jane's quiet and pained sigh downstairs.

boleyn sends a group text to the other three, listening carefully through the wall to katherine’s room next door as katherine slams drawers and sighs dramatically to herself.

“she took the bait on the phone. dunno what’s got her so upset now but she was up for it when I rang”

aragon texts back first "hook, line, sinker". cleves next "this will be great ;)" parr finally texts rationally "everyone be ready tomorrow. she will leave around 2:30, come back around 3:30". a second later, she sends another text "we need to be gracious, ladies. we can't hurt jane. this will hurt her enough as is."

the other three have the decency to feel slightly less excited about revealing katherine’s destruction to jane, but one look at their own ruined belongings does make them eager to see justice served. parr makes a good point though: they have to be careful with how they present the evidence to jane, and with what they say to her about katherine. none of them want to hurt jane at all. she’s always so kind and caring to all of them, and they really do love her a lot. the evening passes with each of the four thinking about how to break the news to jane.

the next afternoon, chaos is reigning in the house. jane is trying to persuade katherine to stay home, to not trust the random phone call, that it could be a trap. katherine, swirling full of jealousy and anger, grabs the keys to the car, looks at jane with hatred in her eyes, and spits out "you're not my mother!" before taking the car and driving away.

parr sighs and grabs her phone. “is now really a good time to do this?” she texts the others.

“it could be our only chance” aragon replies.

“I know, just... let’s all be kind, ladies”

[lakesandquarries]

Brimstone In My Garden (Chapter 3)

Chapter Three: our hometown’s in the dark

Summary: When he was five years old, Midoriya Izuku went missing. Now, ten years later, he’s one of the top villains, whether he likes it or not. When an attack on UA leads to him encountering his childhood best friend, new possibilities open up for him.

Pairings: todobakudekukiri

Notes: Villain Deku au, will have quite a bit of violence and gore later on, along with implied/referenced child abuse. None of this is appearing just yet, but I’ll warn when it does happen.

I’m sorry this chapter is so late!! Work has been kicking my ass. However this chapter is twice as long to make up for it!

< Chapter One < Chapter Two Chapter Four >

Read it on AO3, or under the cut!

Planning a rescue mission is so much harder than Bakugo thought it would be.

Rushing in is not an option, as much as he'd like it to be. Bakugo has never been one for strategy and planning ahead. He meets his problems head on, with force. His quirk allows him to act like that - he's never faced a problem he couldn't punch his way out of.

Until now, at least.

Despite what many people may think, Bakugo isn’t stupid. Reckless, yes, destructive, sure, impulsive, absolutely, but even he knows his limits.

His former best friend’s life hangs in the balance, here. If Bakugo fucks this up -

He won’t. He's going to rescue Deku, and nothing is going to stop him. Not some weird bird beaked monster, not some teleporting bartender, not some asshole with too many hands. And he's going to do it all on his own. The teachers wouldn't understand, they'd treat Deku like he's just another villain, and his classmates are too likely to let something slip.

So, for the first time in his life - he takes notes. He writes down what he remembers, though it’s not much. Deku was only five when he vanished. His only memories of Deku are fuzzy childhood memories, insubstantial and blurry, flashes of playgrounds and sleepovers, and that one last day. When he’s out of memories, he scours the internet for more information, about Deku, about Regrowth, about the villains that had been with him.

Regrowth has quite the body count. At least nine deaths can be attributed to him, according to the articles Bakugo finds. His victims vary, from criminals to heroes to civilians, but they all have a few things in common. Most are found with flowers growing from their mouths, the roots stretching into the throat, into the lungs in some cases. The cause of death is fairly consistent, as well - infections, for almost every single one. Something in the blood. Severe infections, that should have been the result of some kind of injury or illness, that lead to even worse sepsis, followed by organ failure, and finally, death.

It's theorized he has a growth quirk, which would make sense, based on his name. Very little is known about him, beyond that. He's only been seen briefly, in glimpses, but it's said he wears hoodies and a white mask that covers his face. Bakugo has seen pictures of him, grainy photos from security footage, plastered on TV, warning people. Even in the worst photos, his eyes are clear. They’re a bright, piercing green.

Bakugo has to take a break from reading. When he closes his eyes, he sees the faces of those killed by Regrowth, the glazed looks, the flowers splitting them open, the rotting limbs.

Is there enough of Deku left to even be rescued?

---

Deku gets by.

It's hard, pretending to be fine when he feels like he's being ripped apart, but he's had practice. He's been pretending for two years, after all. What's one more lie?

He digs out the old magazine article, again. Loses himself in daydreams. Maybe he could have gone to UA and been a hero. Maybe he and Kacchan could have become friends there, along with that other boy, Kirishima. His quirk has a lot possibilities, used properly. He's healed himself with it enough - maybe, if he'd been given proper training, he could have learned to heal other people.

He can almost picture it - instead of cutting people open, putting them back together. Repairing broken bones and skinned knees and then giving patients a flower, just for the fun of it.

Eventually, though, reality reasserts itself. Deku's as likely to heal a wound as he is to create a horrible infection that kills whoever he's healing - in fact, the second option is more likely. That's what he's been trained for.

He's never going to be a hero. At this point, he doesn't even deserve to be. He's not the carefree, cheerful child he once was.

Villains don't become heroes, especially villains like him.

He wonders what his next mission might be. Another murder, or maybe for once something that doesn't make him hate himself as much. Then again, the League is lying a bit low for once, letting the press run wild with theories about the USJ attack. They'll strike again soon enough, but Shigaraki is enjoying the chaos.

For now, he’ll enjoy the break, such as it is. He’ll lay low, and hope he doesn’t get dragged into something else.

Mostly, he’ll hope Kacchan stays safe.

----

Breaking into the League Of Villains headquarters is unsettling easy.

Bakugo’s spent about a month doing research, at this point, digging through crack theories and troll rants, trying to find any nuggets of truth buried deep in.

A lot of theories mention an abandoned bar, where a variety of different villains have been spotted, including a bunch that appeared during the USJ attack. Most notably, Regrowth has been seen there often. Bakugo finds a series of pictures taken by the security camera nearby. There's massive gaps between photos, months between them at times, but still. Regrowth is a consistent presence here. It's the closest thing Bakugo has to a lead.

He waits for a holiday weekend, a rare opportunity where students are encouraged to go visit their parents. Bakugo's never bothered before, but this weekend he tells his teachers he's going home.

He doesn't.

The bar isn't too far, but it's not close enough to walk, so Bakugo takes the train. His suitcase is only for show, completing his disguise of student visiting his parents. All his supplies are in his backpack, and even then, there's not much. Some rope, first aid supplies…..Bakugo couldn't think of anything that would actually help, with this. His whole plan really hinges on Deku being willing.

Well, there is one person he did ask for help, despite his better judgement - Hatsume Mei. He’d offered to test out some of her weird inventions in exchange for her helping him sneak back into the dorms that night. She’d agreed easily, and he’d left out the part about bringing a second person into the dorms.

The bar is exactly where his notes said it would be, tucked away behind other buildings, the neon sign having gone out a long time ago. The front is crumbling, the windows cracked and dirty. It's not an inviting structure.

Bakugo goes in anyway. The door is locked, but when has a lock ever stopped him? One small explosion and he's in.

It's suspicious, but not enough to make Bakugo go back. Inside is surprisingly nice, plush seats and recently swept floors and clean counters. Sure, everything’s kinda worn out, but it’s obviously been used as an actual bar pretty recently.

The door to the kitchen is locked like the door outside, and Bakugo disposes of it in the same way.

The kitchen is not a kitchen. Bakugo grins upon seeing the hallway ahead of him. Now he's getting somewhere. There's windows in each door, revealing a variety of things - closets, mostly, little storage areas, with some blank bedrooms spread out.

The halls are long and twisting. Bakugo starts getting discouraged when he turns down a hall and, for the fourth time, is greeted by the exact same view he was greeted with the last three turns.

He turns a fifth time and sees a shadow at the end of the hall.

Picking up speed, still aiming for silence, he darts down the hall. This one goes in two directions, and he thinks he sees a flash of black hair turning towards the right. He practically sprints after it, following it down a few halls, until it suddenly vanishes.

It's then that he realizes he has no idea where he is. There’s two ways for him to go forward, one way to go back, and he has no idea how to backtrack.

One direction is a dead end, with just a door at the end, so he decides to check that first. The door is locked - of course - so he gives a quick knock, to see if anyone’s inside.

No response. That’s fine by him. The door breaks easily, crumbling under the explosions.

---

When Deku hears the doorknob rattle, he hides.

It’s not a conscious plan, really, more something he does on instinct. The door is locked, but that rarely stops people from bursting in. Within seconds he’s hidden under the bed, watching the legs of whoever’s decided to come in. He can tell every league member apart by their shoes alone.

….Except he doesn’t recognize the pair he’s currently looking at. They’re a pair of plain black sneakers, well worn but still in good shape. The only person who ever wears sneakers is Dabi and his have some distinct burn marks on them.

“Fuck,” the person says.

Deku pokes his head out from under the bed, just far enough to look, not enough to be seen, only to be greeted with -

“Kacchan?”

Kacchan whirls around, looking for the source of the voice. Sheepishly, Deku crawls out from under the bed.

“What are you doing down th-”

“You can't be here!” Deku nearly shouts, interrupting him, before realizing how loud he's being. “What am I doing? No, what are you doing?”

Kacchan glares at him.

“You can't be here,” Deku repeats, standing up.

“And why not?”

“Because - why are you even here in the first place?”

“I’m here to rescue you, you idiot!”

Deku stares at him, unsure of how to even react. “You - I - You can’t. I’m a villain, Kacchan.”

Kacchan’s determined glare starts to slide off. “What, do you like being here?” he scoffs, gesturing at the room around him, the gray walls and lack of any personal touches.

“I’m -”

“You always said you wanted to be a hero,” Kacchan continues, balling his hands into fists. “So what, you changed your mind? You wanna hurt people now or something?”

Deku flinches. He wants nothing more than to sink into the floor, but Kacchan keeps going. “If you do, then fine, I’ll leave. But if you don’t - why the hell are you arguing with me? I’m trying to help you!”

“You could die trying to help me!” Deku says, digging his hands into his hair. “Did you even think this through? What if I did wanna hurt people?”

“So you admit -”

“Listen to me! If I was a proper villain - you’d be dead!”

“But I’m not, and you’re not,” Kacchan says, like that solves anything. “You’re not, and now you can leave.”

“I can’t,” Deku says, some of the tension leaving him, replaced with exhaustion. “It’s not that simple.”

“It could be,” Kacchan says. “What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t deserve it! I’ve done some awful stuff -” and here he can see Kacchan looking away awkwardly, like he knows what Deku’s done and is rethinking things a little, good - “I’ve killed people and hurt people and ruined lives and - I’m not the Deku you remember.” He grabs onto his arm, a half hearted hug. “I’m not Deku at all. I’m Regrowth.”

Kacchan is silent. Deku doesn’t dare look at him. He can’t pretend he’s not tempted by Kacchan’s offer, but he knows he can’t accept it.

“If you’re really such a horrible person, then why’d you let me and Kirishima live?”

“I -” he doesn’t have a reply to that. Kacchan, for once, does have a point there.

But that doesn’t erase everything else. It doesn’t erase the dead bodies Deku sees when he closes his eyes. “I’m still a villain. Villains don’t get happy endings.”

“You’re being a dumbass,” Kacchan says, interrupting the uncomfortable silence. “You know what I think? I think you’re scared. Which I should’ve expected, but also, stop being a self sacrificing little shit and let me fucking help you.”

“I’m being a dumbass? You’re the one -”

“Shh!” Kacchan says suddenly, moving to put a hand over Deku’s mouth, though Deku quickly knocks it away. “I think I hear something.” He moves away from Deku and pokes his head out the door.

“But -”

“Do you wanna leave or not?” he asks, turning suddenly. “Yes or no.”

“I -”

“Yes or no.”

“Yes,” Deku admits.

“Good,” Kacchan says.

Something hits Deku in the head, something heavy, and before he has the chance to try and figure out what it is, the world goes black.

[rachembol]

Dust in the Wind (Part 12/?)

Pairings: Sam x Reader (Eventually)

Genre/Warnings: Self-discovery, vengeance, grief, absentee father, typical Supernatural violence, cursing, fluff, shitty writing, idk probably typos?

Words: 2.2 k

Summary:  Life as a post doc was stressful, but your typical norm: lecturing in the morning, working in the lab in the afternoon, and finally grading homework and working on your publications in the evening.  Of course, that life came crashing down the day the sheriff of your hometown called telling you of your mother’s brutal murder. As the only child of a single mother, you had to return to your small Midwestern town to bury the only person who supported you and pushed you through everything.  While sorting through her belongings, you had come across a small box whose contents had you switching your title from Doctorate in Biology to Hunter.  What would become the search of your lifetime will not end the way you expect it.

a/n: Sorry it’s been so long!  I’ve had a lot of things pile up recently in my classes and not much time to write.  Hope you all enjoy some doubtful lovebirds.  Also, is this more than just a simple shifter case?  We will have to see!!

Series List | Part 11 | Part 13

Lights dazed in Sam’s vision, his head was pounding like crashing waves against a shoreline.  Dust hung in the air, causing him to sneeze as he finally woke up. Seconds passed before he remembered what had happened.  A new shot of adrenaline joined what was already in his system as he tugged on the ties that were holding him to a chair; the rope felt like a thousand tiny little cat scratches against his wrists and ankles.  Ignoring the throbbing pain isolated on the back of his head, he surveyed the dimly lit room looking for his attacker.

After he obtained the footage from the third store on his list, he had climbed into the back of his taxi to head to the last one. There was another passenger in the car, which hadn’t been surprising to Sam, until they hit him over the head. The first blow wasn’t enough to knock Sam out, so when the second swing came, he was able to block it. Unfortunately, the third hit its target.

Now gaining consciousness, Sam assessed his surroundings wondering who – or what – had attacked him, and if they were still nearby.  “Is anyone there?  Hello?”

He expected a response, but not from your voice.

“Is anyone there?  Hellooooooo?” It mocked.

Damn, Sam thought to himself, I must have been hit pretty fucking hard.

Approaching footsteps caught his attention; his body tensed at the looming danger.  The tension dissipated as he saw your form enter what little light was in the room.

“Y/N! Oh, thank God.  I think the shifter found out who we were; he sprung me in my cab on the way over.  Can you get these ties undone?”  His head tilted backwards, indicating the rope holding his wrists on the backside of the chair.

Your strange grin and lack of reply worried him. You walked around the back of the chair to presumably untie the rope, but instead, your hands rested on his shoulders.

“Samuel Winchester, never thought I would have the pleasure of holding you captive.  This gig turned out much better than I anticipated.”

Sam chuckled nervously as his mind caught up with the situation.  “So, you’re the shifter?  Well, at least we don’t have to keep looking for you now.”

The slap across the back of his head told him that the shifter was not up for sarcasm.  Walking around to stand in front of Sam, it looked straight into his eyes with your Y/E/C ones.  “Listen here, big guy.  You aren’t the target of this whole charade, you’re just leverage.  And you know what I like to do with leverage?” It paused, searching Sam’s face for signs of fear.  “I like to have fun.”

The shifter brought a hand up to Sam’s cheek and lightly stroked it with its thumb.  Sam attempted to pull away but it’s other hand grabbed the back of his head, preventing him.  “What’s wrong, Sammy?  Don’t you want Y/N to be touching you this way?  Caring for you?  Telling you that you mean the world to her?”

Sam watched as your smile was contorted on the shifter’s face; he began seething in anger.  “Go to hell.”

A distorted version of your laugh escaped the shifter’s lips.  “Huh, that’s exactly where someone wants Y/N to be!”  It paused as it examined Sam’s questionable look, climbing into his lap to straddle him.  The closeness was almost too much for Sam to handle.  “They tell me you’re the smart one but what I can tell from you and your brother, intellect doesn’t quite run in the family.”

Sam’s mind began to race, contemplating how this simple case was connected to you.  “What does Y/N have to do with this?”

Continuing to toy with the hunter, the shifter brought its lips – your lips – up to Sam’s ear.  “She has everything to do with this.  Whether some may question the technicality of her presence that night, he believes she was a witness to his promise of revenge.  He will fulfill it, I guarantee it.”

“Dean, this isn’t working!” You yelled, kicking the dust at your feet.  You were standing outside the abandoned barn Dean had found to interrogate the shifter. The evening air filled your lungs and cooled your skin as you two took a break.

The older Winchester’s hardened expression cut through you; he was just as upset if not more about the situation.  Sam had now been missing for several hours while Dean and you tortured the shifter to spill his location.  You now knew everything irrelevant to the matter at hand, like what the shifter’s favorite color was, or how it preferred to kill his victims, all answers that dodged your questioning.  On top of that, even though your throw wasn’t supposed to be fatal, it was slowly becoming just that.  You estimated that the monster had maybe thirty minutes left, something it knew as well.

“It has to be stalling.”

“Yeah?” Dean paused.  “No shit.”  He continued to wipe the blood from the silver blade in his hand, his movements rough and trembling; the sight causing sympathy to course through you.

The two of you returned to the shifter, deciding to use this last thirty minutes to the best of your abilities.  

Dean crouched in front of the tied down shifter, pulling its hair to make it look up at him.  “Alright douche bag, we know that you’re stalling.  Whoever you’re waiting to come busting in and save you ain’t coming.  Just tell us where the real Sam is, and you’ll be dead before you realize it.”

“Someone to save me?” It turned its head to the side to spit out the blood oozing from its upper lip.  “Ha, like that’s what I’m waiting for.  I’m a goner, just like him.”

Your anger bubbled over.  “He is not gone, you bastard!”

“He is not gone, you bastard.” It whined back at you in Sam’s voice.  “God, I honestly don’t know what he sees in you. You’re so annoying!”

You smiled at his insult, knowing that he was lying his ass off.  “I thought shifters could read snippets of the person’s mind they are impersonating, guess you’re just a defect.”  This topic had been reoccurring during your investigation; an angle at which the shifter was trying to make you crack under your emotions.  The shifter taunted you with lies that you could only dream Sam would think about you.  Even though hope would start to build within you, Dean could not learn about how you felt about the younger Winchester, you wouldn’t allow it.

Placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder, you pulled him away from the shifter.  “Dean, I think it’s time to call Cas.”

An internal struggle could be seen through Dean’s emerald eyes; he didn’t want to disturb Castiel’s search for Jack, but Sam was in danger and had been for too long.  He looked down at the ground while nodding his head in agreement, placing the silver dagger in your hands.  He walked out of the barn, leaving you with the dying monster.

“Ya’know, I’m not gonna tell you guys shit.” It jeered.

Your eyes found Sam’s blue-green ones.  They looked so perfect, yet the held the wrong gaze; the sincerity, gentleness, and humility that you knew should have been there were stripped away and replaced with coarse, raw instinct.  This was not the man you wished he was, nowhere close.

The shifter laughed under your stare, making your blood boil.  “You might want to take a picture dear, after all, this may be the last time you see your boy toy.”

The blade in your hand moved as an extension of your anger, puncturing through the shifter’s left hand tied to the chair. It’s scream echoed through the old barn, but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of your erratic heartbeat loud and clear in your ears.  Swiftly, you removed the dagger you had stashed in your boot and brought it close to the shifter’s right eye.  You would have continued moving forward if it wasn’t for those damn irises looking back at you.

A throat cleared behind you, followed by a deep voice that you recognized.  “Y/N, may I?”

Slowly peeling yourself away from the shifter, you turned to see Dean and Castiel watching you intently.  “Please do, Cas.  I don’t want to waste any more time.”

You side stepped out of the angel’s way as he approached the prisoner.  Fear couldn’t even begin to describe the shifter’s expression as Castiel placed two fingers on its forehead.  You could feel the power emanating from the two of them as he searched through the shifter’s mind for Sam’s location.

After what seemed like decades, Castiel removed his hand.  The shifter’s head tip forward, finally succumbing to its death.  “Old logging mill, about 15 minutes from here.  He’s not alone, there’s one other shifter.”

You pulled out your phone quickly and searched for any mills nearby.  “Found it.”

“Thanks, Cas.”  Dean said; a flutter of wings being Castiel’s only farewell as he disappeared.

Working quickly, the two of you disposed of the shifter’s corpse.  It wasn’t long before the Impala was racing towards the abandoned logging mill.

Hours had passed since Sam last saw you – well the shifter “you”.  After two hours of harassment, that thankfully didn’t turn quite sexual, it left to deal with some “unfinished business”.  In the time that had passed, all Sam could think about was you. How does this case have anything to do with you?  Is someone hunting you?  What is this “promise of revenge”?

After hours of deliberating with himself, your voice pulled him from his thoughts.  “Sammy, I’m home!”

A few moments passed before your form appeared in front of Sam.  In your hands was a bag from a local hardware store, its contents most likely being rope and other materials that could be used for torture.

Great, still the shifter.

Sam scoffed at the sight.  “Uh, you may not have noticed but, you’ve already tied me up.  I don’t see the point in more rope.”

The shifter scrunched your face in annoyance as it glided over to the table perched next to Sam’s chair, placing the bag on top of it.  “God, what does she even see in you?  Hell, what do you even see in her?”  

Her words caught Sam of guard.  “Excuse me?”

“Don’t tell me you’re oblivious to it too?”  His dumbfounded expression shocked the shifter, inciting her to continue.  “Oh my God, you are!  Both of you are head over heels for each other and don’t know it!”

A fit of laughter consumed the shifter as Sam stared in disbelief.  “Yeah, you must be a flawed shifter.” He ridiculed.

“Flawed shifter? You would rather believe that I am a shifter not capable of hearing her thoughts than you two being dumbasses? That’s freaking gold!  And to think, I got to witness first hand her worry about you getting jealous.”

“Wait, what?” He questioned.

“Last night at the bar?  When that dumb bitch walked up to me to try to win a bet?  I was scoping out the place for a new victim when the whole reason I was in this town walked right up to me.  I gotta say, you three picked up scent of our work quicker than I expected.”

Sam listened to every word carefully.  If he played his cards right, he knew he could still get information from this shifter. “Our work?”

It stiffened at his words, realizing it had made a mistake.  Finally, it shrugged its shoulders before continuing.  “Guess it doesn’t matter since you’ll be dead soon anyway. Two shifters were hired to cause mayhem in this town in hopes of dragging Y/N out here: Connor and myself. We didn’t know she was traveling with the Winchesters but, seeing as you were not difficult to capture I’m sure your bother will be an easy catch as well.”

“Overall, this has been an easy gig.  I was able to transform into Y/N after I ran into her last night, and Connor got to turn into the giant Winchester to trick your counterparts.  It was quite funny, as we learned about you two lovebirds; however, I’m still shocked you two haven’t done anything about it.  Knowing Connor, he’s probably already played her like a fiddle, I’ll even bet he’s sleeping with Y/N as we speak.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched out of rage.  He would have ripped himself from this chair had it not been for his already embedded and swollen wrists.  If he had been too blind to see how you felt, he sure as hell didn’t want some shifter being the one who told you the truth.

Sam, stop and think.  The shifter is toying with you.  If this Connor guy has gotten into your head, he will have known how you felt and told this shifter.  You cannot trust what its saying.

He calmed his mind before responding.  “Wow, you are really good at making shit up.”

The shifter snorted in disbelief.  “Wow Winchester, you really don’t understand a damn thing-“

It cut itself off at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Well, well.” It whispered.  “The party has arrived.”

Series List | Part 11 | Part 13

[jojuarez26]

We fell in love in a hopeless place part8

Divergent fanfiction: Eric/OC

Mature content and strong language

I do not own any part of Divergent

@pathybo @tigpooh67 @lunaschild2016 @beautifulramblingbrains @clublulu333 @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @scorpio2009 @jaihardy @badassbaker @mom2reesie @sparklemichele @ariwolff14 @ericdauntless @captstefanbrandt @kenzieam @iammarylastar @frecklefaceb

"So you are all aware of the security breech that occurred in our faction last night. The lawyer that is currently in our custody has answers we need." I address the other four faction leaders and our three heads of security.

"So why don't we have them yet?" Macy our newest leader inquiries.

"She wants our guarantee of protection. Apparently she is in fear of her life if she talks."

"Do you believe that?" Marty, another leader asked.

I had spent the better part of two hours asking myself that before calling for this meeting.

"I do. I let her know all the crimes I will personally charge her with. Several result in the death penalty if found guilty. She is willing to take her chances with a trial without a guarantee of some sort of protection."

"So what are you thinking? Any ideas as to who or what she is afraid of?" Max wanted to know.

"Nothing definitively. I have a few educated guesses. The problem is I can't figure out what motives they would have and the chosen target does not make sense without a further investigation. The only possible scenario I can come up with is going after the trust fund. But there are too many holes in that theroy at this time." I had numbed my brain trying to come up with anything that made sense.

"Has anyone spoke with Jack Kang yet?" Marty asked.

"We've tried to make contact. But so far he has refused any communication from both Eric and myself." Max provided.

"Should we be evoking council? What leg do we have to stand on to demand answers and cooperation at this point?"

I had also been doing my research into this matter all afternoon as well. So far I didn't like my options.

"There are several things we could do at this point. However I don't like any of the current options. They all put Sam's name out there to publicly with not enough knowledge of what the repercussions and possible danger it may present to her."

"Eric, since when have you given a shit how others are affected. You usually only give a damn about producing results." Harrison spoke pointedly.

Before I even had a chance to open my mouth and unleash a verbal assault of epic proportions, Max spoke up. He wanted to keep the peace, but the tone of his voice also gave away the level of his anger.

"Samantha Miller isn't the average citizen of any faction. The unspeakable acts she has endured in her life time have left not only physically but mental and emotional scars that run deep. Her family also carries a very demanding and dominated presence in Candor. This paints a big ass target for several reasons right on her back."

"Samantha's safety is our first priority. That means everything and anything pretaining to this investigation will be handled carefully and as quietly as possible. Do I make myself clear." Max left no room for questions or comments. He was furious

I wanted to thank him, congratulate him or something. But I kept my mouth shut and just nodded my head in approval at the resounding yes sir echoing around the room. I would personally see to it anybody who caused harm or the potential for harm to Sam was punished to the fullest extent of my power.

"So where does that leave us? Also what do we know about how these security breeches occurred."

The meeting carried on for another three hours. We took dinner while trying to come up with how to deal with all aspects of the situation. I was cranky as fuck and desperately in need of a smoke and a stiff drink by seven. I decided on going to check on Sam first.

"Eric. A word first please." Dr.Marx intercepted me before I reached her room.

"It can't wait?" I asked letting my annoyance ooze in my tone.

"No. It can not. I need you to be informed and calm before I allow you to see her." My heart skipped a beat. I stood starring at the doctor fighting to keep my composure.

"What the fuck is the problem and why haven't I been contacted before now." My tone was ice cold and so was my glare.

Dr.Marx flinched slightly and took a step back from me. I"m pretty sure he has never been a victim of my actual temper or on the receiving end of my out of control rage.

"I did try to contact you. Several times as a matter of fact. Your airheaded secretary said you where in an important meeting and could not be distributed."

I was impressed at how he dared to stand his ground. I have to make a mental note to fire Jamie first thing in the morning. But he was still on my current shit list.

"You never called my cell phone." I gritted my teeth in an effort to not spew the rest of them venom on my tongue.

"I did. All five cell phone signals where jammed. Apparently due to the nature and levels of privacy needed for the meeting you where all in."

I felt the rage slowly creeping up my spine. Lucky for the doctor not as much of it was focused on him anymore.

"Next time you have my personal permission to interrupt any meeting I am in if there is an Emergency with Sam. I'll send an email out to the security team."

He gave a grateful nod and gestured with his head to follow him to his office. When he finally got ready to speak he hesitated. I"ve known the man forever and I don't think I had ever seen him look at a loss in the way he did in this moment.

"What happened? What's the problem? Is she alright?" I couldn't take the uncomfortable silence anymore.

"There has to be a traitor somewhere in my staff. What makes it worse is this individual is very knowledgeable about Samantha, the nature of her problems and how to provoke her." I seen unbridled anger brewing in his eyes with each word he spoke. This made me start to feel on edge.

"What the fuck happened today Elvin?" An eerie chill washed over me waiting for his response.

"Somebody put a steak knife and a photo of a dead dog and one of Samantha's sister Gina on her lunch tray. Gina for obvious reasons and dogs for one's that not just anyone would know are triggers for unwanted thoughts and behavior in Samantha." A dark look that matched my murderous anger crossed his face

"She was attacked by a dog when she was twelve. The dog was trained and provoked by her father. Samantha had to kill the dog to protect herself. The attack itself isn't what upsets her. Having to kill the dog because her father had made it mean so it was the dogs fault is what stuck with her from the whole incident. Obviously the picture of her sister is self explanatory."

I knew the part that came next was going to put me over the edge. I tried to steel my emotions in anticipation of his next words. I could barely manage to stay seated.

"Samantha made another attempt at her own life. Luckily she managed very little damage in the attempt due to the poor condition of the object and quickness at which her guard realized the situation "

I stood and threw my fist several times at the wall behind me. Whoever the fuck was responsible for this would pay with their life. That was a promise. I took deep breaths and tried to regain my composure. Sam needed me now. She also needed me to be as calm as possible. I wasn't cut out for this. I truly wasn't. Whatever forces of nature thought putting me in Sams life had a sick fucking twisted sense of humor.

"I've made sure to put her room on a code orange restriction." The doctor informed me.

"Which means what?" I demand.

"No unauthorized visitors. She is restricted to staff of my choice and leaders. Nothing is to enter her room before it is thoroughly inspected by staff and her guard. I also moved her to a room with a security camera that monitors live footage."

"She is a very special patient for several reasons. But the one that makes this all personal is that she is my niece. Sara and Alyson are my sisters "

I have to admit I didn't see that coming. The revelation gave me some comfort in knowing he would by any means necessary keep her safe.

"Do you know any reason or anyone, have any clue at all why this is happening to her. Who would want to harm her or benefit from this in anyway." I was desperate to come up with anything that would help me put a stop to this.

"It has to stem from Candor or Erudite. Possibly both."

"Erudite? Why Erudite?" I tried to hide my surprise but am pretty sure I failed miserably.

"My sister was born Erudite. Her transfer to Candor and marriage to Quentin was all prearranged. A deal between my father and Neil Miller."

"A deal? What kind of deal? That's fucking insane." This was quickly becoming the largest conspiracy theory I had ever encountered.

"I'n not sure of the purpose or the details. What I do know is Sara didn't comply willingly. She never wanted to leave Erudite. She also wanted nothing to do with Quentin. Sara was in love with David Matthews." I could tell he was uncomfortable telling his dead sisters secrets.

"As in Jeanine Matthews brother David?" I was officially stunned. However if Jeanine was involved with any of this it meant corruption and deadly stakes where in play.

"There very one. I don't think he ever quite recovered from the whole ordeal either." The pain of the past painted his voice.

"I will do everything within my means to stop this and protect her. I give you my word. Can I see her now?" I was suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to lay eyes on her, to see for myself she was alive and well.

"Of course. I know you will do whatever you can for her. But please do me a favor Eric. Don't make yourself be another hardship in her life. I know you won't on purpose, but for her sake be highly aware of what you make her feel. She certainly could survive that kind of pain,"

I was suddenly very aware of the potential risk I was to Sam's well being. I found myself suddenly stuck in my chair. Maybe it was best that I stay away. No it WAS what was best. I just couldn't bring myself to actually do it. I had to see her. It was like Sam had become my drug. I am addicted and have no intentions on going to rehab.

Life as I knew it had forever changed the moment I decided to save her. The only question now is will we both make it out alive.

[texanredrose]

Celebrity Matchmaker (Part 1)

Okay, so, first off: just in case anyone’s in the television business or interested in that field or... basically anything of the sort, let me say this now. The framework of this story is centered around a reality television show, and it would be an absolutely terrible idea to make this a real thing. And amoral. And it would make you an asshole. I’m an asshole for coming up with it. Don’t be that asshole who tries to make this a real thing. Seriously. Don’t. I will pull a Liam Neeson in a fucking heartbeat.

Next, this is a bit... different than what I normally write. Romantic relationships are tagged a bit differently than usual and you’ll soon see why; there are a few segments where it’s Weiss in one-on-one situations with other characters, so they’re tagged according to pairing. However, the overall focus of the fic is Weiss, Blake, Pyrrha, and Yang, so that’s also tagged. It more makes sense the further into the story you go.

Finally, the story is complete (thank God) and will post every day, same time, until done. Nine parts in all.

@moonwatcher13, hope you enjoy this ridiculousness, and thank you for the suggestion to begin with.

Part 1 (here) / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Weiss took a deep breath, trying to convince herself it was a calming gesture despite the myriad of thoughts rattling around in her brain. In just a few moments, they would be live, on air for the season finale of Celebrity Matchmaker, and while it meant she was one step closer to being free... it also meant she was one step closer to being married. She still couldn't believe her father had backed her into this corner but it would all be over soon. The moment the cameras stopped rolling, she would be a free woman... assuming, of course, her fiance didn't have some secret pact with the man.

Which, honestly, she doubted, to the point the thought was actually quite amusing. Of the three finalists vying for her affections, none seemed the type to put up with her father's overbearing, manipulative antics for long, and at least two would be more likely to bodily remove him from the premises than tolerate his behavior. Perhaps all three, which was a comforting thought.

Suddenly, the show's host beside her straightened, bringing Weiss' attention to the man standing behind the camera doing a silent countdown until they were live, the audience in the stands behind him falling quiet as everything came down to the next hour- counting commercial breaks, of course- where her fate would be decided.

As if that wasn’t nerve wracking enough, making such a difficult choice, she had to do so in front of an on-location audience and all of Remnant watching in real time.

Wonderful.

"Welcome, Remnant, to the live finale of Celebrity Matchmaker!" The woman beside her gave a charismatic smile towards the camera and audience, waiting for the applause and hollering to die down before continuing. "I'm your host for this season, Coco Adel, and, as I'm sure we're all aware, the Romantic Lead from Season Two!" For a moment, the woman's professionalism slipped, smile stretching wider as pure joy shone through. "I'm happy to announce that Velvet is doing just fine, she's happy to hear I'll be coming home soon, and, with any luck, this season's Romantic Lead will find just as much happiness in less than an hour’s time. Everyone, put your hands together for Miss- soon to be Missus- Weiss Schnee!"

Reacting to her cue, she flashed a dazzling smile towards the audience. At the onset of the season- some sixteen weeks ago- the running theory was that, as an award nominated actress with more wins under her belt than some twice her age, her smiles were largely faked for the sake of the audience. Frankly, it wasn't entirely untrue; she wasn't a fan of being forced into the situation and the first few weeks suffering a battery of meeting twenty different suitors was nearly a nightmare for someone who preferred the solitude of her study whenever she wasn't filming. However, that changed, especially in recent weeks.

"So, tell us, Weiss- are you excited?" Coco turned those sharp brown eyes her way, naturally turning her body slightly so the shot felt organic. Although a fashion designed by trade, the woman had an innate understanding of aesthetic that transferred surprisingly well to the small screen. In part, it’s what made her such a compelling lead for the previous season of the show and Weiss had to admit an admiration for the woman’s professionalism. "It's finally the big night."

"Excited is one way of putting it, but I'm also nervous," she replied, and it was such a well scripted response that most probably wouldn't be able to tell she was being entirely sincere. The only people who’d stand a chance at deducing such weren’t on set... yet. "I mean, I've spent sixteen weeks here in the manor, getting to know everyone. It's certainly been an experience."

That was putting things lightly. Aside from scheduled 'downtime' for candid footage, every week held some sort of challenge, some new obstacle for her aspiring candidates to overcome and improve their chances of making it to the next week. They ranged from personal trivia to physical challenges, all to impress either her or the audience watching at home. At first, the constant parading exhausted her, but as the contestants' numbers fell, she began to enjoy some of the interactions. When they dwindled further, it turned into a majority... which didn't exactly bode well for her.

"That's right, sixteen weeks narrowing it down from twenty people all vying for your affections, and now we have three finalists left." Coco turned back towards the camera, the audience beyond cheering at the progress made. "We'll introduce them in a second, but first! Please welcome back to the Celebrity Matchmaker Manor the seventeen who didn't make the cut."

As the eliminated contestants paraded themselves by the audience and the cameras, taking their seats a little ways off, Weiss allowed her mind to drift. It seemed ridiculous that she'd spent four months inside the spacious manor behind them, living alongside these women, but truth was stranger than fiction, it seemed. They ranged across the board, from television stars, sports athletes, artists, and even a few online celebrities, and it certainly helped broaden her horizons on a few fronts. However, she learned most from and about the three finalists preparing for their big introductions, and it took a conscious effort not to start fussing over her dress.

It looked nice enough, for a modern spin on the wedding dress. Less overtly formal but still holding a few lingering touches- the whole design courtesy of the fashion designer hosting this season, of course. Pure white, with lace and pearls, but slimming and lacking a veil; the whole premise of the show was for her to marry whoever she- and Remnant- chose out of the twenty contestants, of course, so it stood to reason the finale should be shot with her wearing something resembling a wedding dress. But, it certainly did nothing to soothe her nerves, hidden beneath a pleasant smile only by years of conditioning.

If someone had told her at the beginning that she would be anxious over the outcome of tonight, she'd have laughed in their face and spent the next twenty minutes belittling everything from their intelligence to their cuticles. Because, honestly, how could anyone expect to find a suitable, long term partner in a mere sixteen weeks? Weiss had grown up in the cold Schnee mansion, well adjusted to how any 'marriage' was likely to end up, but that didn't mean she wanted to subject herself to that misery. Given personal experience, she'd either drink herself into an early grave or become a self-obsessed control freak. She'd dated- briefly- but only because it served her image and there was an unspoken understanding between her and whoever that neither expected anything further from it than a way to remain relevant during the breaks between projects. She wasn't looking for anything 'serious' and she would tolerate nothing more than the show they put on for the paparazzi.

But... time had a funny way of weaving loneliness through her heart. She was only twenty-five, yet having started her career at the tender age of eight, and it started to take its toll on her in a strange way. Being isolated from her father while doing this stupid show, getting that extra degree of separation she so desperately needed... it granted her perspective, and it didn't hurt that she'd met some truly remarkable individuals while here. Weiss had worked especially hard- and proven herself exceptionally clever- by undermining her father's initial pitch of pitting her against nineteen others for the affections of one man and instead billing herself as the Romantic Lead for the season, inviting twenty women to try and catch her fancy. It checked all the boxes the producers wanted: a twist right out of the gate, seeing as most of the public thought she was heterosexual, and she had a history of being demanding and exacting to work with nevermind woo, and add to all that her generally superb showwomanship when it came to public spectacles? An obvious slam dunk.

Had everything worked out as she'd envisioned, walking away from that first planning meeting nearly a year ago, this finale would be the culmination of sixteen boring weeks, where she would pick some poor, unsuspecting fool, and, having engineered a way for Remnant to immediately veto her decision, prevented the hassle of a marriage and subsequent divorce. The other option was to simply ignore their existence until they did the work for her. Or for the rest of their lives- really, she didn't put much stock in the show's premise or love at all, and thus foresaw no possibly complications.

And the Maidens had seen fit to make a fool of her for her arrogance.

"Now Weiss!" Her attention snapped back to the moment as Coco turned towards her. "It's time to bring out your three finalists. Are you ready?"

No, not at all, not in a million years. "Absolutely."

"Excellent! Then let's bring out the first of our lovely finalists." The host turned, motioning towards the far side of the invisible stage. "Everyone, let's give a big hand for Blake Belladonna, author of several highly acclaimed series from Menagerie!"

Weiss turned her gaze- the cameras were going to be on her no matter what, cutting to and away for whatever reaction shots she offered, and it was nearly impossible to keep her smile from growing wider as she watched the Faunus step out into the spotlight, raven locks flowing behind her as she gave the crowd a subdued little wave. She wore a flattering black tuxedo, tailored to fit her slender frame, with subtle hints of purple to bring out her amber eyes and a black bow tie with a white center knot. It didn't surprise Weiss in the least that the Faunus would dress for the part so closely, looking exactly like someone who belonged on an alter would, though perhaps with a bit more flair than necessary.

On the screens above them- for the benefit of the live audience- and playing on the screens all over Remnant, they showed a montage of the time spent getting to know Blake over the past sixteen weeks. It didn't matter what was shown to the audiences, though, because the moment that pushed itself to the forefront of her mind was one that happened when there weren't any cameras rolling, just the two of them sharing a few minutes with only the stars as an audience.

And some horses.

The cool night air rustled the leaves overhead, the big oak tree the only thing to obscure the stars above. It promised to be excellent weather tomorrow, perfect filming conditions for their hours spent on horseback, the beasts calmly grazing in the field beside the manor. They'd been there since shooting began as part of the manor's aesthetic, because horses were somehow entwined with romantic gestures in a way that Weiss had never truly understood but accepted all the same. Thankfully, she could ride, unlike some of the contestants vying for her affections, so she could skip the rudimentary lessons that had filled the previous days. That had left her open for filming other scenes, talking head portions where she delved into her thoughts and opinions on those who remained.

Perhaps she'd underestimated just how exhausting the whole exercise would be. She'd always had strong feelings and opinions, the majority of which were set in stone and refusing to be swayed, and this held true in regards to relationships of all types. Either she found value or benefit in maintaining contact or she didn't; some were begrudgingly kept due to her line of work and others forgotten at the first possible convenience. She didn't need sixteen weeks- or even the eight that had passed- to reject the vast majority of the contestants, but the framework of the show relied on her eliminating them slowly, one-by-one or two-by-two depending, and explaining her reasoning for doing so well enough that Remnant didn't feel the need to 'correct' her every week.

"Lien for your thoughts?"

Weiss blinked, turning her head to notice the person striding through the ankle high grass to reach the wooden fence she leaned against, the night air teasing her long raven locks. "Good evening, Blake. What brings you out here?"

"Well, I sometimes like getting a breath of fresh air, believe it or not." The Faunus' expression faltered slightly, the cat ears atop her head twitching nervously. "But tonight, I wanted to... check on you. During dinner, it seemed like your thoughts were elsewhere."

"That's kind of you," she said, as a means of buying herself time. For the first few weeks, she honestly though the contemplative author would remove herself from the competition; Blake preferred books and quiet, which made living in the manor, surrounded by generally loud and boisterous others, quite the trial. She had a bit of a stubborn streak though and, after their first real interaction- where they learned about each other's careers and argued about some inane dispute for a solid thirty minutes before coming to a compromise- the two hit it off rather well. Weiss didn't think it was enough to motivate the Faunus to persevere through the weeks, yet here they stood, side-by-side halfway through the show’s run. "I'm fine, though."

Blake hummed, leaning against the fence and looking across the field. "I find that hard to believe."

"Do I truly strike you as being upset right now?" She couldn't help the slight sarcasm infecting her tone, the corner of her lip tugging into a small smirk. "If I recall correctly, your depictions of the same tend to veer more towards the... dramatic side."

"So you did read Of Maidens and Maidens." The Faunus turned her head slightly, trying to hide the blush staining her cheeks. Despite being one of the most popular romance novelists in Remnant, Blake could still be so shy when discussing her work. At first, Weiss thought it a show for the interviews and book tours, a persona she adopted to make her more risque work a little easier to talk about in polite conversation, but no. Somehow, despite her fame, the Faunus remained a tad anxious about her work, discussing it and accepting praise for it only haltingly. It was actually rather cute.

Naturally, it seemed best to exploit that curious little detail to derail the conversation as best she could. "It's an excellent book. Honestly, I'm a little mad at myself for not reading it sooner." She shifted, lightly bumping their shoulders together. "You're a very talented author, Blake."

"Th- thank you." A surprised chuckle escaped the Faunus' lips, clearly caught off guard by the compliment. It was one of the things she liked about Blake; although projecting an air of mystery at the onset of their acquaintanceship, really, the author was just easily flustered, far more prone to wearing her heart on her sleeve than perhaps she'd like, constantly covering up her emotions when she could. She didn't have a very good poker face though and, when properly incensed, she could be more passionate than anyone else Weiss had met. Honestly, she found the Faunus charming in that sense; for all her layers and facets, Blake Belladonna was nothing less than genuine in her words and actions. "But, you know, there's a difference between fiction and reality. I might be good at one but the other..."

The movie star remained silent, hoping to avoid the conversation. It seemed the most reasonable course of action to take. Her negative view of the show- and her romantic prospects in general- had conditioned her to expect a single outcome from the whole endeavor, and she'd thought it was just that simple. Reality proved her wrong, however, because against her own judgment, she found herself buying into the ridiculous premise, this concept that romance could be cultivated between people shortly after meeting, that having the eyes of the world on them somehow didn't cheapen or falsify the whole ordeal. Slowly, she was beginning to fall into... an infatuation with a few of the contestants, and Blake could count herself among that small number. The fact Weiss was actually buying into the whole thing got driven home hard just a few hours before, when they were filming a one-on-one segment together.

"Weiss, please." She glanced to the side, noting how far the Faunus' ears had fallen, those amber eyes practically glowing with contrition. "Let me explain."

"You don't have to make excuses for me." The movie star sighed, keeping her gaze trained on one of the horses- a big, beautiful bay gelding with a dark mane, grazing idly nearby. Were it not for a pure white mare standing off a little ways, she'd think the producers would be daft enough to try having her sit him, hoping the size and color would enhance her within each shot. For someone with less experience, it would be a recipe for disaster, but they would be thankfully avoiding that headache altogether. "You're free to do, or not do, whatever you wish. You said yourself that this is more about the publicity and 'research' than anything else."

It stung, bringing up that conversation from their first week on set. They'd managed to earn a reprieve from the camera crews and Blake had confided that she honestly saw the show as a good excuse to get back into dating after back-to-back book tours rather than to get married. Plus, even a romance writer needed new material, and gathering such a varied group of people together with the specific intent of televising romantic overtures- it certainly provided a wide variety of inspiration, to say the least. At the time, Weiss appreciated her candor, and figured she could at least count the Faunus among those she could keep around to save her from some of the... overzealous contestants.

Yet, she'd grown rather fond of the author despite that stated disinterest in the show's actual goal. How her ears enhanced every expression, how easily she blushed, how relentless she could be when impassioned- the list grew every day of little things that Blake did that made her want to smile or laugh, and it culminated that afternoon when they were filming that segment together. The Faunus said something and they'd both laughed, completely at ease despite the camera crew surrounding them. Then she'd turned, suddenly becoming caught in dazzling amber eyes, the look on Blake's face causing her heart to stutter. They'd both leaned in to kiss, acting on instinct- to the show's credit, nothing was rehearsed, no second takes outside of the personal asides- and she thought... well, differently than the Faunus, it seemed, who snapped back before they'd actually made contact.

Weiss did her best to recover, faking a sneeze and thanking Blake for drawing back when she did before wrapping up that segment as quickly as possible. She would offer some sort of excuse tomorrow morning during the talking head portion, deflecting any speculation that the author might not be as committed to the show to preserve the suspension of disbelief as best she could. Viewers wanted to see her wooed by interested parties, after all, and she wouldn't cause problems for the Faunus if she could help it.

"That was weeks ago. Am I not allowed to change my mind?" Blake shifted beside her, voice steady despite the thread of unease in it. "Just because I didn't come here with the express intention of falling in love with you doesn't mean I've... well..." The falter caught the movie star off guard, turning her head to look at the Faunus, whose ears were laying back and practically melting into her raven mane while a brilliant flush lit up her cheeks. "You took me by surprise in a lot of ways, Weiss. The longer I'm here, the more I find myself going back through everything I've written, every passing thought I've jot down for inspiration."

"I... thought you coming here was for inspiration." A stall tactic to buy herself time; perhaps it was a little unfair, seeing how hard her companion struggled to find the right words, but she couldn't help it. She'd fallen for getting her hopes up once today and Weiss Schnee didn't do third takes.

"Inspiration for future books, yes. But I need a different sort of inspiration now," she replied, turning those amber eyes upon her as she somehow mustered up her courage. "Like I said, there's a difference between fiction and reality. In fiction, I could buy myself time, pick the right moment, ensure every aspect is just perfect to set the scene, but real life doesn't give me that. I have to think in real time and, what happened today, that was the result of me realizing it wasn't the right time." Blake moved, turning to face her fully, and she stood up a little straighter in response, no longer leaning on the fence. "I want to kiss you, but I didn't want to do it in front of the cameras."

"In the eyes of Remnant, it doesn't count if they don't see it,"she said softly, maintaining her composure as best she could while ignoring the rapid beating of her heart.

"It's not for Remnant." Blake stepped closer, tilting her head to indicate she could very well bend down and kiss her then and there, but she waited for some sign. "That's exactly why I didn't want our first kiss to be on camera. If I'm... if I'm at least in the running- if I have a chance, I want to kiss you." She lifted a hand, reaching forward to lightly cup Weiss' cheek. "I want to kiss you for you, so that you know how I feel. All the others, I don't care who sees those, but I thought our first kiss should be between us. Just us."

Weiss tilted her chin up, silently begging for the Faunus to follow through with her words while reaching forward herself. In one hand, she took Blake's unoccupied one, bringing it to rest on her hip and following her arm up so she could clutch the author's shoulder. She placed her other hand on Blake's hip, allowing the hand on her cheek to guide her closer, eyes falling half lidded as the space between them lessened. "You aren't going to get a better opportunity than this."

"Then I won't squander it."

Her eyes closed, relishing the small amount of surprise when lips pressed against hers, insistent but gentle. She thought that might be all- an innocent kiss, out beneath the stars- but soon the author began kneading their lips together, showing the barest hints of a hidden passion that Weiss found herself matching without a second thought, lifting up on her toes ever so slightly to negate the Faunus' height advantage somewhat. Their hands moved, seeking firmer holds as the embrace wore on, until they broke away, both a little breathless. When she opened her eyes, she saw Blake, a little smile on her lips and a brilliant flush reaching nearly to her human ears, the feline ones standing tall and proud as her eyes shone. In that moment, she fell even more in love with Blake Belladonna than before.

"For the record," she said, trying and failing to hide the smile brought out by the earnest happiness she could see looking back at her. "I think that was better than the book."

They both laughed, exchanging a few more kisses beside the pasture before heading inside, hand-in-hand until they reached the manor.

[theloftspiervillage-blog]

Condos in Long Branch NJ

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[newsbiteswithjennysok]

Oct 25, 2019

1. A leaked transcript has revealed the candid remarks of office-rental company WeWork's new executive chairman at an internal meeting, where he told employees facing layoffs that they would be 'taking one for the team'. Marcelo Claure, a SoftBank executive who took the reins at WeWork this week as part of the Japanese investment firm's bailout of the startup, made the remarks in a staff meeting Wednesday. Fielding questions from anxious staffers at WeWork's Manhattan headquarters, Claure addressed inevitable layoffs, founder Adam Neumann's staggering $1.7 billion exit package, and employee fury over stock options that are now worthless. The staff meeting took place a day after SoftBank, WeWork's largest shareholder, took over the company and installed Claure as executive chairman. It committed an additional $9.5 billion to the roughly $10 billion SoftBank has already sunk into the startup.

Sources close to WeWork have mentioned a range of figures for possible layoffs in recent weeks, from as few as 2,000 to as many as 5,000.

The job cut will amount to just under a third of WeWork's global workforce, and about 1,000 of the cuts will hit employees such as janitorial staff, according to a source cited by the Financial Times.

'Are there going to be layoffs? Yes. How many? I don’t know,' Claure said in his opening remarks at the staff meeting, according to the transcript.

Claure said that anyone who was laid off would 'leave with dignity'.  

'It’s always painful. You know, they’re never, it’s never a day of joy, right?' he said later in response to an employee question.

'But it’s something that whoever is laid off, they’re going to know that they’re taking one for the team to make sure this company thrives in the future,' he continued.

2. Jennifer Lopez and Alex Rodriguez are doing their part to prevent child hunger. The couple revealed they have donated a year's supply of food to a school in Tennessee, after hearing how teachers there banded together to feed a hungry student.  

Elementary school teacher Brooke Goins revealed on Facebook earlier this month that she enlisted the help of her fellow instructors to buy food for a pupil who did not have enough to eat and was relying on the school for sustenance.

Moved by the story, Jennifer, 50, and her fiance, 44, announced Thursday they had decided to donate a year's supply of food from Tiller & Hatch, which they are both part owners of.

3. Jeremy Renner's ex-wife feels threatened by the Avengers actor and is seeking protection in their bitter custody battle, legal documents have revealed.  Sonni Pachecho, Renner's ex, has filed more documents requesting that upcoming depositions should take place in a more secure setting, giving her a separate room in the courthouse.  In the documents, Pachecho said that Renner threatened to kill himself and her, claiming that their daughter, Ava, 6, would be better off an orphan than to have her as a mother. They also said that Pachecho has requested a separate room where her depositions and the depositions of Ava's nanny can be taken, adding that she wouldn't feel safe without it, according to TMZ.

According to earlier court documents, Pachecho said that Jeremy was at a club in November last year, high on cocaine and booze, when he began talking about killing her.

She also said that he put a gun in his own mouth before firing a bullet into the ceiling when Ava was asleep nearby. 

Sonni also submitted some of the couple's text messages as evidence. Some are included below;

Sonni to Renner: 'I would just like to know if you have my things, my passport etc. because if not I need to file a police report because I am worried someone took them'

Renner: 'I swear I just saw it somewhere. Maybe my safe perhaps. I can't be sure.'

Sonni: 'If you can check that would be great. Thx.'

Renner: 'All Good here. Think about my offer. We can negotiate'

Sonni: Can I grab my things before bed please? I have an apt. with the DMV and need my belonging.

Renner: 'I told you the terms in which I can help you.

Sonni: 'And these terms are what? I have a trip planned to my family can meet Ava for the first time,again she will be 2 in march. This is insane. You know how excited I am.... what do you want? I need my belonging (sic) back. You are not allowed to take someone's personal property.

Renner: 'I have no idea what you're speaking about. Everything is safe as far as I know.

Sonni: 'If you keep acting like this I will get another party involved. You are not mature enough to handle this alone so I need to take action.

Renner: You said you already did. You started this unpleasant sink by saying that. I now (sic) how to defend myself. You drew first blood. Sorry.'

Sonni: Ava's passport is in your safe along with mine.... why are you holding my stuff hostage? Let's be adults and not make this a public matter.

Renner: All is safe. And your threats are noted and acknowledged.

Sonni: We both deserve better so let's set each other free.

Renner: Ha ha ha. I have NO idea what you're saying but you're funny.

Sonni: Your (sic) welcome for your 2 hour long massage last night. And thank you for dropping me off on the road today and not even getting in contact to see if I was safe.

Renner: Are you a victim all the sudden? (sic)...Put your claws away tiger. Nothing to scratch here.

Sonni: I'm never a victim. I'm strong as (sic) women (sic) that puts up with your bipolar episodes.

Renner: I'll put your victimized excuses in my pocket with the REST of them... by the way calling the kettle black. YOUR family is touched by the bi polar disorder. I only pray that this  unfortunate gene isn't passed to our baby.... You can run. But you cannot hide Pacheco. 

He allegedly told someone he 'could not deal with her anymore', and he 'just wanted her gone'.

She also alleges that the Avengers actor abuses drugs and alcohol and has a history of emotionally and verbally abusing her.

The former couple had agreed to joint custody, however, Sonni is now pushing to be the sole carer for Ava and only allowing Jeremy supervised visits.  

Renner allegedly hit out at Ava's nanny, threatening her with his suicide.

'Because of you [the nanny]. You're the reason I pulled the trigger. Do you think if my blood and brains are all over my bedroom floor, do you think you would be living this lifestyle in this mansion,' the nanny reported Renner saying, according to TMZ.

Renner has denied all of the allegations against him and fired back in his own legal documents, saying his wife is acting out of spite because she is bitter that they broke up.

He said he does not abuse drugs or alcohol and says he even submitted to random drug testing to prove it.

Renner also, according to TMZ, hit back at a disturbing allegation he says his ex is making - that he sexually and physically abused Ava.

He says she used to brag to friends about 'bagging an Avenger' and that she plans her attacks on him to coincide with the release of his movies so that she gets the publicity.

The star added that she was 'obsessed' with demonizing him.

Renner and Pacheco married in 2014, a year after Ava was born. They separated the same year.

Last year they reached a new agreement on child support to last through 2020.

The star was originally paying $13,000 a month, but now if his yearly income exceeds $2.3 million, five percent will go to his ex.

Under the agreement, his payments to Pacheco will never exceed $200,000 per year.

Any excess will go into an account for their daughter.

With funds initially going towards her education, any money left over will be hers to use freely once she turns 27.

4. For the third time in two weeks, actress Jane Fonda was arrested while protesting climate change in Washington, DC after vowing to protest 'every Friday'. But she wasn't alone. Star of NBC's The Good Place, Ted Danson, was also handcuffed during the protest, which took place on the steps of the Capitol.Photos captured Fonda, 81, dressed in a long red coat, black trousers and black shoes - and in zip-tie handcuffs, raising her hands up as if in triumph. Meanwhile, Danson, 71, was pictured laughing in the same handcuffs while wearing a grey flat cap, a grey sweater, a grey jacket and blue jeans. Fonda's arrest marks the third Friday in a row that the actress has clashed with police during a protest in the nation's capitol.  

According to Capitol Police, Fonda and Danson were 'among 32 people arrested for allegedly unlawfully demonstrating in the intersection of East Capitol and First Streets'

Earlier in the day, Fonda and Danson were seen walking along signs that read 'Climate Action Now' and 'Green New Deal Now' - a nod to New York representative Alexandria Occasio Cortez'a proposed legislation to tackle climate change.

At one point, Fonda herself held a poster that read: 'Get in Motion/Save our Ocean.'

The two were arrested during an event called Fire Drill Fridays, which are organized by Fonda in an effort to get politicians to address climate change.

Capitol Police released a statement on Friday afternoon that read: 'Fonda and Danson were among 32 people arrested for allegedly unlawfully demonstrating in the intersection of East Capitol and First Streets.'

The demonstrators are being charged with crowding, obstructing or incommoding, which are classified as misdemeanors.

Fonda says she's relocated to Washington, DC - at least, temporarily - after being inspired by climate change activists such as Greta Thunberg.

5. New footage has emerged of disgraced producer Harvey Weinstein’s controversial visit to a Manhattan event — showing a female comedian bashing him as the “Freddy Krueger in the room” during her set.

“I’m going to name the elephant in the room. Do we know what that is?” comedian Kelly Bachman told the crowd gathered at the LES Downtown bar on Wednesday for Actor’s Hour — an event for young performers.“It’s a Freddy Krueger in the room, if you will. I didn’t know that we have to bring our own mace and rape whistles to Actor’s Hour,” Bachman continued to loud boos from men in the room.“Shut up!” one man can be heard bellowing.“This kills it as group therapy for rape survivors,” retorted Bachman, herself a rape survivor, to cheers from women in the audience. “They love it.”

Weinstein’s visit to the event made headlines Thursday when actress Zoe Stuckless was caught on video tearing shreds into him before she was kicked out by security. “Nobody’s gonna say anything? Nobody’s really going to say anything?!” she yelled, pointing a finger at Weinstein, according to a video posted to her Facebook.Weinstein — who has been accused of sexual misconduct by more than 70 women — sat in a dimly-lit booth flanked by several women and kept his head bowed as Stuckless ripped into him. “I’m going to stand four feet from a f–ing rapist? And nobody’s going to say anything?” Stuckless yelled, throwing up her hands before she was escorted from the bar.

A spokesperson for Weinstein told The Post the scene was “uncalled for, downright rude and an example of how due process today is being squashed by the public, trying to take it away in the courtroom too.”

[lareporteragonzeauxblog]

Asking for it

A young woman was sexually assaulted while unconscious at Fuego nightclub in the Santa Anita district of Lima last October. The horrendous act was caught on tape and widely disseminated over social media months later, causing a storm of scathing criticism and backlash.

Compelled to learn as much as possible about what happened, I decided to watch the video footage of the assault. A quick internet search brought me to an article with the scene caught on tape and embedded in the story. I reluctantly clicked play and almost immediately regretted my decision.

The video, though pixelated and recorded on a low-quality cellphone camera, shows the perpetrator, recently identified as John Pizarro Coronel, approach the young woman, who has chosen to keep her identity a secret, while she is passed out unconscious on a sofa in the club. Loud music is blaring and strobe lights are flashing as Coronel pulls his pants down and mounts the girl. He proceeds to thrust while she lay unmoving underneath him, and, at one particularly horrific moment, he looks into the camera smiling. 

Image caught on camera of John Pizarro Coronel violating an unconscious woman at Fuego night club in Lima last October, 2016

The footage is truly disturbing, and I felt ashamed for even watching it. What I found most disgusting, however, was not the gross violation of an unconscious woman, nor the feverish appropriation of the survivor’s body by the gleeful looking perpetrator, nor the eerily triumphant look on his face as he stares directly into the camera. Don’t get me wrong  — this was an atrocious act of sexual assault carried out against a completely helpless individual. But what disturbed me most, beyond the repulsive violation itself, was the fact that it was recorded. On a cellphone. Which was being held by someone. Someone who was watching as an unconscious woman was raped. Worse yet: the individual who caught the assault on tape was not standing there alone. A small crowd had gathered around, watching  —  some even laughing and cheering  —  as an unconscious woman was raped. 

The backlash against Coronel was, as to be expected, severe. Groups like ‘Ni una menos Peru’ and ‘Paro internacional de mujeres,’ women’s rights watchdog groups, openly appealed to the Peruvian National Police to penalize the perpetrator, and scathing remarks about him poured into social media platforms. 

Unfortunately, closely mirroring criticism of the rapist was criticism of the young woman who was assaulted. As I scrolled through hundreds of posts on the ‘Ni una menos Peru’ Facebook page, I was absolutely shocked at the hatred and victim blaming I read. Someone even created a fan page for the rapist. 

Here are just a few among many posts that stood out:

For those readers that do not read Spanish, let me translate a few key lines (please note that these are my rough translations of mostly colloquial phrases):

“Whoever drinks that much should learn to take care of herself. I’m not defending this sicko, but women that go out all alone are asking for misfortune.”

“Why do these things happen? Because these women let it...”

“The only one responsible is the girl for going out and not heeding all the warnings out there about such cases... she should have been more cautious.” 

“One of the many examples of how excessive alcohol consumption makes one lose her dignity!” 

“This happened because women neither respect nor accept their parents’ advice.”

“To hell with her, what a stupid girl. How did she manage to drink so much? She’s obviously not aware of the world we live in.” 

“How disgusting! This girl should protect her image as a woman. Drink in moderation and don’t walk around like a slut in a place with so many nasty drunks...” 

Yep. Go ahead, take a moment to process. I’ve read these (and many other comments) multiple times and I’m still appalled. 

The Peruvian National Police cite sexual assault as the second most frequently committed crime in Peru after aggravated robbery. Yet, in the former, it’s the victim that gets blamed, while in the latter, it’s the aggressor. 

Said in another way, in instances of sexual assault, people who are raped bear at least some responsibility, but people that rape aren’t fully responsible because they were just doing what everyone expected them to do when there’s an easy target —  to rape. When we apply the same logic to other crimes, like aggravated theft, it seems ridiculous: the thief wielding a weapon isn’t totally at fault because people who get mugged were asking for it. Right? Just like the unconscious girl at Fuego nightclub was asking for it because she wore a certain outfit, because she drank too much alcohol, because she knowingly went out to the club with people who could take advantage of her. 

She was asking for it, and Coronel was simply there to give it to her. How could we possibly place all the blame on him when she was so obviously provoking such behavior? (I hope the sarcasm here is glaringly obvious.) 

         *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    * 

On an entirely serious note, I’ve been confronted with the notion of ‘asking for it’ time and again, especially living in Peru, a notably conservative country with high rates of violence against women and sexual assault. 

However, ‘asking for it’ was first acutely brought to my attention the weekend of the infamous yacht races on Mackinac Island in Michigan (a tourist destination where my sister Maria and I were working a season). A notoriously good time, the races never fail to bring out the rowdiest of behavior in everyone, and anyone who dares walk down Main Street past 9 pm will most surely find his or herself intoxicated by bar close. I had unwittingly gotten myself a bit buzzed (okay, let’s be real, I was drunk) at the Pink Pony, easily the island’s most popular locale where yacht racers flock in droves to quite literally pour liquor down their throats and to harass anyone who refuses a shot. Maria had convinced me to spend the evening on the island at her dorm instead of retreating to my private abode off island in Mackinaw City. 

We were having a great time, chatting it up with inebriated sailors, throwing back too many craft beers, and dancing to live music. However, throughout the course of the evening, I, dressed in a solid grey t-shirt that was anything but sexy and a pair of jeans that I’d retained since high school, couldn’t help but notice and feel irked by the attention Maria was getting. 

To be sure, my sister is quite a show-stopper: tall, curvaceous, and fashion conscious, it’s no surprise that she gets lots of looks and compliments, and it’s not as though I’m not accustomed to fielding inquiries about her relationship status or favorite pastimes. But on this particular evening, I was hyper aware of one specific type of attention she was receiving — creepy, blatant stares at and perverted comments about her breasts. 

My verbal filter dwindled with my sobriety, and I couldn’t help but ask her about it. I don’t recall exactly what I said, but it was along the lines of, ‘Why do you wear such low cut tops if you know drunken perverts are just going to stare at and talk about your boobs?’ 

To my utter shock and dismay, Maria began to cry. 

She looked me squarely in the eyes, composed herself a bit, and said, ‘I thought you were a feminist. How can you claim that title and then criticize me for what I’m wearing? Don’t I have the right to wear what I want?’ 

It was a damn good question that begged so many others: Why, in the face of invasive and unwelcome attention from strangers, did I immediately revert to blaming the target of inappropriate advances? Did my sister really have the right to wear whatever she wanted wherever she wanted in front of whomever she pleased? If not, at what point does one cross the boundary between what’s okay and what’s not okay to wear? Do certain outfits invite certain responses? Do I need to protect myself by wearing or not wearing certain clothing, by saying or not saying certain things, by drinking or not drinking certain quantities of alcohol, by frequenting or not frequenting certain places? 

I cannot answer these questions outright, nor do I seek to do so here. The feminist in me wants to say ‘Hell no we’re not responsible! We have the right to self identify in any way we please and we should not be afraid to do so.’ A huge part of me feels that way. 

Then there’s another part of me, perhaps a more pragmatic part, perhaps a slightly defeated part, perhaps a part that has seen too much to pretend that we are free. This is the part that speaks to me when I’m deciding what to wear before I walk to the grocery store alone, before I get on public transportation without a bra, before I head out late at night wearing a short dress  — the part of me that heeds the warnings and feeds into the fear mongering. 

These two parts of me, one large, one small, will continue to push against one another. For now, what I know is this: nothing anyone does, under any circumstances, makes that person responsible for getting raped. For being sexually violated while unconscious. For being too drunk to say no  — or to say anything for that matter. 

Nobody is asking to be raped. Nobody is asking to be violated. No outfit, no amount of drinks, no behavior asks for sexual assault. Nobody is asking for it.