#because his attention to statistical detail is CRAZY

[cattledogriot]

my therapist at first didn’t think my dad sounded autistic until i told him in depth about his interest in sports and how it’s like no man you’ve ever met who follows sports and he said “well i think we know where you got the autism from”

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Marin Cogan at Vox:

At least four people were killed, and nine were injured after a shooter opened fire at Apalachee High School in northern Georgia on Wednesday, the latest in more than 250 mass shootings that have taken place in the US in 2024. By Friday, law enforcement had charged both a 14-year-old boy and his father in connection with the shooting. The suspect, police say, used an “AR-platform-style weapon” similar to the types of guns commonly used by mass shooters. The FBI revealed that law enforcement had interviewed the suspect and his dad in 2023 over school shooting threats the boy had allegedly made on the social media platform Discord but were unable to substantiate them or take further action. Sometime after that, law enforcement sources say, the boy’s father gave him an AR-15 style rifle as a gift. The boy’s extended family has since revealed that the alleged shooter was experiencing family and mental health issues in the months leading up to the attack, and that they had tried to get him help, but it wasn’t enough to prevent the attack.

The details of the Barrow County shooting are familiar. The fact that law enforcement knew of alleged threats from the shooter over a year ago and was still unable to stop the shooting or prevent the suspect from getting a gun points to how difficult it is to prevent mass shootings. And while mass shootings make up just a small percentage of the large number of gun deaths that happen in the United States every year, they are the most attention-grabbing and obvious manifestation of the country’s unique problem of too many guns.

The problem of mass shootings will likely be with us as long as we have more guns than people. “There’s no easy solution,” says Daniel Nagin, a professor of public policy and statistics at Carnegie Mellon University. The ubiquity of guns makes preventing a mass shooting extremely difficult. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to prevent mass shootings. “One of the big stereotypes, or myths we have about mass shootings in general, is that perpetrators who do this go crazy and just snap,” says Mark Follman, author of the book Trigger Points: Inside the Mission to Stop Mass Shootings in America, and an editor at Mother Jones. “That’s not the reality at all of how this works.”

There are two broad approaches that can help mitigate the threat of mass shootings: proactive efforts to identify threats in advance, performed by behavioral threat assessment teams; and targeted gun regulations like red flag laws and bump stock bans.

Identifying the threat

Mass shootings are almost never random, according to Follman. The vast majority of mass shooters don’t spontaneously decide to pull out a gun in public and start shooting. Learning to identify who’s most at risk for committing mass violence, identifying warning signs and finding ways to intervene, can save lives. That’s what behavioral threat assessment teams do. The process and composition of a team can differ in various contexts, including educational, corporate, and law enforcement settings, but the general idea is the same: the teams receive information from community members about behavior that is concerning. The teams investigate that behavior to determine whether someone is at risk of committing mass violence. Then, depending on their conclusion, the team finds a way to reach out to the person and try to get them support before they commit an act of violence. That contact can happen at the person’s home, but it might also happen at work, school, or another community setting. It’s difficult to prove the efficacy of these interventions, because there’s no way to quantify the number of mass shootings that didn’t happen because someone got help. But experts and mental health advocates say the work has prevented people from carrying out violence, and Follman has reported on cases where law enforcement believes people were successfully diverted from committing acts of mass violence. [...]

Finding gun regulations that help prevent mass shootings

One appealing thing about behavioral threat assessment work is that it’s an intervention that can be done without butting head-first into the brick wall that is America’s intractable debate over gun control.

But make no mistake: a country with over 400 million guns in it, and with gun regulation so lax that almost anyone can carry a gun in public whenever they want, makes the work of preventing mass shootings much more difficult. Georgia doesn’t have safe storage laws, which in other states require guns to be locked up and kept away from children. The shooter’s father, when questioned by police in 2023, said that his son didn’t have “unfettered” access to his guns. A law requiring guns to be secured in the state might have made it harder for the shooter to have access to the weapon he used. There are other specific gun policies that can help prevent mass shootings and might be more politically feasible. Lawmakers and voters who care about reducing mass shootings have already helped push for their passage in states like New York, Florida, and California. For advocates who care about reducing mass shooting, they are a good place to start. One of the most important legal tools available to prevent mass shootings is extreme risk laws, commonly referred to as red flag laws. The laws, currently in place in 21 states, including several after the Parkland, Florida, school shooting in 2018, allow both family members and law enforcement to petition courts to temporarily confiscate someone’s firearms if they believe the owner is at a risk of committing harm either to themselves or others. Red flag laws, Follman says, are “a relatively new gun policy that is very important and very useful to the field of threat assessment.” Though critics have challenged the constitutionality of the laws, they have so far withstood legal challenges. Another common factor among mass shooters is their use of assault-style rifles, known for their capacity to rapidly fire bullets and to kill or injure large numbers of people in a short amount of time. Though research has shown that assault weapons bans can meaningfully reduce mass shooting deaths when they’re in effect, Republicans blocked an assault weapons ban when it came before Congress in December 2023, and polls show that while Americans generally favor more strict gun regulation, they are more divided on the question of whether to ban assault weapons outright.

Vox has a good story on the need to stop mass shootings before they happen.

[minmin-pal]

i don't know how to open this ask, this is really just random words from a stranger who never met you. this whole thing is unwarranted as hell and i'm really sorry about that 

today's my 46th day of knowing you existed

(Im proofreading this so heads up for random rant;;)

the terms placed for people contemplating are 'suicidal' or 'severely depressed' and the media often paints it as if that's their only feature, whether this is in a foreign article that almost always focuses on the shock factor rather than full-detailed accounts of the event or other examples like this

clickbait and shocking titles, limited information to help form the 'tragic tale' that satisfies the notion of events in the reader's heads. why would a reader want to know about what the individual thought or felt? why would they want to know about the slow piling up of events or circumstances, over several years that always weighed on the individual? why would they want to know:

what color did they like?

how they passed the time?

what weather did they like?

what was on their mind?

what did they think of days before committing?

the articles always say, maybe: "a girl from pakistan killed herself", "man shoots himself", "woman jumps off the golden gate bridge", etc.

the location, the method of death, the gender. it all focuses on details like that, i understand why they might not put the names, what relevance would a name have? why would the world care about this name? it's just a name, it could be any gender, race, class, age. sure these details might be given once you click on the title but that's to give more information to the sentence, the headline, that caught your attention. to humanize and make you feel more sympathetic to an individual you already know the fate of. seeing "amy jumps off a building" isn't what gets people to click. amy could be a guy, amy could be 58, amy could be brown, amy could be anyone. but 'child jumps off a building' that catches people's attention. 

often, the names of minors aren't even given so the more you read in the article, the more you'll learn about this 'child' that jumped off. you'll know this child lost both parents, you'll know the child was bullied, you'll know the child "had such a bright future ahead of them." anything that the writer thinks will make you feel more pity for this child. why would the writer write about: how the child showed bruising but the adults didn't notice? how the child grieved for their parents and the legal guardian didn't see? even if they did notice and tried, why would the writer write about all the ways the child was crying for help? you already know how it ended, the billions of people in the world won't care for 'irrelevant' details.

all they'll take away is that someone somewhere in the world died, maybe if it's pitiful or attention-grabbing enough, it'll be worth off-handedly mentioning in conversation later on. "man goes crazy and kills his family" is a better headline that'll grab people's attention, that'll get them talking about it for a few days. "man kills himself due to debt", debt is a word everyone is familiar with, it doesn't carry the same 'shock' factor, it's something that is easier for people to comprehend. you don't hear someone mentioning "oh yea, a guy killed himself from his debt yesterday!" why would you? no one talks about it because it happens every day, every hour. most don't even get articles, they just got rounded up to a statistic. 

of course, circumstances matter, the names will be mentioned and their death will be talked about, especially if you were associated with them. this 'shocking' event that doesn't happen normally happened, and you were maybe a friend of a cousin. it doesn't emotionally affect you but it does give you something to talk about, it breaks you out of your monotonous normal for maybe an hour. The novelty quickly wears out and you've milked it for what it was worth, maybe a few conversations and the occasional 'sorry for your loss'.

( i'm sorry i'm doing the 'overcomplicate a simple message for no reason' thing again )

people will know someone died, they'll know the barebone details or whatever other details the writer thought to add to maximize the effect of however long the average attention span of 8.25 seconds is focused on their article. "who's gonna give a fuck about random details?" readers just want to know why this teen shot a damn class up. 

( feel free to skip to here since the rant kinda ends here?)

but then i found this blog, then i read through the posts that are pretty much just a snippet of your current thoughts when writing it, words put together to form what you were thinking or feeling at that moment. i guess i'm in the same position as the article readers? i clicked on your profile after reading the post that started with "i am going to die on august 1st", and so i already had an idea of how it would end, and then i kept reading, an idea of this person named 'min' formed in my head, rough ideas of what specific parts of their life, thoughts that got shared, as opposed to the ones that were thought alone and never shared ( on this blog at least? im don't know really). 

a very, very rough image has been formed and then i'm left to think "oh, these words i'm reading are the communicated thoughts and feelings of a real living person going through all this right this moment", i don't know this person or what they're going through. i don't know anything but the snippets of thoughts that were shared through a tumblr blog.

i thought back to all those articles and stuff spread across the internet, 'how do you help a contemplating person?' ( well i suppose by the time i found this blog, the better term would be 'contemplated' person? someone whose already decided on it? i might not have said any of this clearly at all, i'm sorry about that ) and the thing i remembered most was "remind them that life is worth living, that this suffocating and seemingly endless pain and suffering CAN get better." those words seemed to make sense at the time when i read them

( i- don't really know the whole point of this ask either, i don't know if i'm attempting to accomplish something? what am i trying to get across? and i can assume you can tell that already by this ask so far im sorry. )

but which could be considered more 'selfish'? contemplating/committing or telling someone "it will get better" when no one knows if it will? especially a random stranger through the internet? if "it will get better" sounds pompous coming from someone who knows you in real life, how bad would it sound from a complete and virtual stranger? how could i send an ask saying "it will get better/just hang on/etc." when i don't even properly comprehend what your going through? what you've been going through for years? no matter, i'm sorry i couldn't provide however fickle or non-existent the comfort you could've gotten from a virtual stranger saying "it'll be okay" after only seeing a vent of yours /gen i know it would've done next to nothing, forget not meaning anything it might've come off as well arrogant and self-righteous i suppose? i don't know

i'm repeating at this point, i don't know why i sent this ask. the finality and nearing of the day dawned on me i guess? i don't know how you feel or anything like that, so i'm just going on with the thought that you've already decided on this and will go through with it on august 1st

i'm sorry it's led to this

i'm sorry this wasn't a life where you could've been happy

i'm sorry you had to go through things no one should have to go through

i'm sorry for all the apologies you never got, for all shit you went through

thank you for living as long as you have

thank you for liking jjba as much as you do

thank you for being passionate about the things you care about

thank you for communicating

thank you for sharing

thank you for feeling

thank you for creating 

thank you for being yourself

i don't know what happens after well, this i guess. what happens after your heart stops beating, what happens when your consciousness stops, when your being stops well-being. maybe it's a big vast void? maybe it's just nothing, as though a tape just stops rolling. maybe there really is an afterlife? i know you said you know you're going to hell, and i acknowledge i know nothing about you personally so this will come off as well i guess- bs to you, since your the only one who knows what being in your situation feels like and you know yourself more but, sincerely, i hope you end up somewhere nice. somewhere that can give you all the love and happiness that you didn't get from this life. somewhere that's free from trouble and where you can smile, where you can be happy. i don't know where that is, heck maybe heaven and hell aren't real, maybe it's not a void and everyone's wrong. maybe it's something completely different, whatever it is, i hope you can be genuinely happy.

thank you for getting me excited to watch jjba and reading killer in love, I'm at the 4th chapter right now and i don't know if by the time i finish reading, well, you'd still be around but from what I've read so far it's definitely what you said it would be lol/pos, the art really is just as pretty as you said it would be and the story isn't something I'm used to though i guess that's to be expected since i don't read much phycological/scary manga, I've definitely been enjoying it though! :D✨⭐

i don't know if this will be discortoues(?) or i dunno rude maybe, but when i reach the ending of killer in love and even when i finally get to death 13 in jjba, i promise i'll tell you what i thought about them :D try as you may,  even if you didn't spoil anything (im honestly surprised you didn't???/gen) you've gassed jjba up a lot so let's see if it lives up to all the hype >:) /lh/pos (i know it will lol)

i don't know if i said this enough times but i really love your art lmao/pos every single style you have is so new and unique to me, one of the numbered artworks you posted? eleventh and/or twelveth i think? i was very blown away by the perspectives, i don't know how long you worked on them but they all (your artworks) look very lovely and your shading and character designs, all the details and just the artwork itself is very pretty.

i realize this ask is getting comedically a bit too long now lol, sorry abt that/gen i guess i just want to make the moment last a little bit longer? I dunno, it'll be weird opening your blog on aug 2nd, but i'll make sure to keep my promise about sending you that ask once I've finished killer in love then jjba :D/gen (i swear ill finish it someday, slowly chip away at it with my prison spoon lmao) how much u wanna bet the afterlife has wifi lol /j

i don't know our time difference so i don't know if you'll still be hanging around when i send in that ask about killer in love so i guess i'll just put this in this ask, an all-in-one package ig lol?

it's been nice getting to know you min, i never would've actually thought to watch jjba until we talked about it (thank you for answering all my previous asks by the way, i never really expected an answer after maybe the second one? so it was a nice surprise every time:) )

i don't know if this tumblr hellsite will still be kicking in a few years or smth lol, but I'll check back in to this blog every once in a while with the jjba progress updates (hope that doesn't come off as rude or anything ;;/gen) dunno, maybe in a few years i'll have learned how i could've helped you more or at least made better company thru my random anon asks lmao, i assume being able to talk about what you liked in jjba would've been more fun instead of having to censor and avoid almost everything because of spoilers:')

it's been a weird but memorable past 46 days and (this part might sound weird considering my earlier tangents but) i'll miss you min

thank you and- i hope your happy? however way this ends, whatever's waiting in the after, whenever it ends up happening, i sincerely, with my heart, hope your able to be happy someday. whether here or somewhere else. or maybe, at least not in pain anymore/lh/gen

it's been nice, i'll be thinking of u when i finally watch jjba:D<3!/gen (bro u've gassed it up sm imma cry if i don't understand the lore lol, how am i supposed to get jumpscared by j giel if i don't know the lore/hj/lh)

(mandatory apology for all the possible spelling errors and just general weird grammar or ig ranting that makes no sense? i didn't have much of a plan when i wrote this, i just needed to- well i guess, send this to you? i don't know if that made sense lmao, i kinda started getting a bit teary around the 'thank you' bits so english started dying there lol)

but well, i guess this is the actual ending bit now.

thank you and goodbye min, it's been very fun and it was nice meeting you, thank you once again and i'll miss you

<3

oh man

im not going to reread what i type because then i'll start ugly crying so i'm sorry for the typos and weird line breaks theres going to be\ also i might seem a little weirder than usual- this is cuz i am speaking unfiltered-ly

i keep typing out a response, but i just cant say anything of worth m

i cant say shit im typing things out and reading them and deleting them

hjerfskjdkjldjkkdf iread your rant, and ive typed like3 long responses to it but deleted the, because honestly i having nothing to say i agree with ur sentiment but i cant form the words to agree and im physically running out of time as i write this i realize so let me just. get this over with mikey, custard it fills me with a small amount of sadness to know that this is how we met, that this is our friendship of sorts but i'm happy i could talk to u about. anime and art and mangas.. im happy i could just tell u about dumb silly stuff i really like and that u responded all the time

its 10:30 am as im writing this i'm aiming to die tomorrow at 12, since thats usually when anyone comes to check on me (food and whatever) korean standard time or kst please send whatever asks you have (like the killer in love one)s to me and if you want

maybe hell or heaven or the expansive void has a tiny little library where you can go in and use their computers and read their ever-updating history books and maybe there i;ll read all your asks onl if you feel obliged to. promises to dead people don't matter after all

im really happy youve enjoyed my art and stuff too know ive said it already but i really do appreciate it i appreciate every little dumb thing ever

also some of my posts (mostly text ones) may be gone ive deleted a lot of ask replies or just untagged things i said my tiny thoughts really. or things that people asked to probe for those tiny thoughts i shouldnt have deleted them, but i was hit with a bout of self loathing after i read an older post of mine byebye to you too custard boy mikey and i dont mind the length ever im happy u. typed this all out dont dwell on what u couldve done too much.. its been a long time coming honestly

thank you again

um and

wanted to comment on this part

i remember when i made that post about dying in august overall its gotten the most notes out of everything i posted

there was one account, who commented and said something about how i have people who care about me, that me dying isnt worth it.. how i had a bright futere ahead of me and that i should tough it out and when i read that i croak laughed why would that matter in assocition to what you referenced?

i think its because its my little small scale equivalent that i "have a bright future ahead" and i shouldnt do it all those other little details, all ive been going through, all the signs dont really matter because at my funeral theyll say how i had a long time ahead of me, that "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" (<- that saying genuinely pisses me off)

um and this is SO corny. but i randomly remembered the end of... minecraft.... poem

i like this part. sorry im off topic i like showing u stuff

maybe im just talking again sorry mikey thank you aswell

[lulupen2023]

Fluff is In bloom: Like Father, Like Son

Summary: A collection of hyper fluffy and BellDom stories, of any era, as long as there's fluff and some filled prompts

I- Like father, Like Son: it's T2L , get ready to deal with super lovely baby Bing, fun and cuteness are in the air!

This work participates in the initiative '#SpringBingo ’ of the group @Non solo Sherlock - FB multifandom events group

I'm really sorry if I keep flooding this section but inspiration doesn't stop knocking on my door and these are the results.

probably no one cares, but i like sharing anyway, hoping to make someone smile...

Prompt used:

'It's Gonna Be a success!' by Jeremy Marsh Blue eyes, by Alex Antognazza He had enjoyed X years of total irresponsibility, by Clau Albertini Time, by Artemis Karpusi Vargas Good manners, by Elena Altamura

Disclaimer: nothing of this ever happened, I don’t know Matt, Dom (I wish I could!) nor all the people around them, I don’t earn a single coin from writing that, I just please my crazy mind, lol

Like Father, Like Son

“It will be a success. I'm sure." comments Matt, to say the least excited, concluding his phone call. “Are you inspired for a new song to write, Bells?” asks Chris, sitting next to him in the lobby of the London Hotel where they stayed to participate in three different programs in the space of just five days.  

Normal routine when they are  in full promotion.

"There's not only work ,Chris, especially if you have a little baby waiting for you at home all eager, you who are the father of two hundred children should know this better than anyone!" replies Dom, who, as usual, knows every detail of the life of his best friend and life partner… in every sense.

“You are always so exaggerated. I only have six!” specifies the bassist, and then scratches the back of his neck a little embarrassed, assailed by a doubt that only statistical research can remove, as they get into the taxi that will take them to the airport. “So… has it arrived?” turns to Matt Dom, perhaps even more excited than him.

“Yeah, Manson just called me, it's custom made for Bing, he even sent me pictures!” Matthew approaches him, proudly showing the display of his mobile.

Chris doesn't even pay attention to them, busy as he is scrolling through the results of the google pages.

“But she's beautiful, you're right, Matt. It will be a success!” Dom lights up with enthusiasm, giving him a big smile.

“Instead of going right back to Los Angeles I’m gonna stop at Exeter to go and collect it, because, it's true, I could have it delivered, but I prefer to bring it myself. Dommeh, do you want to come with me?” the frontman asks, with perhaps too much expectation gleaming in his blue eyes.

Dom, however, is about to disappoint those expectations. “Sure, only to see you run to your family and act like you're in a goddamn breakfast cookie commercial? Thanks, but no thanks!" snorts the drummer.

“I should have known,” sighs Matt, his blue eyes now glazed with gray disappointment. “But know that yours is the only cookie that makes me happy. Oh wait, I didn't mean it to sound so wicked and lustful." he thinks back to how he formulated that sentence, with a nervous laugh. In response, Dom gives him one of his best pouts.

“Oh, Bells, it's such a pity  you didn't mean it.” He whispers in his ear, nibbling a little on the earlobe.

Expectations come back to sparkle again in those blue eyes, they are only postponed to a later date. "Oh yes, I'm afraid I have a slightly above average level of procreation..." Chris mutters, on the train that is taking him home, closing Google and regaining awareness of the world around him and with it also a familiar face who is watching him sitting on the opposite seat.. “Hey, Matt, but you weren't supposed to go back to Los Angeles  together with Dom?”

--------------------------------- 

Time to have his precious extra baggage to add to the airport check-in and Matt really comes back to Los Angeles. He agrees to welcome Kate with a noteworthy kiss and then rushes off to whom is the greatest joy of his life. As soon as Bing sees him, he rushes towards him with a somewhat awkward but very tender run. “Daaadddyyy!” he giggles happily, letting himself be picked up. “Heellooo, my beautiful love, look what daddy brought you!” Matthew smiles at him, leading him towards the living room where he has abandoned all the luggage. With more eagerness than his son, he gets rid of the packaging and the box that protects that precious gift which turns out to be a miniature electric guitar, but certainly not a toy; it is perfectly capable of playing and can also be amplified. The background is glossy black, crossed by rainbow spirals, as is the small shoulder strap too.

"Isn't she wonderful?" Matthew says mostly to himself, observing her- to him every guitar is a she-  enraptured, only to realize that the child has already run to the other room. Matthew sighs a little disappointed, but the truth is that he's too tired to feel bad. -----------------------------------

The next day things seem to go a little better: Bing has accepted that Matt put the shoulder strap on him, making him hold the guitar in his hands and now he's imitating his father a bit when he's on stage, thanks to a video of a concert by the Muse that Matt is showing him.

Bing also has a plectrum in his hand that strikes the six strings and the fingers of the other hand touch the frets without any precise logic

Luckily for Kate and mostly the entire neighborhood, the little guitar is unplugged from the amp.

When he least expects it, Matt sees Bing pull out the guitar and grab it by the neck, lifting it.

Matthew is convinced that the little kid is about to break her, instead he sees him put her on the ground, as delicately as possible, give her two caresses with his little hand and then go away.

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

"There's nothing to do. My son doesn't want to learn to play the guitar." Matthew vents disconsolately the following day, on the phone.

“Matteh, you remember that he's yet to turn two years old  in three months, don't you? And there's that thing called time, your son has plenty to spare," Dominic points out.

"It doesn't matter, it's not a matter of time, it's something that must be innate and I understood that it's not," sighs the other unhappy.

"Why? Did you realize that you wanted to play piano and guitar since you were in your mother's womb?” Dom teases him.

“Well, basically yes and probably my first cry was in falsetto!” Matt plays along and they both end up laughing. “Yesterday then, at one point Bing lifted the guitar, almost in anger, and I really thought he was going to throw her on the ground, breaking her.”

“Oh, no!” the drummer gets alarmed.

“But no, he put her away with kindness and left, as if nothing had happened. Not even this satisfaction he has given me” "Satisfaction?!"

“Yes, Dom, I could already see him on stage in a dozen years or so, crashing guitars against amplifiers, just like his father, but no, I find myself a serial guitar caresser at home!” the frontman grumbles.

"I've given up on understanding you... if anything, you should be thankful that your son has good manners" Dom rolls his eyes. "Though, Matt, have you thought that maybe the guitar isn't the right instrument?"

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

About a week later, Matthew shows up at Bing with a custom-made grand piano for the little one.

He sits him down and Bing, with a very unconvinced look, tries to press a few keys, repetitively, getting so bored that he throws a tantrum until his father pulls him down from that little stool that seems like an insurmountable obstacle to him.

Finally free, Bing crawls on the floor until he devotes all his attention to a clothes peg that he accidentally found on the floor, which he evidently must find much more stimulating than the piano.

Matthew, on the other hand, goes to vent his frustrations on his piano, composing a grandiose and at times a bit disturbing melody. ---------------------------------------

“Thank you for coming, Dommeh, so you can see it with your own eyes,” Matthew drags him into the house, as soon as he sees him arriving in the taxi.

"You've been begging me to come by for two days, calling me at any hour of the day or night... let's say you mostly took me out of exhaustion." snorts Dom.

"Kate isn't here, she's on a movie set and she's going to have it for weeks." the frontman informs him.

“This is excellent news.” the blond definitely changes his mood.

“Bing, daddy's love, come here, do you feel like showing Uncle Dom how you play the piano?” Matt calls him and the child runs, but more to jump into his beloved uncle's arms than to fulfill his father's request.

"Noooo, piano, ewww... ugly piano, boring.." the little one complains, with the most annoyed of expressions. "I'll pretend I didn't hear." Matt grumbles through clenched teeth. “Have you seen how he behaves?” he immediately turns to Dom.

"Bing, don't you really want to try, even if Uncle Dommeh plays the piano with you?" Dominic tries to persuade him, but in the act of bending down to put him back on the floor, the drumsticks  in his back pocket slip, falling to the floor.

Bing immediately grabs them and starts banging on the floor. “Bam, bam, bam, this is fuuuun!” he chuckles, moving towards the wall.

“Bing, stop now!” his father dictates. “Nooo! Bam, bam, bam again!” protests the little one, hitting the cushions of the sofa, not too satisfied with the noise he gets up to the height of his father's shins, that he doesn't hesitate to hit repeatedly and even with a certain violence, amused by the somewhat woody noise.

“Ouch!” poor Matt moves away from his beating fury, which continues with the adjacent furniture. “What did you say  about good manners, Dom?”

“Oh come on, that was fun!” chuckles the blond. “Rather answer me…why do you always go around with drumsticks in your pocket?”

"Well, if I meet a fan I can give them to her, then, who knows, one thing leads to another..." replies Dominic, with a sexy smirk.

Teasing Matthew's jealousy is always good and proper. Although seeing how much his beloved best friend overflows with joy whenever he is with his little baby gives the handsome drummer a little to think about. He has enjoyed years and years of irresponsibility, he wonders if perhaps the time has come to settle down and find himself a steady girlfriend, without giving up on the one true love of his life.

- Who knows… maybe in a few years even I will hold a little me in my arms !- Dom gets lost in his considerations, not disdaining that possibility at all..

Meanwhile Bing has found the ultimate victim: the small piano.

He begins to beat the drumsticks with force and a frantic rhythm, trying to hit every key he encounters in no particular order.

Needless to say, it just emits an unbearable cacophony.

Matt looks at Dom and he sees pride in her blue eyes. “My son is a genius and has created a new instrument: the pwums or the dwiano!”

 “Matt, be consistent, this just can't be called music!” Dom complains, plugging his ears. “But, you know, this is giving me an idea, do you trust me?” ------------------------------------------

And since Matthew blindly trusts his beloved, the next day Dom shows up at the Bellamy/Hudson house with something very special.

The time to build it and in a short time Bing is faced with mini drums, similar in all respects to one for adults, with drumsticks more within his reach.

It goes without saying that the child is beside himself with joy, he sits down, starts hitting every part of it and doesn't stop for hours.

Fortunately for the neighborhood, the room is completely soundproofed.

Matthew has to accept it: his son will probably never become a guitarist or a pianist. -It doesn't matter, I can always pass on my good taste in clothes to him!- the handsome pianist does not lose heart.

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

Famous last words.

The following afternoon the two musicians scamper through every children's clothing store, with Matt getting excited every time he finds some shirt or onesie with aliens or sprinkled with glitter or both, and Bing crying his head every time his dad tries to make him wear something like that.

Among the many items on offer, Dom grabs a shirt with images of Spiderman on it in various attack positions and Bing waves his hands enthusiastically, a sign that that will be the winning purchase.

There is a sector that separates them from the cash registers and it’s the one of toys and stuffed animals.

Matthew gets excited when he sees a giant banana that can even be peeled off, pulling various zippers up and down.

“Bing, don't you also think it's the most beautiful toy in the universe? It also smells like banana! It's soft, it's giant and it's super bananish!” Matthew waves it in front of him but mostly tends to hug it to himself.

Bing doesn't even look at that thing, but reaches out for a small stuffed leopard.

Matt glares at Dom.

"Bells, look, I have nothing to do with it!" The handsome drummer gets defensive, and then turns to the boy. “Hey, little champion, you like this big cat's specks, don't you? I like them a lot too. So uncle Dommeh is gonna buy it for you,” he decides, grabbing the puppet with one hand but taking with the other the giant banana that Matt reluctantly decides to put back on the shelf. "And we pass this off as another toy for you, but we all know who I'm really buying it for!" he adds, earning an enthusiastic grin from Matthew.

Leaving the shop, Matthew seems lost in thought, while Bing has fallen asleep in the stroller.

Dominic leaves him silent throughout the journey, but when they arrive at the frontman's house, he can't hold back any longer.

"Will you tell me what's wrong, Bells?"

“I was thinking… Bing is blond. He loves the drums. He likes Spiderman. He also seems to love leopards… aren't you and Kate hiding from me that he's actually your son?”

In response, Dom bursts out laughing.

“Oh please, Matteh, don't be silly. Bing couldn't be more like you!”

Matt looks at him puzzled, confusion making his blue eyes a little darker. The fact that he's so narrow-minded at times only makes him all the more lovable to Dom.

“And why do you say that, Dom?”

“Because Bing is exactly the same as his father: he can't resist me!” the drummer rejoices, taking advantage of the walls that now protect them from prying eyes to reach out to him and give him a kiss.

"Like father, like son!" chuckles Matt, much more relieved now. “Well, you know, Bing's nap usually lasts more than an hour…”

“Uhmm… and listen, do you have any ideas on how to pass the time?” Dominic looks at him seductively.

“You, me… and the giant banana!”

--

THE END

Notes:

hope you enjoyed it, but I'm getting sadly accustomed to slience… :'(

[dannyboyzone]

Why these Lookism Bad Guys are liked, a rant by me

Alright, so I have came across a post talking about how Johan is hated on despite being a "bad person", and trashing other characters for absolutely no reason other than guilt tripping people. I personally think the post is immature, but due to my own personality and mental state, it has still got me kind of pressed, because it all sounds ridiculous. This post will be about some people in Lookism that are viewed as a bad people and or are hated on, and why I think they are liked. I won't speak for everybody liking these characters, and it will include some characters that I hate. This post is just to give a general idea for people who are really ignorant about why some characters might receive love. You might have come across that post, and if not, I am talking about this one below. - Well, only a small part of it, that threw me off. -

I didn't include the person's username out of respect and also so they don't feel attacked or anything of the sort.

Before starting this off, there are a few things I would like to say. If I sound petty, I truly don't care. I never saw anybody hating on Johan, at max maybe give criticism, I also don't hate Johan or try to disvalidate anyone's feelings, just get some things straight. Liking someone's looks does not immediately mean you are attracted to them, neither does liking the person's look you are attracted to mean you are toxic. It means you are loving. If you like someone's personality, you will find them beautiful consciously or subconsciously. If someone finds a character handsome, it is not a crime, people have types and preferences, and if they do it's none of your business. Hating good looking people doesn't make you woke, neither hating on people who are attracted to good looking people. What are you, Crystal Choi? And yes, people will be attracted to looks, it's a normal human act. People will notice if they find someone more attractive or unattractive which is not a bad thing. What is a bad thing when they start treating people different because of it. I assure you, most of the lookism fandom that I have came across doesn't do that.

This post will not include Seong Yohan because I never saw him get hated and I don't think nobody knows where he is coming from.

Samuel Seo

Yeah, so what seemed to be a surprise for me is that not a lot of people like Samuel, or at least understand why the people liking him would. Now, I personally feel no romantic attachment towards him. - Which is yes, normal, even if he is fictional. It's called fictophilia and I better see no judgement about it. - However, I do love Samuel a lot, and would love to care for him and grow a strong bond. To me, Samuel is not a monster. At all, believe me, Samuel isn't liked only for his looks. For me, personally, I love him so much because I can relate to him. I absolutely hated him at first, but grew to love him because he is human. He is complex, has a hard life and isn't perfect. That's exactly why I love him, and someone else I really adore does too. Yes sure, as you grow to like someone's personality, you find them handsome and or pretty. It's so much easier to say someone is pretty than to say, 'Hey, I love this person because they helped me go through so much.' Not everyone has the same love language, not everyone is comfortable with blunt affection. Besides, Samuel can and will achieve anything he wants. He has SO much sides to himself, not just 'good looking violent guy with big tits'. That's not Samuel at all. Besides, if PTJ oversexualises him, it's hard to not notice his body.

Yes sure, Samuel hits women, but I personally, don't f%cking care. Your vagina doesn't define if you deserve violence or not, your behaviour and the person's you face personality does. I am personally someone that doesn't mind violence as long as the person deserved it, because some scumbags in this world do. If they happen to be a woman, that's not on me, they shouldn't have done whatever they did. If you are not a violent person, I am not even sorry to tell you this, but you are probably sexist. It's not like all women are fragile and unable to get hit. Besides, if his violence is the problem, why is it fine that he hits men? Because men can handle it? According to statistics women have a higher pain tolerance. By your logic, you should call him out for hitting anyone in his way. Stop acting like hitting women is a necessarily bad thing, start saying that hitting innocent people is a bad thing.

If you must hate on him, maybe use the fact that he killed his abusive and neglective parents. Don't give a hard time to others for liking him though.

Ahn JongGun

Does Gun seem like a bad guy? Absolutely, he has done some horrible things. Then why do we like him? Because he seems to have a smaller character development coming, he has so many things to him and he is an absolutely incredible and complex character. I am very curious of his background and what caused him to be so violent and yet so calm. I like him because he allows himself to be human. From his religion, to his knowledge of material arts, to his adoration towards Vasco's material arts teacher - I forgot his name, so excuse me for that -, to his attention to details, to his fashion sense, it all makes him human. It's nice to see someone be a human, instead of just 'hot guy' or 'villain'. He is a nice character that brings many depth to the story. I could list a hundred of reasons why I love him, and no, none of it is his "weird" fashion sense. I do find him incredibly stylish, I just think some people in this fandom don't understand fashion. - Oops, I guess. - My main reason to liking him is that he is most likely either bisexual or pansexual. That he has a crush on Daniel. I might seem like I have a weird fetish or something, or that I am a crazy "fangirl". That's not the case though. I am a part of the LGBTQ+ community, and while not huge, I adore the hell out of the representation. It's nice to see such a smart, elegant and powerful guy be the representation. Because he is a character that's not there simply to be gay and full of stereotypes. Like, no hard feelings if you fit into stereotypes, but as a person who doesn't fit into them, it's a refreshing thing to see someone that's allowed to have many sides to himself other than just 'the gay friend'. Of course I am sure there are a lot of people who have many other reasons to love him, like his endless knowledge of material arts. There is so many reasons to be interested in his character, and just because you can't see it that doesn't mean others are blind to it too.

Yeah, he might have slept with countless women, but the main reason you can't count it is because he never stated the amount of women he slept with, neither did anyone else. Sure, he did say that Daniel is better than any women he ever slept with, but for all you know that could have been 3. Even if, it doesn't matter. He could have slept with 3, or 70 women. It doesn't matter, because not everyone's sexual life will reflect your own. And other people's sexual life is none of your business. Sure, you can say it's only fiction, and that I am overreacting, but when it comes to such small or personal details, people tend to put their own personal view into it. It's really not fine to shame others for their sexual life. As long as he uses protection, and didn't make anyone pregnant and doesn't play with the feelings of anyone, who gives a f%ck.

Some people tend to lash out sexually if they experience trauma or stress, and no, I don't mean they go and r%pe people, I mean that they go and have sex with different people who give consent. Even if he doesn't do it because of that, why does it bother you so much? Sex isn't a disgusting act. Some people like it, some people don't. Whatever their decision is, as long as no one is hurt, you should respect their decision.

Kim JoonGoo

Alright, this got me f%cked up. Goo is such a good character, and no way he would ever cheat on his S/O. He has morals and a lot of good sense in himself. Sure, he might have said that Samuel will be his secret friend, which led OP to believing Goo would cheat, but that's... a terrible reason, in my opinion. Gun knows that Samuel works for Goo, and Goo owns up it too. Besides that, nothing, absolutely nothing would lead to the fact that Goo would cheat. Because he wouldn't.

Now, why do I like Goo, and why some other's might like him too. He is such a well put together character, unpredictable yet so simple. He damages people to a point they have to retire, doesn't get scared of murderer, is a money maniac and hates his boss. You would think, he is dirty and fits the "gangster" stereotypes. That's not the case at all. He is more hygienic than most of the characters of lookism, if not the most hygienic one. He hates drinking and smoking, doesn't have tattoos - not that there is anything wrong with that - and is incredibly patient.

He might be a money maniac sure, but his ability to control money so well the way he does just shows how high his IQ is. I find that amusing, since it's something hard to do. What I completely love to the moon and back about Goo is his creativity.

When he gets into fights, he is patient and maybe let's himself get hit a few times. That's a good thing because he has time to learn about what he is facing. I think that's neat, because not a lot of people think about that during fights, and he taught me to do that. Also, the way he harms people is very creative too, no matter how harsh that sounds. He stabs people with chopsticks, kicks people with a glass piece stuck in his shoe and harms people with a katana. It's all so unpredictable yet fits him so well. I really love the way he fights and handles situations because it tells so much about him. Also, he is so fun, who would do karaoke after beating a bunch of guys unconscious? Only your one and only Kim JoonGoo. He is such a fun person to study and to read about.

So, no, I will not put up with the bullsh%t that he would cheat on his s/o, because he is a very respectful and none judgemental person. Just because his fights look violent to you, and his friendship with Gun unstable, that doesn't mean he is a bad person. It just means he is different from you, and yeah, he does f%cked up things, I won't deny that. That's exactly what makes him an interesting character.

Xiaolong

Now, I personally don't like Xiaolong that much, so this will not come from heart, but a place of logic. For a disclaimer, I am not caught up on the latest chapters, because I want to binge read it.

Now, even though I do not like Xiaolung, I can see why other people would.

He is a responsible person, who takes good care of himself even though he has to look after Vivi 24/7. He is not only good in his job, but takes it very seriously too. He isn't afraid to take action to make sure his job is going smoothly, and that everything is on it's place. He would do anything to protect Vivi, which can be appealing to some.

And from what I saw from spoilers, he is very strong. No, admiring his strength does not make the person toxic or fragile. It means they find the place in their heart to appreciate the type of struggle and hard work he puts into it. He has an unique way of fighting, which I could only see a small portion of. However it's clear that he must be impressive. I completely understand if people find that neat.

Also, Xiaolong seems like such a f%cking loyal person. That's so incredibly important. A lot of people can find that appealing, for various reasons. I am aware there are poly people, or anything similar to that, but loyalty is so important for some people and can form a very deep sense of love.

Yeah, he might take care of Vivi when she is drugged and let her get away with drugs but consider this that's his job. He is payed to do that and swore to do his best in it, as it's very important to him.

Outro;

Yeah, I don't care, like who ever you want to and defend them, but if you drag down other characters and guilt trip people because of liking specific characters, you are not going to be "woke" or special. And I will find you, and e a t you. - For legal reasons, that's a joke. -

That is not the only post that I saw shame those characters and people who like them, but is the one that made me messed up.

This fandom absolutely loves shaming people if they love the character design and looks of their favourite character. Let me tell you something though; You are missing the point of the whole manhwa you are reading.

Finding people attractive and beautiful is completely normal. Treating them differently because of that is not. As far as I am concerned, I never saw any lookism fans hate on characters they find less attractive. - Rather on the attractive ones. -

People have a type and that applies to looks and personality. Literally everyone does, even if it's unconsciously.

If you want your favorite character to get more love, don't make other people's comfort characters look bad on purpose, because in their eyes they aren't simply the bad qualities you see in them. And if you highlight them at least make sure they are true or at least reasonable bad qualities.

Well yeah, that was my little rant. And I didn't even mention the psychological aspects of why each character is like, or in other words what people they might attract. Or, the difference kind of personal life experiences people had to go through to appreciate each kind of little detail about the characters.

Yeah, this is the end of my little rant. If this post will get actual mature answers and discussions, I will make a similar one for Vinjin, Logan, Olly and Jiho. Yeah, I hate all of them, but other people might not.

END

[wtffundiefamilies]

This is from 2013, but holy hell I hope Anna finds it.  Entirety of the post beneath the cut; it’s both long and not something people should read with no warning.  But I wanted to copypaste in case the link goes down one day.  It’s insane to me that these “little details” and “clues” are obvious and screaming red flags to people raised in a normal world.  (And no, looking at legal porn is not a “red flag” that someone is a child molester.  But, like...again, given the circumstances I’m not sure what we’d expect; we all saw what Jessa said.)  It’s part one of a series, and it’s amazing just how much this dude sounds like Josh.  And how much their “courtship” sounds like Josh and Anna’s.

Part of my mission, my purpose in life, is to educate others about child predators.  I’m not here to stir up some kind of crazy hype, but to present the facts and to give you a bit of insight as to what happened in my own life.  How was I so blinded to the fact that for forty years I was living with a practicing pedophile?  How did I not see the signs?  How did I not pick up on something being very wrong with the man I married?  

The truth is that I sensed something was wrong even before we got married, but I didn’t listen to my inner being.  I didn’t pay attention to those nudgings that something was wrong.  Why?  Because as a Christian it had been taught to me from little up that people who went to church were good, honest, moral people.  I was taught to trust people who said they believed in God and followed His teachings.  And, I did just that.  I was, unfortunately, one of the most trusting women who ever walked the face of the earth!

Pay attention to this, please!  Just because a person tells you that they walk by the teachings of God does not mean it’s true.  In fact, the word of God warns us against “wolves in sheep’s clothing”, and I learned first-hand just what that meant.  But, it would be years before my eyes were totally opened to this fact. As a bit of background information, I came from a broken home.  My parents divorced when I was fourteen, a sister of mine died when she was thirteen, my mother was an alcoholic, and my father was by today’s terms a “dead beat dad.”  Needless to say, I longed for a different life, and I prayed constantly that God would send a good, righteous, faithful Christian into my life so that I could build a home on godly principles and a firm foundation.

I worked hard all through high school so that I could go to college.  But, I didn’t want to go to just any college.  It had to be a Christian college because I sincerely believed that was the only place I would ever meet a Christian man to marry.  Because I worked so hard all through high school, I earned a four-year scholarship to a four-year state school.  BUT, you guessed it!  The idea of finding and marrying a Christian man was so ingrained in my heart and mind by now that I passed up the scholarship and instead went to a very small, two-year Christian College.  Little did I know that this one decision would lead to so much heartache for me and for those who are most special in my life — my children.  While it’s true that we can’t see around every bend in the road, there are signs and signals along the way.  I didn’t pay attention to anyone who tried to talk to me.  One thing was on my mind — finding a Christian mate!

Every person wants to feel special, and longs to be told that they stand out among all of the rest.  During the summer between my first and second year of college I met a young man who was articulate, bright, funny, witty, and who also told me that I stood out.  He was spending the summer at college and so was I.  A friendship developed, and even though I was engaged to marry someone else, this young man worked very hard every day to convince me that I was with the wrong person.  He pointed out all of the flaws of the man whose ring I was wearing until he finally convinced me to break off the engagement.  That’s a story in and of itself — maybe I’ll share that with you another day.

What was a bit strange to me was that the man I would soon marry had a quiet control over me like nobody ever had before.  Even though I had low self-esteem I was used to making my own decisions and being very independent.  For the first time in my life I found I was reporting my every move to this quiet, shy young man. He told me I was special.  He said out of all the girls on campus I was the only one that he thought was pretty and was a true Christian.  He told me just what I wanted to hear.  It was the word “Christian” that nailed me!  I knew he was the one I had been praying about since my youth!

One of the greatest stories my now ex-husband loved to tell was how he spotted me from across campus and said to his roommate, “See that girl?  I’m going to marry her.”  This was totally absurd because at the time he said that we had not even met!  He later told me he would hide and watch me — study me — and he knew my schedule, when I was going to eat, when I’d walk back to campus, when I would go to work.  He said, “I knew everything about you.  I knew where you were from morning until night. I knew I would marry you.”

Instead of being freaked out and thinking this guy was some kind of stalker psycho, I was flattered.  “He chose me.”  Out of all of the girls around, he chose me and that again was more evidence of answered prayers.  Deep inside, though, was a gnawing feeling that something wasn’t right.  He didn’t talk much.  And, for a man who said he loved God, he made fun of people in a mean way.  He mocked people’s insecurities.  Yes, you guessed it!  He mocked me on several occasions and I felt like a piece of dirt he had stepped on.  He made fun of the size of my nose.  He made fun of my feet calling them “hammer head toes.”  He made fun of the space I have between my teeth.  I cried myself to sleep many, many nights, but still……..he was a Christian man, and he was so nice when we were together in public.  He opened the car door for me (it was my car, by the way).  He paid the bill when we went out to eat and left a nice tip.  (It was my money that he used.)  He talked me into giving him my car (which I had since I was 16) and I found myself asking him for permission to use my own car.  This was really weird!

Why did I put up with it?  Why does anybody put up with abuse?  Because they’ve been so used to being beaten down that they think this is the norm. Please, please — if you’re in a situation like this run for your life!!!  This is NOT the way a good relationship works!  And, it’s a red flag indicator of many other problems — in my case, it was a big red flag that I was being masterfully manipulated.  Groomed to be the wife of a pedophile who was already deeply involved in porn and child sexual molestation!  

Learn to listen for “clues” that a decision you’re making might not be right.  I had BIG clues that I passed off as “odd”, “not making much sense”, “silly”, or “not that big of a deal.”

Clue 1:  For the last four months we dated, my fiance was in Israel doing overseas study.  We corresponded by letter only.  We were to get married less than one week after he arrived back in the states.  In his letters he would write to tell me how he would hide behind the grasses on the beach and watch girls changing out of their clothes and swimming nude.  He said he’d skip class and stay there all day.  In other words, he was openly telling me he was a “peeping Tom.”  This was a test of how far he could manipulate me and I passed with flying colors! I never questioned him about it.  Oh, I cried lots, but I never questioned him!

Clue 2:  He told me while we were dating that he and one of his cousins spent the summers together and they would steal cartons of cigarettes from stores and sneak out of the house at night and smoke the cigarettes and look at “porn” all night long.  Another test!  I looked at him quietly but never questioned him.  If you want to know the truth — I didn’t even know what porn was!!!!!  I had to ask my college roommates.  Again, I was being tested.  Could he get away with doing things right under my nose?  Sure he could. I’d never question a man of God!

Clue 3:  He was almost 21 and his favorite job was to “babysit all the little kids at church for free because he loved to give them baths and powder their little butts.”  I’m totally sick now as I write these words.  Why in heaven’s name didn’t I run from this man? There were so many clues that something was wrong, and I passed them off as being a little odd.  Nothing more — just a little bit odd. In fact, I actually thought this was kind of nice.  I never saw my father get involved in parenting like that, and I thought, “Wow!  This man will make a wonderful father!”    

Porn.  Lying.  Peeping Tom.  A young man who loves bathing and powdering little kids.  Masterfully manipulating.  Gaining the trust of adults. (Church people loved him babysitting their kids!)

I was another one of his victims.  I was being set up. I was being groomed  I would be the perfect alibi for his continued evil behavior.  He was calculating.  He studied me.  He used me.  He used my faith as a means to get what he wanted.  He knew what he was doing! His actions were no mistake.  He worked very hard to plan every detail.  

Listen up everyone!  Please don’t do as I did!  If your gut is telling you something is wrong, it probably is!!! Pay attention to the little details and the little voice that is whispering something is wrong!!!

This is just the beginning of my story.  I will share more in the weeks to come in hopes that others will not be blinded to the facts as I was.   We must get educated about child sexual molesters so that we can protect life’s most precious blessings — our children!

Why am I sharing the ugly, sad parts of my life?  That’s simple.  Because children are beautiful.  Children are precious.  Children deserve to be protected.  Statistics (according to information found here ) tell us that 1 in every 3 girls and 1 in every 6 boys are molested by the age of 18.  Please help me to stop this!  Let’s get educated!  Let’s do all we can to make it incredibly difficult for the molester!  Let’s be vigilant on behalf of our children — at all times!!!

Every child should have the ability to grow up feeling safe and loved and whole and pure!

It isn’t easy or comfortable for me to write about this, but I must.  I must take this terribleness and do something positive with it.  I must work for the safety of our children. Thanks so much for stopping by and for taking the time to read this.  Thanks even more for making yourself more aware of what is going on right under our noses — in our schools, our churches, our camps, our homes.  Let’s do all we can to work together to make this a safe place for our children!  

Love, Clara

[lilyofthestyx]

Fighting For Tomorrow: Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Still haven’t bought AOT but I’m working on it! 

AN: this. is a doozy of a chapter- i know. lots. and lots. and lots of words. but DAMN if i didnt love every part of it. however! if you guys prefer smaller chapters please please please dont hesitate to say something. seriously. id love to write you guys more frequent, smaller chapters but if you guys like the longass, slightly infrequent chapters then they shall continue. just say the word bby. also i felt kinda poetic in some of these sections so if you see reader gettin fancy with her verbage, don’t trip. that was my bad. 

Reiner x Fem!Reader, eventual Captain Levi x Fem!Reader, Sasha x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 10k (i finished this at 2 am today before class and nearly passed out at the sight ‘10,008 words’ when i pulled up my word counter. CH-YOW this a big boy)

TW: gore/blood/violence/death, adult language/swearing, slight PTSD, mental anguish, self-harm, grief, nightmares, insomnia, hysterics, horse accident

You can read parts one, two, three, four, and five just by tapping the lovely numbers!

   The flames crackle and rage before us, engulfing our comrades’ bodies in scarlet and gold waves. 

   Engulfing Marco’s body. 

   Jean had found him. Just… laying there. Up against a building. No one had seen him die, no one knew how he died, just that he did. Marco- our comrade, our friend... my friend- just gone. Taken from us. There was no valiant deed. There was no heroism. There was no triumphant story. Nothing. He just… died. 

   And that’s the worst part. 

   He was taken from us and no one knows how. No one knows why. 

   Marco was one of the first comrades I got close to. We were competitive- always fighting to outdo each other. I’d train two hours, he’d train three. He’d pass the ODM test after four tries, I’d pass it in three. Back and forth, back and forth. 

   But if we faced something bigger than us- if there was an exercise we couldn’t quite pin down, if there was another Cadet giving us problems, if one of our squad members were injured- we’d always come together to beat it. It was always like that. 

   He was like my little brother. 

   I scoff at myself. They all are like my younger siblings. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Connie, even Annie and Bertholdt. They’re all family and losing Marco… it was like losing a brother. 

   I did lose a brother. 

   My brother is among the flames- being turned to ash before my eyes. Marco is gone. Taken from me. Robbed from me. From everyone. His intellect, his kindness, his leadership. All of it gone. Taken from humanity. 

   We’re just kids. 

   Marco was just a kid. 

   All of us- bright-eyed kids wanting to do our best for humanity. To take back what was stolen from us. To serve humanity. We didn’t know how much hate, how much horror was waiting for us. To watch our comrades- our family and friends- be torn apart in front of us. To lose the ones closest to us in unspeakable carnage. 

   All we wanted was to do something for humanity. 

   All Marco wanted was to do something for humanity.

   He was just a kid.

   Tears are streaming down my face as we all watch the flames consume the bodies of fallen soldiers. I can hear the crackling of wood, feel the heat on my skin. But the crackling is distant and the heat is faint. My chest feels empty and cold. 

   I lost Marco. I lost Hannah. I lost Franz. 

   And I’ll never get them back.

   But I’ll be damned if I allow anyone else to be taken from me. 

   The Commander roars and rages before us, engulfing us in his words. They burn and singe like fire as they cross the Cadets’ ears. I can hear them whispering among themselves- asking if he’s serious or if he’s crazy or already resigning themselves to the Garrison. 

   It doesn’t matter what they say. 

   I’m joining the Scouts. Commander Erwin’s words are a comfort, a pleasant yet caveat warmth. Like a candle sitting beside a curtain. I know what I’m signing up for. I’ve always known. But it doesn’t mean I’ll be giving it all up now. 

   “I’ve made my decision.”

   My eyes turn away from the Commander, landing on Reiner’s form beside me. His gaze is still stuck on the Commander, back straight and shoulders squared. I turn my gaze back to the Commander- not wanting to be chewed out by a commanding officer for not paying attention. “...really?” I ask quietly, “Where are you-?”

   “The Scouts.”

   My eyes are back on him. “What?” I hiss, “Reiner, you can’t... throw away your shot at the Military Police- you worked so hard, why would you-?”

   “Eren was right,” he says quietly. I can feel his chest fill with breath before he chuckles. “They don’t need our skills so far away from the walls. They need us where we’re at use- where the people are.”

   “Rei, please, please,” I whisper, “Please don’t do this.”

   “Why not?” Reiner chuckles again, “You want me gone?”

   “It’s not like that,” I shoot back, “I just…”

   “You just what?”

   “...I don’t wanna lose anyone else.”

   “...you won’t.”

   “You can’t know that… I’m already worried about Eren and Armin and Mikasa- if I have to worry about anyone else-”

   “You don’t need to worry about me, darling… Because we’re going to get through this,” I can feel his finger graze the side of my hand before his hand takes mine. “Together.”

   A shaky exhale leaves my mouth as I close my eyes. “...together,” I whisper as shivers run down my spine.

   “That’s right, darling.”

   “...those who wish to join other divisions are dismissed.”

   Shuffles of feet scurry past me as I remain. I can feel their gazes, their judging glares and confused looks. They mumble to themselves. ‘Insane’, ‘crackpots’, ‘suicidal’, ‘deathwish’. Nervously, I swallow and grip Reiner’s hand tighter. 

   I can feel his smile. Proud and bright like the sun. Warming like the sun. Relaxation smoothes out over my skin as I soak it in. 

   I’ve done it. Finally. After years of fighting and hoping and wishing and dreaming about this very moment, I’m here. 

   The crowd clears out and a scattering of us remains. My eyes dart to each of the figures in the hopes of identifying my fellow crackpots.

   Reiner. Armin. Mikasa. Bertholdt. Ymir. Christa. Sas-

   My heart stops. 

   Sasha. Connie. Jean. 

   What the Hell are they doing here?! They were supposed to join the Military Police. They were going to, weren’t they?! Why are they still here?! Why aren’t they walking away? 

   At the very base of my stomach, something churns. Quickly and violently. 

   I think I’m gonna be sick. 

   I’m already going to be looking out for Armin, Eren, and Mikasa- I came to accept that long ago- but now Sasha? And Reiner? Connie and Jean, too?

   Most of everyone I’ve ever loved has just signed their hearts and bodies away to the Scouts- to nearly certain death. 

   There has to be a way to change their minds, right? There has to be. 

   ...but there isn’t, is there?

   They heard the statistics. They know how many have died in the Scouts. They know all the facts, all the dirtiest of details. 

   And they stayed.

   Gods, why did they stay?

   I’ll drag each of them out of here by their ears, kicking and screaming, if I have to. I already lost Marco and Hanna and Franz. I don’t think I could take losing them, too. 

   But if they truly want to- if they know the risk and want to dedicate their hearts just like I am… why would I stop them?

   I should be proud. 

   They’re- we all are- dedicating ourselves to the better future humanity deserves. To the eradication of Titans. To the freedom we all hunger for. 

   “Very well!” Commander Erwin’s voice booms out over us. “I welcome you- the newest recruits of the Scout Regiment!” His fist slams against his chest in a tight salute, “This is my real salute! Dedicate your hearts to the cause!”

   The group moves as one as we all strike our fists to our chests. 

   My eyes glide from the Commander to Sasha once more. 

   She’s shaking. I can hear her stifled sobs from here. 

   But she remains firm in her spot. 

   She’s made her decision. 

   And I can accept that. 

   I lay awake. Moonlight flickers through the window- inching towards the other side of the room. It’s late and I’m exhausted but even when I am, I can’t sleep. There’s too much screaming in my head. Too much gore. Too much carnage that I can only barely remember. The only things that do remember are my heart and lungs- hammering and pounding and stretching to the fullest in the wake of whatever nightmare slinked back into the recesses of my mind. 

   Reiner stirs in his sleep and wraps his arms around my waist. Tucking me into him, he sighs and buries his head into my neck. “...can’t sleep?” he mumbles. His voice is deep. Deeper than usual, with a gentle rumble to it. 

   “No,” I whisper back, shrinking into him.

   “Wanna talk about it?”

   I stay silent. No. No, I really, really, really, really don’t want to. Talking about whatever bothers me is like pulling teeth. It feels like a burden that I’m casting onto someone else. And with Reiner… he’s burdened enough already. He’s everyone’s big brother. Everyone’s confidant. He shoulders responsibilities and punishments for others- never once thinking about himself. 

   But he’s exhausted. All the time, exhausted. And he’s so good at hiding it. Even around me. But I can see it. The way his golden eyes go hazy at times, the way his shoulders sag and the way things slip his mind. The way he can become an entirely different person with terrifying speed. 

   It scares me how much I think he carries. Because when he breaks… it’ll be cataclysmic. 

   Reiner’s lips slide up my shoulder and neck, pressing gentle kisses against my skin. “...well?”

   But maybe he’ll open up to me if I take the step first. Maybe I’ll show him that there’s nothing to worry about- that I’m not going anywhere and that he can talk to me about anything. Everything. 

   “...I’ve… I’ve been having nightmares.” 

   His kisses stop where they are, lips still pressed to my skin for a moment before pulling away. His grip on me gets tighter as he pulls me closer. Reiner lets his head rest in the crook of my neck and sighs. “...what about?”

   I laugh quietly, letting my fingers trail against his forearm. “...I don’t remember most of them but… there is one that comes back… every now and then.”

   “I’m listening, darling.”

  Slowly, I take a breath. My eyes close as I remember the details of the dream. “...it always starts off the same… I’m in a throne room and there’s a person at my feet. Sometimes… it’s a woman and other times it’s a man and other times, I can’t tell which, but… there’s always someone at my feet,”

   “And they’re always crying,” I whisper, eyebrows drawing together and I grip his forearm. “Sobbing and pleading for mercy. A-...And I…” My voice quivers as tears start to flow from my eyes. “I… just… I don’t even know, I just… I see this… light- red light- come from their eyes and they just… they convulse and thrash around for a moment- screaming and crying and begging- before… before they…,”

   “...before they die at my feet,” I whisper brokenly, eyes open and staring out into the distance as the scene replays. “And when they finally die… I look up… and there’s… corpses. Thousands upon thousands of corpses, Rei… All piled up on top of each other and in writhing rigidity. As far as I could see- there were bodies- and… and somehow I know that… that I… I had… somehow I know that I was the one that killed them all.”

   “I’m your squad leader, Ness,” the man before us states before clapping a hand onto the horse towering beside him. “And this! Is my horse, Chalet…” 

   My eyes drift away from him, blankly settling on the various horses in their stalls behind me. I’ve tuned him out… I should probably listen to whatever he has to say. But… I’m so tired. Another night of staring at the ceiling while listening to Reiner snore and watching Bertholdt contort himself into a coil across the room. 

   I don’t know how many sleepless nights I have left. 

   My body lurches forward slightly as someone nudges me from behind. I turn to face whoever it was. Jean is towering over me with a smirk on his face as he pretends to be watching Squad Leader Ness. “...what the hell was that for?” I mutter, facing forward.

   “You were falling asleep again,” he chuckles quietly, “Another… late night?”

   I scoff and shake my head, “You’re a child.”

   “You didn’t say ‘no’.”

   “No, Jean,” I hiss, “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

   I can feel him deflate slightly behind me. “...oh…”

   “Yeah.”

   “...I get them, too.”

   “I really hope you don’t.”

   Connie, standing beside me, scoots closer. “What’re we talkin’ about?”

   Jean answers at the same time as I do. “Sex.”

   “Food.”

   Connie’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he risks a glance at me. “...huh?”

   I sigh and roll my eyes, “We were talking about-”

   “Did someone say ‘food’?” Sasha whispers excitedly behind me. 

   I sigh and roll my eyes again. “You three are-”

   “Hilarious.”

   “Your favorites.”

   “Really hungry.”

   Groaning softly, I shake my head at their responses. “Gods… I thought Armin, Eren, and Mikasa were a lot… then I had to get you knuckleheads thrown in, too.”

   “Now!” Ness states, looking significantly more disheveled than he did a few minutes ago. Adjusting the bandana around his head, he huffs and stands up straight. “Follow me and I’ll show you to your dorms- and then you’ll be introduced to your horses.”

   He walks off, leading us between the stables and the looming walls of the castle. My eyes trail up the crumbling stone- plants and vines and flowers managing their way through the cracks- and over the rolling hills dotted with trees. Sunlight floods the stone courtyard, basking us all in its warmth.

   It reminds me of home. 

   Not Shiganshina- but of the modest cottage in the forest. I smile to myself, watching Sasha bother Jean with Connie’s help just in front of me. I remember playing with her in the trees. We made and marked that forest. There isn’t a tree in that entire forest we haven’t carved up with arrows and knives or with the undersides of our shoes as we climbed their roots and limbs. Sasha would be afraid at first- of foxes or wolves or falling or tripping. But as soon as I took her hand and led her to the sunlight, to the tops of the trees, to the very breath of the sky… she’d always hunger for more. To go to the brightest spot in the forest, to climb the highest tree, to scale the steepest cliff. 

   My smile starts to fade slightly. 

   She’s even more afraid than she used to be… did I cause that? Does she even remember? She was young when I left… Does she remember when she scraped her knee and told her that she was now one with the forest- that its blood was in her and her blood in it? Does she remember that first tree we climbed together? Does she remember the nights we would run barefoot around the dew-covered clearings in the heart of the woods with no light to guide us except that of the moon? Does she remember what it was like to not be afraid?

   Will we ever get to go back…?

   The group stops. Ness smiles at us and points down the hallway to our left. “Down this hallway are the boys’ rooms,” he points to the hallway to our right. “And down this one is the girls’.” He chuckles and turns back to us. “There is… one other thing.”

   Uh oh. 

   “There’s only one bathroom.”

   I stifle a groan. It’s a goddamn castle. How in the walls is that even possible- one bathroom, my ass.

   “Well… only one that’s in good enough shape to be used, anyway. ‘sides the officers’ bathroom...” Ness admits, a sheepish smile growing on his lips as he rubs the back of his head. “You’re welcome to fix up the other ones, though! ...although, I think you’d need help…” Ness continues muttering more to himself than anyone else. 

   One bathroom. Unbelievable. I growl under my breath as Ness marches us back out into the courtyard. You’d think Captain Shortstack would be all over the renovations of this place- bathrooms included. 

   Whatever. It’s not like I shower when everyone else does, anyway. There’s always a possibility I could sneak into the officers’ bathroom like when we were in training… And there was that river...

   “I can see you already coming up with a plan,” Sasha appears next to me, lowering her voice. “What’re ya thinkin’?”

   I laugh softly, nudging her arm with my elbow. “Nothing regarding food.”

   Sasha pouts slightly, “Fine… then what’re ya thinkin’ about?”

   “Just plannin’ my way into the officers’ bathroom.”

   “Oooh,” Sasha laughs maliciously. “Do you think they’ll have hot water?”

   I sigh, closing my eyes and imagining the steam and feel of hot water cascading down my body. Hot water was a privilege in the Cadet Corps. ...one that was constantly being robbed from me. I’d mostly show up after everyone had already showered, praying that maybe I’d have even a moment to myself to unwind- and to not be stared at. And nearly every time, I bathed in freezing cold water. But there were a few times where I’d be wrapped in steam, delicate streams of hot water warming my frigid body. 

   ...now that I think about it, those ‘few times’ were whenever Reiner would wake me up early to get in the shower before everyone else.

   “Gods,” I mumble, looking at Reiner as he walks with Bertholdt and Annie. “I really hope so, ‘tato-muncher.”

   As if he felt my gaze on him, Reiner turns around and smiles. I return the smile with a scrunch of my nose. Reiner’s eyes glide behind me for a second, returning to me before darting back behind me. I turn around to follow his gaze. 

   Eren. 

   Eren runs straight for us, green cape flaring out behind him as he charges towards the group. Our eyes meet and his pace increases. My hand latches onto Sasha’s sleeve and tugs, “‘Tato! ‘Tato, look!” I laugh, slapping Connie’s shoulder. “Look who it is!”

   Connie and Sasha turn around and I can hear the others turn along with them. Armin and Mikasa greet him first, taking him into their arms and speaking quietly amongst themselves for a moment. When they break away, Eren’s smile widens as he looks over us. 

   “...you’re all here?” he asks quietly, smile slightly fading. “You all joined the Scouts?”

   “Well, yeah,” I laugh, “Why else would we be here- shits ‘nd giggles?”

   Eren rolls his eyes before scanning over us again. “Wait… if you’re all here… That means Jean, Marco, and Annie all joined the Military Police.”

   My heart plummets like a rock into my stomach. That’s right. He wasn’t there for the funeral. He doesn’t know. 

   The remaining section of our group walks up behind Eren- Jean leading them all. Eren turns around and groans. “Not you, too.”

   Jean doesn’t react. His face unreadable and voice flat, he rips the bandage off. “Marco’s dead.”

   “...what?” Eren mumbles, “What did you just… What’d you just say? Did you say Marco died?”

   Jean’s voice stays still as he continues.

   “Seems like not everyone can die a dramatic death.”

   “You don’t think it’s weird?” I laugh, picking up a section of hay and starting back towards the stable. “We know everyone, every thing’s position in the formation except Eren’s- arguably the most volatile and important piece of information to have. That isn’t the least bit confusing to you?”

   Reiner shrugs, taking the hay from my hands. “Dunno… I haven’t really thought about it.”

   I huff and shake my head, stepping in front of him and taking the hay back. “I can carry it,” I mutter, looking at the ridges growing in his face. “And by the look on your face, you have been thinking about it.” I turn around, lifting the hay over the stable door and onto the growing pile just beside my horse. 

   My horse nudges me with his nose, huffing. I smile and rub my hand up and down his nose, “...needy, aren’t we?” I whisper softly. 

   “Ya gonna give him a name?” Reiner asks, patting his hand against the horse’s neck. 

   Peeking down under the horse’s neck, I squint up at him. “You didn’t answer me.”

   Reiner rolls his eyes and walks away, sighing. “You didn’t ask anything.”

   “I asked if you were thinking about why we weren’t being filled in on Eren’s location in the formation.”

   “Technically, you didn’t ask,” he shoots back. 

   My eyes lock with his in an intense stare. “...we really gonna do this right now?” I ask quietly, still petting my horse.

   Reiner sighs and looks away, running a hand through his hair. I turn back to my horse, letting my forehead rest against his cheek. Reiner sighs again. The three of us stand in silence- only my horse breaking the silence with occasional huffs and flicks of his tail.

   “...I have been thinking about it,” Reiner finally mumbles. “But… not like you have.”

   Here we go again with him being all cryptic and skittish and avoidant. I am so sick of this game. 

   “Then how have you been thinking about it, Reiner?” I hiss, lifting my head off my horse and looking into his large grey eye. “All the time- just when I think you’re gonna open up to me about what’s going on in that…” I sigh frustratedly, “That… that… stupid, thick, adorable, blond head’a yours you just… you shut me back out again. And it’s so goddamn irritating, Rei,” I admit with a slight squeak in my voice. 

   Slowly, I turn to face him, gaze dropping down to the ground. “...I’ve been… I’ve been so open with you. More open than I have with anyone in my whole life- except, I dunno... Sasha- but I just… It’d be nice to have some’a that returned.”

   I can hear him get closer to me. Gently, his arms wrap around me and tuck me into his chest. I’m swallowed in his embrace as he runs his fingers up and down my back. “...okay,” he whispers, “okay, darling… I’ll… I’ll try and open up to you, okay? I’ll…” he trails off and sighs, tightening his hold on me as he places his chin on the top of my head. 

   “I know how hard it is, and… I… I’m not trying to force it out of you or anything… I just… I want to help you,” I whisper quietly. “And I promise you, Rei...I’m not going anywhere.”

   There’s a coldness in his laugh. It leaves his lips like ice and falls to the floor like daggers. “Thank you, darling. Just…,” Reiner takes my shoulders, pushing us apart. His gold eyes have slightly lost their luster as they peer deep into me. I squirm slightly in his stare, eyebrows furrowing. “You have to understand that there is a lot happening- something... bigger, darling.”

   I blink and tilt my head slightly to the side.  “Did you… did you get another assignment?” I ask quietly, “Something under the table?”

   Reiner is quiet for a moment, eyes flicking between mine. “...yes. Something under the table- from people higher than the Captain.”

   My eyes widen slightly. Is this what’s been weighing on him for so long? That’s why he’s been missing at times? What he’s been trying to tell me? Another assignment that he can’t talk about, even with me-

   Oh gods. 

   I feel like a total ass.

   “Who…?” I ask quietly, taking note of the way he straightens up to scan around us before shrinking back down. 

   Reiner scoots us back, tucking me up against the stable door. “I… I can’t tell you but… you understand that, right, darling?” He asks hopefully, a small lilt to his voice. Gently, his fingers trail my face and a small smile crosses my face. His lips mirror mine. 

   “I understand that, love,” I hum, leaning into his touch. “I do… I do have another question.”

   Reiner smiles wider, lovingly staring down at me. “What is it, darling?”

   Nervous claws at my stomach. 

   I shouldn’t ask this.

   Why? He’s finally being open with me- willing to at least tell me what’s wrong. Shouldn’t I-

   No. There’s something bigger here. Don’t. Ask. 

   “__________?” 

   I swallow my fear and meet his gaze. “...I heard you the night after the first clean-up operation,” I admit quietly, “with Annie and Bertholdt.”

   Reiner’s eyes darken, dropping down and avoiding my gaze. “...how much did you...?”

   “Not much,” I laugh nervously, “Just you guys arguing about telling me… and Annie saying to only tell me when you’re sure of how I’d feel.”

   With a sigh of relief, he closes his eyes and smiles. He quickly presses his lips to my forehead. “Okay, okay… Okay… Sorry, I just… I don’t need t’get... chewed out for that.”   I chuckle softly, “So… that big’a deal, huh?”

   Reiner laughs, “Yes. That big of’a deal.”

   “...so… it’s you, Annie, and Bertholdt,” I mumble, picking at the leather strap running down his chest. “Anyone else that I know?”

   “No, just us three.”

   “Am… am I in danger?” I ask jokingly, “All this secrecy- it makes me wonder.”

   Reiner doesn’t laugh with me. 

   “Rei?” I call, looking up at him. “...am I?”

   His eyes slide down to me, a small smile on his lips. “...stick with me, darling- I’ll keep ya safe.”

   “...what?”

   “There’s a lot at work here, __________,” Reiner sighs, his eyes going hazy for a second as he relives whatever is ‘at work’. Blinking, he focuses back on me. “But I can keep you safe. I’ve been keeping you safe.”

   What does this even mean? Are there people I can’t trust? If that’s true, then what? What am I supposed to do? Be some tiny little doll cowering in fear behind him? I hate being treated like some weak, fragile, defenseless thing. And what if he gets hurt protecting me? What then? What if something goes wrong and he ends up being blamed for something he didn’t do? 

   And what about Sasha? 

   “...what about my sister? What about her? Who’s gonna keep her safe?” I ask, clutching the fabric covering his chest, “If anything happens to Sasha, I…”

   “Nothing’s gonna happen to Sasha,” Reiner hums quietly, “We’re gonna keep her safe.”

   “And Eren? Mikasa? Armin? What about the boys? If any of them get hurt, Rei, I just… I don’t think I could…”

   “__________,” he says firmly, catching my attention. Slowly, my eyes slide up to meet his again. They’re gentle and glowing in the fading sunlight. His hand trails down my face again, leaving a buzzing wake behind it. 

   “You need to trust me.”

   I swallow and nod quickly. “Okay, yes, okay… Okay, you’re right. We… We are all gonna be okay.”

   Reiner chuckles and lets his chin rest on the top of my head as he tucks me into his chest again. 

   “That’s my girl.”

   “Oiii!” I yell, waving a hand over my head. “Ponytail!”

   Eld’s head starts swiveling around, looking for whoever called him. With a gentle kick of my horse, he trots closer. “Eld!” I call again, sliding off the side of my horse. My feet hit the dirt just in front of him as I straighten up, shaking a few stray hairs out of my eyes. “It’s good to see ya again.”

   Eld smiles and chuckles, gesturing down to the emerald green cape around my shoulders. “So you made it.”

  I look down and rub the fabric between my fingers. A smile crosses my face as I look back up to him. “Just like I dreamed I would.”

   “You’re in pretty high spirits,” Oluo scoffs as he walks by with a supply box. Setting it down into a wagon, he huffs and turns to face us. “Considering we’ll all be facing death in a few hours.”

   “Always the charmer, huh?” I mutter quietly, earning a small laugh from Eld. “And if you have t’know, I’m just happy we’re one step closer to going outside the walls…” I smile to myself, imagining the places Armin used to talk about. Fire water, ice hills, saltwater that goes on for so long even the merchants couldn’t drain all the salt from it. 

   I think that’ll be my favorite. ‘Sea’.

   Oluo scoffs again. “Bright-eyed, suicidal recruit… Just don’t get someone else killed, will ya?”

   “What the hell’s that supposed t’mean?” I snap back. 

   Oluo smiles crookedly, realisation splitting his face like a piece of china. “Struck a nerve, huh?,” he laughs, “Better get rid of those if you wanna make it.”

   “Bold talk for someone that’s too insecure to keep his own personality,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. I turn my attention back to Eld- who’s gone awfully quiet as the two of us went at it. A blush is back on his cheeks and I can see him fidgeting with his gaze in an effort to mind his own business. 

   “...uhm…” He mumbles as his eyes catch someone walking behind me. “This is Petra!” Eld blurts, tugging a woman by the arm. “The one that checked on you when you were, uh… asleep.”

   “In a coma, more like,” I laugh, dipping my head to the woman. She has ginger hair cut just above her shoulders and soft, kind eyes. There’s something about her that reminds me so much of a deer for some reason. 

   Petra’s eyes suddenly light up as she looks over me again. “I remember you- you’re __________! I didn’t know you had your heart set on the Scouts. Which is surprising… considering how much Eld talks about you.”

   Eld’s face goes even redder. He stands rigidly, eyes fixated on the horizon. 

   ...I think he just went into shock. 

   “Well, thank you,” I hum, giving Petra another smile. “For checking in on me.”

   Petra shakes her head, “It wasn’t any issue at all.”

   I dip my head again and lightly punch Eld’s shoulder. “Hopefully you told her the story of how I kicked your and Oluo’s asses.”

   Petra tilts her head slightly to the side before a wicked smile crosses her lips. “...I don’t think I’ve heard that one, __________. Please, tell me.”

   “Well, I was walking down an alleyway when-”

  “That’s good!” Eld suddenly yelps, “Thank you so much, __________, for stopping by, but the Captain’s calling us!”

   Petra giggles as Eld walks behind her, pushing her by the shoulders. Captain Shortstack Jackass is watching them with his arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows furrowed. He very obviously didn’t call either of them. “You’ll have to tell me when we get back!” Petra calls. 

   “Of course!” I laugh, watching as Eld goes even redder. Petra waves over his shoulder and I do the same before mounting my horse. I give his neck a gentle pat and urge him forward- back towards the stable. 

  “You... need a name, Horse,” I mutter as we trot past the various wagons and other Scouts getting their horses and gear ready. “All horses have names… I guess.”

   Horse huffs at me. 

   “Well… you’re…” I look down at his coat as we start to pick up speed. It shimmers in the sunlight, revealing the faint speckles of black and grey under his cream-colored coat. “You’re cream and you’ve got freckles. And last I checked, you have grey-” Horse looks over slightly at me, light-brown eyes glistening. “Sorry… brown eyes. And black mane and tail.”

   My eyes flick up, locking onto the figure standing just a few feet in front of my horse. Gripping the reins, I tug back to stop Horse from trampling whoever is in front of me. Instead, I feel myself being shot forward and colliding with the ground. Pain shoots out from my arm, branching out in heated flashes. 

   I roll onto my back and stare up at the clouds as they lazily float by. “Gods…” I mutter to myself, “That sucked.”

   “Told you I’m better at handling horses than you.”

   I sit straight up. My head on a swivel, I look around for the voice. It sounded just like… It couldn’t have been- no. No, I’m just-

   My eyes land on him. Standing just a couple feet away, with a green Scouts cape on over his shoulders and ODM gear strapped on. He laughs, walking closer and shaking his head. “Jeez, __________, you’ll really get yourself killed if you keep trying to keep up with me.”

   “Freckles?” I whisper.

   Marco smiles and laughs again, “Really hit your head hard, didn’t you?”

   “Freckles?” I whisper again, reaching out to touch him.

   This isn’t real. It can’t be real. He’s dead. Bit in half. Died alone. Left in the sun to rot for days. He’s dead. 

   “Ah, jeez, you really did hit your head hard,” Marco mumbles, crouching down beside me. “We gotta get you to Sasha. She’s got some experience with injuries, doesn’t she…? And I won’t even tell Reiner! It’ll just be between us, okay?” He asks, worriedly scanning my face. 

   “Freckles, you… You… You aren’t here.”

   “What are ya talkin’ about? I’m right here, remember? We were practicing horseback riding and maneuvering. Don’t you remember the bet we had?”

   Wait a moment.

   This was real.

   This… this happened already, why am I…?

   “...it was my haul from the Commandant’s office,” I whisper, “The… the fountain pen. You’d… you’d take it if I couldn’t pull off a sharp turn and activate my ODM gear while jumping off my horse.”

   Tears start to cloud my vision as I stare up at him. “You aren’t really here,” I croak, “Are you?”

   Marco shakes his head.

   “...I miss you, Freckles,” I smile, tears slipping down my face as I look up at him. My hand brushes through his cheek- like he was a colored mist- but his smile remains. “Gods, I miss you.”

   “You’ll see us again.”

   I nod, feeling my tears start down the sides of my face. “...tell Franz and Hanna I said ‘hi’.”

  “I will.”

   “And you… you stay outta trouble, you hear me?” I laugh, tears choking me at the base of my chest. 

   “You’re the one that needs to stay outta trouble.”

   I nod and laugh again, shaking my head.

   “...take… take care’a the others for me, will you?” I nod silently. Marco looks up as Horse trots closer. “It’s time for me to go. Just… close your eyes, okay?”

   My eyes slide closed before voices start to swarm around me. Bleeding into one another, it makes it so damned hard to hear what anyone is actually saying. All I can do is feel. 

   And someone’s got me by the shoulders, shaking me pretty damned hard. 

   I open my eyes to see familiar faces. “...I’ve got to stop waking up to you guys looking down at me like I’ve died.”

   The four of them sigh. 

   “If you die because of a stupid horse incident, I’ll never forgive you,” Jean mutters, getting to his feet and walking away. I can hear him muttering about ‘how stupid’ of a funeral that would be. 

   “What?” I laugh, wincing at the pain shooting from above my left eye. My fingers graze the spot- only to pull away with a scarlet coloring. 

   Ah, shit. 

   “So,” Reiner grumbles, scooping me off the ground effortlessly. “You and your horse have a bit of an issue?”

   I scoff, curling into myself as my head starts to pound. 

   “No?” He asks as we walk towards the castle. “Then what the Hell kind of stunt were you tryin’a pull?”

   “I-,” I stop and groan, clutching my temples as they begin to sear. “I… I thought… I thought I saw someone.”

   Reiner looks down at me as he pushes the castle door open with his back. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes flicking over every inch of me. It’s the same damn look as every other time I’ve gotten hurt. Which… arguably… is a lot of times. 

   The ODM incident where I almost cracked my skull open on a tree branch. 

   The time I slipped and fell in the bathroom. 

   The sparring training where I cracked three of my ribs. And my arm. And dislocated my shoulder. All because I wouldn’t yield.

   The rooftop. 

   The grocery store. 

   Various little minor accidents scattered throughout.  

   And now this.

   We round the corner and he places me onto a bed. I watch as he runs a hand down my face and sticks his head out the hallway to look around before returning to my side. Reiner sighs. “What am I gonna do with you?”

   “Love me,” I hum, closing my eyes slightly as the pain throbs and squirms beneath my skin. “Unconditionally.”

   “Gods,” he mutters, scooting closer. “I probably will.”

  “Probably?” I ask quietly. “Not ‘most definitely’?”

   A deep sigh passes his lips. It rumbles in his chest like thunder. Calming, soothing, gentle thunder. Memories of the forest running to find shelter as another storm took us by surprise. Bare feet padding the grass. Clothes sticking to our skins. Hair plastered to our faces- much like our smiles. Wiping her face as she ducks behind my arm. Telling her that the forest was telling the sky a joke, that the thunder was the sky’s laughter. Watching her peek out to watch the forest and sky talk, laughing as she swears she heard the punchline. 

   Does she remember what it was like to not be afraid?

   “Hey,” Rei mutters, shaking my arm slightly. “Don’t go to sleep on me yet.”

   “...sorry,” I mumble, opening my eyes and letting them glide to his spot beside me. “Where is she-”

  The door slams open. Sasha- with eyes wide and clutching medical supplies to her chest- pants in the doorway. “Did I make it?” She asks wearily. 

   “Did…,” I trail off, sitting up to look at her. “Did you think I died?”

   Sasha shakes her head, kicking the door closed just as Connie and Jean try to walk in behind her. “No,” she mutters. Plopping down beside me, she looks over me. “Just thought maybe you’d passed out.”

   “Check my eyes,” I remind her. Sasha nods and leans in, forcing open my eyes with her fingers. 

   “...your eye-holes seem to be fine.”

   “...my pupils?”

   “Eye-holes. Same thing.”

   I know Sasha’s joking but by the look on Reiner’s face, he does not.

   “She’s only kidding, love,” I whisper as I take his hand. “She knows the basics.”

   “Yep,” Sasha agrees, digging through the pile of medical supplies she brought in. “And you don’t have a concussion- and that thing on your head doesn’t need stitches- it should heal in a week or so... so you’re good to go after I clean it… ha!” She snatches a bottle of saline and a bandage. “You’ll be all good in no time, __________. Trust me.”

   I’m the one that taught her. Why don’t I trust her?

   “You awake?”

   I focus back in on the now. The present. My surroundings. 

   Scattered trees and hills to the right. Denser trees on my left. Two horses trailing behind me. No flares from either direction. Reiner just in front of me. 

   “Always am.”

   “Good.” He starts to pull back on his horse, levelling off with me. “How’s your head?”

   Instinctively, I reach up and graze the bandage. “I don’t feel anything.”

   “Good.”

   “...are you okay?” I ask, looking over at him. His skin is pale and flushed pink with a slight tinge to his ears. “Here. Drink some.” Unbuckling my flask, I hand it to him. 

   ...and he downs the entire thing before handing it back to me. 

   “Rei, are you sick?”

   “No, I just-”

   “Well, love, you look like you’re either about to shit yourself or vomit,” I laugh worriedly, “Are you sure?”

   “__________, listen, I…,” he sighs and looks away. He’s even more red now. 

   I nudge him with my elbow. “I’m listening.” I smirk, stirrupping Horse again. My eyes turn to the horizon, scanning for any flares or anything that approaches us.

   Reiner returns my smile and sighs shakily. “I wanna-”

   Something appears in the distance. “What is that?” I mumble, staring at the thing. “Do you see it?” I point. “That.”

    Reiner looks at the thing, squinting. “I… I can’t tell.”

   “Should we fire a flare off?” I ask, reaching to my saddlebag. “Just in case?”

   “Just… hang on-”

   He stops just as the thing changes form, moving closer towards us and faster. 

   It takes shape as it grows. Fourteen meters, blonde hair. 

   Female body type.

   My hands move on their own- throwing the canister into the gun, lifting it straight up, and firing. Red smoke fires out from the gun into the clouds. “Rei, we have to move!” I yell, turning the horses in towards the center of the formation. 

   I look over my shoulder, watching the two horses trail after Reiner. He stays going forward, heading right for it with glazed eyes. “Reiner!”

   My eyes follow his gaze as I bring Horse to a stop. They land on the Female Titan, who snatches something from mid-air and dropkicks it. Blood trails after the broken body and I watch ODM wires disconnect from the Female Titan’s body- following the body. 

   It’s… is it like Eren? A person inside it?

   “Reiner!” I scream again. 

   It gets his attention. Snapping out of his daze, Reiner makes a sharp turn. 

   As he gets closer, I press my heels into Horse’s sides. “Ha!”

   Footsteps follow after us, thundering and quivering the very organs inside of me. My breath catches in my lungs as I feel it- her- getting closer. Gods. Gods, please. Not like this. Not like this. Not like this. Not like this.

   Something flashes at my side. With trembling force, a foot lands beside me- crushing one of the horses before it could even make a sound. 

   We’re going to die. Right now, we are going to die. 

   I wince, waiting for her to reach down and crush me in her hand. Reiner yells something but it’s lost in the frantic whinnies of our horses, the pounding of my heart, the panting of my lungs. When it reaches me, it’s blurred together like the colors in my eyes.

   ‘I’ve gotten hurt’ is what it sounds like. 

   Gods, please. Spare us.

   My fists clutch the reins as I look up. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fourteen meters. This is what will kill me. 

   The Female Titan’s other foot collides with the earth beside me. All at once, sounds and colors and shapes retract into their determined forms. Everything flushes back into focus as the Female Titan takes another step away from us. I watch as she continues sprinting towards the center- leaving us in her wake. Her head turns to look over her shoulder before she presses forward. 

   Right to Armin.

   “Rei!” I yell, sticking Horse again. “She’s gonna hit Armin! She’s headed right for him!” 

   “C’mon!” He yells back, appearing at my side.

   “This is the job we chose, right?” Jean snaps, “So lend me a hand!” 

   The rest of us are silent. Only hoofbeats and footsteps resound around us. Silently, Armin pulls his hood up over his head. “...pull your hoods up. Over your heads- far down enough so she can’t see your face.”

   “You’re thinking she won’t kill anyone that could be Eren,” Reiner mutters, tugging his hood up over his head. “...that’s a nice, but small, consolation… Let’s hope she has bad eyes, too.”

   Jean shakes his head, laughing. “I was always creeped out the way you used to hang around Eren so much,” he mutters as he pulls his hood up. “But I always knew you were capable.”

  “...‘creeped out’ is a little harsh but thanks,” Armin mumbles.

   Feeling the three pairs of eyes on me, I tug my hood up as well. “...I always knew I’d die next to you three bastards.”

  “Well. If we don’t,” Reiner chuckles, “We’ll throw a big party ‘nd get married.”

  “Oh yeah,” I scoff, pulling my swords out from their holsters. “We’ll have a big ol’ buffet ‘nd everything. I’ll even have a live band play for us.”

   “You two lovebirds over there still squawking?” Jean barks, leaning forward to glare at us. 

   “Will you shut up for a minute?” Reiner shoots back, “I’m… Kinda doin’ something.”

   “You can ‘kinda do something’ after this!” Jean yells, “We’re not dying today.”

   “Fine!” I snap, “I’m not spending my last moments fighting with you two morons! Let’s just do this. Delay her as long as we can- by any means necessary. Got it?!”

   The three grunt in agreement. “Jean, go to her left,” Reiner starts, “Armin, you go to her right. __________, you-”

   “I’m going with Armin!” I whip my reins and follow after Armin as he heads to the Female Titan’s right hand side. 

   We level off just behind her. “She’s much slower than when she attacked me!” Armin comments, “If we’re going to do this, it has to be now!”

   “Wait for Jean!” I yell, “He’s the best out of us with ODM gear. If he can get a good angle on her, it’ll be us being his support!” 

   A flash shoots out, launching into the Female Titan’s leg. Jean flies in behind it with his swords readied. The Titan crouches down and spins- flinging Jean. Armin and I get to our feet and stand on our horses’ backs. As my wires stick into the Female Titan’s leg, I give Horse a tap of my heel that sends him running away from the Titan. 

   Something swipes just under my legs. Everything around me slows as I watch the Titan’s hand bat Armin’s horse out from underneath him. His name leaves my lips the same way it did when Shiganshina fell. Breathless. Screeching. Desperate. “Armin!”

   “__________!” Reiner’s voice carries out over my own. 

   Before I can do anything, I feel something crack against my back. I’m pushed forward- colliding with the earth and rolling for a few feet. Landing on my back, I stare up in a daze at the clouds. 

   Aching pain crawls through my veins- igniting my muscles in throbbing, squeezing pain. My back arches as I take long, hard breaths to stop my heart from pounding in my ears. It does nothing but amplify the sound as I feel my lungs burn and the cages around them scream in agony. 

   Broken ribs. At least a few on each side. 

   Certain slices and patches of my skin burn from the contact with the ground. Minor scratches, bruises, friction burns.

   I’ll live. If she doesn’t finish me off. 

   Time begins to speed up again- her footsteps not taking so long to hit the ground as they get closer. Clouds seem to flurry past and my heartbeat begins to race once more. 

   The fight isn’t done yet. 

   I push myself to my feet, feeling every ache, every pain, every burn a million times over. 

   The fight isn’t done yet. 

   I’m not done yet. 

   The Female Titan tightens her fist, preparing to swing backwards at Jean. Breaking out into a sprint, I click my triggers and shoot my wires into the ground, allowing me to run faster. A blur of gold and green starts towards the Titan as I do- catching me attention so I stutter and stop. 

   Reiner. 

   Teeth gritted, eyes blazing, blades glinting.   He’s going for her nape.

   Armin’s yelling something. The Titan stays completely still as he continues screaming. 

   And then she snaps. 

   She catches Reiner’s body in her hand. 

   My heart stops. Blood stops. Lungs stop. 

   Everything. 

   Stops.

   “...no.” 

   Chills run down my spine- dull and weak. Nothing like adrenaline. 

   Fear.

   “No… no.”

   I shake my head, watching as Reiner’s body disappears in her grasp. 

   Someone grabs my waist, tugs me away. “No!” I scream, thrashing around as everything starts to move again. “No!” 

   “__________!” Jean yells, pulling me away. “We have to go!” 

   A blur of metal spins out from her grip, severing her fingers off from the base of her palm. Reiner pushes out and around her back. Grabbing Armin, he sprints away from her and towards us. 

   The four of us break out into a sprint as she stares down at her palm. She gets to her feet and runs away from us- her hand still steaming. 

   Something breaks inside of me. Tears start running down my face as Reiner sidles up next to me. Armin- bleeding from his forehead- is in his arms. Titan blood evaporates off of Reiner’s hair and shoulders as he looks down at me. “We’ll be okay! She won’t eat us unless she’s a cannibal! We-”

   I cut him off, punching his shoulder as hard as I can. “Don’t you ever pull that shit again, Reiner Braun!” I snap, furiously wiping the tears rolling down my face. “I swear on the walls, I… I will kill you myself if you do, do you hear me?! You scared the shit outta me! I… I thought I lost you.”

   Reiner laughs breathlessly. “I told you, darling. We haven’t gotten married, yet. I can’t die until that happens.”

   “We aren’t leaving anyone behind,” I snap, tightening Armin’s bandages. “None of that, you hear me?”

   “We might not have a choice,” Armin mutters, “If we all stay behind, we might all-”

   “I said no!” 

   The three of us go silent as Jean continues whistling for his horse. 

   But the question still hangs in the air. 

   Who’s going to stay behind?

   There’s only one horse- there’s four of us. If somehow one of us gets our horse back, we’ll be able to get out of here but until then… We’re stranded in Titan country without a means of escape. 

   “We have to talk about it,” Reiner says quietly. 

   “No,” I get to my feet and shake my head. “No. We don’t.”

   “__________-”

  I hold up a hand to stop him, “Don’t.” Turning to Jean, I gesture to his bag. “You have an emergency flare, yeah?”

   Jean nods and gets it out, loading it into his gun. Shooting it into the sky, purple smoke trails up from our location. 

   It’s a long shot, but they might get the message. 

   “We can wait three more minutes,” Reiner says firmly. “During then, we’ll decide who’s gonna-”

  “I’ll stay.” My head snaps to Armin. “Just get a message to the command section- to Commander Erwin, if you can.”

   “I’m staying, too, then.”

   “__________, no-” Reiner starts. 

   “I don’t want to hear it, Rei,” I mumble, “Please. I don’t… I don’t want to hear it but look. We’re both injured. Armin’s got a possible concussion and he’s bleeding. I’ve broken half a dozen ribs and I’ve got more bruises than I know what to do with. If anyone’s staying it’s-”

   “Neither of you,” Jean laughs, “Someone’s coming this way with three horses.” The three of us look over to him as he shades his face from the sun. “I think it’s… It looks like… Christa!”

   “Guys!” Christa’s dainty voice rings out as she approaches, “Are you okay?!”

   I huff a laugh, “Define ‘okay’, blondie!” 

   “If __________’s still cracking jokes, she’s still alive, right?” Christa laughs, coming to a stop just in front of us. The three horses surrounding her skid to a stop. 

   Horse trots up to me, nudging me with his nose. “Hey there, Horse,” I mutter, pressing my head against his. “Ya miss me?”

   “What happened to you guys?” Christa asks as she looks over me. “You look awful.”

  “Aw, gee, thanks, blondie,” I giggle, “I feel awful.”

   Christa’s soft face tightens slightly in concern. “...you’re sure you’ll be okay riding alone? Your horse… I dunno his name… but he seems to run alongside me pretty well- even without a harness.”

   “Yeah, that’s him, alright,” I mumble, rubbing Horse’s nose. “But I think I’ll be alright.”

   “...I’m with Christa,” Jean says warily, “You broke six ribs.”

   “What?!” Christa screeches. “Six?! No, ma’am! You’re riding with me or with Jean! Six ribs- what were you thinking?!”

   I shrug. “I’ve done worse.”

   “Worse?!” 

   Oops. Shouldn’t have said that.

   Christa sighs, pinching her eyes closed. “Fine. The past is the past. I can’t change it. But you- right now- are going to ride with Jean or me. Pick one.”

   “Yes, Your Majesty,” I mumble with a smirk. “I’ll ride with you. Give the boys a little show, how ‘bout that?”

   Christa turns a light shade of pink as Reiner helps me sit on top of Christa’s horse. “You behave,” Reiner mutters with a stern look. 

   But I can see it. 

   A little mischievous smirk plays his lips as he pulls away. 

   “Yes sir,” I coo, “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

   The four of us start off towards the center. “What’s your horse’s name?” Christa asks. “He really seems to like you. Before, I couldn’t get him to hold still- then, when I said your name, he calmed down and followed us perfectly fine.”

   “...I just call him Horse.”

   “...oh…”

   I sigh and turn around to watch as Horse gallops. Cream-colored coat hiding thick muscles that twitch and writhe. Dots- freckles- that spatter his coat. His black mane whips about in the wind. 

   “Freckles,” I say quietly. 

   “What?”

   “Freckles. That’s his name.”

   I groan, letting my head fall back as my legs swing off the tree branch. “Rei, we’ve been sitting here for hours and you haven’t said a word to me,” my lip juts out in a pout, “Please talk to me.”

   Reiner grumbles under his breath. His arms cross over his chest as he sits on the farest end of the tree branch away from me. 

   “Baby,” I whine, “you aren’t still mad at me for-”

   “Yes, I’m still mad at you for being a tease. And we’ve been out here an hour. Hour and a half, tops.”

   “Tch,” I groan again, “Baby, it was just a joke. I didn’t mean to drop my ring.” I hold my hand out in the sun to look at my moonstone ring as it glistens. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

   “...you dropped it three times before we got up here.”

  “I would never do anything to tease you.” Reiner raises an eyebrow and I roll my eyes. “On a mission.”

   Rei’s shoulders lose some of their tension. “...you really didn’t mean to?”

   “Of course not, baby,” I coo softly. “Not on a mission.”

   Reiner sighs and rolls his eyes before getting to his feet. Wordlessly, he plops down beside me and lays his hand over mine on the branch. “You only call me ‘baby’ when you’re guilty,” he murmurs into the shell of my ear. “...so I forgive you.”

   “Oh good, you caught on,” I tease, nudging him with my elbow.

   “Easy, there, girl,” he huffs, “you’re still on thin ice.”

  “You can’t stay mad at me,” I turn to face him and flash him a face-splitting smile. “I’m your darling.”

   “...you’re right,” Rei laughs softly. “I could never.”

   The two of us fall into a comfortable- buzzing with adrenaline but still comfortable- silence. I lean forward to look at the Titans gathered at the base of our tree, clawing and gripping the bark in an attempt to get to us. Hungrily, they salivate and stare up at us with glazed eyes.

   The Female Titan. Why is she doing what she was? If she’s human, wouldn’t she want the walls to remain? They keep us safe for the time being. The outside world isn’t ready for us to break down our walls. And if she does want the walls gone, why? 

   And who is she?

   “...are you listening?”

   “Hm?” I ask, leaning back. “No, I’m sorry, I was just…,” my eyes flick down to the Titans, “...lost in thought.”

   “I was just asking how your sides are.”

   My fingers rub against my sides. They aren’t sore, they don’t hurt. I’ve always healed fast but knowing how long it’s supposed to take to heal sometimes, it’s… a little disconcerting. “I don’t feel anything.”

   “...you’re better already?”

   I shrug, “It could just be adrenaline. Or maybe they weren’t as badly broken as we thought they were. Bruising and breaks are really similar…”

   Reiner hums in acknowledgment. “As long as you feel okay. When we get back, I’m still getting you checked out.”

   “Yes sir.”

   I lean over the side of the branch to see the Titans again. “It’s strange that we weren’t directed around the forest.” I comment quietly, leaning over more before my ODM wire locks into place.

   “...Iyeah,” Reiner mutters, “Why wouldn’t we just go around?”

   “I dunno,” I strain, slightly jiggling the wire a bit. “But do you think it was on purpose?”

   “It’s Commander Erwin,” Rei chuckles, “Of course it was.”

   “That’s true… I just… It’s so hard for us to see threats coming in,” I grip the wire and tug harder. “So why send them in?”

   “Assuming he knows of the right flank casualties, we should’ve retreated a long time ago,” he mutters, “But we’re here and the center flank is somewhere in the trees.”

   “Which is also weird, right?” I ask, yanking on the wire even harder. “I mean, if we are gonna go in, why not-”

   The wire snaps out of the branch. The force of me pulling sends me over the edge of the branch. I watch as the wire extends rapidly- reeling me down towards the Titans’ grasps. Reiner runs to the end, reaching out to grab my hand. 

   But it’s too late. 

   A hand wraps around my body and pulls, unlatching my ODM wire from the tree. It starts to tighten as it turns me around to face it. My eyes lock onto it and I scream, thrashing around wildly. My arms are pinned in its hold- trapped against the steel of my ODM blade holsters and the clammy flesh wrapped around me. 

   Another Titan stares at me hungrily. As I look at it, red light starts to pour from its eyes like fog. Without warning, it lunges. I wince and duck away- waiting to be engulfed in moist darkness. 

   It doesn’t come. It’s replaced with an unearthly howl of pain and the sound of tearing flesh. 

   The grip around me falls away and as I’m spun in a free-fall, I catch glimpses of the scene above me. Red fog pours from the Titans’ eyes as they all latch onto the Titan that grabbed me. Bite by bite, they tear into the searing flesh of the Titan and devour the steaming chunks of bleeding meat. 

   They’re… eating it. 

   The red fog. 

   It was real. 

   My body stops, swinging up before I hit the forest floor. As we land on another branch, Reiner hugs me to his body tightly. “You scared the shit out of me,” he says raggedly. I feel tears drip onto my shoulder. But I don’t look at him- even as he pulls away, gripping my shoulders. 

   My eyes are focused on the fog swirling through the bodies of the Titans.

   What the Hell is it? 

   Why does it keep following me?

   Why does it keep saving me?

   “...__________!”

   I’m pulled back into my body- away from the grasping hands of the Titans that force muscles and tendons and organs down their throats. Blankly, I stare at Reiner. “What happened?” he asks quietly, looking over his shoulder at the Titans. “Are you-”

   A scream rips out of my throat as I look down at my hands. My fingers start to rake through my skin, clawing for the source of the red fog. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get it out. 

   Get. It. Out. 

   Reiner’s hands fumble with mine as they try to stop me from continuing the hurried slicing of my skin. “Darling, darling,” he says calmly as he grabs my wrists, “Darling, hey, look at me. Look at me.”

   Wildly, my eyes fly around my surroundings. 

   Get it out. Red fog. Red fog. I have to get it out. I have to find it.

   Red fog. I have to get it out. 

   Red fog. 

   “__________!” Reiner snaps, shaking me by my wrists, “Look at me!”

   My gaze settles on him but I can feel myself twitching and writhing in place. 

   Red fog. 

   Get it out. I have to get it out. 

   “...you’re okay,” he mumurs, “You’re okay now, okay, darling? You’re safe.”

   Tears burst from my eyes, leaking down my face as I roll my hands around from my wrists. Trembling violently, my body falls to the floor. Reiner catches me before I fall, scooping me up under my arms and holding me to him. 

   “There’s something... inside of me,” I strain, keeping down the screams wanting to claw their way out. My nails rake his back- threatening to rip through the fabric. “There is... something inside of me, Rei. I don’t know what it is. And I’m so scared, Rei. I just… I don’t… I don’t understand it. I… I don’t know... what it is. There’s… There’s something inside of me, Reiner, please! Please, Rei! Take it out! Get it out of me!”

WHEW 

a doozy like i said. if you made it this far, i am so proud of you. my short attention span could literally never. as always thank you so much for reading and i hope to hear your thoughts and comments! 

[urmysilverlining]

Demons

- Your eyes, they shine so bright, I want to save their light

I can’t escape this now, unless you show me how -

“Mac, please don’t-”

Detecting your will to prevent Mac from taking that hard choice, Taylor held your arms and pulled you back away. 

“Leave me!” you wagged, with all your strength left.

Heat statistics were finally dropping. “What have you done?” you whispered, the same moment Mac pressed the red button.

No answer. You three just stood there: witnesses of the death of a good man who was just trying to do his job, in order to save the city and his family. Not moving his eyes from the screen until the very end, Mac half turned to you, lowering his gaze right after. Russ lose the hold on you, and you got close to the screens and those deadly buttons. But the “reverse” button wasn’t on that console.

“There had to be another way!” you burst out.

“Y/N, that was the only way-”

“It’s okay, Russ.” Mac stopped your British colleague with a little hint of his hand, then turning to you: “Y/N, if you want to fight me, if you hate me...I won’t blame you.”

Russ newly set it, trying to calm spirits down: “It was him or the city. It’s mathemat-”

You screamed: “Well, fuck math! When guilt of having watched a man dying without moving a finger will strike tonight, it won’t be math that’s going to help me sleep”

——————————————————————————

You lay your hand on the shower’s silver knob and turn it on. The warm water jet hits your skin as you close your eyes. 

The feeling of two strong arms rounding your waist, and pulling you in. Back against his chest, you rest your head on Mac’s shoulder. His breath caresses your neck’s skin as he whispers something that makes you smile. He can literally make you smile out of nothing. You look at him through your wet eyelashes, and meet his blue eyes. The same blue eyes stuck on that screen, so still, despite of being filled by tears.

You open your eyes with a gasp. When this job has become so complicated? You remember times of getting home to drink a beer with Mac and your friends around the fire pit. Evenings, holidays, birthdays filled by jokes and laughters. 

You close the water and get out of the shower. With just a towel wrapped around your body shape, you walk around the house, alone, in the darkness. You head for the kitchen, take a bottle of wine and drink a couple of glasses: the ultimate remedy to make you sleep since your thoughts had become more persistent. 

The bruise of the door opening and the light from the street get your attention. Mac leaves his keys on the little dish and walks in the kitchen, sure of you already being sleeping. 

He slightly widens his eyes seeing you standing there.

“Hey, you still awake?” 

Despite of you not having been the best in showing your affection lately, you still want Mac to find a caring person when he gets home. You’re tired of falling asleep alone and waking up to him sleeping on the couch. 

“Guess who couldn’t fall asleep without you by her side?” you speak softly, putting your arms around his neck.

He’s surprised by your reaction, but a genuine half smile shows up anyways.

You go on, joking: “I’ve heard you always coming back late from work these past nights. Has Matty been covering you with work or is it just you and Russ looking for conspiracy theories as usual?”

After a silent moment, he cautiously answers: “Since you seemed to need more space, I offered Matty to finish some extra work.”

“Well, if this means you doing crazy hour at work, I am not okay with it anymore.”

Mac spots a drop of water falling from your hair, and follows with his thumb its path down your neck, collarbone, shoulder. “You’re so beautiful. I don’t deserve you.” he whispers, kissing you where he started.

You breath out of relieve of that much needed contact. He grips the towel on your sides pulling you closer, as you cup his face moving down to the collar of his shirt. His hands run up your back, to stop below your nape, fingers locking in your wet hair. You kiss him fondly for a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

Detaching his lips from yours and giving you a corned look, Mac murmurs: “Have you drunk?”

“Just a couple of glasses before you got home” you state, without giving too much weight to that detail.

As you get closer for another kiss, he takes up the subject: “Why?”

“I felt really tense and I thought this could have helped us to relax” you caress  his arms, trying to keep a contact with him.

“Wow, I am such a fool. I really thought all of this came naturally. That you needed to be with me again.”

He walks towards his room, letting the distance between you grow.

Not being able to keep the true for yourself any longer, you explode: “It’s just, it’s just I keep seeing that man falling on the ground, dying under our eyes, again and again. The image on that screen is stuck on my mind. But I don’t want this to ruin everything between us.”

“Well, it already happened. You stopped seeing me in the same way after that day. You are barely able to look me in the eyes. I know that you blame me for that death...”

“I’m just scared this job could have changed us. I feel like I can’t move on, not yet, at least.”

Tears fall from your eyes as Mac answers: “You’re right. I’ve changed, and it’s wrong making you to accept what I turned into.” ------------------------------------------------------------

“So, how’s your relationship going? Have you managed to fix things with your partner?” 

“Pretty bad.” You answer your therapist’s question “I’ve tried to establish a connection with him, instead of keeping avoiding the problem, as you suggested me, but it didn’t work out very well. I feel like I ruined everything.”

“Why do you talk like this?”

“I had drunk, then we had a moment but he noticed it and thought everything happened just because I wan’t completely sober. But it’s not like that, I really wanted to be close to him as we used to. Then, I told him how I felt since we came back from that mission and he started saying I blame him from all that happened back then...” You massage your temples, closing your eyes and forcing you to breath in and out regularly.

“Y/N, it has been awhile now, and I’ve read all the files about your past missions multiple times...Could it be you can’t get over what your partner was obliged to do, because you still can’t forgive yourself for that one time you had to take the same decision by yourself?”

One tear fall from your eyes: “I had promised to myself that I would have never let that happen again...”

Before you can add other words, Matty breaks in the room: “Y/N, I’m sorry to interrupt your session, but we need you on the field, now...”

“O-okay” You discreetly wipe your tear and get up, nodding to your therapist and to your boss.

“They’ll explain you as you go. Now please take this and leave it in the war room.” Matty handles you a file and disappears in an office of the Phoenix’s base.

Once in the war room, you lay it on the small table and look for your bag to put away files from your past missions and your therapist’s report about the sessions. You’ll consign them to Matty after the mission. 

“Y/N, we need to go” Mac enters in the room.

“Yes, I just need to arrange some things” 

“Please, just do it later” he prompts you.

“Okay, but remember me to pick up these things before going home” you reply, leaving all the dossiers on the table and following him out.

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

Despite of the tiredness due to the long day and mission, you keep replaying the words of your therapist and the memories that they made surface on your mind, on a loop.

You get in the hallway and stand in front of Mac’s door. You raise your fist, ready to knock. Once done, you receive no answer. You change your mind multiple times, repetitively approaching the door and stumbling back, until you lower the hold and get in. You look for a sign from Mac, but he seems peacefully asleep on his side. Your gut tells you to go on, so you crawl on the mattress and lie next to him.

Rubbing an hand on his face, Mac asks: “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Checking you’re okay.” you whisper.

“I am. Good night.” He lets slide an arm under the pillow, and close his eyes.

You caress his hair, then his cheeks, noticing he cried: “I knew something was wrong. But I won’t let you face your demons alone”

“That’s not on you, Y/N. I made my choices and have to take the burden.”

“It was the right choice. I’ve always known it. I guess I wasn’t able to forgive myself for something I did much time ago, and seeing you doing the same was like history repeating without having the power to change things.”

“Y/N, I have to confess you a thing...”

“Of course”

“You left those files in the war room today, and then you forgave to recollect them, so I thought to bring them back home for you...I opened one of them to see if it was work related, and then I read they were about you having suffered from PTSD in the past and resuming therapy...I’m so sorry, that was so not me, but I wanted to know you were okay...”

“Mac, you don’t have to worry about me” you reply.

“So why you didn’t you tell me you were seeing a therapist? I’ve read you talked to her about us. I could have helped you. I could have come with you.”

“Mac, we haven’t talked a lot lately, don’t you think? It would have been unfair to let you know about my problems, seen what you were going through, too...”

“Okay, but why you never talked to me about that mission? The one you had to shoot to that girl?”

“I should have done it, I know. I should have let you know everything about my past, so you could have chosen if staying or leaving. It’s just, when I met you everything changed. It took me so much time to move on, that I wasn’t ready to share this with anybody. Relieve all the guilt, the pain...”

“I wouldn’t have changed my mind on you, even if I knew that.” he reassures you.

“Well, maybe I can tell you now...”

“You don’t have to do it-“

You interrupt him: “I want...Me and the team I worked with at that time were following a group of terrorists. Late teenagers brainwashed since young age, in order to make them enroll and commit crimes. We had been reported they would have attacked civilians on a public event. Once on the place, the situation escalated quickly. They have already hurt some people, my colleagues were able to separate and catch most of them, but it missed a girl. I was able to follow her and noticed she got a very dangerous weapon with her, one able to make way worst damages than what they had already caused to those people. As soon as I got her under fire, I shot to kill. The stakes were too high. I didn’t think about it twice. Just when paramedics brought away her body, I realised. If she only was born elsewhere, or met different people, maybe she would still be alive, she would have had a family... »

« So why do we feel so bad? It’s like I can’t go back to be the person I was, the person you loved. » Mac asks, resigned.

« The person I love is right in front of me. I love you, Mac, and nothing in this world will ever change that. »

« Neither me deciding who lives and who dies? »

“ You would have never done it, if there only had been another way. It would have been less painful for you to sacrifice yourself, rather than pressing that button. And your tears make a clear example of it.” “Yeah...”

“I wish I would have acted in your place to save you this feeling...” As you cup his face and kiss him, Mac takes you under his arm like you were his last and most important thing left.

“Do you trust me?” you wonder.

“With all my life.” he replies.

“Nothing inside of you has ever changed.”

[trillian-anders]

suspect - ii

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: descriptive violence, graphic descriptions of crime scenes, angst, slow burn

word count: 3.7k

description: au detective!bucky barnes x investigative journalist!reader;

still wet behind his ears, detective barnes is given his very first homicide case, a woman no one seems to care about had been murdered. it’s only when investigative journalist reader brings the small details to his attention that he realizes there’s a bigger problem. a serial killer no one was paying attention to.

He’d passed this diner a million times and had never gone inside. It was tightly packed between two buildings almost like it didn’t really belong. The bright neon sign above the door lit him blue as he stepped into the diner, eyes scanning the room until he found what he was looking for. Your back to the brick, typing away on your laptop. Coffee and an untouched slice of blueberry pie going cold next to you.

He didn’t know why he was here. Maybe he shouldn’t be. But how did you know? How did you know that Cheryl’s ring finger was taken? He had to at least absolve that, and then he could go. He could leave. That’s all he is here for. In the moments before you realized he was even there, before he takes a seat across from you, he takes in your appearance.

Windswept hair and wrinkled clothes he was sure were your ‘business casual’ a bare requirement for the office you worked in. But he knew you were attractive. Brock didn’t have to tell him that, he has eyes. The warning in the back of his head, he needed to keep his distance from you. He knows that. But he just must know.

You look up at him as he approaches, sitting back in the booth as he takes a seat across from you. “Hi.” He folds his hands in front of him,

“Hi.” You slip the laptop off to the side as the server approaches.

“Can I grab you anything?” Sweet and polite, giving you a questioning look. He wondered if you had much company here. Marie, on her name tag, seemed to know you.

“Just a coffee, please.” A nod and she was gone.

“So what did you have to talk to me about?” As you took a sip of yours. He sighs, back against the booth.

“How did you know she was missing her ring finger?” Blunt and to the point, he watched your mouth part and then close.

“Because that’s what he does.” You say simply.

“That’s what who does?” You stare at him for a moment more,

“The Boston Butcher.” A pause while Marie set the coffee mug on the table, pouring him fresh coffee and topping yours off. A gentle ‘thank-you’ from your lips before she walks away. The case Steve told him about. The guy who, from 89-99 murdered twenty sex workers in the Combat Zone, the red light district. But he had to admit it had markers of the case. “Detective… it’s the same MO, it’s the same process. The ring finger missing… she was strangled and when your toxicology report comes back from her autopsy, you’ll find ketamine in her system. It’s what he uses to subdue them.”

Bucky shakes his head, “The Boston Butcher is in jail, and has been for almost twenty years now.” He saw the mug shot. Nicholas Joseph Fury, his priors included drug possession and two misdemeanors. The man looked angry in his mug shot, is left eye milky and blue, half shut with a scar. He looked terrifying.

You sigh, tracing the rim of your coffee mug, thinking. “Okay well, it’s a copycat then.” You shrug, meeting his eyes. “Because that is the MO of the Boston Butcher and I wouldn’t be surprised if you find another girl six months from now.”

“We have a suspect for Cheryl’s murder.” He explains. A man who he had just interrogated not that long ago. A man who didn’t have an alibi. You laugh sarcastically,

“Then why are you here?” How could he answer that when he didn’t even know himself? Curiosity? Doubt? Steve had seemed pleased with him finding this lead, no one else bat an eyelash at him going for the ex-boyfriend. It’s more likely. Statistically speaking anyway.

“I don’t know.” He sighs, back hitting the booth. He runs his fingers through his hair and you flip through your notebook.

“First victim, Angela Price.” You swallow, “Twenty-four years old, mother of one, a little boy named Andrew.” You show him her picture. A beautiful young woman, big curly hair with mall bangs and blue eyeshadow. “She was a sex worker. Found on her back, spread eagle, drugged and strangled with her ring finger missing in February of 1989.” Another, “Second victim, Victoria Brown. Twenty-seven years old, mother of three, two girls Jessica and Michelle, and one boy Jason.” Another picture of a beautiful young woman, smiling with her kids, an Easter photo. “She was also a sex worker. Found in the same exact way, August of 1989.” And on, and on.

“Stop.” His hand lay over the pictures you’re laying before him. Okay. Okay. “So say we have a copycat.” He levels with you. “Right? But you think…”

“Fury is innocent.” You spit. “He was a good scapegoat for the police to appease the public.” He watches you reorganize the pictures you’d shown him, slipping them back into your notebook. “Whoever the Butcher is, he’s still out there. But if you’re not ready for that, then you need to go talk to Fury himself or try talking to the girls.” The girls still on the street, “I can help you.”

He sighs, his coffee grew cold. He believes her, some little part of him nagging at the back of his brain and telling him that it makes sense. The proof is all right there. It was at least a copycat. “Help me how?”

“I want this killer brought to justice,” You say, “And the girls are never going to talk to a cop, but they will talk to me.”

“Listen,” He sighs, “This is my first homicide as a detective and I appreciate your enthusiasm over this case and your concern, but I can’t in good conscience bring a civilian into an investigation.” A five-dollar bill down on the table. “Thank you for the information, I’ll keep it in mind while I explore different avenues.” How clinical, like he was giving a press conference on the news. He couldn’t believe what was coming out of your mouth. “If you’re looking for more information for your article, you know where to reach me.” Hands in his pockets he was gone.

A soft rain falling from the sky wet his head and shoulders as he reached his car, his eyes moving of their own volition back to the glass window of the diner. To you. He watched you with your head in your hands, still for a moment before pushing your hair back from your face and sitting back, rubbing your eyes and pulling your laptop back in front of you. And with the lit screen hitting your face he pulled off.

You watched his car leave, before focusing back on the screen. A new message from Wanda sitting in messenger.

GoFundMe is set up, have you talked to next of kin yet?

A quick reply, of ‘tomorrow’ and you shut the screen. Not able to deal with it anymore.

“Marie, I’ll take my check whenever you get time.” The pie boxed up and stuffed into your fridge, you lay on the bed in your studio apartment, staring at the light above the stove. The drip of the sink. The soft sound from the tv playing the evening news. Not a mention of the crime from yesterday. Because no one would care.

No one cares when a sex worker is murdered.

It’s a hazard of the job.

A hazard of the disgusting, degrading, job of a whore. But they weren’t. They were people with hopes and dreams and ideas that were crushed under the boot of people meant to protect them.

It made you so angry. Being treated like you were crazy. You knew that’s who you were to them, the police, that crazy reporter who’s trying to connect dots for a case that’s already been solved. Conspiracy theories about how there must have been someone in the force, there had to be someone in the force helping them. There had to be.

But police protect their own. And no one would believe that one of their own could have had something to do with this. But you knew, it felt like a cover up. But you didn’t know who they were trying to protect.

You just needed someone to take a chance on it. You needed someone to believe you. And you thought James Barnes would, but apparently you were wrong.

When you found the address for next of kin you realized it was familiar. The apartment complex you’d been in once before. A long time ago it feels now, but the memory was fresh. It was unsettling. But you weren’t here for you.

Sophie was a wreck. She had been shaking when she answered the door, pried open with a crying baby on her hip. “I’m here to help you.” You told her. “I run a victim relief charity.” You’d brought food. Put together by some of the others in your group. Ready to bake meals, groceries, and a check of first relief funds to help her with the burial.

“You do this for all of them?” She asked you. And you nod.

“We know how hard it is,” You try to comfort her, “Firsthand.” You helped her clean up the apartment. You helped her get the laundry together and clean out the fridge for space for the food you’d brought.

“I had to ID her body this morning.” Sophie cries. Baby Kayla toddling around and handing you blocks and various toys. Her older sister, Brielle was sitting not too far away watching cartoons. A sniffle, “I couldn’t believe it was her.” A shake of her head. “I can’t believe my baby is gone.”  

How long would it be before the police didn’t care anymore? Until they were done with her? You were sure James had already talked to her. “Have they talked to you about getting custody transferred over and what to do with the girls?” This two-bedroom apartment was in Sophie’s name. Cheryl was supporting them on her income. Sophie is on disability and unable to work. The stress was clear. On top of losing her child, she had the fear of losing her grandchildren too.

She sighs, rubbing her eyes, “The detective said someone from the district attorney’s office would be by, but no one yet.” Because you’re on their time and they’re not on yours. A heavy sigh.

“Well we have a GoFundMe set up,” You rub her back, “We’ll do what we can, we also have resources for free counseling and we do meet ups once a month, there’s one in a couple of days and I know that it might be a little soon for you but we have a lot of people able to pool some resources and I know a couple people who run daycare services and might be able to help you with the legal side of this Pro-Bono.”

It’s funny how tragedy affects people. Some go on to find themselves in careers to help those who were once in their position. Some of those children left behind went into social work, became one became a lawyer, some grew up to become foster parents when they themselves used to be foster kids.

All the people you’ve met, the families left behind, you tried to help. It took years to form this organization, but you did. And you met every single person who had been left behind by those murdered. Some believed that Fury was the culprit, but the majority were in the same boat as you.

They feel like justice hadn’t been served.

“Here’s my number.” Your business card with your contact information handed over, your business card for the charity. “We meet at the rec center on Malcom on the fifteenth of each month. I know that it’s a little soon, but just think about it.”

Reusable tote in hand you step from the apartment building just in time to run into the stunning redhead from yesterday. Today her short hair was down and slightly curled. Her clothing less severe. She got dressed up to be more friendly and approachable.

“Funny running into you here.” Her voice smoky and smooth. You shrug, gesturing to the bag over your arm.

“Just dropping off some food, giving her some information about my victim’s relief aid.” The lawyer doesn’t react, a silent moment before she says,

“I hope you haven’t put any ideas into her head.” You were taken aback.

“I’m sorry?” You were sure she knew about your ‘conspiracy’; you’d seen her a couple times before talking to her yesterday just around the courthouse while you were working on other stories and cases.

“You need to be careful what you say to these women,” Her voice wasn’t betraying any emotion, “I wouldn’t directly tell them to look into those cases.” Walking by you and into the apartment building you wondered what she knew. Because if you don’t directly tell someone to investigate the Boston Butcher cases, you’re not liable for someone interfering in a police investigation. And if someone else were to interfere… you would be given more credibility.

“Hey,” You breathe, sinking into the driver’s seat of your car. “I just left Sophie Hansen’s, I’m on my way back.”

“How did it go?” You could hear the noise from the office, Sam never closed his door which you thought was equally good and bad. “How is she?” You sigh, sinking down into the seat a little bit.

“She’s a little bit of a mess,” You explain, “Understandably… you should see those little girls Sam.” Your eyes welling up, you place your hand over them. “They’re not even going to remember her.” A sniffle.

“You’re doing what you can for them,” He reasons, “There’s not much else—”

“I wish there was.” You lean back against the head rest, pulling a tissue from your pocket, sighing, “I’m gonna stop for coffee, do you want anything?”

“I told Riley that you’re coming for dinner tonight. I think you need to spend some time with your friends right now and you can’t back out because he’s at the store right now.” You laugh,

“You’re the worst.” Turning your key in the ignition he replies,

“I know, now go get my coffee and get back to work.”

…

Bucky didn’t sleep a lot last night. He spent most of it in the precinct and going over old files in the conference room. This old filing system from before everything went digital, he had to go to the records room and get the one box of information about the case. But it wasn’t making any sense.

Why would such a prolific killer not have more recorded information?

After a nap on the breakroom couch and hours reading every detail, he could he compiled his own file about the case and typed his notes.

“You alright pal?” It stunned him out of grogginess, half asleep over the manila folder on his desk. Looking up at his friend he accepted the cup of coffee from Steve’s hand. “Have you been here all night?” Bucky felt himself nod, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“I actually have to talk to you about something.” Steve takes a sip, furrowing his brow.

“Come talk to me in my office.” Steve’s office was always clean and well organized, just like everything else in his life. It made Bucky feel like he was sort of a mess. Where Steve’s hair was always perfectly combed to the side, his face clean shaven, his uniform always starched and pressed, Bucky was always sporting five o’clock shadow, bags under his eyes, and he was sure that he’d never even used an iron. He’d give it to Steve for being a military brat turned ex-military man. “What’s going on?”

Bucky shut the door behind him, slipping the file onto Steve’s desk and sitting heavily in the chair before it, taking a sip of his coffee as Steve opened the file. His brow furrowed and he looked up at his friend.

“You’re looking into the Boston Butcher?” Bucky nods,

“I think we’ve got a copycat, maybe…” He shrugs, “The MO matches perfectly and looking more into Michael Hale’s story… I’m going to keep up with it but I don’t think it was him.” Steve nods, sipping on his coffee before sighing.

“Listen, Buck.” Sitting back in his high-backed chair, “I think you should explore the Hale alibi before we jump to the conclusion that we have a copycat. It would be a very serious avenue to go down.” Steve firm and rational, “Rule out Hale first and then we can talk about a copycat, just to cover our bases.” Bucky nods, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I took a nap on the couch.” A shrug. Steve sighs and rubs his eyes.

“You need to take better care of yourself.” The file slid back to him over the desk, “Check out Michael Hale, get some rest. Come see me tomorrow.”

Just another nap, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. Groggy he woke up in the afternoon still tired, but a little more alive than he had been previously. He took a hot shower, changed into some fresh clothes and debated shaving but decided against it.

He’d be back at the precinct before the lunch hour was done.

He’d been thinking a lot about what you said to him the night before. If this guy was a copycat, then you had to expect for him to strike again. But how would they even prepare for that? Wait for another body to show up? He’s had to question people in the red-light district before. It wasn’t easy. He was sure that probably anything else would be easier. But it would need to be done anyway.

He wonders if maybe he should take you up on that offer, if it turns out to be a copycat. Maybe he answered a little hastily. He cringes at the way he’d spoken to you last, he sounded like some bureaucratic weirdo.

“Detective Barnes?” His eyes torn away from how he’d been blankly starting at his phone in the line for coffee. There you were, like a sign, holding a cardboard tray with three drinks in it. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect to run into you here and I wouldn’t have felt right not saying hello.” He understands,

“You’re fine,” He offers, “Really.” He wants to ask. His gut feeling is telling him to ask.

“Have you heard anything?” You sound hopeful, “I know it hasn’t been long, but…” He shakes his head.

“Not yet.” You nod. He should ask. “Listen, I know how I came across last night and I just want to say that if the situation plays out… the way that you’re expecting it to, I’ll be in contact.” The line moved forward and it was almost his turn. You nod, a swell in your chest seemingly from satisfaction.

“Okay, okay.” You give him a soft smile, “I’ll talk to you later then.” Confident and pleased.

“How can I help you?” The cheery barista pulled his eyes away from you, and when he turned back you were already gone.

“Americano please.”

…

A loud pounding on the door.

“Christine.” A call through the wood. The apartment’s lights were on. The TV still buzzing with a show no one was watching. More loud pounding. “Christine, I’m coming in!” The door unlocked and swung open. The man on the other side taking the state of the apartment. At first look it was a mess. There was trash strewn about and a rancid smell. As the man walked further into the apartment, he noticed the dishes in the sink and a plate on the counter. He gagged as he realized it was covered with maggots. A sick feeling in his stomach had him pulling his phone out, he continued into the living room.

On the coffee table was a discarded needle, a little foil wrapper opened with a ball of black tar. The smell growing stronger. He lifts his shirt to cover his nose. “Tina?” Hand on her bedroom door his heart began to race. The smell overpowering and turning his stomach as he pushes it open to reveal her body. Bloated with rot.  

He vomits.

…

“He made you sound like a basket case.” You watch Riley glare at his husband, a laugh shared between the two of you as Sam rolls his eyes, forking more pasta into his mouth. “You need to give her more credit,” Looking at you, “You’ve come such a long way.” A sip of wine, Riley already had a lot which is why he’s being so loose lipped right now.

“Thank you, Riley.” You sip your wine, plates just about cleared and Sam was on his second serving. “I really love what you’ve done with the garden.” The night was warm and pleasant, the three of you were eating out on their patio to the light of citronella candles and soft music playing over the speakers Sam installed last year.

Riley worked from home and always claimed, “I need my environment to be beautiful for the sake of my mental health.” Which included plenty of plants and color coordinated desk supplies. He was on first name basis with the guy whose FedEx route was through his neighborhood, “Caleb loves me.” He would defend.

“When are you going to move out of that gross apartment and into something like this?” Riley asked. “He pays you enough.” You shrugged,

“It’s just me right now, I don’t think I really need much.” He sighs,

“I just don’t like you living in that neighborhood.” A defense, “I know you’re used to that area, but—”

“I’ll think about it.” To satisfy him. He smiles softly at you knowing you were just saying it to appease him, “I will.” Your phone rings and glancing down at it you see a number you don’t recognize. “Hold on.” Stepping from the table you hear Sam scold his husband for bringing up your apartment, but you can’t focus on that. “Hello?”

“It’s Barnes.” A sad tone in his voice and what he says next makes your stomach drop, “We found another body.”

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “A.N.N.I.E.”

A.N.N.I.E. (Artificial Non-Neurological Intelligent Entity) is an outdated android model that emerged on the market two years ago. The Joker purchased her as a toy for his son not knowing she will become the recipient of desperate attempts to keep Y/N with him. After the woman’s unexpected death, experiments meant to transfer her conscience inside Annie failed yet The King of Gotham couldn’t part with the only thing that reminded him of someone he actually cared about.

“Can you fix her?” The Joker asks the two programmers that have been assessing the android for the past 15 minutes.

“Hard to tell sir, but we are trying to determine what triggered the malfunction,” Zariah points at the 4 laptop screens simultaneously running diagnostics. “Recently there’s been a spike in flaws regarding A.N.N.I.E. models; after all they were released 2 years ago. I would recommend acquiring the most current technology…”

“No need to!” J bitterly cuts him off. “Just fix her!”

“We will do our best, sir!” Mickel reassures The King of Gotham: his wretched temper might interfere with today’s agenda and the two hackers simply can’t afford it.  

“Your best is not enough,” The Joker growls. “She cornered my son last night and almost crushed him against the wall. I had to use manual override to shut her down. That’s not typical machine behavior, is it?!”

“No sir, although I’ve heard of similar incidents in the past months. If it continues, Annie prototype will be pulled off the market soon,” Zariah informs.

“Her name‘s not Annie,” The Clown Prince of Crime interrupts the unwanted advice. “Her name’s Y/N!”

Awkward silence and Kase’s voice resonates from upstairs.

“Daddy?... Daddy?...”

“My son’s awake; I’ll be back,” J abandons the two men in a hurry and stumbles on the numerous cables connecting the laptops to the cyborg on his way out.

“Goddammit!”, he huffs through his clenched teeth before vanishing around the corner.

“That was fucking weird,” Mickel whispers. “What does he means her name is not A.N.N.I.E.?! Am I crazy? Is this not Artificial Non-Neurological Intelligent Entity sitting in that chair?!”

“Of course it is,” Zariah confesses in low tone. “He gives me the creeps too how he thinks she’s in there.”

“What do you mean “she”?” the obvious question follows.

“Check those cords,” Zariah urges and continues: “You noticed he corrected me with the name for the pile of rubbish.”

“Yeah,” the other guy begins typing a bunch of configurations while listening to the scoop.

“Y/N used to take care of his kid. Nobody can say who she really was: some believe she might have even been the mother, that her and Mister Joker were together. Others swear the little boy called her auntie; maybe she actually was Mister J’s sibling. Who the hell knows? She was a strange woman and she looked… different also,” Zariah’s gaze circles the premises to make sure their employer is not eavesdropping.

“No shit!” Mickel frowns at the statistics popping up on the monitors.

“Yeah, I saw her a few times, gave me the creeps. Something was off with her, you just could tell. Mister J always had jerks working for him and I guess they clashed with Y/N quite often: it got so bad they dared planning a prank that ended horribly. Do you know the warehouse on 14th street? The 6 stories one?”

“No.”

“Well, supposedly it happened there: Mister J was out of town and had no clue about the scheme plotted without his consent. The crew took his son on the roof and threatened they will toss him off the building if she doesn’t jump instead.”

“And?!” Mickel halts his typing, intrigued.

“She jumped… … they didn’t think she would.”

“Holy crap! I had no idea!”

“Dude, it was a disaster!” Zariah shrugs depicting the facts. “Y/N splattered all over the concrete, broken to pieces… Despite the severe injuries, she didn’t die immediately: she was in a coma for almost a month before passing away. Mister J had Annie already, he probably bought her as a toy for Kase when it first emerged on the market. The rumor is that while Y/N was in a coma he kidnapped scientists and forced them to work on a senseless project: transferring her conscience inside Annie.”

“You’re shitting me!” Mickel exclaims at the insane disclosure.

“Nope.”

“Can’t be done; it’s impossible!”

“And who’d dare explain the obvious to him, huh? Not the researchers he killed the moment she stopped breathing if you get my drift.”

“That’s messed up!” Mickel forcefully exhales, infinitely more nervous about being at The Penthouse for the moment.

“Do you remember the serial murders that shook Gotham 3 months ago?” Zariah has more gossip for his partner. “It was Mister J hunting down every single person that was on the roof the day Y/N jumped.”

“We shouldn’t be here,” the anxious Mickel shrugs. “Maybe we should abandon our mission.”

“Bulshit! They’ll pay us double over anything he offers so don’t be a pussy! Speaking of, you should assemble the guns prior to his return!”

Mickel is reluctant to the whole scenario, yet he compiles the two guns out of items resembling computer parts scattered in their suitcases: that’s how they were able to deceive security.

“Done,” he stashes one finished weapon under his jacket, offering the other to Zariah.

“Remain calm and we’ll be ok,” the latest mumbles. “Let’s pretend we’re here to repair this junk.”

A couple more minutes pass by and The Joker’s presence alongside his offspring makes the two guys cringe.

The little boy hides behind his father’s legs, shyly glancing the android’s way.

“Don’t be scared,” J grumbles. “She’s in power saving mode, it’s fine.”

“Yes, it’s perfectly safe,” Zariah winks. “We are almost done extracting all the data,” he gestures at the laptop’s screens.

Kase giggles and rushes to climb on Annie’s knees, excited to see her after she wasn’t allowed to sleep in his room last night which is understandable since the robot went bonkers.

“Hi Y/N,” the child softly pulls on her long hair. “I want waffles pwease.”

The hackers exchange meaningful glares and The Joker replies:

“She can’t for now,” he mutters. “She’s defective. Frost will take you out for breakfast, alright?”

“Does it hurt?” the 5 year old pouts at his parent’s affirmation: he doesn’t comprehend all the words and it’s difficult for a kid to process the concept of transference.

After Y/N died, The Joker told Kase she moved inside Annie: he wasn’t delusional about his failed experiment but it was easier to make his son cope with the loss of the woman that raised him. J doesn’t literally believe there’s any trace of Y/N in the machine: how could it be? Several months passed and nothing proved what he tried to accomplish succeeded: a twisted concept originating from a distorted mind was doomed from the start.

“It doesn’t hurt,” The Clown Prince of Crime sighs. “She’s resting.”

“Sir, I think you should see this,” Mickel gets his attention.

“What am I looking at?”

“You used voice command to lock down the android?” Zariah pinpoints at the monitor to his left.

“I did.”

“That’s not what turned off the system: see the numbers flowing borderline with the  central matrix, the tiny squares? She wasn’t locked down by external command, she was terminated from within.”

“What do you mean?!” Mickel scoots over in his rolling chair, baffled.

“Somebody trespassed the firewall,” his accomplice utters the obvious.

J is less than happy with the random discovery still he requires confirmation of his suspicion.

“Meaning?”

“Annie, I mean Y/N is the recipient of a cyber-attack: she’s been hacked.”

“Hacked?” J scoffs. “What for? She’s just a companion android, it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Not sure, sir…” Zariah lifts his shoulders up, baffled.

“Can you find the source?” the green haired individual suggests.

“Analyzing the algorithm shows puzzling results: these numbers should be repeating themselves every so often, yet they don’t; never seen anything like it and I’ve been dealing with computers for a long time,” Mickel adds. “The most interesting detail is certainly challenging our expertise: tracking the root of the signal is pretty much unachievable. We should see input bouncing around from different servers because this is how hackers disguise their trail; but… this particular livestream happened simultaneously from various servers around the country.”

“There’s practically 0% chance for such abnormal hacking with today’s technology!” Zariah scrunches up his face at the baffling discovery. “How in the world was it done?!”

“You’re the experts!” The Joker barks. “I hired you based on strong recommendations from others that used your skills. Can you fix her or not?!”

“Of course, sir.”

“Yes!” the two associates ease The Clown’s doubt. “We’ll unplug the cables, we already removed all necessary info.”

Kase watches them detach the cords from Annie’s access ports, the child sulking at their action.

“Y/N, does it hurt?” he asks and hops off her lap. The empty shell doesn’t respond since the robot is in power saving mode.

“It doesn’t hurt,” The King of Gotham duplicates his earlier statement. “Frost!” he addresses the henchman entering the living room. “Take him to our restaurant on Madison Avenue for breakfast then he can play at the property on Foster Creek until we are done here. I want a 3 cars escort.”

“Yes, boss. I’ll call in advance and tell them not to open the place until we’re done.”

“Good,” J agrees with his henchman’s proposal. “Kase, go and eat!” he urges the offspring having a few more secrets to share with Annie. “Come on, let’s go!” the impatient father encourages.

The 5 year old obeys and kisses Annie’s cheek, whispering:

“I’ll bwing you beck’fast auntie, ok?” and he rushes at Frost’s side screaming up a storm. “Byeeeee daaaaaddy!!!”

The programmers are so absorbed by the mystifying enigma they stumbled upon by accident they don’t pay attention to the little nugget’s promise: even if they would, Zariah and Mickel wouldn’t be able to untangle the convoluted riddle of Y/N’s true identity.

She wasn’t The Joker’s girlfriend nor Kase’s mother: Y/N was nothing less than The Clown’s younger sister.

The woman protected the only family she had like a hawk, thus she didn’t hesitate to give her life in exchange for her nephew’s.

Too bad she had no idea those jerks were mocking her when she ended up on that accursed roof.  

Too bad her brother didn’t guess their intentions and extremely regrettable he was left alone without the only person he ever trusted.

Too bad she died granted J’s desperate efforts to keep her with him.

And so sad he didn’t know how much Y/N meant to him until she was gone.

“Isn’t it weird someone breached my android in the same time it was malfunctioning and closed her down?…” J stares outdoors on the terrace. “Why would anyone go through the trouble?... What’s the purpose?”

The familiar click of safety being taken off a gun awakens The Joker from apathy and he turns around: it’s not easy to surprise J but he’s stunned to notice the two experts he recruited pointing guns at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Cashing in a huge payday, sir,” Zariah sneers. “It’s not often you become a legend for murdering…”

The Joker is not listening, his attention diverted by the strange phenomenon occurring behind the two hackers threatening his life: Annie is standing up from her chair and that’s clearly not possible; she is in power saving mode!

The android grabs Mickel’s arm and twists it to 90 degrees, using his own pistol to blow his brains out. Before Zariah can react he’s knocked to the ground with such violence J starts backing out, unsure on what to do when Annie steps on the man’s neck.

The sound of fractured bone plus the cyborg’s attention clearly directed towards him now makes him shout:

“Code 71345, emergency override!”

“Access denied!” the robot approaches still calibrating its joints and electronic synapses.

What the hell is wrong with this thing?!

“Code 71345, emergency override!”

”Access denied!”

J wants to make a run for it but he’s aware Annie is faster; why is she glitching like this?! 

“Code 71…”

“Why are you trying to shut me down when I tried so hard to come back to you?” the cold voice halts the rest of his sentence.

The Joker takes a strenuous breath, dumbfounded at the shocking revelation:

“Y/N?... … Is… is… that you?!... …”

The android tilts its head to the left while an eerie smile flourishes on the plastic lips:

“Missed me?”

 Also read: MASTERLIST 

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[biconicfinn]

id like to know, what are your takes on politician!Alec? if you want to talk about that

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK!!!!! POLITICIAN ALEC IS MY FUCKING JAM DJKABVHJKDBVKADVBFAV okay anon strap in because this will get crazy

holy shit this is long so i’m putting it under a read more!! 

okay so first of all: alec is someone who has been trained from a young age to be a politician, he would have been educated in diplomacy and politics, his parents were expecting him to become head of the new york institute and they have no qualms about living vicariously through their children and forcing their burdens on them as we have seen in the show.

he was probably taught clave law and the accords, a whole bunch of languages (polyglot power couple malec ftw) because i assume the NYI uses english as their lingua franca because of their location but since institutes also have to deal with local downworld and mundane populations it’s safe to assume that in other countries where english isn’t the main language, they go with the local languages and alec would need to communicate with these other institute heads, etiquette, some formal ballroom dances like the waltz, the art of negotiation, administrative stuff like resource allocation, budgeting, public speaking, the nitty gritty details of the clave workings, in addition to the knowledge of the different races of the shadow world, hand to hand combat, combat with a variety of weapons (he masters archery to utter perfection but he definitely is also incredibly proficient in close range combat as well).

sorry i just love alec and he is definitely more competent than most of the Alec StansTM (yall know what im saying) make him out to be

okay so!!!!! it’s pretty much canon that alec has spent a considerable amount of time as acting head of the NYI; what with maryse and robert always fucking off to idris to lick the boots of the clave and so he probably has a good relationship with the people under his command. he’s probably put protocols in place to reduce casualties and injuries, form patrol teams that are well-balanced so that they are versatile enough to take just about any threat that comes their way, etc.

of course, thanks to a little thing called the nephilim’s deep-rooted homophobia, a lot of the work alec put in probably got negated when he came out. it took a lot of courage for him to come out and to be openly gay. raj was an absolute asshole to alec for no reason and often questioned his leadership decisions post coming out, and even if not all the shadowhunters reacted like that, they did show some resistance(?) to alec’s leadership when he was appointed head and questioned him. it probably took a lot out of him because it’s one thing to have your people doubt you as a leader because of your actions or words; your decisions as a leader, it’s another thing for them to mistrust you entirely because of a fundamental part of your identity that you can’t change. you can build trust by publicly admitting and apologising for mistakes and putting in honest work to be better, but it’s impossible to build trust when the other person doesn’t even see you as human to begin with. 

this is turning into a hoti!alec ramble but i promise i will bring this back to politician!alec okay i promise i just need to establish the headcanons i’m building on first sorry 

okay back to business!!!! i feel like alec is so very genuine and honest outside of the political sphere alec “casual wedding vows” lightwood anyone? so when he does show his ability to be a complete fucking shark in the political arena a lot of people are blindsided because they expected him to be very honest and direct but he knows that as much as he’d like to be genuine, he needs that shrewdness to navigate the political minefield of idris. he prefers directness, but if you take the manipulative, indirect, route and underestimate him, he will not hesitate to turn your own methods against you.

he is also the type of leader who constantly tries to make an effort. his intentions were genuine with the downworld cabinet and i think that if it wasn’t set up in the middle of the shitstorm which was valentine’s re-emergence and the circle’s rise, it would have been more successful. he has a lot to learn and unlearn, and he (an utter perfectionist) will do as much as he can to help the downworld. i like to think that in a post s3 world, but before the time skip, he helps to re-establish the ties between the shadow world factions in new york and focuses on being the nephilim voice of the downworld to the clave, constantly trying to push for new accords and reformed policies, and he makes an effort to not speak over the downworlders, but instead be their representative and ally to the clave because the clave are racist bastards who wouldn’t listen to them but they have to listen to alec lightwood (”it’s lightwood-bane, actually”), one of the heroes who stepped up to defend alicante when the rift to edom opened. (and also because if they did try to slander or belittle him, they risk angering magnus, who has enough clout to embargo most warlocks from providing magical assistance to any local institutes, if he feels that the downworld is being ignored despite the fact that a warlock is the sole reason why alicante was’t razed to the ground, or that he and his husband are being targeted by the clave. because they are That Couple.) in conclusion alec is a good ally okay?

but as much as he tries/tried to do right by the clave, he sometimes also doesn’t give a fuck about them. he’ll be in meetings at idris, and maybe they’re discussing asinine, irrelevant, minor issues that are really just stupid excuses to showboat and compare family clout and whatnot and he’ll be pissed as fuck because instead of discussing actual relevant issues like irregularities/strange patterns in demon attacks, hunting down remaining circle sleeper cells, reparations for the downworld (like for the heavenly fire project), rewriting the accords, rebuilding idris, helping get the attacked institutes back up and running, you know, actual important issues that need attention but no, we’re discussing some petty family squabble that turned into a political feud that involves everyone and their fucking uncle. and he gets so damn angry he just blows up and rants at them and tears them a new one. he finishes his impressively long spiel with “you know what? fuck this. when you guys are done fighting like children and taking up precious time that we should be using to talk about real, pressing issues that affect the entire shadow world instead of five people at this table, let me know and i’ll be there but until then don’t bother. if you’ll excuse me, i’m going back to my husband. thank you. and for the last damn time, my name is alec lightwood-bane. i already changed my damn name legally so fucking use it.” and he just leaves to go back to new york because fuck the clave. 

he goes back home to the loft and it’s like the stress and anger just melts away because he walks in on magnus dancing around the kitchen as he cooks dinner, singing dancing queen at the top of his lungs, laughing when magnus twirls to see him leaning against the doorway of the kitchen with his heart eyes and blushes at being caught doing somethin so silly

he becomes a successful inquisitor by sheer force of will and determination. it’s not at all intentional, but it just happens. with the success of the cabinet and the measures he puts in place, he shares it with other institute heads and slowly more and more institutes are collaborating with the local downworld and most of the time, the statistics pay off in the long run. there are starting troubles as with any new initiatives, but soon enough there is a sizeable number of institutes following them successfully and it’s hard for the clave to ignore. alec gets invited to alicante to discuss the possibility of him becoming inquisitor just when the downworld deputy program is taking off in new york. (it all starts with simon asking “so are you guys nephilim or shadowhunters? what’s the difference? or is it interchangeable?” and then they realise that while nephilim is a term to describe half-angel half-human beings, shadowhunter is a term more commonly used by active duty demon hunters and drops out of use as a self-descriptor when the nephilim in question leaves combat. “so that means technically anyone in the shadow world whose job it is to fight demons is a shadowhunter? right?” and the lightbulbs light up in alec’s head immediately) oops time to get back to it the point. 

okay so!!!! the clave offer alec the position of inquisitor and it’s part recognition for his efforts and acknowledgement of his skills, part them wanting to keep him under their control. how does that work? well it’s simple. if alec is inquisitor and the clave makes it as hard as possible for him to do any effective work, bogging him down with bureaucracy and and votes on motions that are just shy of the majority needed to pass laws etc etc. basically throw every road block they can at him and wear him down; forcing him to step down and thus silencing him, and by extension, the downworlders who rely on him for a voice in the clave. 

malec side note: so they first say that magnus can come to alicante and make an exception for him, and the general plan is to make it look like they’re actually doing something good when it’s to lull them into a false sense of security. (but alec and magnus choose to live in brooklyn first because despite everything, it is still dangerous for magnus to be the only warlock in a city full of nephilim) but then alicante opens up to the rest of the shadow world, magnus becomes the high warlock of alicante, and the clave are dealing with the force of nature that is known power couple and ultimate badasses magnus and alec lightwood-bane. oops. 

but they underestimate the power of alec’s Lightwood(-Bane) DeterminationTM and his sheer stubbornness. so their plan backfires spectacularly when within the first few years, he’s implemented laws to open alicante up to downworlders, expunge criminal records of downworlders who were previously wrongfully charged with crimes, rehabilitation of wrongfully imprisoned downworlders, mandatory downworld cabinet and downworld deputy initiatives worldwide, as well as be part of the core group that rewrote the accords to be more fair. 

alec probably retires after like five years of being inquisitor and then magnus steps down as high warlock and they just travel the world together and be in love and happy, occasionally consulting on political issues here and there but for the most part they just run off into the sunset to be immortal husbands together because they’ve sacrificed enough for the good of the shadow world to last several lifetimes. 

[djvpensayosehistorias]

Book Report - Watt by Samuel Beckett

Watt is a novel written by Samuel Beckett written during World War II and published in 1953, the same year his seminal stage play Waiting For Godot premiered in France. The novel follows an eponymous character who stumbles upon a fancy house and, after managing to open a door from the outside, sneaks in, where he subsequently becomes the servant of the man who lives in it. Although this is the incident that kickstarts the plot, it is difficult to recount the story of the novel because it does not narrate the events that the characters go through; rather, it describes the thought process of the protagonist, who usually second guesses everything he sees. The book is divided into four chapters, and the timeline, according to the opening paragraph of the fourth chapter, is: “two, one, four, three.” But as presented in the book, it starts with a group of working class people on a train having a conversation until they spot a vagabond who passes nearby. One of them has dealt with him before, but he doesn’t know his name nor he remembers anything about him other than he has a red nose and that he has owed him five shillings for seven years.

It is made clear from the beginning that the mysterious character is an errant soul, and it can be inferred from the anecdote of the five shillings that he is a vagabond. After the group from the beginning leaves the train, the narrative perspective switches to the character, who is introduced as Watt. It is the nighttime and he is heading somewhere he can spend the night. He orients himself with the moon and walks while performing a ritual of sorts, turning his body around and flinging his arms and legs with each step. Briefly, he enrolls into a ditch, where he is surrounded by dirt and wet vegetation, and then gets out to continue his journey. It is then when he finds the house, a big isolated house in the middle of the quiet night. Unassumingly, he tries to open its doors, until he opens the back door, which tempts him to get inside. There he finds a fireplace burning in an empty room, where he entertains himself playing with the fire’s light and ashes. Suddenly, another man enters the room and explains to Watt that he (introduced as Arsene) is one of the servants of Mr Knott (spelled without punctuation) and that it is his final day as such, given that Watt has just appeared seemingly to take his place. Arsene also explains that he feels as in the twilight of his life, and that he perceives himself as one of many of the previous servants in a long line that goes so far back that their names are no longer remembered. He is defiant and scornful as he suggests that he will go away to wherever he can arrive until his body caves in. He delivers what effectively is an existential monologue that spans thirty-one consecutive pages, and it is by the end of the first chapter that he concedes his position as servant of Mr Knott to Watt.

During the second chapter, the novel introduces the recurring phenomenon of its narrative style, which can be exemplified with this scenario: Mr Knott routinely eats a pot of soup for dinner, and Watt is instructed to give the uneaten portion of the soup - in case that there is any - to a stray dog. Watt does as told, but after a few nights he starts to question how it is that the stray dog eats the remaining soup. He asks if it is the same dog every night, what kind of dog is it, if it is malnourished or decently fed, if it is really a stray or if it could be a passerby’s dog that eats modestly and only comes occasionally, which in that case would mean that there could be several dogs with owners. This goes on for fifteen pages. Watt is set on figuring out how the dish appears to be empty whenever he leaves it outside and later returns to get it. He considers every logical possibility and even comes up with statistics to help himself find a solution. It is later revealed that there were two dogs that ate the soup, Kate and Cis, which belonged to Art and Con Lynch, members of the Lynch family. Twenty pages are dedicated to explaining the genealogy of the Lynch family, who had ties with Mr Knott. They are a clan composed of aging people afflicted by different health problems and conditions. Art and Con are dwarves, and as it is part of Watt’s duties to receive them, he becomes aware of how the food served in the dish of remains disappears.

There are several passages identical to that of the dog and the soup dish, since the book describes the main character’s thoughts, and he is a very thoughtful individual. Everything that he does and sees is exceptional, or so it appears, because he inspects every mundane task or object to its last detail. On some occasions, this conduct seems rational or expected, such as when he hears a bell ring in the middle of the night and he ponders whether this unusual and unprecedented activity could represent a situation of danger. He suspects the other servant, Erskine, even though he’s asleep; then, he breaks into Erskine’s room and finds a bell that is broken and couldn’t have made the noise. It is not revealed what the source of the bell ding was, but Watt fleetingly considers that he, Erskine and Mr Knott might all be a bit crazy. Notwithstanding, he does not believe that he overthinks, and in fact is proud that he can sometimes rationalize quickly.

During his stay at Mr Knott’s house, Watt does not see Mr Knott around. Watt only knows when to take the empty soup pot away because Mr Knott is always done after twenty or thirty minutes. Watt divides the time of his stay in two stages: when he works on the ground floor and when he works on the first floor. It is only when he moves to the first floor that he occasionally gets glimpses of him, like when he is in the yard, between the bushes. He is an elusive character, a non-presence in his own house. He may be seen as a parallel to another Beckett character, Godot, from Waiting for Godot, who is awaited by the play’s main characters, Vladimir and Estragon, but never arrives. They don’t know who Godot is, but they have been told that he would come tomorrow, so they wait for him anyway. Perhaps the most important moment of the novel is when Watt encounters Mr Knott in his yard by coincidence. Mr Knott is standing in silence, bowing slightly. He approaches him but with his sight fixed on the ground, and he only feels his presence, instead of seeing him face to face. As he inspects the worm near his feet, he determines his employer’s height, until he decides to stop guessing and sees him. But Mr Knott, still in silence, has his eyes closed. He does not see him in such detail again.

The third chapter is narrated by a character named Sam, a servant from another mansion, who befriends Watt. Sam and Watt enjoy spending time together, but they eventually grow apart and stop seeing each other. They encounter again, without either of them wanting to, from the opposite sides of a fence that divides their gardens. When they detect each other, Watt accidentally slips and is injured by briars and nettles. Sam tries to jump over the barb wire fence to help him out, but first he spots a hole in the fence and imagines what sort of animal could have carved it. According to him, it could have been a boar, a bull, a cow or a sow, and since there is another hole in another part of the fence parallel to the first one, it could have been two boars, two bulls, and so on. When he finally directs his attention back at Watt, Watt has stood up and approached him from the other side of the fence. They pace together across the fence as in a coordinated dance, and so they decide to start chatting again.  When he tells Sam about his job at Mr Knott’s house, Watt changes his speech patterns and starts to invert the order of his words, the order of the letters within the words and the order of the letters within the words within the sentences, making his language progressively more complicated, and Sam can only understand so much; thus, he is unable to understand what Watt’s job was like during the last stages of his stay with Mr Knott.

Sam then mentions an anecdote retold by Watt’s co-worker, Arthur, about a man named Ernest Louit who was writing a dissertation titled “The Mathematical Intuitions of Visicelts”. This story within a story follows Louit bringing an old farmer from Burren, Ireland, to a Trinity College committee, claiming that he can calculate cube roots in his head. The farmer, called Tisler Nackybal, is Louit’s last hope for academic success and credibility, since he blew his entire research budget and lost his boots, his labour, his health and his dog. The committee puts him to test and he proves to make accurate calculations of cube roots with minimal error. However, when asked to cube root five hundred and nineteen thousand three hundred and thirteen, he does not reply, to which Louit argues that the committee is trying to fool him by calling out a number with no cube root. Nonetheless, they find Mr Nackybal a subject worthy of interest and experimentation, so they ask if he can square and square root. Arthur does not finish the story.

Watt gets to see Mr Knott more often, as he helps him into his nightclothes and day clothes. Being in his room, he examines the possible combinations of Mr Knott’s shoewear, the movements of Mr Knott when he is in his bedroom, and the changes in the furniture’s placement according to the day of the week. Still, Watt does not learn what Mr Knott’s appearance is like, he perceives him with a different stature and body type each day. This proceeds routinely until one night a man appears in Mr Knott’s kitchen. Watt understands that he is there to replace him, and that he will have to leave the house, just how Erskine did when Arthur arrived. Unlike how Arsene did with him, Watt does not take leave of Micks, the future servant.

Watt reaches a railway-station between one or two in the morning but finds it shut. He encounters a man, Mr Case, who allows him to spend the night in the waiting room. Once inside, Watt struggles to fall asleep, as he feels the environment he is in is too alien. The empty room is too spacious and the ceiling is too white. He sits down and stands up. The room becomes darker and then lighter, meaning that the sun rises but he does not yet fall asleep, for his surroundings unnerve him too much. When Mr Nolan comes in the morning to open the station’s doors, Watt finally feels at peace and closes his eyes. A small group of passersby congregate around him, worried that he might not wake up. But he does, which relieves them so much that they become absorbed in unrelated conversations until one of them notices he has gone away. And thus the novel concludes.

The closing pages of the book are an addenda that displays some fragments that were omitted from the main text, such as footnotes, definitions, quotes, sheet music and loose poems, but complement the story nonetheless.

Watt is an unorthodox novel, and like most of Beckett’s works, it is very ironic. There is irony in its use of very far-fetched and intellectual language (floccillation, sigmoidal, cloistered, mensem, intenerating, dianoetic, to put some examples of the book’s vocabulary) to tell a story about a poor vagabond who cannot use it himself. There is irony in its focus on the minutiae of otherwise mundane situations, even though the characters themselves claim they don’t like it; “Details, Mr Graves, details I detest, details I despise, as much as you, a gardener, do.” says Arthur, who tells a story that spans thirty pages. And most importantly, there is irony in its abundance of repetition, even if, by admission of the narrator, Watt’s disdain for battology (the unnecessary repetition of words) is strong.

If I had to point out the central theme of Watt, I would say that it is intuition. The narration comes from the protagonist's thoughts, hence he is seen thinking more than he is seen acting. Perhaps Watt’s name embodies his curiosity (What?), just like Mr Knott’s might indicate that he is not (Not.), since he is a non-presence for Watt. Each situation Watt encounters in his daily activities demands the scrutiny of every alternative possible, or at least every one that he can think of. How Mr Knott can combine his shoes, how the soup remains disappear after being left outside each night, how a hole in a fence could have been punctured. This is a general reflection on possibilities and how they exist in theory, although only one is ultimately accommodated to reality (“If it hadn’t been you, it would have been another.” Arthur says in the Addenda).  

In relation to the contemplation of possibilities, the most outstanding narrative device of the text is repetition. The list of variables fills entire pages to the point it becomes dizzying. Instead of progressing the story, these passages make it stagnate. As demonstrated above, there is a coherent chain of events to be followed, but its importance is second to that of the attention to minuscule details. The thoughts that Watt repeats are those which matter the most to him. It is through this repetition that he tries to make sense of the world. In his philosophical work Difference and Repetition, Gilles Deleuze writes: “If repetition exists, it expresses simultaneously a singularity against the general, a universality against the particular, a remarkable against the ordinary, an instantaneity against the variation, an eternity against permanence. In all aspects, repetition is transgression.” (1968). It is another irony to have a story be purposefully meandering when the expectation set for a novel is to witness a conflict and the path to its resolution. Yet, repetition is a key element of intuition, for intuition rationalizes things simply because they exist and extrapolates meaning from the patterns it observes.

Repetition is not only explored through mere logical algorithms, but also in the process through which Mr Knott’s switches servants. Watt’s realization is that he might have become part of a cycle that no one dares break, probably because it is predetermined. The servants don’t question the arrival of the next servant, rather they accept it and leave.This cycle is comparable to life itself.  

In the end, the novel is is a phenomenological exercise on the nature of intuition, with its display of the thought process, language, with its exploration of metalinguistics, existence, with its thorough examination of its settings and objects from the protagonist’s perspective, and repetition, with its long-winded lists of multiplicities that describe several scenes. It is a work that wonders at the foundations of what can be called “human nature”, intellect and language, and its limitations. Despite being a very simple story, its presentation and themes earn it the label of “existential”, as it describes human life and existence itself.

[donnieluvsthings]

anyway i’m still thinkin about roceit newsies au...this got SO LONG its basically a bullet fic of the whole plot at this point but uh enjoy!!! its has all the sides and remy and emile bc i rly wanted to shove them all in here aldkaldka

this is based on the musical mostly bc i have never watched the original movie all the way thru oops

roman is jack and remus is crutchie (thanks boop). remus does crazy stunts even with his crutch and roman is Constantly Worried TM and overprotective of remus even tho remus can DEF take care of himself

on the other hand remus knows roman hates working as a newsboy and just wants to escape to some small town where he can become a local artist of some sort. remus wants roman to go CHASE his DREAMS even tho he’s afraid roman might leave him behind

roman may be the actor but remus is great at coming up with gruesome yet intriguing headlines that get people to buy papers and would totally be a great author of some sort

ON THAT NOTE roman dreams of santa fe and can picture it perfectly but whenever he tries to explain it, it comes out as senseless rambling and longing. it’s remus who can really put into words what roman feels (bc theyre bros and they just GET each other)

virgil as davey, patton as les, logan as sarah (its the musical but they have an extra sibling okay. let me have older brother logan)

virgil and patton show up and virgil is super untrusting and hates that theyre basically lying to get people to buy papers but patton is just EXCITED to meet New People!!! and looks up to roman (and remus), like, instantly

it helps that roman promises to take them to a real actual theater after they sell all their papers owned by the one the only emile picani !!!

also roman is the one who first calls him “virge” which is like jack saying “davey” instead of david. yes this is necessary information

so they sell their papers (and roman briefly meets an ESPECIALLY handsome guy wink wink) and go see emile who performs some variant of That’s Rich like the star he is. u cant take singer emile away from me

roman also performs bc i said so. he spies someone watching him during his act up above the stage and climbs up there when he’s done

janus. its janus, if that wasnt clear or u dont know the plot of the newsies musical aldkaldlal

so yeah janus as katherine!! he may be pulitzer’s son but that doesn’t mean his father wants him to be a journalist. pulitzer thinks he should prepare to inherit the publishing company or be a banker or smth, not be a journalist

i just think janus’ “society is a LIE” vibe fits with katherine. i mean, just look at Watch What Happens. “give life’s little guys some ink,” “they’ll storm the gates,” “rich greedy sourpusses” .... idk it just SCREAMS janus to me

ALSO, katherine technically lies about her identity for like 3/4 of the musical, so

anyway! roman meets janus and janus is all suave and lowkey flirty at first but then roman starts flirting BACK and jan is like “uh oh how to talk to cute boys????”

so then he gets all “i have more important things to do” *hair flip* and goes back to the article he’s supposed to be writing about emile’s theater (a lot of his notes are about roman’s performance but nobody needs to know that shhh)

roman draws a portrait of jan and leaves it there and janus gently & dramatically picks it up, stares at it, and tucks it into his suit with a soft smile

uh oh prices for papers went up! virgil steps up and helps roman lead a strike. turns out his caution works GREAT with roman’s determination and they keep each other from going towards extreme overthinking (virgil) or extreme stupidity (roman). they are a TEAM and they are BESTIES.

remus: lets SET THE PAPERS ON FIRE

roman, starry eyed: HECK YEAH LETS DO IT

virgil: how about we dont do that and instead form a union

and then the twins are like GOOD IDEA and tell everyone else. virgil may be a cautious and untrusting and afraid of public speaking but he has good ideas dangit

the intro to seize the day yknow? virgil says a Good Idea (which can probably be traced back to him always listening to logan rant about his studies) and roman spreads the message in a Firm Rebellion-y way to the other newsies

and patton is there doing his absolute best. he may be small but he knows that this isn’t right or fair to the newsboys and he’s ready to physically fight someone

enter logan who is lowkey really proud of virgil for stepping outside of his comfort zone to do whats right. logan may be scared out of his mind for his little bros but he’s gonna help them as much as he can between college and trying to work side jobs to help their fam

basically logan knows janus and tells him that he should report on the strike bc logan wants to help his bros AND his friend however he can

cue janus seeing his opportunity and TAKING it. he’s gonna write about this strike even if no one else will!!! take THAT, father

he also maybe possibly wanted to see roman again. but roman never needs to know that okay what he doesnt know cant hurt him

seize the day happens!!!! they strike!!!! they r powerful!!! but then no one else from any other sections of new york strike with them and they lowkey get rekt

remus mocks the delanceys but that was a BAD decision cuz now theyre targeting him and he gets taken to the REFUGE

roman is SAD bc his brother’s been taken away, no one showed up to help them strike, his brother’s been taken away and he just wants to get OUT of there. run away to santa fe, his ideal world, but he can’t even articulate that because his brother is gone

how is that just act one. how have i written so much yet left out so much???

remus is at the refuge and he’s a little more scared, now, that roman really will just leave him behind even though he knows deep down that roman would never.

still. he writes roman a letter and maybe he goes into a little too much detail about his injuries and the refuge but hey, that’s remus. he writes about how maybe they can run away to santa fe together. he signs it “your brother” and i CRY because they are the best bros

roman reads it and ALSO cries. especially because there it is, the description of santa fe he can never come up with by himself. remus rly does know him, huh

total scene change: janus finds the other newsies (and logan) in a restaurant? bar? and is like “!!! ur on the FRONT PAGE on my newspaper” which i just decided is called the snake instead of the sun

virgil didn’t totally trust janus would follow thru at first but now he’s convinced. they did it!!!! theyre on the front page!!!! the world WILL know!!!!

cue tapdancing!!!!!! king of new york is an absolute bop. i need logan tapdancing daintily and then janus LAUNCHING into some complex tap routine bc the newsies think he too will dance daintily

i know they wouldnt,,, actually dance but just let me have this self-indulgence in this entirely self-indulgent au

the Bro Trio + janus go hunt down roman to show him the paper and find him painting stuff at emile’s all sad and upset bc, well, they lost and remus was taken

but virgil is trying to show him that they made progress!!! sure pulitzer won but he won the BATTLE and actually the poor guy’s head is spinning bc theyre gonna win.

“cmon, ro, if i’m is telling you to be optimistic there must be hope”

see virgil calls him RO and its cute bc roman gave him the nickname ‘virge’ and now virgil’s giving him the nickname ‘ro’ theyre just besties okay

roman is unconvinced but then logan, who roman has actually never met before, steps in with Facts and Statistics, and patton adds some adorable words of encouragement, and janus sassily waves their Front Page Story at him, and roman starts realizing they DO have a chance

but then uh oh pulitzer threatens remus and the Bro Trio and roman is forced to speak out against the strike or risk ruining the lives of everyone he loves. and also he finds out that janus is pulitzer’s son and is Betrayed TM

theres some “he’s just trying to build up a false confidence in u so u can plummet to even greater depths” parallels in there somewhere....u can’t trust many people as a newsie and when roman DOES trust someone turns out he’s the son of the guy ur trying to fight

so roman says overnight in pulitzer’s basement, sleeping on an uncomfortable old printing press, and makes his decision

now for the RALLY

remy is spot conlon bc he DESERVES to be the leader of the brooklyn newsies. brooklyn, flushing, richmond, etc all show up to a newsies rally and are like YEAH!!! STRIKE!!!!

virgil is trying to tame the crowd nervously and keeps waiting for roman to show up bc they work best when theyre working together!!!! finally roman’s there and virgil introduces him (the attention isnt solely on him now thank gosh)

but then roman starts talking about how they dont stand a chance and how they shouldnt go on strike and virgil is just. confused and upset and angry

especially when he sees one of pulitzer’s employees slipping roman wads of money

virgil corners roman afterwards and is absolutely RIPPING into him. roman could fix this if he would just tell virgil the truth, tell him he doesn’t care about the money, he just wanted to keep him and patton and logan safe—

but roman knows if he tells virgil, then virgil will turn all his anger towards pulitzer, will be able to convince roman to keep going, and roman won’t. he can’t put virgil, put his family, at risk.

so he lies.

he doesn’t mean any of it. but he says it.

and maybe he kind of understands why janus lied, too.

he says he’s never had anyone to take care of him or remus, not like virgil does with his parents and his older brother. he says virgil will never know what it’s like.

virgil scoffs and glares and beneath all his fury looks crushed. but there’s still fire in his eyes, a spark roman saw that first day that only grew and engulfed any doubts virgil ever had.

roman says he’ll take the money and go, leave new york behind.

virgil says fine. we don’t need you. because you know what? all those words you said were mine. i didn’t have the courage to say them back then but now i do. we don’t need you.

(because i watched that scene in the movie and like YES go OFF davey i mean virgil)

roman flees to his “bedroom” which is really just a fire escape and just longs for remus’ reassurance. he has the letter but it doesn’t seem as encouraging now, not when he’s lost everything else important to him.

then janus shows up and roman’s mad at him but not mad enough to kick him out. and janus watched roman just give up on everything they’ve been fighting for and just wants to know WHY. why did he turn his back on the newsies when they were so close?

and roman, tired and upset and defeated, just says they wouldn’t succeed. even if all the newsies went on strike no one would report on it, anyway, because pultizer has all the printing presses on lockdown, even the one janus published from. and they already lost once! what more could they possibly do?

roman looks out over the railing, chest heaving from his rant, longing for his imaginary santa fe where he doesn’t have to face his failures. janus stands next to him and puts his hand over roman’s.

“i don’t have a simple answer to that question....but here’s a start.”

and janus pulls out a paper with roman’s words (well, and virgil’s, because virgil said it first but roman rephrased it powerfully, and that’s why they worked as a team) typed out, words that make the strike not about newsies but about ALL working children in the city who are being exploited for their youth and naivety.

it’s an entire article, expertly written. if published it would get the word out to the other newsies that they haven’t given up and show other working children and adults alike that this is IMPORTANT and they aren’t going away.

and then roman remembers his drawings of the refuge and remus’ graphic descriptions and shows them to janus and hey!!! they have a plan!!! they just need to print it....

roman’s like yo there’s an old press in ur dad’s basement he’d never suspect anything

and theyre both so excited and theyre gonna DO this, FINALLY, and janus sees hope on roman’s face again, maybe permanently this time, and janus just leans in and kisses him.

its very sweet and cute and theyre in LOVE

they pull back and kinda stand there awkwardly for a few seconds before both of them start grinning

and they both know its fragile, that they’ve hurt each other and trust was cracked, but it wasn’t broken completely, and they can fix this. they believe in each other and that’s enough for now.

and then they go find virgil at his house

roman knocks on the door and virgil opens it and just. glares at roman. and roman starts rambling apologies and explanations and tries to tell virgil about their plan and did he mention he’s sorry

virgil kinda just stares at him as he goes on and on and the only thing that stops him is patton running out and launching himself at roman

then logan appears behind virgil, and virgil kinda just smiles

“glad to have u back. again.”

and then they go sneak into pulitzer’s basement and print the article with jan’s writing and ro’s drawings and remus’ descriptions and the other newsies go spread the papers ALL around the city

the next morning EVERYONE is out on strike!!! u cant get ANYWHERE without seeing ppl, newsies or otherwise, filling the streets with chants of “seize the day”

roman, with the Bro Trio and Janus trailing close behind, waltzs on in to pulitzer’s office and flings the money pulitzer gave him back on the desk and is like whatcha gonna do NOW, joe??

pulitzer angrily tells them he’s a fool for going back on their deal and logan steps in sayin pulitzer is a fool for letting this get so out of hand over a 10 cent price increase. his sales are down 70%!! objectively the price increase was like the worst business decision ever

virgil’s like plus it’s making u look bad that ur business is the reason most of these kids are suffering. people really love kids, mr pulitzer and patton smiles brightly but in like a menacing way

then emile walks in with a ~dazzling smile~ and is like ur son told me about this whole situation, it’d be a shame if i contacted my good friend governor roosevelt who won’t be as kind as these brave newsies since u tried so hard to stop him from being elected :)

((in the show roosevelt is actually there but i want emile to have a moment to SHINE))

so pulitzer’s like FINE and talks to roman alone and roman wears him down, throwing words from janus, virgil, and pulitzer himself right in pulitzer’s face until FINALLY they have a deal. he’ll lower the prices by half AND pulitzer will buy back whatever they don’t sell full price

roman bursts out of the office into the streets where all the newsies are waiting and is like WE WONNN

and since they published all that stuff about the refuge in the paper, the guy who runs it is being arrested and REMUS IS FREE

the twins hug for like a full two minutes

then pulitzer offers roman a job as a political cartoonist and roman’s like. well idk now that this is over i should probably...head out

bc lowkey he’s thinking virgil still doesn’t wanna see roman ever again and he did say he would leave, so

but then virgil’s like come on, ro, you don’t really think we want u to leave, do u? what’s santa fe got that new york aint? tarantulas? sandstorms? stampedes? you can’t go to santa fe what if you DIE—

and logan says new york’s got us!

patton: and we’re family, right?

then janus is like you got a union to lead! and...you got me.

and remus is like bro, anyone can dream, all you do is close ur eyes! but some made up world is all you’ll ever see. (bc he’s the wordsy one, u see. he helps roman have the poetic realization that his santa fe isn’t real, but this IS)

so roman says well if u guys INSIST.....and then he takes jan’s hand and kinda asks w his eyes and then kisses jan in front of all the newsies who proceed to cheer obnoxiously

when they break apart roman leads janus by the hand over to the paper-buying-cart and slaps some couns down on the table and BUYS SOME PAPERS BC THEYRE NEWSIES BABEY

and everyone lived happily ever after🥰

[intothestarkerverse]

Welcome to My Dark Side (2)

Sequel to ‘Time of Our Lives’

Tony Stark has done his best to fit into the 21st century by embracing his new role, new family, and even his new nicknames.  Determined to become a hero worthy of calling Peter Parker his life partner, everything seems to be going better than he could have hoped…until Tony’s efforts to help Peter uncover the truth behind his parents’ death put everything he knows and loves in terrible danger.  In the face of absolute darkness, how can love and life survive?

(STORY CONTAINS ENDGAME SPOILERS)

Read on AO3

“You have breakfast yet?”  Tony eyed the six year old perched on a stool at his breakfast counter.  Her responding expression was beyond her sparse years, little mouth drawn into a serious frown, brows furrowed, dark eyes humorless with their intensity.  “Guess I should ask if you had anything good for breakfast, instead, right?”  Without waiting for a response, he turned back to his cupboards, plucking two bowls, two spoons, a carton of milk and a box of cereal out before precariously balancing his bounty back across the kitchen to the counter.

Morgan immediately perked up at the sight of the sugary breakfast treat that Pepper tried very hard to keep away from her growing daughter.  The fact that she had dumped Morgan on him this morning because she had an early morning conference call with someone in Japan just meant that Tony had a chance to spoil her, and spoil her he would.  Tony couldn’t bring himself to look on her as a daughter no matter what genetics said about the matter, but he’d always wanted a little sister and Morgan Stark was special in every single sense of the word.  He loved that kid and he’d happily murder anyone who even breathed on her wrong.

Morgan examined the box of cereal carefully as Tony prepared their meal, amused by the sugar-covered pieces of processed grain in the shape of tiny arc reactors and corresponding red and gold iron man helmet-shaped marshmallows.  “Let’s not tell your mom about this, huh?”

Morgan cocked her head at him, providing him with a half smirk as she chewed.

“Yeah, okay, don’t know what that means.  Kid, you’re the most cryptic six-year-old I’ve ever met.”  He enjoyed a few spoonfuls of his own bowl before he thought to ask, “Happy’s taking you to school in a bit, right?”  Pepper hadn’t said anything about Tony playing chauffeur, but he also hadn’t been paying much attention when the mother and daughter had arrived early that morning either.  Pepper could count her lucky stars that he didn’t require a lot of sleep and that he was still almost obsessively focused on the puzzle that Fury had presented to him after the fundraiser or he’d likely have been down for the count like most of the civilized folk in Manhattan at that hour.  As it was, he’d been deeply ensconced in his workshop with something that was going to benefit his future plans with Peter...a project he’d had to artfully hide from Pepper before she connected the dots and realized something he’d rather she not know.  

“Mhm,” Morgan barely afforded him a grunted response around her heaping mouthful of cereal.  It really was a shame how Pepper fed this kid.  Cutting sugar out of her breakfast food regimen was un-American.  School plans settled, the two fell into a companionable silence, eating their cereal and glancing over the graphics of the Old Man on the box from time to time.  Some kind of idle statistics about his do-gooding and IQ adorned the back.  The IQ was off by twenty points.  He was going to have to make them fix that.  

Tony didn’t realize Morgan had finished her cereal until he looked up from the box to find her staring at him with that same intense expression.  “You okay, Maguna?”

“How come you and daddy are the same?”

Tony almost spit his cereal out.  Somehow, he managed to swallow it in a gulp and stall for time with a little coffee as he coughed and sputtered on the soggy grain and milk.  “Uh, well, it’s just genetics kid.  You and the Old Man are a lot alike, too.”

“Um...no.  You and daddy are just alike, TJ.”

“Okay...well...there’s an explanation for that...”

Morgan pursed her lips and raised both brows at him, moving to a kneeling position on the stool so she could lay across the counter and reach out to place her hands on his face.  “You look just the same.  And sound just the same.  And your fingers are the same.  You’re the same as my daddy.”

Yeah, okay, so she was a Stark and he really should have seen this coming.  He could almost pity Howard in this moment if this gave him any clue about what he’d been like as a six year old.  Christ.  Tony cleared his throat, searching for something to say to explain it all away.  Instead, all he could do was stall for time.  “How did you figure this out, Kid?”

“Miss Friday helped me.”

“Seriously? What do you have to sat for yourself, Fri?”

“You told me to assist in Morgan’s education whenever possible, Boss.”  Tony let out a long sigh, that had not been what he meant.  “She asked me about your fingerprints and voice analysis and how they corresponded to Mr. Stark’s so I provided her with detailed comparisons of both.”

Tony tapped the back of the little girl’s hand on his cheek with his finger.  “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”

“Cause I am.”

“Mhm, and what made you think to compare my fingerprints and voice with your father’s?”

“My teacher said everybody has a voice that is just their own and not like anybody else in the whole wide world but you and daddy sound just alike.  Sometimes when you put me to bed I close my eyes and pretend you’re him.”

God, she was actually trying to kill him, now.  Tony felt his throat constrict as he plucked her hands off of his face and gave them a tight squeeze.  “I’m not your daddy, Morgan.  I wish I was because you’re so damn smart and beautiful and amazing, but I’m not.  You’re right, though, I’m not you’re brother either.  I just....I really need your mom and everyone else to believe that I am so can this be our little secret and I promise that sometime real soon I’ll sit down and tell you everything, okay?  For now...believe me when I tell you that your daddy is out there watching everything you do and he’s so freaking proud of you kid.  Whenever you see a rainbow or a shooting star or something crazy good happens to you out of the blue, that’s your dad telling you how much he loves you.”

“3000.”

Tony blinked away the tears in his eyes, clearing his throat and abandoning the counter to tidy up.  “Exactly.”

“Boss, Happy is here to pick up Morgan for school...” Saved by the AI.

“You hear that, Maguna?  Get a move on or you’ll be late.  Wait...I want a hug first.  Yep, that’s the stuff right there.”  He buried his nose in the little girl’s hair for a moment and gave it a good ruffle with his fingers before he let go.    “Be good and kick butt in school, okay?  Love you, kid.”

“I love you too, TJ.”

“3000?”

A pause.  “2005.”

“Ouch.”

~~~~~

“I’m still not sure about this.”

“What’s not to be sure about, Beautiful?  I’ve thought of everything.”

Peter turned back to the holographic read outs with a long sigh.  They were blueprints of the old Oscorp labs, or at least what little information Tony had been able to hack his way into at Shield, along with a few other reports that looked like weather and topographic readouts of the area.  Peter knew that this was their best bet, but he didn’t like it.  He didn’t think he could attribute it to his Spidey Sense, or Peter Tingle as the rest of the Avengers had taken to calling it (thanks to May).  No, it didn’t feel quite the same.  There was no sense of impending danger, just a heavy blanket of foreboding that was threatening to choke off his air supply.  Tony obviously didn’t feel the same, so maybe he was just being silly.  Or maybe he wasn’t.

Peter was supposed to tell May that he was going on a spring break trip with Tony, MJ, and Ned.  While MJ and Ned were actually going to go to Florida to live it up, he and Tony were heading to upstate New York to infiltrate Osborn’s lab.  Ned would be armed with a special Stark Phone that Tony had outfitted with the tech to provide realistic synthetic substitutes of Tony and Peter.  If May or Pepper sent texts, they were going to get varied and believable responses meant to replicate the young men’s actual speech and text patterns.  If they called or video chatted, a variant of the BARF technology was going to provide a realistic computerized response that would again fool the older women into thinking they were both in Florida living the good life by utilizing actual noise pollution and visuals from Ned and MJ’s vacation.  The guilt of leaving May at the airport thinking they were taking Tony’s private jet to Florida when they were instead flying headfirst into danger...it was almost suffocating and he couldn’t ignore the worry any longer.  “What happens if we’re not back in a week, Tony?”

“If we’re not back by the time that MJ and Ned have gotten back, than Friday is going to reveal our true destination to May, Pepper, and Fury so arrangements can be made.”

Funeral arrangements or just rescue mission arrangements?  Peter wanted to ask, but he knew better than to say any of that out loud.  He and Tony rarely fought, but Peter knew that nothing made Tony angrier than mentioning their own mortality.  “Are you sure this is a good idea?”  Because Peter wasn’t sure at all.  He’d heard Tony’s argument a hundred times but part of him still felt sick at what they were planning to do.

“Your parents are out there.  They’re alive.  We don’t leave men behind.  Besides, if there is something big and nasty coming than we need to know what it is and how to stop it.  I refuse to do what the Avengers did and just sit around waiting for the Big Bad to come knocking down our door.  We’re not going to be surprised again, Peter.  Whatever this bad thing is...we’re going to identify it and even after we close that gateway...we’re going to be ready for it because there’s no guarantee that closing the gateway will end the danger.  None.”

Peter could only nod slowly.  “Yeah, okay.  No, you’re right.  Of course you are.  I’m just...I’m nervous about getting my hopes up and visiting another world and just...everything.”

Tony laughed, reaching out to tug Peter across the room and into his arms.  His lips ghosting against the younger man’s, breath hot against Peter’s mouth as he embraced him, “We had sex in two different times, Baby, now we get to consummate parallel earths.  Tell me that’s not hot as fuck.”

“Depends on the parallel earths.”

Tony snorted a laugh as he nuzzled into Peter’s neck and nipped at his ear, “You need to stop worrying.  We’re superheroes, Baby.  Arguably the two best superheroes on the planet.”

“Only because Thor is off world with the Guardians...”

“Honestly, you and Thor.  If I didn’t know better, I’d be jealous.”

Their conversation died off as the Quinjet came to a quiet landing.  Peter held onto Tony for several more seconds, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of the older man in an attempt to calm the frenzied beating of his heart.  Finally, though, he gently pushed himself away and tapped his watch to engage the Ironspider suit.

Several things became apparent to Peter as the two descended the ramp from the cloaked jet plane.  This was clearly going to be even more difficult than Peter had thought.  Fury hadn’t been lying when he said that Shield had sealed the lab in an attempt to prevent anything from the Gateway from breaching the outside world.  From outward appearances, it looked like the entire building had been encased in a giant block of cement.  “Uh, so...” 

“Don’t worry, I had the Iron Legion working on our way in for the last twenty-four hours.  Believe it or not, inside this cement, there’s another layer of titanium.  Anyway, it took six suits, but we have a way in.  Follow me.”  Iron Man circled the building with Spidey close on his heals.  The moment they turned the corner, Peter could see the suits.  It appeared that they’d concentrated their repulsers into a succession of laser-like beams that had sliced a rectangular chunk of cement and metal to reveal one of the doors on the blueprints.  “I’m leaving them on guard duty while we’re gone.  Friday will make sure that nothing comes out of this facility until we get back...and if by some miracle something gets by, she’ll radio the New Avengers.  You don’t have to worry, Pete.”

“Famous last words.”  It was in times like this that Peter found himself missing Mr. Stark.  Tony just hadn’t experienced the level of failure and defeat that Mr. Stark, or even Peter, had.  He didn’t know to expect the worst, but Peter did.  He cast a wary glance at the Iron Legion, biting his tongue as Tony moved for the door.

It came open with a pop, the musty smell of stale air, dust and mildew washed out around them.  Peter only got the smallest whiff before he felt the filtration system in the suit come online. 

The interior looked like nothing but darkness.  No light could penetrate from the concrete and titanium covered walls, so there was nothing visible beyond a few feet into the entry.  It wasn’t as if Mr. Stark hadn’t thought of those concerns a long time ago.  Something as mundane as darkness was hardly any match for Iron Man.  Lighting and night vision had been built into the earliest models of the suit, after all.  As Iron Man stepped into the abyss beyond, that tech came online to illuminate the area around him and several feet in front of him.  A similar array of artificial illumination ignited on the Ironspider suit as well.  Gulping back his fear, Peter reached out to close the door behind them and they were bathed in black.

The entire facility was filthy, awash with dust, debris, and cobwebs.  Out of the corner of his eye, Peter caught sight of what he could only assume was the corpse of a fallen Shield Agent, but he did his best to avoid looking at it for too long.  Still, the momentary glimpse of the skeleton was burned onto is retinas.  “Tony...”

There was something wrong with that sight.  The body.  As much as he wanted to avoid looking, he couldn’t help but glance back towards it.  “Tony, if the building is sealed...how is that body not mummified...”

Tony was already bending over it to examine the bones as the oddity of the body struck him as wrong at almost the same time.  “I think these are tooth marks...”. He held up an ulna, running an armored finger over the grooves on the bone.  “These are definitely toothmarks.  Friday says they appear...humanoid.”

Peter certainly hoped that Tony couldn’t hear him gulping in fear behind his own mask....but with the sensitive comms, he probably could.  “Tony...what are we locked in here with?”

“I don’t know.  Let’s just...be careful, and hope that Peter Tingle of yours is on point tonight.”

“Spidey sense.”

“Hmm,” Tony reverently replaced the bone and stood, brushing off his gauntlets.  

“I prefer the term ‘Spidey Sense.’ “

“Give me one good reason why I should call it Spidey Sense, Baby, because that name isn’t nearly as funny...”

“Because you’re the only thing that makes my peter tingle.”

Tony had to brace himself against the wall to support himself as he laughed.   “God, Beautiful, every time I don’t think I could love you more...you go and drop one of those gems on me.  Damn.”

Peter’s response was lost on his lips.  He felt the telltale warning of danger shiver down his spine as he caught sight of movement just at the periphery of their location.  There wasn’t time to warn him, there was really only time for Peter to fire a quick line of webbing at his lover and tug him back as something dark and terrifying lunged from the shadows.  Peter could swear he could hear it moaning the word ‘meat.’  

“What the fuck...” A repulser blast bit into the wall inches from the creature, scorching its arm and the tatters of what appeared to be clothing and once more driving it back into the shadows before either hero could get a good look at it.  “Well, at least we know what ate the bodies...”

“Yeah, Tony, that’s not nearly as comforting as you think it is.”  Even worse, perhaps, were the observations from both Karen and Friday that the creature had no heat signature and wouldn’t be visible on infrared.  Now their trek through the building was much more careful and calculated.  There were signs of the creatures everywhere.  Claw marks on the walls, ransacked rooms, shattered furniture, the little skeletons of rats and mice and anything else unfortunate enough to have been sealed into the lab with them.  It was only the knowledge of the Parkers’ distress call that kept Peter moving through the corpse of the once thriving laboratory.  His parents were alive.  They’d escaped this place, and so would he and Tony.  They just had to.

At least Tony seemed to know where he was going.  He’d studied the blueprints much longer than Peter and had no doubt pinpointed precisely where a lab with a dimensional gateway would be located.  Neither man mentioned the occasional sound of shuffling footsteps, the soft grunts and moans, the momentary glimpses of shifting shadows.  There were clearly more than one of those things in there with them, but for the moment, they were hanging back.  Maybe Tony had scared them with the repulser.  Or, maybe as with many of the hunters in the animal kingdom, they were stalking their prey and waiting for exactly the right moment to strike.

The Gateway didn’t look anything like Peter had imagined it would.  Shows like Stargate had always made them out to be large and imposing, a shifting, whirling mass of colors housed within an intricate metal or stone structure that provided it shape.  This portal was anything but. 

Peter could barely make it out without one of the specialized lenses of his suit.  To the naked eye, it appeared as little more than the somewhat fluid appearance of very hot air on a humid July day.  It was in that subtle wavering of the light that the slightest glimpse of a world beyond their own could be captured...but never long enough to make anything out.  A quick sweep of the area showed that the portal was being maintained by a strip of metal along the ground that was joined to a large and imposing computer.  While Peter had been examining the Portal, Tony had been taking stock of the technology.

“They cut off power to the lab in the hopes that it would cause the Gateway to close.  It didn’t, which means that whatever is powering this portal isn’t coming from our dimension anymore.”

“That’s comforting.”  Peter reached out to touch the shimmering air.  As his finger hit the air, the tip of it vanished.  He felt nothing.  No pain, no tingling, no disconnection.  Nothing to suggest it was a portal to another world besides the fact that the tip of his finger had vanished before his very eyes.

“Peter, stop poking the portal.  It has a radiation signature...”

The young man withdrew his hand quickly, glad that Tony couldn’t see what he was certain was a guilty look on his face.  Neither of the men had withdrawn their suits since entering the laboratory.  The air inside the lab was breathable, if their read outs were any suggestion, but also so stale that it would likely not be pleasant for either one of them.  Besides, with those monsters running around, it seemed smart to have some kind of protection on hand.  Now, with what looked like a radiation signature emanating from the portal...the suits were staying on for the foreseeable future.

Tony was busy patching one of the main computer terminals into a handheld arc reactor to allow him to reboot and access the information they both hoped was still accessible on the hard drives while Peter was pacing the lab like a nervous animal in a zoo.  Just like a nervous animal in a zoo, he could feel what was an indeterminate amount of eyes trained on his every movement and his inability to know where they were or what they were planning was making his every instinct scream warnings in his head.

Desperate for some distraction, Peter started to look more closely at the room itself.   It looked as if the place had just been abandoned in the middle of a shift.  There as a mug of coffee by one terminal with what appeared to be dried contents of a cup still housed within it.  A stack of granola bars and food from what must have been a break room vending machine  sat next to a swath of complicated equations that Peter picked up and shuffled through silently.  Not everything was immaculate, however.  A few desks had been upturned.  Chairs broken.  There were bullet holes in the wall near the door and the door itself had clearly been forced open from the outside by organic means.

“I think...I think after they sealed them in here, my mom and dad must have gathered some supplies and tried to stick it out in here.  But um...whatever’s out there...it must have wanted them pretty bad.”

Tony glanced up from the computer, the expressionless mask of his armor giving Peter no hint as to what was going on in the mind beneath.  

Peter’s foot met with something on the floor and it skittered forward.  Upon closer inspection, he recognized an old school camcorder with a tape still housed inside.  “You um...you think you can make this work?”

Tony had already Jerry-rigged a thumb drive to the computers’ memory to download any and all information he could.  Waving Peter over, he took the camcorder and in a matter of minutes had it once more powered up, tape rewound.

For several seconds it appeared to be a tape recording the team’s initial attempt to establish the Gateway.  Then, the scene cut out and a familiar face came into frame.

She was a little older and much less put-together than she had been the last time that Tony and Peter had seen her, but there was no mistaking Mary Parker for all that she and Peter resembled one another.  She was dirty, sweating, tired, but still very much alive as she addressed the camera.

“If you’re seeing this, than that means you came back for us...which...all due respect, Fury, but that was stupid.  I told you we’d be okay if you sealed us in here, that we’d figure something out...and we did.  I think.  I hope.  No, I’m sure that we did.”

A loud sound shook the frame and with wide eyes Mary glanced off camera where Richard was shouting “Hurry up, Mary, we don’t have a lot of time here.”

“Right.  Right.  We can’t stay here, Fury.  The anomalies are...they’re not like we thought.  They appear to have higher brain function, an ability to communicate.  They’ve displayed a remarkable ability to reason and hunt and now that they know they’re trapped in here with us...that we’re the only food supply left...they’re pretty determined to eat us.  So uh....it’s time to go.  And since we can’t get out of here through the door....we’re going to use the Gateway.”

“I’ve had a little bit of time to work on the math.  I think I understand how this thing works at least as well as the men who built it...which arguably isn’t very well.”  She held up the swath of complicated equations that Peter had seen on the desk nearby.  “It’s all here.  I’ll...leave if for you.  Hopefully...hopefully it‘ll still be here for you.”

Another loud sound, a curse from Richard, and Mary paled considerably.  “I’m sorry...I’m sorry I’ve got to cut this short.  I...I can’t shut the Gateway down because it’s not being powered by our dimension anymore.  Unless or until we find the power source, this thing is open for good...but I can change the world it opens up to.  We’re not going to the world where these things originated...but beyond that.  I don’t know.  I’m going to try to make it home, Fury.  But if we don’t...you keep your promise and you make sure my baby boy is taken care of, you hear me.  You owe us that.”

The sound of wood splintering, of those creatures hissing and screaming and moaning.  The camcorder dropped, still recording and slid against a desk, catching the image of Richard and Mary Parker as they ran through the Gateway to the screams of the monsters they left behind.

Peter closed the camcorder, hands trembling slightly.  “Tony...if those things are as smart as she says...why aren’t they coming after us?”

Tony hazarded a glance towards the broken door and rubbed the back of his neck with a gauntlet.  “I don’t know, Beautiful, but I don’t like it.”

Peter considered it for a moment.  “Maybe they’re trying to get out again...”

“I don’t care how scary they are, Peter, there’s no way they’re getting past the Iron Legion.”

“So...when they can’t get out the door and they realize that we’re the only food source...”

Tony cursed, “Yeah.  I think the ones we can hear are sentries...”

“They’re watching to make sure we can’t get away.”

“‘Fraid so.  Or hoping that when we get done here we’ll leave them an opening to get out.”

Peter was already gathering the papers his mother had left behind, stuffing them into a briefcase he’d found discarded beneath a desk.  He threw the camcorder in with it and after a moment’s hesitation grabbed the handful of granola bars as well.  They probably didn’t go bad, right?  And he might get hungry later.  “What I don’t get...is why they didn’t go through the portal, too.  If they’re smart and they’re hungry and they’ve been surviving in here for over a decade....why not try that other world out?”

“Because your mother was smart enough to leave it open to a location they wouldn’t be able to utilize, Pete.  Radiation signature.  Whatever is on the other side of that portal is deadly for them...at least as deadly as it would be for us.”

“But my parents...”

“They didn’t go through to that world, Pete.”  Tony gestured to a read out near the floor where a long alphanumeric sequence could be seen.  “You can see most of the readout on the video.  It’s not the same.  After your parents went through...they must have found a way to redial the Gateway and make sure it emptied to someplace...innocuous.”

Peter didn’t know if this new made him feel better or worse.  “Okay...so...what’s our next move...” His words died on his lips, replaced by an anguished cry brought on by what felt like the pain of being set on fire.  His Spidey-Sense had never felt like that before.  It had never been so strong that it was excruciating, but as his gaze moved from Tony to the doorway and he caught sight of what had triggered the tingle...Peter completely understood.

His Spidey Sense was right.  

They were so totally and completely fucked.

[stopforamoment]

Wacky Drabble #9: A Lesson in Metaphors and Irony

TRR after Book Three Bastien Lykel and OFC Rinda Lykel Word Count: 1,151 This is written for @emceesynonymroll wacky drabble challenge #9 Maybe you’re too innocent. Prompt is bolded in the story.

Bastien and Rinda are married in this one. Bastien is the Head of the Cordonian Emergency Response Program, Drake is the security officer at Valtoria Primary School, and Rinda is now a professor at the Cordonian University. Colin is Rinda’s close friend from grad school and another professor at the University. His wife Deirdre is a primary school teacher in Cordonia, and the couple share Rinda’s political views. A/N: This one is ripped from the headlines—Secretary Betsy DeVos visited a school in Milwaukee, WI and this is where my brain went.   This drabble is totally off the rails, so suspend reality with me and enjoy! Also, of course alcohol isn’t allowed on school property, as much as teachers may need to drink to get through the day! If you are a fan of President Trump, Secretary Betsy DeVos, or school choice, this won’t be your thing.

A Lesson in Metaphors and Irony “Can you believe that crazy bitch has the audacity to spin her anti-public education bullshit as ‘education FREEDOM’? And these fucking cherry-picked examples. Public schools do this stuff too. And they could do even more if these mother dick vouchers didn’t drain resources from our public schools. What a clusterfuck.” It was no secret that Rinda was a proponent for public schools and that she loathed Betsy DeVos. The idea of DeVos as the United States Secretary of Education, a person who should advocate for public education, was an oxyMORON. And now Rinda was fuming because DeVos visited Milwaukee, Wisconsin for some shitty photo ops, pontificating on the importance of vouchers and charter schools so parents could have better taxpayer-funded options for their children. And don’t even get her started that DeVos considered Milwauke the “birthplace of education freedom” because the voucher program started there. Bastien smiled because Rinda still considered American public schools to be “our” public schools, and he put down his phone to he could give his full attention during her Rinda Rant. He knew Rinda was appalled by the racial divides and socioeconomic inequalities in the city where she lived for so many years. Bastien also knew it was empathy, along with anger over any injustice, that motivated Rinda to make a difference. However, when Rinda was this pissed off and reacted out of anger, it never ended well. Bastien knew his Tria, and Rinda Rants were a much safer way for her to blow off steam. However, Bastien also quickly sent a message when Rinda’s back was to him. It wasn’t announced yet, but President Trump and Secretary DeVos scheduled a trip to Cordonia to visit some of the primary schools. Bastien knew he had to deny all security clearances for his dearest wife, and it was probably best if Rinda wasn’t allowed near Valtoria Primary School or the duchy during that time. Bastien did the math in his head. A restraining order for thirty miles should be enough. Rinda would be working at the University, and she could spend the night with Colin and Deidre while the President and Secretary were in Valtoria. . . . . . King Liam and Queen Riley smiled diplomatically as they listened to Secretary DeVos’ ideas on Freedom Scholarships, and Bastien maintained his stoic facade as President Trump pontificated on the benefits of arming teachers in classrooms. Thank God Tria isn’t here for this shit storm—there’s no way she would keep her composure for this. The Secret Service would have her detained by now and we’d have an international incident. The meeting was tolerable, although King Liam and Queen Riley soon needed to excuse themselves for an urgent phone call. That left Bastien with President Trump and Secretary DeVos. He began to wish Tria was there. She knew by heart the statistics about charter schools and vouchers, along with their negative effects on public schools. She also had detailed rebuttals for every counterargument against public education. And her inappropriate comments about President Orange Cheeto and Cruella DeVos would help make this meeting tolerable. Maybe even fun. He almost started chuckling as he thought about the jokes Rinda was making regarding the latest Betsy in his life. Betsy Beaumont the Badass Bastard Bird and now Betsy DeVos. I fucking hate the name Betsy. President Trump was still talking, unaware that Bastien wasn’t even listening, when Bastien’s phone rang. Drake needed his help with a school security matter and no, it couldn’t wait. Bastien let out a sigh of relief before turning to President Trump and Secretary DeVos, promising to return as soon as he could. In the meantime, they were welcome to explore the school and observe the students. When Bastien got to Drake’s office he was surprised to see Liam and Riley there, drinking very expensive whiskey with Drake. Whiskey that Rinda gifted him before she was banished from Valtoria for two days. Bastien’s jaw twitched. “What did Rinda do?” No one answered. Bastien glared as he called his wife. “Tria, why are the King and Queen drinking expensive whiskey in Drake’s office instead of finishing the meeting with President Trump and Secretary DeVos? Drake snickered as he watched Bastien pinch the bridge of his nose while he listened to his wife’s response, and Riley giggled when she heard Bastien hiss “Maybe you’re too innocent” as he abruptly ended the call. “Have a seat with us.” Liam gestured for Bastien to sit next to him, but there was an impish gleam in the King’s eyes. “Plausible deniability, Bastien. As far as we know, Rinda is simply working at the University and waiting until you say she can come home. Now, would you like a drink?” Soon there was the sound of secret service agents running in the halls and shouting directives. Drake swirled the whiskey in his glass as he automatically chanted “Use your walking feet. And zero volume in the halls.” There were several minutes of confusion, but Bastien finally pieced together what happened. A climbing rock wall had been delivered to the school, but it had inadvertently been dropped off in a location that sealed President Trump and Secretary DeVos in a section of the school. They were trapped behind the rock wall, and the only ways out were to climb over the rock wall or remove it. Riley and Liam started laughing when they realized the predicament, and Drake poured himself another whiskey. Bastien called Rinda again, this time putting her on speaker. “Tria. Do you know anything about a rock wall being delivered today? Or where it was dropped off?” “Hi, Tiger! Oh, did that finally arrive? I know the gym teacher has been waiting for it. They’re doing a unit on—” “Tria! I know you’re behind this. What were you thinking?” “Um, metaphors? Irony? Trump on the wrong side of a wall, barred from reaching a safe place that has more resources and opportunities? DeVos trapped in a public school, left behind because the rest of you had a voucher to get out and didn’t give a shit about her?” “I love you Tria, but I’m furious with you.” “Hey, at least I didn’t send the gift basket. I just couldn’t decide. Bags of Cheetos? Or I could really go for it. Fruit basket with oranges and peaches. I’m not orange. I’m peach.” Rinda laughed. “Impeach. Get it, Tiger?” Bastien took Rinda off speaker and turned around, speaking in a whisper that everyone else could still hear. “You know what this means. I want you to come home tonight where I can keep an eye on you, and you’re waking me up with a blow job for the next week.” Everyone heard Rinda’s laughter through the phone, and Bastien needed to excuse himself as his very contrite Tria told him what else she would do to make it up to her Tiger.

[honeymoonjin]

enjoy your stay - chapter six

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

A/N - Just for now, I’m trialing not putting in chapter links on this post to see if it helps more people see it since the tumblr search function cuts out posts with links. If there’s not a big difference, I’ll put them in later, but to see the first chapter if you’re a new reader, please click on my blog and check out my masterlist.

ENJOY YOUR STAY ↳Boss!Namjoon, Chef!Jin, Receptionist!Hoseok, Bellboy!Jimin, Bartender!Jungkook, Accountant!Yoongi, Photography student!Taehyung ↳Some inappropriate language and cursing. Later chapters have sexual content.

SUMMARY ↳Working the graveyard shift at a hotel isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but your coworkers are certainly happy to have you here.

CHAPTER SIX ↳It’s hard to navigate the line between professional and personal relationships, and you find yourself beginning to make deeper connections with some of the night shift workers.

The lobby’s carpet has just been properly cleaned, and the wet-dog smell still permeates the wide-open space. When you get there, the muscles in your arms creaking with the weight of the reams of paper you’re holding, you’re shocked to find Hoseok not at his desk.

Did he really need the paper that badly?

Instead, Jimin’s rocking back and forth on the roller chair, enjoying the opportunity to rest his feet for once.

His bellboy cap rests at a jaunty angle on his head and the top few buttons of his jacket are undone.

You call out to him as you approach, and he sits up with a grin. “Where’s Hobi?”

The grin falls. “Hello to you, too.”

You roll your eyes and dump the heavy load on the desk, rubbing your upper arms and wincing. “Hello, Jimin. Where’s Hobi?”

He huffs but doesn’t argue further, and his angelic smile returns. “Maybe if you showed up to work on time, you’d know.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I don’t suppose a certain someone kept you up all night, huh?” He blinks. “All day, that is.”

You kick half-heartedly at his shins. “No, dipshit, the exact fucking opposite, actually.”

Within a second, his teasing drops. “You talked to Jin?”

You nod lamely. “Yeah,” you breathe, “we’re good.”

He’s not convinced. “But not good-good, otherwise you wouldn’t be so gloomy.”

You swallow hard but don’t respond. “Seriously, where’s Hoseok? I need to let him know I’ve got the paper he asked for, and you know that idiot probably doesn’t know how to load it in to the printer, so I need to tell him how to do that.”

Jimin resumes his lazy swaying back and forth, and shrugs. “He’s out getting the cake for Jeongguk.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m getting the cake for Jeongguk. Hoseok doesn’t even know where the bakery is.”

Jimin huffs. “Okay, well, he isn’t doing that, then. I don’t know.” His tone is clipped, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him truly irritated. His eyes are lowered, and he won’t stop bouncing a knee, so clearly, he does know, but you decide not to press it.

“I guess I can show him next time I stop by,” you allow, noticing the flash of relief on the boy’s face. You lean your hip against the desk and stare down at him, smirking. “So, you’re on receptionist duty, huh? What if someone calls and needs your assistance in their hotel room? Will Mrs. Kang miss out on your delightful company tonight?”

He levels a look at you, but the corners of his mouth turn up. “Actually, Mrs. Kang already asked me up to her room while Hobi was still here, so hah!”

“That’s…not an achievement.”

Jimin fiddles with his cufflinks a little more before looking up at you. “There’s a dance competition in the next town over this weekend that I’ve been practicing for, I’m really excited. It’s got a cash prize, too.”

You smile at him. “Oh, good luck! I’m sure you’ll do amazing, I watched a bunch of your videos on YouTube and you’re really good!”

His cheeks pinken with the praise, but he still looks a little nervous. “Yeah,” he breaks off with a quiet laugh. “I was thinking, maybe you’d like to come with? Only if you want to, of course, no pressure,” he insists, then looks back down at his hands.

“Yeah, I’d love to, Jimin! I’m sure you’re even more talented in person.” You frown, eyes flickering around the reception desk. “Wait, I think Hobi is looking after his sister’s kids this weekend, he probably can’t make it.”

He hides a smirk. “What a shame.”

You push off from the desk and give his shoulder a squeeze. “Just text me the details and I’ll be there.”

He calls out your name before you get five feet away from the desk. “Or we could carpool? It’s like an hour’s drive each way, and there’s no point using up twice as much petrol.”

You agree breezily. “Why are you acting so weird? Don’t be nervous about the competition, you’ll kill it! Anyways, gotta go, but I’ll see you later.”

You’re too far away to make out the reply he mumbles.

The bar is your next stop of the night, and normally it consists of you popping your head inside, yelling out to Jeongguk to ask if he’s all good, then continuing on. Apart from the odd request for more bar snacks or napkins, nothing ever goes on there, not at this hour of the night, so you haven’t really had much to do with the youngest member of staff.

Tonight, however, is different. At this point, with so many strange things happening in the past twenty-four hours, it should really be no surprise that even this quick routine is disturbed.

Jeongguk doesn’t answer when you call his name, and for the first time since working here you see he’s wearing glasses. He’s glaring intensely down at something you can’t see behind the bench.

You make your way towards his side of the room, still trying to get his attention, but it’s not until you actually reach him and push at his shoulder lightly that he jumps in surprise and looks up at you. “Oh, it’s you. I don’t need anything, thank you.”

You get up on tiptoe as he goes back to what he was doing before, and you can see a mess of paper and pens on the other side. “What are you up to?”

He looks up again, impatiently, but then seems to realize what he’s doing. “Oh, shit, please don’t tell Namjoon I’m studying on the job! I promise if a customer comes along, I’ll-”

“Woah, woah,” you soothe, “it’s fine. I won’t say anything. What are you studying for?”

He nibbles on his lower lip. “Statistics. We have our final coming up and if I don’t get at least a B I’m going to fail the course and then I’ll be a whole year behind and my parents will hate me, and I just don’t have time for this, and I’m stressed and argh! It’s driving me insane.”

“Wait, are you going to uni every day then coming here and working all night? No wonder you’re stressed. Jeongguk, that’s crazy.”

He tucks his fingers underneath his wire-rimmed glasses and rubs at his tired eyes. “Nah, it’s an online degree, but it’s a lot of work and it takes me an hour and a half to get here by train from my parents house, so… Yeah, I’m a little stressed out.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do you have a job 90 minutes away from your house?”

He slumps down, bending at the waist to rest his forearms on the bar. He tucks his chin into his hand and stares up at you with his wide eyes. “Hotel management degree. Since the course is online, we need to get real-life experience. Mom used to teach Namjoon when he was at university back home, so she asked him if I could get a place here.”

You poked at his arm gently. “So, you should be doing my job,” you tease.

He just nods miserably. “I started off helping Namjoon in his office, but it’s just so boring, and this was the only other opening.”

He seems to have given up on studying for now, standing up and absentmindedly shuffling the papers into a neat pile. You sit down on a bar stool. “Jeongguk,” you say softly, “why are you doing a hotel management degree if you don’t like doing hotel management?”

He shrugs. “Mom and dad want me to own a business like them. Hotel management has a high employment rate because people will always need hotels. And I live with them, so I can’t exactly say no.”

“Of course you can say no! It’s your life!”

He frowns even deeper and shakes his head. “I’m just going to graduate, work for a while to make it look like I tried, then do something I actually want to do. Then they can’t get mad.”

You process this for a few moments. “So, you’re doing something you hate, just because your parents want you to, and you feel like you have to because you’re living under their roof?”

“Yeah, you get it.” He shrugs again. “That’s just life.”

You shake your head slowly. “You’re too young to settle for something that makes you unhappy. If you moved out, maybe moved here, you wouldn’t have to feel like you owed them, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the transit time, and you could switch to a degree you actually enjoyed.”

A flick of hope gleams in his eyes before he schools his expression. “With what money? I can’t afford to move out.”

“I’m living in a two-bedroom apartment by myself. I was going to rent it out, but I didn’t want a stranger living in my house. If you were okay with it, I’d be happy for you to stay there.”

“I can’t afford it,” he insists, less emphatic than before.

“Consider it a birthday present. Look, I don’t need the extra money since I’ve been surviving just fine on my own for a couple years, and I want you to be happy.” You reach out and squeeze his hand as it occurs to you that this is the longest conversation you’ve had with the boy and you’re already offering him a place to stay. Damn you and your intense need to help everybody. “If you could choose any degree, what would you actually want to do?”

“Computer programming,” he answers without hesitation, “you learn to make your own video games by writing code. I’d love to be a game developer one day.”

“Then do some research on studying computer programming, and if you find something you like, my apartment has a free bed if you need it. And unlimited Wi-Fi. It is 2019, after all.”

He laughs, and you can’t help but feel warm inside when he finally cheers up. “Thanks, noona. I’ll think about it.” He starts putting his study materials back into his bag, but his eyes are distant. “You know what,” he starts, “I reckon my parents would actually be pretty proud if I moved out and took some responsibility. They always complain about me moping around the house all the time.” He smiles at you as you get off the stool and turn to leave. “I’ll think about it,” he repeats softly.

It’s amazing how a decent conversation and an act of kindness can improve even the worst day, but you have a spring in your step as you head towards the restaurant. Even an awkward encounter with a… oh, what would you call Jin? Even an awkward encounter with the man who lovingly rejected you couldn’t bring down your mood.

On your way, you bump into Hobi who’s heading the way you came. He’s pouting, but his eyes are narrowed in his classic expression of annoyance. “Where were you?”

He blinks at you. “What do you mean? Jimin told me you asked me to meet you in the storage closet. I’ve been there for the past forty fucking minutes!”

You shrug slightly in confusion. “I never said that. Jimin must’ve been messing around with you. Wait,” you question, “why would you think I would want to see you in the storage closet, anyway? It’s so musty in there, and there’s a daddy long legs on the ceiling.”

He sticks his lower lip out even more. “I mean, at first I had no idea. But I had plenty of time to think about it while standing in there in the dark, and I thought maybe you had some tea so hot that you couldn’t risk telling it in the lobby. So, I got curious and stuck around for as long as I could. Eventually I had to pee, though, and once I left, I felt stupid and decided to come find you myself.”

You can’t help the bewildered grin that stretches across your face. “If I poked a stick in your ear, do you think it’d just come out the other side?”

“Hey,” he whines.

“You should really use that skull as storage, it’s a shame to see it sit there all empty.”

“Hey!” He shoves your shoulder pettily. “If you had some hot details about the gloriously weird sex you probably had with Jin, then I wanted to know! It would’ve been worth the wait!”

And there goes the good mood. “Nothing’s happening with me and Jin anymore. At least not now. Sorry I don’t have better gossip for you, Hobi.”

He sighs and wraps an arm around you. “Don’t worry about it. I think the fumes from the disinfectant got me a little high, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.” His voice is joking, but he squeezes you a little tighter. “I’m sure you’ll find someone, muppet. If Yoongi wasn’t so gay, I’d be happy to share.”

You bark out a laugh. “I think I’ll survive on my own, but thanks, Hobi.”

He squeezes your shoulder one last time and detaches himself, jogging back down the hallway, presumably to give Jimin a piece of his mind.

Normally, at this time of night, Jin is the only one still in the kitchen, mucking around with flavor combinations, writing out a grocery order for Namjoon, or heating up some leftover dinner special as a midnight snack.

Today is surprisingly no different, and he’s noisily slurping up some al dente pasta when you slip into the kitchen.

He looks up at you straight away and gives you a gentle smile. “Nice to see you. Truly.”

You nod. “You too, Jin.” The two of you fall into a lapse of silence which you break with a sigh. “Don’t you have some sort of joke for me. I don’t know, an obscure pun about salt, or something?”

He blinks at you and sets his chopsticks down quietly. “I’m a little tired,” he murmurs. “I’ll be sure to tell you next time I think of one.” His eyes are on you as you pick up the filled-out order form on the kitchen island he’s eating at.

You run your thumb lazily over his chicken-scratch handwriting, not meeting his eyes so that your courage didn’t falter. “You were right.”

“Right about what?”

You click your tongue in disappointment. Before the whole freezer fiasco, he would’ve made some joke about how he always is. “This isn’t fair. Refusing to give me a chance because I don’t know the real you, then never being yourself around me.” You shrug. “Just tell me you don’t like me, or you changed your mind. I don’t know, tell me you’ve suddenly realized after all these years that you’re gay. But don’t make me think there’s a chance when you clearly aren’t interested in giving it to me.”

Speech finished, you exhale noisily, wetting your dry lips and blinking into the glare of the fluorescent bulbs above his head.

He doesn’t answer for a few moments, and like usual, his silence is the most painful sound.

“There isn’t a chance.” His voice is blank when he finally speaks.

“I don’t believe you.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” You blink at his rough tone and jerk your head back down to make eye contact with him. His face is dead serious, and his eyes are heavy with emotion. “Do you want me to lie to you and tell you I’m some sensitive, romantic, old soul that wants to buy you flowers and never leave your side? Do you want to give me years of your life, only to realize that I’m never there? That I hang around the restaurant for hours after closing just because I can’t bear to go home and see the disappointment on your face that I forgot our anniversary yet again? Because that’s exactly what my ex went through, and before she left she made damn well sure I was aware of how much of a shitty boyfriend I was. I wasted her time, and I’m not going to waste yours.” He pushes the half-empty bowl away from him as if in disgust and leans back into his chair in defeat. “I can’t tell you I don’t want to be with you. I can’t tell you that wasn’t one of the best kisses of my life. But I can tell you, with perfect fucking honesty, that if you chose to be with me, you’d be signing up for nothing but let-downs and misery. And I’m not going to let you do that.”

All of a sudden, confronting him seems like the stupidest idea. You’ve ruined his day yet again with a pathetic display of desperation, and you feel stupid that one rejection wasn’t enough. You clear your throat. “Message received, Chef Kim. I won’t bother you again.”

Neither of you meet the other’s eyes.

He says nothing.

You nod once, then leave.

Namjoon isn’t in his office when you finish up your final rounds a little after 3, and you sit in morose silence for almost an hour before he returns, clearly in better spirits than you.

“Phew,” he breathes, collapsing into his chair, “mission accomplished. Younger brother no longer angry at me? Check.”

You muster up a smile. “If he does need a job, I wouldn’t mind him helping me out. I just don’t have that much to do.”

He waves you off. “It’s all good, he’s going to take inventory for all our stock, one department at a time. He should earn enough money to buy a camera and then some.”

You tilt your head. “But didn’t the day staff do that two weeks ago?”

“Tae doesn’t need to know that.”

Your smile turns genuine and you let out a soft laugh. “You’re a good brother.”

The compliment makes him a little shy, and he turns away from you to hide his blush, quickly changing the subject. “Listen, Jeongguk told me about the whole moving out thing.”

You can’t help but raise your eyebrows. “Geez. That was quick.”

He nods and scoffs a little. “He was just about bouncing off the walls when I dropped off the new shipment of scotch. He wanted to tell me about it to make sure there were no staff policies against it before he said yes. Sweet kid.” You agree with him. Namjoon turns back to you with a serious look in his eyes. “And very sweet of you, Miss Mother Theresa. You didn’t have to do that.”

You fiddle with your hands nervously. “He deserves it. And the room is just sitting there, so…”

He nods once. “Well, there’s nothing against it in either of your contracts, so go ahead. I’m really glad we have you on the team, Y/n,” he finishes with a softer voice.

You smile. “Me too.”

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