#every few months I have to re examine this topic and every time I do so I have a category 5 So Sofdt Moment

[isdalinarhot]

I can’t t find it right now because tumblr search function is shit and I KNOW it was critically panned. But im thinking again about the post about the post about Sadeas kissing Dalinar’s stretch marks and crying a little bit

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Exclusive Past- Monochrome Scenery translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT ⚠️

This post contains a HEAVY SPOILER for the story that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Through Thousands of Mirrors Event | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | HS/Uni SSR Story: Monochrome Scenery (You're here!)

[Notes from Lux: Here’s the CN video link if anyone wants to follow along his Voice Acting. VERY recommended to re-read Until Dawn R&S regarding his 'contract' with BS. AND perhaps Distant Similarity UR MQ as it's the date that is relevant to this story.

-

[Part 1]

I walk hurriedly towards Dr. Lawson's laboratory, while opening the paper bag in my hand, and stuffing the hamburger into my mouth.

Skipping lunch might save some time, but if it leads to a lack of carbohydrates and sugar, causing a decrease in productivity during the entire afternoon, it could be counterproductive.

When will nutritionists finally invent nutritional packages? Preferably in the form of a liquid that can be consumed just once a day.

The time saved this way would be enough for me to read a few more research papers.

??: Hi, Lucien. Are you going to the lab?

A friendly voice from behind rings out, and I turn to look behind me.

Lucien: Hello, Elliot.

Elliot: Seems like we're both going to be late.

Elliot quickly crosses a puddle, only slowing down after catching up with my steps.

Elliot: But I recall you've always been punctual. Did the recent lab class not go smoothly?

Lucien: I chatted with Professor White for a while and lost track of time.

Elliot: Ah, I understand. She's always very talkative... The only one who can talk as much as her is my clinical medicine professor.

Elliot sighed deeply and pointed at the teaching building he had walked from. We quicken our pace once more.

When we arrive at the lab, Senior Caroline has already begun today's work.

Just as I put my bag next to my desk, someone heavily pats my back.

??: Hi!!

The overly enthusiastic voice pierces through my eardrums, and without turning around, I know it's Colt.

Now that he's here, his daily challenges are probably about to begin again.

Sure enough, after greeting me, Colt slightly composes himself and looks at me.

Colt: Good afternoon, "Xiū, Mǒ" How's that, did I pronounce it correctly this time?

Lucien: It's "Xǔ Mò".

He scratches his head in frustration and quickly starts a new round of attempts.

Lucien: Actually, you can just call me "Lucien".

Colt: How can that be acceptable? I have great respect for Chinese culture; I'll definitely learn how to pronounce your name!

Colt raises his eyebrows high, and the confident expression on his face is so exaggerated that it could be used as a reference for the facial expression scale.

I give up trying to explain to him that "respect" and "pronunciation" are not causally related, and I put on my protective gear after setting down my bag.

I hope he succeeds soon and gives up making me his involuntary Chinese teacher, where I'm only tasked with examining two words every morning.

Caroline: Shut up, Colt. Leave Lucien alone and come over here to work, okay?

Caroline who was immersed in her experiment furrows her brow and glares at Colt, using her gaze to reprimand the "senior" lab member who has been there the longest.

In the end, she smiles and greets me.

Caroline: How's it going today, Xǔ Mò?

Lucien: Sorry for being late. Where should I start taking over from now?

Colt: This isn't fair! You've never greeted me with such a smile. Wait, why is your pronunciation correct? One more time, Xiū... Xī…

Like everyone else, I calmly ignore Colt's continuous self-challenges and begin today's work.

As a newcomer who has been in the lab for just about a month, there isn't much for me to do.

In fact, everyone here is more like doing their own research in the lab on topics they are passionate about, while occasionally helping Dr. Lawson with minor tasks.

Looking back, it seems that this casual and free atmosphere could be glimpsed from the very beginning, during that interview with just two questions.

-

=Flashback Start=

Dr. Lawson: You have an excellent research experience, and the awards you've received are enough to apply to even more top-notch labs.

Dr. Lawson: Why did you choose to reach out to me?

The doctor set my application paper and the stack of recommendation letters aside, looking into my eyes.

Lucien: I'm currently very interested in topics related to parietal lobe function research and its applications.

Lucien: So, for me, your lab is the best choice.

Dr. Lawson: Hmm, there is indeed a high match in terms of research direction.

Dr. Lawson: So, what do you hope the lab can provide for you?

I instinctively thought I had misheard.

Questions like "What do you think you can bring to the lab?" are ones I've mastered, but this reverse question isn't as common.

After a brief moment of thought, I honestly answered.

Lucien: If possible, I hope to research more of what I'm interested in within the limited time.

The doctor raised an eyebrow without giving a clear response, concluding this brief interview that lasted less than a few minutes. And a few days later, he sent me an acceptance email.

=Flashback End=

Colt: Hey, Xī Mó! Listen to me, I have a great idea!

Probably seeing that I'm not especially busy, Colt eagerly strides over to my desk, holding a small box in his hand.

I set down the keyboard, take out a notebook from the side, and turn towards him.

Colt's thought process is unique; he always manages to come up with some innovative ideas.

Lucien: Do you have any new ideas regarding the research topic?

Colt: No, no, there's not much to do today. How about a game of the traditional lab card game - NOU!

Colt: Do you want to join?

Lucien: …

And of course, there are times when it's just pure time-wasting.

I offer a polite and apologetic smile in return.

Lucien: No, thank you.

-

[Part 2]

A fixed routine can often lead to a skewed perception of time and dates.

I flip over the calendar again and mark the schedule for the midterm exam week, which is about half a month away.

Exams may not be a cause for concern, but papers and classroom presentations still require time-consuming preparation.

I furrow my brow as I look at the data for my research project on my desk. Just as I'm about to set down my pen, I pause.

The current issue is that the research progress is slower than anticipated, requiring extra time to meticulously review the results.

The once well-structured plan has become exceptionally tight.

How about cutting two hours off my sleep? It shouldn't significantly affect my regular routine.

And smoothly, a blank section appears on the spreadsheet.

Satisfied, I add a line next to my schedule: "Email Dr. Lawson to request an extension of laboratory usage time" as a reminder.

Then, I pick up the already printed poster and leave the dorm on time.

It's my turn to present a report in class today.

Lucien: Hello, everyone. Now it's my turn to share something with all of you.

Whispers of discussion arise one after another, even a few students who had just been yawning straightened up in their seats.

Half the semester has passed, and the curious glances that used to accompany me have subsided. My age, my height, and where I come from might not be as important anymore.

I know very well that now all the curious and probing gazes are focused solely on the poster I have unfolded.

In the corner of my eye, someone raises their hand.

Lucien: Is there a question?

I set down my materials and quietly look at the student who raises their hand.

Student A: I don't have any questions about your presentation. I'm just curious if injuries in the relevant brain region have an impact on drug addiction?

This is an expected question, as I myself noticed similar uncertainties when researching for literature.

Lucien: There is indeed an overlap, but based on existing research, I don't believe there is a direct correlation between the two.

Lucien: Moreover, for the topic I'm currently presenting, there's no need to overly emphasize the impact of different functions within the same area.

But it's evident that the other person doesn't share the same view.

After a brief moment of silence, he raises the issue of potential effects caused by drugs, and I counter each of his points.

However, the consecutive inquiries and debates have actually given me a fresh perspective on the topic at hand.

I attempt to work it out in my head, then take a pen and start writing on the whiteboard.

Lucien: Adding the drug effects caused by addiction as one of the conditions…

Lucien: I currently lack the relevant literature evidence, further substantiation will require future research, but I do have some hypotheses.

The rapidly moving marker on the whiteboard makes a slight squeaking sound as I write, and more questions and discussions emerge in the classroom.

Student B: Given the drug effects, the current papers seem somewhat lacking in rigor.

Student C: But we also shouldn't overly focus on such special cases, just from an experimental perspective…

These ideas and questions aren't quite direct and precise enough.

But the known theorems are once again filled with possibilities, and what I initially considered just a school assignment topic seems to have become interesting again.

The brilliance of the unknown and curiosity subtly shine through the structured words, silently beckoning everyone who tries to explore the mysteries.

Of course, I'm also paying the corresponding "price" for this "interest".

Class ends nearly twenty minutes later than scheduled, and I can only jog all the way, hoping not to be too late for the next classroom.

As I gaze at the ever-extending street ahead, I begin to understand why so many people are buying bicycles.

—------------------------------------------------------------

Lucien: Good afternoon, I hope I'm not too late.

Caroline: Of course not. Take a rest for a while. There isn't much to do today.

Caroline looks up, smiles at me, and points to the well-stocked snack cabinet on the side.

I put down my backpack, intending to pick up my water bottle to get some water, but I notice that there's a stack of data on the table that I haven't worked on, with several annotations written in different handwriting.

Slender and smooth cursive characters detail the model's construction and calculation process, while round and hastily written words explain extensive contemplation and inferences, along with many grammar errors.

Slightly smaller handwriting marks cited references and related experiments.

Lucien: Are these... further derivations based on my personal research project?

A head pokes out from the edge of the table.

Colt smiles and waves at me, with Caroline and Elliot following behind.

Several people stand by the table, making the already small space seem even smaller.

Colt: Well, I heard about the direction of your project a few weeks ago during the meeting and found it very interesting. I got into the habit of discussing it with Caroline when we were chatting…

Caroline gives an apologetic smile.

Caroline: I'm really sorry. Colt looked at your desk and research notes without your permission.

Caroline: He usually doesn't have a strong sense of boundaries when he's around us, and we've become used to it. We didn't expect him to go through your research materials this time.

Caroline: I initially wanted to refuse to discuss it with him, but the research direction is so novel, and the reasons for the roadblock are also quite intriguing. It was easy to get carried away…

The research content is indeed not much of a privacy concern, and exchanging data and projects is quite normal.

Lucien: Next time, we could discuss it during the regular meeting or just talk to me directly. It would be more efficient.

Lucien: However…

I quietly watch the smiling faces of others, my puzzlement still not answered.

Lucien: As I recall, my direction doesn't really overlap with yours, does it?

Caroline: Yes, so we've just made some inferences. The specifics still require you to take another look.

Lucien: Okay.

I lower my head again and begin to roughly browse through those handwritings.

Colt didn't propose a new direction but changed the experimental approach, while Caroline and Elliot used this to present arguments or counterarguments.

Different notes mutually fill in and correct each other, gradually outlining a clear framework.

Lucien: This hypothesis seems to have a high feasibility.

Lucien: I will try to adjust the experiment according to this approach later.

Lucien: At a suitable time in the future, based on the specific data, we can determine whether it can move forward or not.

Colt: Sure, it can!

Colt nods vigorously, his voice much louder than usual.

Colt: I've noticed that you've been busy with midterm exams and papers lately, so I ran some of the data with them to save you from spending extra time to test and verify the data.

Colt: So far, several graphs are looking quite good. I hope they can be of help to you!

Lucien: …All of the data?

I'm stunned.

I've already prepared to apply for extra lab time, but the data I needed to test and verify has just landed directly in my hands like this.

Colt: Of course! The three of us taking turns won't take much time, better than you staying here without eating or drinking.

On the side, Elliot also smiles and hands over another stack of documents.

Elliot: I asked a friend who's a clinical medicine student, and I was able to get some research materials on what happens when you have a lesion in the area in question.

Elliot: Perhaps it can offer some assistance from a different perspective. Consider it as broadening your perspective.

Lucien: Thank you. I did plan to reference some research findings from other fields, but unfortunately, I haven't had enough time recently.

A valuable idea to consider, coupled with readily available data, and the issue that had been stagnant for two weeks was suddenly solved without any warning.

I silently look at the mixed handwriting.

I know that human beings will always help each other and work together to achieve what individuals can't do alone.

Relying on each other for certain aspects and independently taking on the needs of others within the same community.

But along with the objective facts, there is also an inexplicable and faint warm feeling surging to my heart.

The seemingly ordinary paper in my hand now vaguely has a different weight to it.

Lucien: (gently) Thank you, all of you.

Colt: Hey, kid.

Colt smiles and puts his arm around my shoulder.

Colt: We're all from the same lab, so helping each other is only natural.

-

[Part 3]

After the last meeting before the autumn break, Dr. Lawson stopped me.

Dr. Lawson: Lucien, do you have any plans for the autumn break?

Dr. Lawson is organizing the reports we submitted, his tone is calm.

Lucien: I'm staying on campus. If there's a need for someone to oversee the lab, I can help.

Dr. Lawson: You aren't going home?

I smile and reply in the same tone that Colt and the others usually use when joking around.

Lucien: Returning to Loveland City during such a short one-week break?

Dr. Lawson smiles and shakes his head.

Dr. Lawson: How about going nearby? You still have time to plan a short trip with friends.

Dr. Lawson: There are plenty of interesting places within the state worth seeing. Take a train or bus, and "whoosh," it's easy to get around.

Lucien: That sounds appealing, but I'd prefer to take this opportunity to catch up on my project and coursework progress.

Lucien: Recently, my research has just started to make some progress. I'd like to work on it nonstop until I achieve some results.

Lucien: Or is it just that during the autumn break, the school doesn't allow students to stay on campus?

Dr. Lawson: Of course not, silly kid.

Dr. Lawson: I'm just curious, why are you always in such a hurry?

I quietly look at the old man in front of me.

There are too many things I want to explore, and there's too little time.

Nevertheless, I don't feel that I appear "impatient" in my usual behavior.

The doctor shakes his head and taps the table with his fingers.

Dr. Lawson: At your age, you should go out more, travel, play games, take walks, do something silly... Just do anything to waste time and enjoy life.

Dr. Lawson: You do have an impressive intellect, but there are geniuses all around here. So, frankly, you're also an ordinary kid.

Lucien: ….

I've never thought of myself as a once-in-a-lifetime genius, but being straightforwardly labeled as "ordinary" is indeed a first for me.

And, of course, being labeled "in a hurry" is also a first.

Lucien: I don't quite understand what you mean, Doctor.

After a brief silence, I eventually chose to ask the question directly.

Dr. Lawson: I don't doubt your abilities. Lucien, you can accomplish many things by yourself.

Dr. Lawson: But you should also trust your team, after all, this laboratory doesn't consist of just you alone.

He casually points to a group of people in the distance who are playing NOU, and over there, it's particularly noisy, as if the game of cards is reaching a conclusion.

Caroline proudly crosses her arms and looks sideways at Colt, who is slumped over the table, looking dejected.

Elliot begins to tidy up the card table and starts shuffling the cards again.

Dr. Lawson: They're all kids in their late teens to early twenties here in the lab. Came a few years before you, and perhaps they'll leave a few years earlier as well.

Dr. Lawson: But in the road of scientific research, everyone is just a beginner taking their first steps.

Dr. Lawson: I'm not asking you to really study and imitate anyone, but doing something different from your usual routine might make you gain something special. What do you think?

The doctor slows down his voice, his calm tone not resembling a question, it's as if he's talking about the treasure that he is most proud of.

The stack of data with various annotations from a few days ago inexplicably resurfaces in my memory.

I subconsciously infer that when the doctor said, "You're just an ordinary kid", perhaps it meant, "There are many people like you here."

Looking at Dr. Lawson again, he remains as not casual and serious as he was during class. His words are solemn and genuine with a touch of guidance.

Dr. Lawson: If you haven't achieved any significant progress or results within a week, there's no need to lock yourself in the lab every day. But if you need to, remember to turn off the lights and lock the door.

I carefully put away the key he had placed on the table.

Lucien: I'll keep an eye out for it.

Dr. Lawson: Happy holidays.

Lucien: I also wish you a happy holiday.

I say goodbye to him, and as I walk to the door, the doctor adds another sentence.

Dr. Lawson: Take care. And of course, I mean not just during these vacation days.

He smiles at me, speaking a bit slower than usual.

Lucien: You too, Doctor. Take care.

"Take care." The simple sentence passes through my mind, lingering longer than the other phrases.

I think maybe it's because of the pronunciation.

—-------------------------------------------------------

The teaching building has become much quieter during the holidays.

The leaves outside the window are rustling. It's as if the entire city is reminding people of the traces of autumn.

The laboratory feels strangely colder than usual after I'm the only one left.

I closed the window, put on my sweatshirt, and continued with the experiment at hand.

However, the autumn chill didn't last long and was soon warmed up again by the lingering heat of summer.

—-------------------------------------------------------

Five days later, along with the rising temperature, what returned was the noisy chatter within the laboratory.

The first to arrive at the laboratory is the always-diligent Caroline.

She brings a larger-than-usual handbag, takes out beautifully wrapped gifts, and places them on everyone's table one by one.

Caroline: A few days ago, I went to Yellowstone National Park with my family and brought back some souvenirs.

Lucien: Thank you. How was your holiday?

Caroline: It was pretty good, though I wish it could have been longer. I feel like I could stay there for at least half a month.

Caroline: I thought you might prefer something more practical, so I brought this for you. Go ahead and open it.

She smiles and points to the gift box I had placed by the desk. Inside the neatly wrapped layers of gift paper is a coffee mug, with the design of erupting geysers on its surface.

Caroline: This is a landmark sight in the park. I was truly moved when I saw it erupt right on time. I really wish everyone in the lab could go see it!

Lucien: I'll go there if I get the chance in the future.

??: Hi friends! I'm back! Did you miss me during your wonderful holiday?

The next second, a figure rushes in through the door of the laboratory.

Colt is also carrying a package, which is twice the size of Caroline's.

Colt: Oh my god... you're actually working. That's way too diligent.

He looks at me with wide eyes. After some rummaging in the package, there's another gift on my desk.

Colt: I highly recommend trying my grandma's cookies. Even the most popular shops around here can't compete with her skills.

Colt: Oh, by the way, the bookmarks inside were made by my mom. She's recently gotten into handicraft, and our house is getting filled with the things she makes.

Lucien: Please thank your family on my behalf.

Colt: Then they'd be so delighted that they might just invite you over as a guest.

Colt: By the way, do you really spend every day in the lab? Haven't you had any rest at all?

Colt sits down next to me, looking like he won't give up until he gets an answer.

Lucien: I visited a few museums.

Lucien: I also visited some scenic spots along the way and strolled through the market.

Caroline: I remember a few days ago there was a Shakespearean touring theater group performing nearby. Have you heard about it? The performance…

The computer screen in front of me enters screensaver mode, and I realize that I should politely decline this conversation to reactivate the computer and continue processing the data I was in the middle of reviewing.

But when my fingertips touch the keyboard, I pause again.

Such conversations don't have much meaning, but they don't make me feel annoyed either.

Besides, today's progress has been completed ahead of schedule, and there is indeed some free time on my agenda.

I let the screen continue playing the screensaver images.

Colt: How about we also go see a play today?

Lucien: The theater troupe left the day before yesterday, and tickets also needed to be booked in advance.

During the conversation, the laboratory door is pushed open once again.

Elliot: Hey, I thought I was the earliest one here.

Elliot also has a delicately wrapped gift in his hands.

Same greetings, same small talk, and same distribution of gifts.

I look at the three gifts on the desk- I should have some time over the weekend to visit the market and find three suitable return gifts.

Before the plan has been finalized, another particularly large gift appears on my desk.

Dr. Lawson: You all should find these books useful.

Dr. Lawson smiles and nods at us, placing the hefty books one by one on our respective desks, before finally sitting back in the chair and letting out a sigh of relief.

Dr. Lawson: I really should have chosen some lighter gifts; four big books are too heavy for an old man like me.

Lucien: ....Looks like it's four gifts.

I say to myself softly.

Dr. Lawson: Hmm? Did you say something, Lucien?

Lucien: Nothing. I was just saying… "thank you".

Lucien: By the way, Doctor. Here's the key to the laboratory.

The small key that has been with me for five days is returned to its rightful owner.

The gentle breeze blows a book on my table, flipping back a page as fallen leaves dance lightly and land on the windowsill.

I glance at the cloudless sky, hoping that this weekend will also be a sunny day, suitable for going out.

-

[Part 4]

Everyone left the laboratory with the gifts, but Colt unexpectedly broke from his usual behavior and didn’t attend any party.

Instead, he followed Elliot and me all the way to our dormitory building.

Elliot: Colt, your dormitory isn't over here.

Colt: I know, I know. But on this especially memorable day, how about a game of NOU to celebrate? Here's to our reunion!

Elliot: I knew it... I don't want to play NOU with just the two of us. You better invite one more person.

Colt: Will Xù mò be joining us?

Colt looks up at me, and this is the 16th invitation he has extended to me since I joined this laboratory.

Lucien: Okay.

Colt: It's fine, maybe next time... Wait, what?!

Elliot: You're going to join us?!

They aren't the only ones confused, I'm also a bit puzzled myself.

The choices I've made today are all a bit out of the ordinary, and it makes me wonder why I want to act the way I do.

If I join, will I be able to find the answers?

Besides... Looking at the two of them that have the same expression as if they've just seen a new topic; if I want to refuse now, the amount of effort required doesn't seem proportional to the outcome.

Lucien: Yes.

Lucien: I don't have any other plans for today-

Before I could finish speaking, the two of them had already surrounded me, one on the left and one on the right.

Colt: Is this the blessing of the Autumn Break God! Elliot, let's go quickly.

Elliot: Lucien won't run away again this time.

Saying so, he continues to pull me without stopping towards a small table in the public lounge area.

Just as we sit down at the small table, Colt eagerly begins to shuffle the cards.

Elliot: Do you need an explanation of the rules?

Lucien: No need.

Having watched them play so many times, I'm not entirely unfamiliar with the rules of the game, and the symbols on the corners of the cards also help me determine their colors.

I'll consider it as an exercise in reasoning and memory then.

—--------------------------------------------------------

Elliot: NOU, +2!

Colt: Wait a minute, that's not right. You're cheating! Why do you have a red +2?

After the initial "demonstration round", I quickly realized that this game might not be as straightforward as I had imagined.

Lucien: ...Drawing a +2 card directly from the deck is not entirely impossible either.

Colt: Huh? +2 should be in your hand, right?

Colt: Judging by the overall color distribution of the cards played, it seems like you're building a hand predominantly based on red cards.

Lucien: However, based on the cards that have already been played, there are still 28% red cards left in the deck.

Lucien: I would need to draw that +2 card along with another red number card starting from at least the first four rounds to maintain an advantage without playing the +2.

Elliot: My dear friend, just admit that low probability is still probability and draw the cards.

I nod in silence and urge Colt to draw a card, preventing the game from turning into his endless mathematical calculations.

If that happens, he will build a solid model in his mind and he'll be almost impossible to beat.

I take another look at the situation on the card table.

Setting Colt aside for now, among Elliot's three cards, there should only be blue and green ones.

Or in an extremely low-probability scenario, there might be one Wild card or possibly the last +4 card aside from mine.

I closely watch each card played, rapidly calculating the possible card arrangements in others' hands in my mind.

And I'm equally aware that the other two people sitting at the card table are also making their own deductions in their own ways.

I need to conduct another experiment, even if the cost is higher than expected value.

It's my turn once again.

Lucien: Change color, let's go with... blue.

Colt, who is determined to beat Elliot, wears a worried expression, while Elliot confidently draws a card.

"Reverse."

I silently say to myself.

Elliot: Reverse.

The variables waiting to be filled in gradually decrease, and assuming confirmation is obtained, the inference is established.

The opportunity to determine the course of the card game on the table comes back to me once again.

Colt: Come on Xǔ mò, it's time to play a number card and join forces to eliminate Elliot early!

Lucien: Is that so? I thought I'd have a better option.

Quick responses and extensive thinking make the brain more active than usual.

A seemingly meaningless card game becomes more complex due to repeated setups and disruptions.

Pure competition for calculation speed and formulating strategies stimulate the release of neurotransmitters.

I raise the corners of my mouth and quietly play my card.

Lucien: I choose +4, green.

Due to too many unexpected situations, Colt, who had stopped calculating, begins to howl in frustration.

Elliot, sitting across the table, also appears surprised, his gaze once again scanning the cards on the table.

It's my turn again.

I smile, say NOU, and play the green number card, leaving only one of the same color in my hand and skipping the next player’s turn.

Unless the almost improbable reversal occurred when they have the last card, a color-changing card, and bring it onto the playing field from the deck

But I trust my calculations more than probability.

Colt: Xǔ mò, I thought you were my friend!

Colt has flipped his cards onto the table, giving up on the struggle.

Lucien: Of course I am. That's why I'm sitting here, playing cards with you.

I lean my chin on my hand and look at the card table, unable to suppress the victorious curve at the corner of my mouth.

Lucien: Also, thank you for calling me by my name correctly.

Unfortunately, it's still Elliot who reaches 500 points first.

Colt is not one to accept defeat easily, and he pulls us into starting a new round of the game.

The card game goes on from the afternoon into the evening, and we unknowingly gather a crowd of onlookers around us.

Centered around this small table, the dormitory that was quiet just a few hours ago is now overflowing with discussion and laughter.

We graciously give up our seats to other students who also want to give it a try and withdraw from the crowd.

Colt: Xī... Xú mò is quite skilled. If we go by rounds, he tied with Elliot.

I haven't responded yet when Elliot chuckles and shakes his head, then tosses a box of ice cream from the fridge to both Colt and me.

It's the most common chocolate ice cream with nuts and chocolate chunks added.

I've seen it in many convenience stores, but I've never been interested in buying it.

Elliot: In front of our little genius' brain, even the best luck can only yield to skill.

Colt: Sigh... the vacation is too short. It feels like it just started, and now it's already over in a blink of an eye.

Colt finished his ice cream in a few bites and tossed the empty box into the trash. He leans on the bar table, watching the new round of NOU craze.

Colt: How about we have another round of NOU to refresh ourselves after the experiment is over tomorrow?

Elliot: Lucien, are you joining as well?

Lucien: I have to start preparing for my thesis from tomorrow.

Lucien: The experiment has made progress as well, so I want to sort out the related processes.

Colt: Oh... that's a shame. But how about next time? You'll come, right?

In the dorm room without air conditioning on this autumn day, the ice cream seems to melt even faster than it would in the heat of summer.

I scoop up a spoonful of the slightly softened ice cream and put it in my mouth.

The taste of chocolate spreads with the coolness, it's sweeter than I had imagined.

Lucien: I will if I have the time.

—------------------------------------------------

After seeing them off, I close the door and start preparing for tomorrow's coursework, allowing life to return to its normal course.

A notification pops up on my laptop, indicating an email from Dr. Lawson.

"Hi, everyone. Thank you for your hard work. Our lab's project has passed the review, so you can start preparing for the academic conference that will take place in a few months."

"The conference will be held on a beautiful beach on the West Coast. Since we have ample time, you can all bring your swimsuits and enjoy some time by the water."

"Colt, as for you, don't bring too many fancy things. And definitely leave the unicorn swimming ring behind!"

I can almost imagine Dr. Lawson saying this with a furrowed brow, while Colt complains reluctantly.

"P.S. Lucien's personal research topic aligns with the conference theme. Although the application is a bit late, there will be people at the conference who have done related research."

"You can prepare a summary of your current progress and any issues you've encountered to discuss together."

"P.P.S. Welcome back, everyone."

These few short sentences make me feel a bit warm.

*Ding*

The inbox hasn't closed yet, and there's another notification sound.

The email is encrypted; its sender is Black Swan.

I glance at the calendar and realize that today is the day for the routine report.

The newly arrived email obscures most of Dr. Lawson's message, and the sharp-edged letters in the signature appear to be some kind of silent warning.

"Why are you always in such a hurry?"

Dr. Lawson asked me this before the autumn break.

Yes, children his age have plenty of time to pause, slow down, and enjoy the scenery around them.

To try, to fail, to start over from scratch, to explore endless possibilities.

But Doctor, vacations are always so short.

They always end when you least expect it.

I close the laptop and start selecting the book I want to read tonight.

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

[Phone Call- Class Reunion]

Lucien: Hello? At this time, you should have finished washing up and lying down, right?

MC: Um! I just finished my skincare routine and am already lying down.

Lucien: You sound happier than usual. Did you have a lot of fun at the class reunion today?

MC: You can tell?~ So many people came to the gathering today! All of my old roommates were there too!

Lucien: Are they the ones in the photo you sent, who took a group picture with you?

MC: Yes! Although we've kept in touch after graduation, getting back together like this is still quite rare.

Lucien: No wonder your eyes looked a bit red in the photo.

MC: Haha... I got a little too excited.

MC: But now that I think about it, I don't recall Professor Lucien mentioning much about his own classmates or roommates?

Lucien: I do have colleagues I work with in a lab, but our relationship might not be as close as you and your friends.

MC: Do you guys meet up regularly?

Lucien: We are now in different places continuing our own projects, and most of us have our own laboratories.

Lucien: It's indeed not easy to find a time when everyone is available.

Lucien: However, we do occasionally meet at neuroscience-related academic conferences. That could perhaps be considered a sort of 'class reunion'.

MC: ...Is this what gatherings are like for scientists?

MC: What about your roommates? Do you meet up with them?

Lucien: I lived in a single room and didn't really socialize with others in the same dormitory building.

MC: Wow! That must have been so comfortable! Doesn't that mean you could do whatever you wanted?

Lucien: At that time, I thought it was very convenient to have a space where I would not be disturbed by other people.

Lucien: But now, I've come to realize that having a 'neighbor' around who can 'disturb' me at any time might actually be more comforting.

MC: Oh? Do tell, I'm all ears!.

Lucien: For instance, when I'm out, someone can help me take care of the flowers on my windowsill, or if I forget to buy new tea leaves, I can ask this special neighbor next door for a bit.

Lucien: There are also occasional biscuits and sandwiches, and if I stay up too late, I will receive reminders.

Lucien: And more importantly…

Lucien: With this neighbor lady here, the place where I live is not just a spot to rest, but can be called a home.

-

[Phone Call - Novice Period]

Lucien: I thought you were also too busy to answer my call today.

MC: I just had a meeting with the new colleagues at the company, so I didn't hear your call.

Lucien: Do you still have some work left to finish?

MC: Not exactly... it's just that this recent batch of new colleagues who joined recently has been really busy.

MC: So I decided to hold a meeting to help them improve efficiency during work hours, aiming for them to leave on time after work.

MC: After all, there's always more work to be done, right? I don't want them to wear themselves out. The way they approach overtime work makes me quite nervous.

Lucien: [chuckles] They're lucky to have a boss who cares for the well-being of employees like you.

Lucien: However, when everyone starts their first job, there's always a certain level of nervousness. So, they can only ease that nervousness by working hard.

MC: Oh? Professor Lucien, you sound quite experienced, but I suppose you didn't have such worries, did you?

Lucien: Of course not, the first time I entered a laboratory outside of school, I also needed some time to adapt.

MC: Wow, what were you like back then?

Lucien: Hmm... I had to clean lab equipment, organize data files, help with literature research—there were many mundane tasks.

MC: Pfft, so Professor Lucien also started as a working person from scratch.

Lucien: That's right. Everyone in the same lab was highly capable, so back then, I often shadowed others, observing and learning as much as I could.

MC: Were there people even more capable than you?

Lucien: [chuckle] Among them, I think I'm just an ordinary person who works hard.

MC: Professor Lucien, your concept of 'ordinary' seems quite demanding.... But I didn't expect you to have a 'novice period' as well.

Lucien: Is that such a surprise?

MC: Maybe it's because your student days were quite unique. While most people were enjoying their youth, you were immersed in scientific research.

Lucien: I suppose it all depends on one's definition of 'youth'.

Lucien: If we're talking about a phase in life where you can do what you like without worrying about consequences, where you can fully explore possibilities…

Lucien: In that case, I'd say my graduate and postgraduate years could also be considered as 'youth'.

Lucien: If you define it as having a love with someone close to you, that you can't bear to part with and always in your heart…

Lucien: In that case, I'd say my youth hasn't had a chance to slip away from me yet.

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

[Lux's short rambling corner]

And finally, it's done 🎉 If I'm being completely honest, the reason it took so long was because I felt that the end of this story seemed 'incomplete'—and I think it turns out to be true? Because the newest birthday story feels like it completes this story.

Still, just as he mentioned in "Distant Similarity UR' MQ," he's accustomed to working alone because there was no one he could confide in, often sacrificing his own sleep to fit more into his schedule. Due to his past self-reliance, he finds himself somewhat at a loss when others offer their assistance 🥲. He's someone who is deeply touched by even the smallest acts of kindness, and you can detect a hint of confusion in his usually monotone 'thank you.'

It's heartwarming to see that he receives small acts of kindness from those around him. His college life seems less hectic thanks to the support he gets from both his friendly seniors and caring mentor 🥺. I also enjoy their harmonious yet playful team dynamic, with Colt being my personal favorite because he reminds me of Fan Zihang, hahah.

Another noteworthy point is what Dr. Lawson mentioned about him being fundamentally an ordinary kid. I think it's accurate, because beneath his 'rush to move forward' demeanor, there's also a yearning for warmth and the opportunity to slow down.

In the dorm room without air conditioning on this autumn day, the ice cream seems to melt even faster than it would in the heat of summer.

I scoop up a spoonful of the slightly softened ice cream and put it in my mouth.

The taste of chocolate spreads with the coolness, it's sweeter than I had imagined.

God, I absolutely adore PG's writing and the beautiful metaphors they weave into the story. Through the story you can see how Lucien's barrier starts to melt by the warm atmosphere. And that's because he's an inherently lonely kid who also longs for warmth and mundane life. It's just too bad that the longing he had shattered in the face of his reality. If i had to describe what I feel when I read that sentence about the email, It'd be like waking up from a sweet dream, and now the sweet dream is tinted with layers of sadness🥲. The dream was over and he had no other choice but to bury his longing so deep.

Why the constant hurry? Because he had no choice but to grow faster than other kids; he didn't have the privilege to fail and try again. Why did he keep his distance from others? Perhaps because he doesn't want to experience another loss after his parents. Why didn't he go 'home'? Because at that time he didn't have anything that can be called a 'home'. Once he wakes up from this sweet but fleeting dream, the world he's diving into is even more treacherous than hell. So in the end, he kept his distance from others just as he said in Distant Similarity UR.

Distant Similarity UR," "Until Dawn R&S," and "Monochrome Scenery" together create a comprehensive picture of his 16-year-old self. "Distant Similarity UR" sheds light on how his college experiences influenced him and his reflections on that period. "Until Dawn R&S" delves into his narrative with BS and his ambitiousness. Meanwhile, "Monochrome Scenery" reveals his more 'human' side and the sense of his relaxed college life being a sort of 'vacation' amidst the long darkness in his life… Anyway, I want to write more but my schedule is tight with all the birthday translation 🤣 Perhaps if I have time I'd write a more comprehensive analysis. Thank you for reading!

[jess-unkommentiert]

I. Welcome to the Avengers Compound

→ "I didn't have a choice!" - Masterlist → The story on Wattpad

Beginning of March 2024 – Brooklyn, New York The sun was about to set as Lynn was finally done with her 24-hour-shift at the hospital. On a regular day she would have been out of the hospital three hours ago, but she was stuck in a complicated surgery that included the amputation of a leg above the knee. The poor man was hit by a car this morning and his shin, fibula and ankle bones were fractured so complicated, that they didn't have a choice but amputate the leg. And when you're in the middle of a surgery you don't just walk away because your shift was over. You finish that surgery and end your shift afterwards.

Lynn decided to check on the man first thing when she would start her next shift after lunch tomorrow. She was always curious how her patients turn out after they had treated and examined them in the ER or in surgery. After becoming a doctor a few years ago she did further training to specialize as a trauma surgeon because she wanted to be able to help people after accidents and other traumatizing situations. Ever since her aunt died in a car accident when she was a kid she wanted to specialize in that topic.

After a lot of hard work and years of studying with excellent grades she started working in the Emergency Room (ER) of the Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn. Unfortunately a few months after her start, Thanos made his famous snap – dusting half of the planet. Lynn was one of the remaining people but they lost a lot of staff and all remaining doctors and nurses had to work even harder and more than before.

Lynn accepted the challenge and soon became the leading doctor in the ER. She was responsible for all kind of major injuries like polytraumas, gunshot and stabbing wounds or multiple organ failures. When there was heavy stuff going on in the ER you could find her around the patient to save its life. She won numerous awards for the re-organization of "her" ER which had led to a significant higher life-saving rate for the hospital. She had written her doctor thesis about improving the "Triage"-system and implemented the better version at the hospital in 2020.

Instead of doing the simple Triage (S.T.A.R.T. model) as the hospital did before they implemented an advanced version. In the simple version you use the colors green, yellow and red in order to sort patients into those who need critical attention and those with less serious injuries. The system was created during The Napoleonic War in France in the beginning of the 1800s as millions of soldiers were hurt and there weren't enough beds in the hospital to treat them all:

Green = Not urgent, can wait up to 180 minutes for medical attention Yellow = Less serious injury, can wait up to 60 minutes for medical attention Red = Needs immediate medical attention, Life in acute danger

Lynn had improved the system and included the colors Orange (in between yellow and red, medical attention needed within the next 15 minutes) and Blue (= not really an emergency, can wait up to four hours) to the Triage system. She had also implemented the system in their daily work instead of just using it after mass car crashes or other accidents that involve a huge number of patients at the same time. One doctor in the ER was in charge for sorting the patients into the five categories right after their arrival. So every patient's file in the computer was matched with the right color and all doctors and nurses knew exactly about the seriousness of the patients' injuries.

The re-organization of the ER did not just increase their life-savings rate it also got Lynn her first big award and she was able to gave a few presentations on hospitals around New York to help them implement the new system as well. It was a huge success for her and she was very proud that she made the hospital a bit better and could save even more people than before.

Her second big award was the "Ambitious Young Doctor Award" that she got in 2021 – half a year after she became head of the ER team. With only 29 years at that time, she was very young to have so much responsibility but because of the Snap every doctor – no matter what age – was needed badly. And Lynn was a brilliant doctor.

After the return of the second half of the world with the Blip in October 2023 things changed in the hospital. Lynn was still the head of ER, but her predecessor Dr. Miller was not happy with that and didn't understand why he didn't get his job back. For all the dusted people these five years were just a few seconds. But for the remaining people it was fucking five years where they worked their asses off and tried to live with the new situation.

And it wasn't easy! Almost everybody had lost at least one of their loved ones and they didn't have time to grieve as they needed to work and keep the world alive in the best possible way. And Lynn worked well under all that pressure, although she had lost both of her parents to the Snap.

Around one week after The Blip and the return of billions of people even Dr. Miller respected Lynn and her work and finally was okay with her being in charge. What maybe these superheroes haven't thought about while fighting against Thanos was the fact that within a second Lynn and her team had double the patients. The re-appeared within the hospital building – some of them needed immediate medical intention.

Thanks to her Triage system the chaos was handled well but it was the hardest week of Lynn's professional life so far. For one whole week she had not more than 8 hours of sleep cumulated. Her body was broken and a wreck afterwards but they managed to save as much people as possible. After Dr. Miller had seen how professional and amazing Lynn handled the situation he was okay with being her deputy and representative in case of PTO or illness.

Lynn still loved her job and loved the hospital she was working at, but after The Blip a lot of the processes and improvements she had implemented were abandoned. Just by the fact that the returning doctors were used to the old processes and didn't want to change anything. That was very frustrating for her and made her sad and angry at the same time.

But this evening – after her 24 hours shift – she was happy because she was sure that the man with the car accident would survive. And that was a miracle because of all the injuries he had. That's why she loved her job – because she were able to help people who couldn't help themselves and give them second chances in their lives.

Lynn's apartment was in walking distance to the hospital as it was a special apartment for employees of the Kings County Hospital. The hospital rented a lot of apartments nearby to give them to doctors and nurses for a good prize. She was thankful for that – although her apartment was only around 400 square feet / 38 square meters. It had a little kitchen area and enough space for two bookshelves full of medical books as well as a big queen size bed. She didn't have a couch but watching TV while laying in bed was even better than sitting on a couch. There wasn't enough space for a big dinner table, but she had a small one with two chairs around it.

She watched the sun set between the houses on her street before entering her apartment complex. It has been a long shift and she didn't have motivation or patients to cook so she got herself a pizza on her way home. Thankfully there was a Pizza Hut on Nostrand Ave where she had left way too much money in the last six years. She always wanted to cook for herself but after those hard 24 hours shifts she wasn't in the mood to do it. One of her colleagues and friends Toby was her role-model as he did a lot of meal prep on his days off and was even able to go to the gym four times a week. She took a mental note to ask him for advices to start with a healthier lifestyle.

But tonight she had an amazing Pizza and enjoyed every bite of it while sitting on her bed and watching "Grey's Anatomy" on Disney+.

As she wanted to start with the last slice she could feel her phone buzz next to her thigh and she quickly pulled it out of the pocket of her sweatpants.

Unknown Caller

She wondered for a second and wasn't sure if she should answer the call but then curiosity won over fear so she answered it.

"Hello, this is Lynn speaking."

"Hello Mrs. Summers. My name is Maria Hill." came a friendly female voice from the other side of her phone.

"Actually it's Miss Summers, as I am not married. But that's okay. What can I do for you, Mrs. Hill?"

"Well, actually it's also Miss Hill." Maria chuckled and made Lynn laugh, too. She didn't know why but Lynn felt like she had an immediate connection to Maria.

"I am calling, because I want to offer a job to you." Maria added.

"A Job? What does that mean?" Lynn asked confused. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she tried to find the connection in her brain where the hell she had heard the name "Maria Hill" before.

"Have you ever heard about the Avengers, Miss Summers?" Maria asked calmly.

In that moment Lynn finally got the connection in her head and her eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Maria Hill was the new leader of the Avengers after Nick Fury was killed a few years ago. As Lynn was a civilian she obviously didn't know that Nick Fury survived the assassination by the Winter Soldier in 2014. She just read about his death in the newspapers after it happened. After that the Avengers seemed to be under their own lead but a few months ago she read an article about the re-building of the Avengers Compound outside of New York and that Maria Hill was now the organizational leader.

"Of course I have. I mean, who hasn't, right? They saved our entire planet from being destroyed." Lynn chuckled nervously as she wasn't sure why THE Maria Hill called her.

"Yeah, after putting it in danger for several times before, they saved it in the end. That's right." Maria answered. There was a weird silence between the two women afterwards and Lynn wasn't sure if this was her cue to say something. But before she could open her mouth Maria Hill cleared her throat and continued:

"I am sorry. It was a tough and long day. I am calling because the new Avengers Compound still needs a doctor. We had on-call-doctors but realized that this is not gonna work for us. We need someone to be around 24/7. I've read about your awards and all the amazing work you did after the snap. That's why I would love to have you around and offer you the job as leading doctor in our med bay. You will have 350k as salary, a room next to the med bay and free food and drinks. How does that sound for you?"

Lynn was shocked. The salary was huge and as she didn't need to pay for rent or food she would have a lot of money to spend it on vacations or other stuff.

"I am sorry in advance for asking that, but what are the disadvantages of that job?" she asked nervously.

"I don't understand that question, Miss Summers." Maria answered confused.

"Well... it's... it's a huge salary and an amazing job opportunity. Job like that are normally not as easy as they appeare on the first look. There are always disadvantages. Obvious ones and hidden ones." she stumbled.

She could hear Maria laugh before she answered:

"You are indeed very smart, Miss Summers. The job implies that you stay at the Avengers Compound 24/7, that means you are not as free as you're used to. We're on missions all the time and accidents and injuries can happen in the middle of the night. They mostly happen when we don't plan it. That's why you are on-call all the time. So you won't have regular working hours and a lot of PTO. These are the disadvantages."

"Understood. You said leading doctor. What would the team look like?"

"Your team would also contain an assistant doctor, but we haven't found someone yet. If you have someone you want to bring with you, please let me know and I will check if it's possible. There are also six nurses around that would be under your lead. Two of the six nurses are on the Compound 24/7 like you are. The others as well as the assisting doctor are only on-call in cases of emergency."

"To be honest, this sounds pretty good, Miss Hill. But I need to think about it for a night, if that's okay?" Lynn answered.

"For sure! I'll send you a text with a number that you can call to give me your answer. Take your time until the end of the week. But if you agree to work with us I need you to start on Sunday. We will organize everything with your current employer and help you move your stuff to the compound. So the only thing you need to focus on is having an eye on the Avengers."

"I'll call you tomorrow, I promise! Also I need to call someone that I think of as assistant doctor. He would be perfect for the job."

"Sounds amazing. Then I'll talk to you tomorrow, Miss Summers. Have a wonderful evening." Maria Hill said and without waiting for Lynn's response she hung up.

Lynn sat on her bed with her jaw on the floor and her eyes widened in shock. She could be the leading doctor of the Avengers? She could be a passive part of saving the world over and over again? It was like her dream job. And she didn't mind to move to the compound. When you work as a doctor you don't have time to maintain friendships in a way you want to. That's why her only friend at the moment was Toby.

Speaking of Toby. She regained the ability to control her body and called him immediately to ask him if he wanted to be her assistant doctor at the Avengers Compound. Toby was hyped but not sure how that would work. If he would be working in his normal job full-time but be on-call in case of an emergency or if he would be a doctor at the compound as well. Maria Hill said on-call-doctor but that could be in any possible way:

Full-time normal job + on-call for the Avengers Half-time normal job + half-time sitting around and wait for a call in case he was needed No normal job allowed, just sitting around and waiting for a potential call and so on...

Lynn couldn't answer his questions and they decided to call Maria Hill together tomorrow.

And they did.

Maria answered all their questions and Lynn and Toby got to know that Toby would work in his normal job full-time but got a special phone where we needed to answer any call and immediately make his way to the Compound if necessary. There was a spare room for him in the Compound as well (just in case he needed it) but he would continue living in Brooklyn. Maria would take care of creating a contract between the hospital and the Avengers so that Toby didn't have any disadvantages when he left to help Lynn.

He was not allowed to turn off the special phone and even if he was in the middle of an open-heart surgery he needed to answer the phone and rush to the Avengers as soon as possible. Toby was concerned that this would bring him disadvantages in his normal job but Maria made sure that the contract between the Avengers and his employer would help with that. The only thing she couldn't prevent was the fact that maybe his co-workers would be pissed or annoyed that he needed to left without any warning and without being able to tell them any details.

It all sounded too good to be true but Lynn and Toby decided to give the job a chance as it was interesting and exciting. They celebrated their new jobs with two shots of Tequila and Sushi Take-Away.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

On Saturday Lynn packed almost all her clothes and other stuff in boxes that someone brought her on Friday evening. After she had quit her current job on Wednesday her boss didn't want her to come around anymore, so she had a few days to pack her stuff. She knew that the moving team would come on Sunday morning 7:00 am and that they would take care of everything else. She just needed to pack he stuff in boxes and label them correctly. The team would also take care of her keys and give them back to the hospital. She really didn't need to do anything - like Maria Hill had told her in their first call.

She was expected to be at the Compound on Sunday Morning 8:30 am to start her first day in the infirmary.

As she was freaking excited for her new job she wasn't really able to sleep in the night from Saturday to Sunday and so she took her MacBook and researched the Avengers. Of course she knew a few things about them because a lot of their stuff were in the news, but she tried to find more personal things about them to prepare with who she would work in the future. But she couldn't find a lot other than the common know things.

"Well, so I have to go into the new job unprepared. Let them surprise me. Don't know if I like that..." she mumbled to herself when the sun started to rise again - coloring the world outside of her window in a mixture of rosé and orange. It was beautiful and she would really enjoy the view, but she was tired as hell and excited and frightened and angry and a lot of other emotions at the same time. Her body was overwhelmed and she felt nauseous which was weird because she was never like that - not even before her final exams in Med School.

But it wasn't like everyday when you start to work with famous superheroes.

She took a shower and packed her suitcase with the most important things that she wanted to bring to the Compound on her own. Then she sprinted to the nearby coffee shop to buy a tray full of coffees for her and the moving team, that arrived a few minutes after she was back in her apartment.

Time for a last Goodbye after she had instructed the workers and made her way to her car to drive to her new home: The Avengers Compound.

It was located outside the city in the Nyack region and she would need 75 minutes with her car to be there with the current traffic situation. So she didn't want to waste time and be late on her first day so she had grabbed her suitcase as well as a backpack with other important stuff and went to her rental car that was parked outside of the building. As she had everything in walking distance and no parking slot or parking garage to her apartment she didn't own a car.

Around 70 minutes later she arrived in front of a big gate with guards next to it. She lowered her front window and one guard came to her car.

"Good Morning. How can I help you?" he asked with a serious but somehow friendly face.

"My name is Lynn Summers and I have am supposed to meet Maria Hill at 8:30 am. I am the new doctor for the Compound." she answered with nervousness in her voice.

The man in his late 40s looked at the iPad in his hand with furrowed eyebrows. A few seconds later - that felt like an eternity for Lynn - he relaxes his face expression and looked her in the eyes.

"Then you must be Lynn Summers, correct? Please show me your ID and afterwards I will check your car with the x-ray. Then you can enter the area." he answered.

Lynn showed him his ID and he nodded before walking around the car with some sort of device in his hands. After two minutes he went back to the still open window and said:

"All clear. You can come in. Follow the street and turn right at the first crossing. Then continue your ride until you arrive at the main entrance. Just park your car in front, someone will take care of returning it to the rental company. Welcome to the Avengers Compound, Miss Summers." he smiled at her as the gate was slowly opening.

This was it. The first day of her new life started today.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

AN: The Avengers Compound is originally located in "Upstate New York" which would be an 4 hours drive from Brooklyn. As this is not realistic for the story I decided to move it to Nyack.

[yoontopia]

𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: detective au; fluff, a smidgen of angst, childhood friends to lovers

rating: 18+ (mentions of assault, domestic abuse and suicide; minor character death, serial killers are mentioned, minor mention of alcohol and weapons, most likely an inaccurate portrayal of policework)

word count: 7.7k

summary: when a case forces you to re-visit your hometown, you’re also forced to re-visit your past and one particular jeon jungkook, your childhood friend, and the man you’d fallen in love with -- while he’d been been engaged to someone else.

author’s note: whew this is me coming back to writing for the first time in a WHILE.  happy (belated) birthday jungkook! I’m sorry for being 8 days late T_T

The first thing you do when you get into work is make coffee. The lieutenant has recently invested in a rather pricey looking coffee machine after giving the entire team a loud and exasperated lecture about “leaving the precinct to take too many coffee breaks”. You can’t say that you complain about this new arrangement.

The second thing you do when you get into work is check the files on your desk. It is when you’re rifling through these, a mug of steaming black liquid next to you, that your partner slaps another folder on your desk.

“What is this?” you ask, looking up at his tired demeanour. Min Yoongi is an excellent detective, but talent and success come at a price. You don’t think the man has ever gotten a good night’s rest.

“A 16-year old girl found murdered by the piers in Busan,” Yoongi says, pulling the chair from the empty desk next to you and subsequently collapsing in it. “The fishermen found her early this morning.”

“Busan?” you ask, the name of your hometown heavy on your tongue. “What business does that have with the Seoul Major Crimes Unit?”

“It becomes our business when you see how she was killed.” Yoongi states, leaning forward and flipping open the file for you. You look down at the medical examiner’s report, light finally shedding on your situation.

“Legs and hands tied with plastic cable ties, throat slashed, face carved into a permanent mangled grin – its Him. The age and description of the girl match with his previous victims and Busan PD asked us to come down since we’re handling The Joker’s case.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “What did I tell you about enabling him?” Yoongi shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

You stare back down at the photos of the crime scene, your brain trying to piece together the information. This particular serial killer – nicknamed The Joker by the general public for the way he dismembered his victims’ faces – had been at large for a couple years now and had murdered five young girls. Well, you muse, the count is up to six now.

“He’s never struck outside Seoul before,” you murmur. In your periphery, Yoongi nods, taking a sip out of his own coffee. “This is so out of his way. Are we sure its not a copycat?”

“I considered that,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “The lead detectives in charge of this case want us to check it out and see if we can figure out of it’s the real deal. If it is The Joker, the case is ours anyway.”

“I know some cops in Busan,” you say, closing the file. You had grown up there and worked there before transferring. “Who’s in charge?” Yoongi stares at you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slip of paper with names scribbled on it.

“Let’s see—the man who called this morning – a Kim Taehyung – do you know him?” You blink.

“Yeah, we-we went to college together,” you say, your voice suddenly hushed.

“Aw that’s cute, a little reunion,” Yoongi grins but then studies your expression. “Is it not a happy occasion?”

“No no,” you laugh weakly. “Taehyung is fine – great actually! He’s good at what he does too. I’m grateful he’s in charge of this one.”

“Great, we leave tomorrow first thing,” Yoongi says, electing to ignore your high voice and nervousness. “I got us KTX tickets for the first train out.”

You nod, swallowing. Kim Taehyung isn’t the problem, it’s who he’s partners with that has your stomach in knots.

Your train pulls into Busan at a very early hour that even coffee can’t fix. You heave your duffel bag over your shoulder and wait for Yoongi to grab his before stepping off onto the platform. Yawning, you look around.

The dawn has left behind a slight fog around the city and the morning October air has a slight chill in it. You haven’t been back in Busan since the day you left, some two years ago. Your parents had moved to Seoul recently, taking with them the only reason you’d ever have to visit this seaside city.

Yoongi hops off the train next to you and looks around. He’s a Daegu native, but knows this city like the back of his hand.

“I booked us a hotel near the crime scene,” is the first thing he says.

“That’s not morbid at all,” you chuckle, and he rolls his eyes. “But first I’m guessing we head straight to the precinct?” Yoongi nods and the two of you opt to share a cab instead of taking the public transport.

Before you know it, you’re getting off at the police department. Two officers at the entrance have been alerted of your arrival and show you the way. Yoongi shoots you a surprised look, but you grin back. Busan has always been known for its friendly and amicable citizens.

When you enter what is obviously the homicide department, Taehyung is the first person you see. He shouts your name from across the room, turning several heads, and bounces towards you like a golden retriever reunited with its long-lost owner.

“That is Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi asks and you’re not sure if he’s impressed or disappointed.

“Its so good to see you!” he says, a boxy grin painting his face. You take him in. Taehyung hasn’t changed much since college, but the dyed blonde hair he used to sport when he was younger has now been swapped for his natural black curls, which bounce every time he walks. “And you must be Detective Min, we spoke on the phone”

“Ah—yes,” Yoongi utters, thoroughly thrown off. You hide a smile.

“Come in, come in! Ah you can leave your bags by my desk for now.” The two of you do as you’re told, and Taehyung then leads you to a small conference room which holds a projector screen, a small round table, and a few chairs.

“I assume you’ve read the case file?” he asks and when you nod, he continues. “We haven’t had anything quite like this before – at least not during my career. I realize the two of you are the leads on The Joker right now, so any help you’re willing to provide is appreciated really.”

“Any new developments?” you ask, pulling out the file from your backpack. Taehyung hums before sitting down across from you.

“The toxicology report came back right as you arrived, I got a text from my partner,” Taehyung says, and you try to keep a straight face. “He’s over there right now he should be here soon, by the way,” You’re thankful that he doesn’t dwell on the topic for too long, most likely out of respect for you. “They found morphine in her system, so we’re inclined to believe that she was drugged before being tied up and killed. Your raise your eyebrows at this piece of information.

“The Joker doesn’t drug his victims.” You state. “They’re all very much awake when he ties them up and slashes their throats. The carved smile is always scratched in post-mortem.”

“Well there are inconsistencies then,” Taehyung says, running a hand through his hair. “All the wounds here were caused after he actually killed her – and that includes… whatever he did to her face.”

“So, we’re looking at a copycat.” You state.

“Or he’s changed his MO.” Yoongi adds.

“He hasn’t changed it for his first five victims what was special about this one that he had to drug her to knock her out first? No, this sounds like someone plotting murder and covering it up. Either way let’s explore all avenues.” You say.

“I agree,” comes a voice from behind you and you almost jump out of your seat. You turn to see the very person you’d been dreading running into since stepping foot on the platform this morning. Jeon Jungkook walks in, two cups in his hands, setting one down in front of Taehyung. He leans over to shake hands with Yoongi, giving you a mere side-glance. He sits down across from the two of you and takes a sip of his drink. Distractedly, you wonder if its coffee – as far as you know he was never a big fan.

The again, you muse, you’re not sure you really know him anymore.

There’s an awkward sort of silence and Yoongi’s body language tells you he’s noticed something’s off. Taehyung clears his throat.

“I’m assuming the two of you will want to check the crime scene out?”

“And the body.” You add. Taehyung nods and stands up.

“Do you want to split up or do both together?” You look at Yoongi.

“Together,” the two of you say at the same time. Yoongi’s smiling. You smile back.

Getting into the back of Taehyung’s sleek black SUV, you watch Yoongi jump in from the other side, dark hair slightly tousled from trying to get some sleep on the train. He’d been your partner for the entirety of your career with the Seoul PD. The two of you had started as rookie cops and had spent the first few months catching small-time criminals. Yoongi was easy to work with, and you’d found a fast friend in him, being alone in a big, unfamiliar city. You closed cases like no one else and before you knew it, the two of you were promoted to Major Crimes as detectives. The Joker was one of your first cases and it was a real thorn in your side that you hadn’t managed to catch the bastard yet.

Jungkook gets in the passenger seat next to Taehyung. He hasn’t so much as addressed you yet, except for agreeing with your previous statement. You had expected as much. He’s still sipping on his drink. Taehyung is talking to one of the officers by the main gate and you take this time to really take in Jungkook’s appearance.

He hasn’t changed – gotten broader maybe. His hair is slightly longer, falling into his eyes. His ears are still pierced in multiple places, although right now he’s only wearing simple rings in both ears. He’s wearing a dark sweatshirt, which you recognize is from the Busan Police Academy as you own the same one. His right hand is littered with tattoos you can’t make out, and they disappear into his arm. That is new and you wonder when he got them done. Unable to help yourself, your eyes travel to his left hand, his ring finger. You’re surprised to find it empty. The last time you saw him, there was definitely a ring there. It was the last time you were in Busan. You haven’t returned since.

“Did Namjoon text you?” Yoongi’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. You look at your partner distractedly. “He said he was going to.”

“Oh, I haven’t checked.” You mutter, before pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans. There is an unread message, surely enough from your co-worker.

“Yeah he says Holly’s fine,” You tell Yoongi, scrolling through the message. “He was a little shy last night but seems to have taken a liking to Joon.” Yoongi heaves a sigh of relief. Yoongi was also your roommate back home, and his dog meant more to him more than anything else. You secretly were also extremely fond of the little brown poodle. “He says he’ll send pictures later.” Yoongi scoffs at that.

“He better, I do not trust that man with our dog.” Yoongi says and you smile at his wording. Holly was definitely Yoongi’s dog, you had just moved into his apartment when he was in need of a roommate to help cover the rent. It was so easy to be platonically domestic with Min Yoongi.

“Why didn’t you just leave him with your brother?” you ask, putting your phone away, looking out through the window to see if Taehyung is done.

“Geumjae’s in Daegu for my Mom’s birthday.” you turn to Yoongi in surprise.

“It’s your Mom’s birthday and you’re here?” you ask in surprise. Yoongi shrugs. “Maybe we should stop in Daegu on the way back.”

“I considered it,” he says. “If we have time.”

“I’d like to meet her.” You say warmly.

Jungkook clears his throat and you look at him, having forgotten he’s in the car too. He’s about to say something when Taehyung opens the door and gets in on the driver’s side.

“Sorry,” he says. “We have another ongoing case.”

“It’s not a problem,” Yoongi says. “You could’ve just left us to go do all this by ourselves.”

“No this case takes precedent for us too,” Taehyung says, starting up the car. “Plus, we’re here to help you if you ever need anything.”

The rest of the drive is silent, but its an almost-comfortable type of silence. You look out the window, taking in the familiar streets from your younger years. Nothing really has changed but then again, two years isn’t a long time at all. Or maybe it is. You’re not sure anymore.

“You say she was found near Haeundae?”

“Near the Haeundae market, yes.” Jungkook answers, surprising you. “She hadn’t been in the water and no water was found in her lungs, so she wasn’t drowned. No blood or signs of struggle in the surrounding area meaning she was killed elsewhere and brought to the market. We aren’t sure why this particular location was chosen--”

“The killer wanted her to be found,” you say, your voice soft, cutting him off. “The markets open before anything else. Everyone who lives here knows that.” Jungkook turns to look at you, really look at you, for the first time since he’d walked into the conference room.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I think so too.”

“ID?” Yoongi asks, and either he’s pretending not to feel the tension in the car, or he doesn’t notice it. Knowing Yoongi, it’s probably the former.

“16-year-old Park Sohee,” Jungkook says, turning back to look at the little black notebook he has open. “Attended high school in Haeundae, grew up in the area too.”

“Have you spoken to the parents?” You ask.

“Yesterday,” he replies. “She was on the swim and dive team at school. Had excellent grades and many friends. A popular kid. Parents say she had no enemies, and no boyfriend, and wasn’t involved in anything ‘bad’.”

“Yeah well a parent is always going to say that,” you muse. “Have you spoken with her school? Friends? Swim coach?”

“Not yet. We waited for you.” You nod at that.

“I’d like to see the body after this if that’s okay. Yoongi can go talk to the school.” Yoongi nods beside you.

“Sure, one of us can go with you and the other can go with Detective Min.” Taehyung says, pulling up near the fish markets. You step out of the car, the smell of fish immediately overpowering you. You wrinkle your nose and look around. The market is exactly the same as you remember it. The familiar stalls selling everything from fresh produce to seafood to small trinkets and jewelry. It isn’t too busy right now considering it’s a weekday, which means you can look around easily.

“Nostalgic?” Jungkook asks stepping in beside you. You smile slightly.

“Only a little,” you answer him. “We used to come here a lot.”

“I still do to be honest,” he jokes. “The naengmyeon here is unrivalled.”

“Still?” you ask surprised, and he nods.

“Have some while you’re here,” he says, tossing his now empty cup in the nearby trashcan. “I know you like it.” He’s looking at you once again looking like he wants to say something. You understand, there are so many words left unsaid between you after all. You’re not sure you want to open that door though. Jungkook has always worn his heart on his sleeve.

“Over here,” Taehyung motions from some distance away and the two of you make your way to him. Yoongi is already standing there and he hands you a pair of gloves. Pulling them on, you lift the yellow police tape to make your way to the scene.

“They found her in front of this stall, on her back.”

“On display,” you say, kneeling near the chalk outline of the body. “Killer wanted us to see her face and neck.” You looked up at Jungkook and Taehyung, who were looking at you in confusion.

“It’s another inconsistency,” you say, standing up. “The Joker’s victims are all found face down. This guy totally didn’t do his research considering he was trying to be a copycat.”

“He wanted us to see the slashed throat,” Yoongi says. “He’s an amateur at this.” You nod.

“The cause of death was the morphine, I’m guessing. The wounds were all inflicted post-mortem”

“She had no other inflictions,” Jungkook says. “You can look at the tox screen when we go see the body and talk to the M.E. too.”

“Who found her?”

“A couple fishermen,” Taehyung reads off his notes. “Time of death is approximately 3-4 AM and both their alibis check out, they were out on the docks ready to head out.”

“I say we tell the press we’re convinced it’s the Joker,” you say, taking off your gloves and pocketing them.

“I agree,” pipes up Jungkook.

“Detective Min, if you can come with me to go talk to the family,” Taehyung says to Yoongi and then turns to you. “Go with Jungkook to see the body,” he says. You nod hesitantly, half-hoping it would’ve been the other way around. “We’ll drop you off on our way.”

Before you know it, you’re standing next to Jungkook outside the medical examiner’s office. Jungkook pushes the door open, letting you go through first.

“Hey Jin, I’m back,” he says and you hear a crash and a man appears from behind some shelves. He’s wearing a lab coat, dark hair disheveled. He looks at you.

“Oh, the detective from Seoul I’m guessing!” he says, his voice oddly melodious. “Kim Seokjin, MD.” You shake his hand, grinning and introducing yourself. You already like him.

“She wants to take a look at the body.”

“Of course, of course,” Seokjin says rushing around to the many shelves in the wall, popping one open and pulling out the body of Park Sohee.

You and Jungkook make your way towards it. You peer down at the young girl.

“The morphine is likely what killed her,” Seokjin says, watching you.

“She has bruises,” you say softly, staring at her abdomen. “Post-mortem?”

“No.” Seokjin replies. “She got those when she was alive. The coloring indicates they’re old.”

“Swimming and diving aren’t high contact sports,” you say. “Where did she get these bruises on her arms and chest?”

“You thinking domestic abuse?” Jungkook asks from behind you

“The parents said she didn’t have a partner. How did the parents seem?”

“Upset,” Jungkook starts, then stops. “You think the parents did this?”

“Just considering all options. Her team coach is also a possibility. I won’t know until we’ve checked all of them.” You look down at her again. “A pretty girl.” You say. “Can I have copies of the tox screen?”

“Sure,” Seokjin replies, walking over to his desk to print out a copy. “There isn’t much other than the morphine. An overwhelming amount.”

“Where would they get access to so much morphine?”

“No idea,” he says walking over and handing you the toxicology report, which you subsequently put in your bag. “But it was way over the lethal amount. The killer isn’t an expert on dosage. My guess? Someone who has no idea how killing works.”

You and Jungkook walk out of the building. The afternoon sun is peaking out, making you shed your jacket.

“You hungry?” he asks, and you realize you are. All you’ve had since arriving in Busan is coffee. “There’s a galbi place around here.”

He leads you around the corner into a small restaurant and you enter behind him.

“Jungkookie!” comes an excited voice and you see an elderly woman wearing a flowery apron making her way towards you. “It’s been a while!”

Jungkook grins at the woman and greets her politely and she ushers you over to a small table by the window facing the busy street. Handing you a menu, she smiles kindly at you.

“You’re a regular?” you ask.

“I used to be. It’s been a while honestly.”

You scan the menu, your mouth immediately watering.

“The dak-galbi here is unreal,” he tells you and you pretend to throw the menu away.

“Well how dare I eat anything else then!” Jungkook laughs, high and melodic. Its been a while since you’ve heard that laugh. “Let us split the dak-galbi. I also want rice.”

Jungkook gets up and walks over to the counter himself to give your order. You watch him, a small smile on your face. He collapses back in his seat, bringing over two glasses of water.

“So,” he says.

“What’s with the tattoos.” You blurt out, eyeing his hand. He stares down at it too.

“Wanted a change, I guess,” he says slowly. “Life was getting pretty dull around here.”

“So, you got inked,” you say grinning. He grins back.

“I’m happy this isn’t awkward,” he says after a while and you freeze. “I’m glad we can sit and talk like this still.”

“I know,” you whisper. “Me too.”

“About back then—” he starts, and you sigh. You want desperately to avoid this conversation but Jungkook, ever the straight arrow, has never liked underlying tension, and prefers everything laid out on the table in front of him. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Don’t apologize for your feelings,” you tell him, but he shakes his head vigorously.

“No, I am sorry,” his tone is firm. “I ruined our friendship, made everything weird and drove you away. I know I’m the reason you’ve avoided this place until now and even now you’re only here because you have to be—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt gently, and he halts mid-rant, his doe-like eyes wide. “Stop talking. I’m the one who’s sorry. I acted immature and it was me who ruined everything, not you. I didn’t come back because-because it hurt at first and then I didn’t come back because I thought you’d be happier without having to deal with me.”

“How could you think that?” He’s gripping the table, knuckles white. It makes the ink on his hand stand out even more. You see a sketch of a small rose, about an inch tall, right below his index finger, and bite your lip. “You were my best friend.”

“It’s different now,” you assure him, still staring at the rose. It’s staring back at you, a silent taunt. It brings up repressed memories you rather not face. “Things are different. I’m happy—in Seoul. Please don’t blame yourself for everything that happened. I wasn’t angry to see you, I was just worried you wouldn’t want to see me. I’m happy now and I’ve moved on from all that.”

“With Yoongi.” Jungkook says, and you’re not sure why he sounds so bitter.

“With Yoongi, yes,” you say. Yoongi’s your work partner and a steady shoulder when you need one. He’s your roommate and best friend. Seoul is lonely and even after two years of living there, he’s one of your only friends. But as soon as you say it, something in Jungkook’s expression shifts, like a door slamming shut. He sits back. “He’s the best partner anyone can ask for, and a damn good detective.”

Jungkook nods once, jaw clenched. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, your food arrives and you’re too hungry to think of much else.

After that, the two of you only make polite small talk. There’s no tension but you can’t help but feel like the wall that was crumbling has somehow repaired itself. Jungkook’s phone rings as he’s finishing his rice.

“Tae, hey,” he says, phone in his left hand as he eats with his right. You distractedly wonder why he doesn’t wear his ring anymore. “Okay sounds good. No, we can just walk to the station its only a couple blocks. Yeah man see you there.”

“They done talking to the school?”

“Yeah they’ll fill us in when we get there.”

“So, what’s the deal?” Yoongi asks, his lithe body curled up on the hotel armchair in your room. His room is next door, but the two of you had ordered room service for dinner. Empty bowls of jajangmyeon lie littered on the small side table next to him.

“The deal with what?”

“Detective Jeon,” You turn to Yoongi and fix him with a stare. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“Nonsense,” you reply.

“You two have a history? It got seriously weird at times today.”

“No history—it’s the same as Taehyung, we attended the police academy together. Taehyung was a couple years ahead of us though.”

“And?”

“And I’ve also attended middle school and high school with Jungkook. He was my neighbour growing up.”

“Ah childhood friends,” Yoongi hums. “But what went wrong?”

“What makes you think something went wrong?”

“Because you left behind a perfectly good life here when you moved to Seoul? Because you never talk about these people? Before today I didn’t even know of them. And also, because you were absolutely dreading coming here.” You sigh, hating Yoongi’s astute personality.

“Jungkook found out how I felt,” You say quietly. “About him.”

“Oh.”

“While he had a girlfriend.”

“…Oh.”

“Who he was engaged to.”

“What the fuck,” Yoongi’s tone makes you giggle, relieving the pain a little.

“Obviously, he never felt the same way, but then things got so weird. It was like we could never go back to what was. Jungkook skirted around me, his girlfriend hated my guts, I had to avoid our whole friend-group because all of his friends were my friends. It felt claustrophobic.”

“So, you left.”

“Not exactly,” you say. “I wasn’t actively looking to run away, but when the option to move was presented to me, I hesitated way less than I originally would have.”

“And are you still in love with him?” Yoongi asks, voice casual.

“I don’t know,” you reply, thinking of the small rose tattooed on Jungkook’s hand. It’s easier to deny. “It’s been two years and as far as I know he could be married by now.”

“I didn’t see a ring,” Yoongi answers, like the detective he is. “And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say. “He was head over heels for Jangmi.”

“What a delicate name,” Yoongi muses.

“She was the delicate kind,” you agree. “Kind, pretty, gentle – just like her name—like a rose.”

“Every rose has its thorns though,” Yoongi says wisely. “He cares about you, you know.”

“Who?”

“Detective Jeon. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You’re such a romantic at heart Min,” You tease. Yoongi only smiles softly in return. “It doesn’t matter. Jungkook’s life is here and mine is in Seoul. After we wrap this case up, I probably won’t see him again. I’m happy with my life right now.”

“Maybe if you tell yourself that enough times, it’ll one day become the truth.”

“Anyway, go over what you saw with the victim’s school again.” You sit on your bed cross-legged, your go-to posture when you’re trying to focus.

“Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary. Her swim coach is a well-respected man. Usually men in power take advantage of multiple people under them but none of the other girls in the team seemed out of sorts to me. Her teachers all spoke highly of her—she really did have excellent grades. It seemed she was friendly with everyone in her class and on her team. I’ve hit a block.”

“That’s frustrating.”

“The bruises you mentioned are bothering me,” Yoongi adds. “They don’t seem to have an explanation and the parents seemed surprised when we asked them about it.”

“Alibis for the parents?”

“Asleep at home,” he hums. “No way for us to check that. Sohee was on her way back from swim practice and when she didn’t show up at home at the regular time by 10pm her mother started worrying. They claimed they would call the police the next day, but of course it was too late.”

“They didn’t think their daughter not showing up at home was a cause for panic?” You ask. “It’s weird to me. She wasn’t the rebellious type, so this must not have been normal behaviour.”

“You’re set on the parents, aren’t you?” Yoongi grins, stretching his legs out.

“It’s just this feeling, I don’t even have an explanation for it.”

“A hunch.”

“Yes but no proof,” You grit your teeth in frustration.

It rains on your second day in Busan. You roll out of bed to the sound of the tell-tale pitter patter and groan. Getting ready and putting on the jeans from yesterday along with a black dress shirt, you hop around trying to tuck it into the waistband. There’s a knock on your door and you open it to greet Jungkook.

“Oh—hey,” he is not who you expected to be at your door so early in the morning.

“Your partner left your hotel info with Tae.” He says, curious eyes peering around your hotel room. You quirk a small smile and let him in. He sits down on the chair Yoongi was occupying last night.

“So, what’s up?”

“We found a suspiciously large amount of money in a savings account under Park Sohee’s name,” Jungkook is still looking around your room curiously and you don’t know why.

“Suspicious?”

“She was sixteen,” he says. “What’s a 16 year old doing with fifty million won?” Your eyes widen at the amount.

“Do her parents know?”

“We’re going down to see them now that’s why I’m here.” Jungkook stands up. “Where’s Min?”

“In his room probably. He’s not a morning person.” Jungkook blinks down at you.

“You two aren’t sharing a room?”

“Huh?” You pause mid-way of packing your backpack for the day. “Why would we?”

“Because… you’re together—wait what,” Jungkook looks so confused you almost find it adorable.

“What the fuck Jeon, we’re not together – not like that.” You say.

“B-but yesterday you said you’d moved on with him—”

“Yes, as partners – you know? The thing we do for work.” You’re trying not to laugh.

“B-but you own a dog together and live together.”

“We’re cops, Jeon, not billionaires. Rent in Seoul is atrocious, he’s my roommate. Also, Holly is Yoongi’s dog, not mine.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook hides his face behind his hands and sits back down. You’re laughing. “I’m sorry for assuming.”

“You know—you should ask Yoongi how Jung Hoseok is doing.” You say, grinning.

“Who?” Jungkook looks up.

“His boyfriend,” you’re trying hard not to burst back into giggles. “Lives in Gwangju on a temporary assignment. The guy whose room I’m technically renting out. They were roommates before getting together. When he had to move out for work, Yoongi needed someone to help cover the rent.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook moans, hiding behind his hands again. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say laughing. “Easy mistake to make… I think?” Jungkook is looking at you from in-between his fingers.

“So then, are you seeing anyone?” His direct tone throws you off. You turn to fully look at him, but a knock on the door interrupts you both.

It’s Yoongi, and he doesn’t look surprised to see Jungkook in your room.

“Taehyung texted me,” he says. “Detective Jeon,” he adds in greeting.

“Please,” Jungkook smiles, “call me Jungkook.” Yoongi raises both his eyebrows and looks at you in question and you’re trying to fight laughter once again.

The ride to the victim’s parents’ house is quiet. Taehyung drives and you spend the time pondering over Jungkook’s words from earlier. He’d been angry yesterday because he’d assumed you and Yoongi were together. You frown to yourself because nothing makes sense. Had he fallen out with Jangmi? But it’s not like Jungkook had ever thought about you as anything other than a friend. You remember his words from back then, loud and clear, and they come back to you now.

“I’m sorry.”

You remember his apologetic eyes, the glint of his wedding band; he had looked like a child who’d been told off. You hate that look, the pity staring down at you. But most of all you hate the fact that you’d been rejected before you’d even had a chance to explain. A mutual friend had let the cat out of the bag at a party, and Jungkook being Jungkook had confronted you right away. None of it had been on your own terms.

You’d brushed it off as a small crush, defence mechanisms kicking in, but things had never been the same afterwards. Jungkook had always been good at seeing right through you and he could tell you’d been lying about the depth of your feelings.

You clench your fist. Moving to Seoul had meant burying all this behind you, pretending none of it had happened, forgetting about Jungkook and how madly in love you’d been with him. You’d always been good at compartmentalizing, it’s what made you a good cop. You’d ignored everything for two years. Until now.

Yoongi calls your name, breaking you out of your reverie. You’re at Park Sohee’s home, but you can see from your seat in the car that the main door is ajar. Jungkook is already tossing you a vest which you hastily put on. He pulls out his gun and exits out the car. The three of you follow suit.

“Stand guard at the back, we’ll clear the house.” Taehyung tells you and you and Yoongi nod. The two of you position yourself near the backdoor. After about 10 minutes you hear Jungkook shout. The backdoor opens, and his head peeks out.

“Father missing, but we found his wife,” at your expression, he continues, “Dead, in the bathtub. Overdosed, it seems, in an apparent suicide. She left a note.” He holds up a piece of paper.

“Her husband, a nasty man, is our guy.”  

“Where is he?”

“Taehyung is putting a trace on his credit cards and cellphone as we speak.”

You’re reading the note, disgust piling up inside you. Sohee’s father had been an abusive man, and she was planning on running away and going to the police. She sold some of her clothes and other belongs to earn money through the years. The mother, an abused woman herself was complicit in the crime but had been unable to handle the guilt.

“This man killed his daughter and is directly responsible for another woman’s death. We better find him.”

At that moment, Taehyung appears at the door.

“Got him, let’s go.”

“When we said he was amateur at this, I didn’t mean this amateur.” You say, staring at the balding man through the one-sided mirror.

“He panicked when his daughter threatened to go to the police and killed her in a fit of rage. Then he tried to cover it up.”

“Only a psychopath tries to copy other psychopaths.” Yoongi says behind you. Jungkook is in the interrogation room, dark jeans and a dark t-shirt on, looking like he’s going to strangle the living daylights out of Park Sohee’s killer. His arms are bare for the first time since you’ve been back, and you can see the black ink swirling all the way up and disappearing into his sleeve. They’re all little designs, instead of a cohesive piece, as though he got them done separately.

“When are you guys heading out?” Taehyung asks. “We should at least grab a drink before you go.”

“We managed to get in on a train this evening,” Yoongi says apologetically. “Duty calls back home.”

“We’re still going to stop in Daegu for the night to wish Yoongi’s mother a happy birthday.” You tell Taehyung. “Early morning tomorrow, we head back to Seoul.”

“That’s too bad,” Taehyung nudges you playfully. “We barely had time to catch up.” You smile slightly, still staring at Jungkook, who’s coaxing a confession out of the man. You can’t deny that you want to leave Busan as soon as possible, but somewhere deep inside your heart breaks.

Park Sohee’s father confesses not too shortly after that and the case is officially closed. Taehyung suggests a late lunch at a nearby restaurant as a final get-together before you and Yoongi have to leave in the evening. Jungkook doesn’t say much throughout the meal, only offering a distracted smile every now and then.

When the four of you are heading out Jungkook grabs your wrist.

“Can we talk?” he asks and you look over at Yoongi who gives you a small smile.

“I’ll meet you at the train station tonight then,” is all he says before pulling Taehyung away towards his car. Jungkook is still looking at you.

“Walk with me,” he says, and you do, falling into step beside him. “I think we need to clear up some misunderstandings.”

“Misunderstandings?”

“I broke up with Jangmi,” he starts and you’re genuinely surprised to hear that. “Actually—she broke up with me. It’s been over a year since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say carefully, hating yourself for the selfish happiness that blooms inside you. “What happened?”

“She left me for someone else,” Jungkook says, smiling lightly. He doesn’t look hurt. “Someone who can love her way more than I ever could.”

“That’s so not true,” you argue back. “You loved her.”

“I did,” he agrees, and you try not to wince. It’s harder to hear it than say it. “To an extent. When she left, I didn’t cry. In fact, I was barely upset, and I hated myself even more for that. But then Jangmi pointed something out that made me see things very clearly.”

“What was that?” you whisper. The two of you are standing beside Nakdong river now, cyclists and runners passing by you in the blink of an eye. The air smells fresh and cold, the rain having left behind a chill and bright blue sky.

“She pointed out that I was more upset when you moved away than I was when she told me there was someone else for her.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

“Oh.” Is all you say.

“When I apologized yesterday, for ruining everything, I meant that I was sorry that I was so confused. My confusion and indecisiveness ruined everything. When everything became clear to me, you were already gone.”

“Why didn’t you contact me?” you ask, your voice still hushed.

“I tried,” he is being earnest now. “Your parents had already moved to Seoul, and I contacted Kim Jooyoung from school to see if she knew of your contact information, she was your best friend in college after all. All she had was a cellphone and a landline phone number, but it was worth a shot. When I called, your old roommate picked up and said you’d moved in with some guy. When I tried your cellphone, it was dead.”

“Oh I-I changed my number,” you say, your voice shaky. “I don’t even remember why now—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jungkook’s voice is urgent. “Before today I’d made peace with the fact that you were the one that got away. I could look you up using my connections but until today I was under the assumption you’d moved on. But you’re here now, by some miracle, if I can even call it that given the circumstances, but to me its too big of a coincidence to just pass up.”

You watch him quietly. He’s slightly out of breath and the wind ruffles through his dark hair.

“You never got to answer my question from earlier,” he says. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“N-no I’m not but—” You never get to finish your sentence because Jungkook is leaning in and crushing his lips to yours. His hands come up to rest on your shoulders, then your neck and then your cheeks, which he grazes with his thumbs. Once you get over your initial shock, you reach up to tentatively grasp his t-shirt on both sides. He tastes like the hot chocolate he had with his lunch. You feel his tongue tentatively swiping at you and you open yourself up to him. Immediately, he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

After what feels like both, and eternity and a few short seconds, he pulls away. His lips are glistening and swollen and he’s out of breath.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, hands still cupping your cheeks. “Stay here.” Slowly, you pull away, resting a hand on his chest to steady yourself.

“You’re asking a lot of me,” you start. “My entire life is in Seoul, Jungkook, I can’t just up and leave—”

“You just up and left Busan,” he says, and you freeze. Studying your sudden shift in expression, he hastily corrects himself, “I didn’t mean it like that. That came out wrong.”

“Jungkook,” you say, hoping you sound more patient than you feel. “Things are different now; I’m almost settled down in Seoul. I love Busan, I do, but I have no intention of moving back here. My family lives in Seoul now too and my lease with Yoongi isn’t even up, and I love my job, I wouldn’t dream to leave it.” Jungkook abruptly pulls away. “And I won’t ask you to leave Busan, I know how much you love it here.”

“Then what now,” he asks, a small smile on his face. “That’s it? You leave tonight and I never hear from you again?”

“I never said that,” you say softly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic is my middle name,” he mumbles, and you giggle.  “Do you at least feel the same way?”

“Of course, I do,” you say. “Otherwise I’d have pushed you into the river by now for your advances. Give me some time to think things through alright?”

“But—”

“We have a case back home that needs us, I really do have to go back today. Yoongi’s visiting his family tonight and I’ve made him a promise to come along and they’re expecting me. I won’t go back on that.”

Jungkook is now silent, staring wordlessly at you.

“Do you trust me?” you ask.

“Yes.” He answers. There’s no hesitation in his voice. You smile.

Six Months Later

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks. The party is in full swing, loud music almost drowning out his voice. He’s holding a cup of clear liquid in his hands and you doubt it’s water.

“Yeah it’s not a problem, I can watch Holly for the weekend.”

“I’ll drop him off on Friday then,”

“That’s fine! You and Hobi deserve the weekend away.”

“But it’s not a hassle for you? It’s your weekend off too,”

“Yoongi I’m not going to try and convince you to let me take care of your dog in the middle of Hoseok’s welcome-back-bash.”

“What’re you two whispering about?” Hoseok slithers in next to you, tossing an arm around your neck.

“Yoongi’s worried about his dog,” you roll your eyes. “This has never happened before.”

“I’m not worried,” Yoongi seethes, making you and Hoseok laugh. “I just don’t want my dog being neglected because you and Jeon are copulating like rabbits all weekend.” Blood rushes to your ears and you grit your teeth.

“Jungkook’s going to be too busy this weekend for that, I promise you.”

“Oh yeah, has he found an apartment yet?” Hoseok asks conversationally.

“Yeah, he’s signing the lease on Friday, and then moving here over the weekend.”

“And he starts work on Monday?” You nod.

“The Organized Crime boys are gonna love him,” Yoongi grins. “Man will fit right in. Where is he anyway? I haven’t seen him since you two arrived.”

“Right here Min,” Jungkook pops out of nowhere, a wide grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes. “What’s up?”

“Yoongi thinks we aren’t responsible enough to take care of his precious dog.”

“I believe the phrase he used was, ‘copulating like rabbits’” Hoseok chimes in unhelpfully. You elbow him in the stomach. Jungkook eyes you, grin fading a little and you recognize the dangerous spark in his eyes.

“Well he’s not wrong—” he starts, but is met by loud interruptions from you, Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Too much information!” Yoongi yells, downing his drink. “You two are disgusting! Lets go Hobi.”

Jungkook comes up to you, still grinning slyly and you automatically slip your arm around his waist.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” you ask, looking up at him. Jungkook has an arm around your shoulder as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Bit too late to ask me that, don’t you think babe?” You pinch his waist and he yells out loud. “I didn’t move to Seoul for you, I moved here for the job.”

“Ha. Ha,” you roll your eyes, but a part of you knows it’s partially true anyway. Long distance between Busan and Seoul hadn’t treated you too badly and things had been going surprisingly well. You were a good five months into your newfound relationship when there had been a sudden opening in the Organized Crime unit, a real step-up for Jungkook’s career. Jungkook had told you once he’d applied for the job that he’d have applied anyway regardless if you were in the picture or not, and you appreciated his honesty. Both of you had always been the type to put your careers first, but you couldn’t believe your luck that things had just fallen into place like this. You’re happy for him.

“Although having you here is a pretty sweet bonus,” Jungkook adds, making you smile. The two of you stand there in silence, arm-in-arm, enjoying the celebrations from afar.

[writer-dreams]

Colors (Draco Malfoy X Reader)

I'll be honest, I've had this one fully written since last week. I've just been very nervous to post it because the ending is so bad 😅. I haven't been sure how to fix it and I've re-written it several times. This fic is definitely rushed but hey, it's a one-shot (and I wanted to try writing something short and sweet for once). This is still part of the Cliche Month Challenge by @wreckofawriter (sorry this was so late). I've finally gained enough courage to post it and I hope you enjoy this messy fic.

Prompt: An AU where you can only see the shades of your soulmate's eyes until you first touch.

House: You choose

Blood Status: You choose

Warnings: Possible swearing

Note: Again, very messy. Not sure I like this one too much. The reader in this story is female / uses female pronouns.

Word Count: 1,694 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3rd Person POV

Y/n opened her eyes to see the world was still the same shade of steel grey. She longed to know what the world truly looked like, to see actual colors other than this grey. When she was younger, she was ecstatic to learn that someone out there was destined to be with her. She used to fantasize about meeting her soulmate, seeing in color and her falling in love. She imagined what her soulmate would look like, what their personality was like, their likes and dislikes.

Now, as she grew older, she began to develop fears. What if they didn't like her? Even if the universe had put them together, there was still a chance they could reject her. What if she didn't like them? She never considered herself to be a picky person, especially when it came to love, but that didn't mean that they couldn't have a horrible personality. All of her friends have already met with their soulmates, and it did seem like they matched each other perfectly. They always talked about how beautiful the world was and how they couldn't wait until she could see the colors too.

She snapped out of her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she walked off to the courtyard, hoping a good book could distract her from the whole soulmate situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n wasn't sure how much time had passed when she finally finished her book. A few hours, at least. She looked around the courtyard, seeing that she was the only one there. She sighed, deciding to go back inside. Y/n looked at the sky, dreaming about the day she could finally see the blue sky her friends talked about. She wondered how beautiful the night sky looked when it was in full color, how pretty a sunset could be. Yet, all she could see was grey. She was almost at the point where she would begin to resent the color. Still, she remained patient, still trying to hold on to the small shred of hope that she would someday meet the one.

On her way in, she bumped into someone rather harshly. The two fell back, Y/n closing her eyes and rubbing her head gently from where it hit the ground. When she opened her eyes, her mind was blown as suddenly, she could see the world in color. Amazed, Y/n slowly took in her surroundings, admiring the green grass and the blue sky. She looked at the bark of the trees, the castle, the white fluffy clouds. Her eyes began to fill with tears as she slowly let it all sink in. She could see, she could finally see! It was all so much more beautiful than she could have ever imagined.

The boy in front of her got up with a groan. In her dazed state, Y/n had almost forgotten about him. She looked back at him to see platinum blonde hair and grey eyes looking back at her. Her face immediately became shocked as she recognized that familiar face, those eyebrows, those thin lips, those sharp cheekbones. Draco Malfoy.

Said boy looked back at her with the same shocked eyes. He glanced quickly around him, an astonished expression on his face. His grey eyes landed back on her, almost in disbelief.

"You're my—" They both whispered.

Y/n couldn't do this. Even when he didn't know they were soulmates, Draco Malfoy was a bigoted twat. How could the universe possibly pair her up with him? Y/n shook her head, before she got up and quickly retreated to her dormitory. She could hear Draco calling after her but she ignored him and simply kept running.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she arrived, most of her friends were already there, talking amongst each other on their beds. At the sound of the door opening, they all turned their heads and greeted her. Y/n still couldn't believe that she could see in color because of Draco Malfoy. Now, she could see the color or her friend's hairs and their eyes. She turned to a mirror and examined her reflection, playing with her (h/c) hair. She could see that she had (e/c) eyes, which was so surprising, considering that she had only seen a grey version of herself for years.

"Hey, Y/n! I just want you to know that you're beautiful and you better not be saying bad things about yourself to that mirror!" (F/n) said.

"I'm not....I just...."

"You'll find your soulmate eventually, Y/n. Then you can finally see how pretty you are." Another friend reassured.

Y/n smiled back at her, not sure if she should tell her friends that she met them and that it was the worst possible matchup ever. She decided against it, telling herself that the universe had made a mistake. There was no way that Malfoy was her soulmate, she refused to believe it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost a week had passed after that incident and Y/n was still avoiding Draco. She could see him trying to reach out to her but she would quickly lose him in the crowded hallways. Everyday, every hour, she was playing a game of avoidance cat and mouse. She had gotten pretty good at it too, swiftly navigating her way through all the students.

Today was just another one of those days. There she was again, quickly walking through the crowds, afraid that she would see Malfoy and have to talk to him. Luckily for her, she managed to make it to class without running into him. She settled into her seat next to her friends, who were quietly gossiping to each other.

"Malfoy's been pretty quiet lately. Hasn't been taunting Potter or anything. He's not even picking on any first years."

"Maybe Dumbledore's finally had enough of his behaviour. Or maybe his father threatened to ground him or something."

Y/n stayed silent, listening in to their conversation. Great, even if she could physically escape Malfoy, he was still there in conversation. It really seemed like the universe was insistent that it was right with this pairing.

"Could you guys stop talking about Malfoy? He's old news anyway. Who cares if he's not bullying anyone for once? Maybe he's actually become a decent person." Y/n snapped.

Her friends looked at each other. "What's gotten you so riled up? You care about him or something?"

"Nothing. I just don't wanna hear about him. Let's just focus on the class, okay?"

Her friends nodded slowly, looking at her suspiciously before they changed the topic of their conversation. Why did she defend him? Everyone, including her, knew that he was a prat and that wasn't changing. Y/n sighed quietly, feeling frustrated. Another thing she had kept to herself was a feeling of longing for the blonde male. He appeared in her dreams like a prince offering to sweep her off her feet. She'd feel drawn to him when she saw him in the hallways, even when she forced herself to stay away from him. Y/n was afraid as to what it could mean, she couldn't accept the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After classes ended, she continued through her usual route back to her dormitory. Unfortunately for her, Draco Malfoy was waiting for her right at the entrance. She quickly turned to try and make a getaway but he grabbed her arm.

"Wait. L/n, can we please talk?"

"What's there to talk about?" Y/n asked coldly, even when her heart fluttered at his touch.

"Just, come with me." Draco began pulling her away as Y/n rolled her eyes and allowed him to drag her.

He took her to an empty hallway, where he finally let her go. Y/n looked at him expectantly, putting her hands on her hips. She knew this was coming, there was no avoiding it, especially when the universe constantly pushed them together. The universe can rot in hell.

"So...we both know that we're.....soulmates. Why do you avoid it?" He sounded hurt, and Y/n's heart ached at the thought of that.

"Because, you're Draco Malfoy. You bully Potter and practically everyone else in this school. All you care about is blood status, the Slytherin house, and impressing your arsehole daddy. You're a spoiled brat who acts like you're entitled to everything, and I refuse to be one of those things just because I'm your 'soulmate'." Y/n growled at him.

He seemed to take everything she said into consideration, which was extremely out of character for him. "I can change, Y/n. I can change for you. In fact, I already have. Haven't you noticed how silent I've been? It's been the talk of the school this entire week." He said, desperately. Y/n wondered why he was so persistent, why did he continuously chase her, even when she actively ran away?

"You feel it too, don't you? A pull to me, like a bond?" Draco asked, watching her carefully. Y/n didn't answer but her silence gave her away. "I feel it too. I see you in my dreams and Merlin, I feel my heart race when I see you. I know you think this is a mistake, but the universe doesn't make mistakes. I love you, Y/n. Just give me a chance to prove it." Draco took her hand softly.

Y/n felt it. Some sort of invisible bond tying her to him. The universe had her in its clutches and it would not let her go. She felt her heart tighten and she sighed. What could it hurt to try? Clearly, the universe wasn't giving up on this and maybe there was a good reason for that. She remembered that feeling of longing for the Slytherin boy and bit her lip.

Damn it all.

She took Draco's face and smashed her lips against his. It felt like everything clicked into place as he held her face and kissed back. His lips fit perfectly against hers and she could feel the world around them stop. It was as if the universe was satisfied with its work and was allowing them to enjoy their moment. She pulled away and opened her eyes, the colors around her seemingly more vibrant than before. Draco looked at her with the widest smile on his face.

"I'll take that as a yes?" He chuckled.

"Don't make me regret it, soulmate." Y/n smiled back.

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Permanent Taglist (if your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you for some reason):

@my-name-is-jazzy-x

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Thank you so much for reading! This was pretty hard to write (I guess I'm not that good at soulmate AU's yet 😅). I hope it wasn't too horrible to read. Yes, I am still working on requests while I'm writing these things (I promise). Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Until next time.

-Jade

[earnestly-endlessly]

Could you please rec cherik fics where they still have powers but being mutant is well accepted? (Kind of like the Daycare Verse by brillingspoons) THANK U SO MUCH YOURE INCREDIBLE

Hi anon, of course I have a list for you. I am so sorry for the delay. I have been super busy lately with work and home renovations, but I’m back and I have a looong list for you. Now, the nature of x-men as a parallel of the very real fight of minority groups for civil rights makes it pretty hard to find fics where everyone accepts mutants.That’s actually why I love the x-men, because they represent the fight of those who are ostracised. So, some of these might have some social commentary, but the main focus does not lie there. Also, if you love the Daycare Verse check out pocky_slash’s fics (who actually wrote the majority of the Daycare Verse). 

------

Cherik ´Still Have Powers Modern AU´ Fic Recs

irreconcilable differences (make for surprisingly good bedfellows) – pocky_slash

Summary: Tonight on The Evening Report with Malcolm Stevens, noted geneticist and mutant equality proponent Dr. Charles Xavier faces off with the infamous mutant rights activist Magneto in a live televised debate over the Genetic Nondiscrimination Act.

(At least, if they can stop flirting long enough to stay on topic.)

Words and Pictures – pocky_slash

Summary: When Lorna's powers manifest early, Charles Xavier's mutant picture books are the perfect teaching tool. Erik just hadn't expected the author to be so young. Or attractive. Or available.

For the Record – endingthemes

Summary: As prominent figures in the mutant rights movement, activists Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are pretty much household names. When a romance scandal between them breaks, their celebrity reaches new heights, and though the increased exposure is great, there’s a big problem -- the two of them are just friends.

Too bad no one believes them.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan)

Summary: Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

Featuring mpreg!Charles in a Kiss The Cook apron, overprotective!Erik in wet black leather, and baked goods. Lots and lots of baked goods.

(Another segment of this series is posted under the Cookie Cutter fic collection - thanks again, Takmarierah!)

Impulse Decisions – listerinezero

Summary: Erik wakes up in Las Vegas with a hell of a hangover, a telepath in his bed, and a ring on his finger. Now what?

You Show Me Yours - endingthemes

Summary: When Erik receives nudes in the middle of the night from an unknown number, he's confused and mildly amused. He doesn't expect it to turn into an actual conversation...with feelings.

As if that's not baffling enough, his friend's brother ends up crashing at his place, further complicating everything.

Some Such Place (The Big Screen Classics Remix) - Pocky_Slash

Summary: Erik's spent the last eighteen months having lengthy socio-political conversations and casual sex with Charles Xavier after seeing Monday matinees at a dingy little independent movie theatre in the Village. That doesn't mean they're friends. Or that Erik should have any say in what Charles is going to do with his future.

(At least, that's what Erik keeps telling himself.)

Into Your Tar, Honey  - tomato_greens

Summary: Really, Alex doesn’t know why he’s in the damn class.

(Or, the one in which Charles teaches an online Introduction to Biology course, and Alex reads more than he expected to.)

Heli Cases - Black_Betty

Summary: "Heli Cases" is a program on PBS whose aim is to educate on the rapidly increasing occurrence of genetic mutation in the general populous by breaking the complex science down into palatable, easy to digest pieces.

It is also the only thing that helps Erik get his fussy daughter to fall asleep.

(Featuring Dadneto, baby Lorna and the struggles of single fatherhood, and Charles as the host of a late night show about genetics.)

Bound - FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

An Exercise in Frustration – ikeracity

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr's latest critically-acclaimed film Shame features a full-frontal nudity scene. His long-suffering husband Charles is really very peeved about it.

Eyes on Fire - Black_Betty

Summary: Every once in a while, fashion tycoon Emma Frost invites her favourite male models over to entertain her. And by "entertain", I mean she makes them have kinky consensual sex in front of her....Emma never touches herself when she watches, but she always has a glass of wine with her. Emma likes it best when they eventually forget that she's watching.

Charles and Erik meet each other through Emma...

(I've taken some liberties with the prompt, but all the sex is still there, and it's wholly consensual...and gradually, becomes more than just sex...)

Order Up - ikeracity

Summary: Charles has a terrible habit of multitasking, and that is probably why he absentmindedly tells the pizza man that he loves him when hanging up.

Then the pizza man says it back. And Charles is pretty much smitten from there.

Some Assembly Required - manic_intent

Summary: "Alex and Hank were two teenagers who frequently fight in school. One fight got so bad that the principal called in their fathers (as both came from single-parent families)/ guardians for a conference. This was how Charles and Erik meet."

Limited Release - rageprufrock

Summary: When Alex Summers broke out of supermax to rescue his stupid kid brother, he had no idea it was going to be so fucking complicated.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

It’s kind of our whole thing – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.

PART 2 of Math Reasons

A Nice Boy (The Family Matters Edition) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

apple season – pocky_slash

Summary: "You know," Charles says while they're sitting around the kitchen table reading the paper, "You should take Anya apple picking."

"Don't you mean 'we?'" Erik responds. The silence that follows is enough to make him re-examine his own apple picking memories a little more closely. Uneven ground littered with apples, tree roots, holes, and narrow passage between rows of orchard trees. "Oh," he says.

rooms/shares – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik is single, working a cube job he hates, letting his master's degree in mutant studies collect dust, and living on his best friend's couch. When she kicks him out, he's forced to trawl Craigslist for the least-offensive rooming option within his meagre budget. He never expects a response from the persnickety, high maintenance ad he replies to as a joke, but it's possible this too-nice apartment and mysteriously absent roommate might be the answer to all four of his problems.

Continue firm and constant – aesc

Summary: Moira hasn't seen her old partner in saving the world from threats human and intergalactic, Erik Lehnsherr, for a few years. When she finally does see him again, she finds a man different from the one who's been with her down in the dark and the dirt and the blood... or maybe he isn't so different after all.

Tough little baby telepath – aesc, pearl_o

Five Part Series

Summary: Teenage telepath Charles Xavier takes a job as a consultant, working with prickly police detective Erik Lehnsherr. Charles is used to being on his own and taking care of himself; he has no reason to think that his relationship with this stern, icy man is going to change any of that.

Frosted hearts – aesc, palalife

Summary: Emma Frost has 99 problems, but a date ain't one. Specifically, she has no time to play the dating game--which is fine with her, because she'd much rather run it instead. From a set of sleek, silver and white offices on Fifth Avenue and with her trusty, stylish, and silent partner Janos Quested, Emma has built Frosted Hearts into New York City's premiere dating service, built on the principle that money, and a sufficiently rigorous psionic scan, can, in fact, buy you love.

Somewhere in Frosted Hearts's server is one Charles Xavier, genius and geneticist, with the kind of nicely-starched good looks that sell well on brochures for New England prep schools. He's also a telepath who's decided to give up pursuing serious relationships and instead spend his thirties doing what he should have done as a teenager: have a lot of sex with random people. Fortunately for him, Erik Lehnsherr, metallokinetic and engineering executive, has absolutely no time in his heart or his schedule for anything more serious than... well, absolutely nothing romantic at all.

Mercy of the Fallen (the AirDrop Security Update 2.0) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr feels defined by his past sins and after years of acting against his own moral compass, he's finally struck out on his own. He's his own boss now, and determined to work hard to help the mutant community and make up for years of doing someone else's dirty work.

Complicating this is Charles Xavier, mutant advocate, genetics professor, unfairly attractive telepath, and owner of the coffee shop below Erik's office. Erik may not think he deserves to be a part of the community he's thrown himself into helping, but Charles has other ideas on the matter, and he's determined to do everything in his power to make Erik see himself as a force for good.

you follow and i’ll lead – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: When Charles discovers how frustrated and self-conscious his best friend Erik is about his ignorance about sex, he's eager to volunteer to help teach him and practice. Charles might not have any more direct experience than Erik, but he does have a telepath's mind full of accidentally picked-up fantasies and memories, as well as knowledge of a few dirty books - and more importantly, he's been madly in love with Erik for years. This seems like a brilliant, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that he can't pass up.

Now he just needs to manage to keep his feelings in check, and not ruin their friendship forever.

Snail Mail – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex isn't thrilled when his boss, Erik, starts sending him to hand deliver notes to Erik's husband up at the university--that is, until he sees the Professor's hot new TA, and suddenly, the notes can't come fast enough. If only Alex could work up the guts to ask him out....

this is life (and everything’s all right) – pocky_slash

Summary: Edie Lehnsherr came into Charles' life long before he ever heard Erik Lehnsherr's name, and her death left a gaping hole in the lives of everyone in Charles' family. As the first Purim without her approaches, he begins to get creative in his efforts to bring everyone out of their grief. Kitchen creativity, however, is not quite his strength....

Watching the Detectives – Clocks

Summary: Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are good friends and colleagues. However, when they go undercover at a Christmas party to nab a prime suspect, Erik keeps reminding himself to stay professional and ignore feelings of unexpected jealousy.

Student/Teacher Relations – PoorMedea

Summary: As a TA, Charles knows he can't get involved in all his students' lives. He needs to keep professional boundaries, to make sure that he's an authority figure. But when he accidentally finds out how complicated Erik Lehnsherr's home life is, he suddenly finds that distance hard to maintain.

Fill for the prompt: Erik is the teen dad of adorable baby!Lorna. I just want teen!Erik being a dad, with adorable interactions between him and his baby. Angst is good too since there's always going to be some in such situations, but mainly I want to see teen dad Erik being an awesome dad who loves the hell out of his daughter despite whatever else may be going on.

Conspiracy of Kisses – Alaceron

Summary: Seven-year-old Erik needs to keep his telepathic best friend Charles from finding out that he wants to kiss him. But that's okay, because he has a plan - he'll put on a tinfoil hat.

Favorite Mistake – endingthemes

Summary: Charles Xavier doesn’t think anything of it when he sneaks out without even saying goodbye to his latest one-night stand. What he doesn’t expect is to walk into his new position in the Xavier Industries marketing department and find that his latest hook-up is now his new boss.

Never Take Biology for Granite – ikeracity, pangea

Summary: Charles is an internet celebrity who garners his fame from posting educational, in-depth videos about a different animal every week, though for some reason his viewers are always more interested in his sex life with his geologist husband, Erik, who happens to frown heavily upon all living things.

Except for Charles, of course, whom he's missed these past couple days while attending a geologic convention--though considering the subject material of Charles' newest video, he's wishing he would've stayed away longer.

This Is Not Comedy – baehj2915

Summary: Written for amarriageoftrueminds' prompt for a Cherik version of Louis CK's tangent about the fuckability of Ewan McGregor.

Naturally the similarities end there. I made this about Erik's full on public lust-filled gay revelation, and the chaos that spirals from there.

Snowed In – dedkake

Summary: Charles and Erik have a one night stand, but a blizzard traps them in Erik's apartment afterward.

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 2

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~2,300

Warnings: None

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah slid into a chair and regarded the lovers. Kate was sitting in Richie’s lap, rolling her eyes as he pressed intermittent kisses on her cheeks and neck. She’d grown used to their easy affection since the brothers had saved Kate from Amaru. For the first few days, Richie had hardly let go of Kate’s hand, would go where she went, snarling at anyone who came a little too close. Even now, he didn’t go very long without touching her, no matter the situation—a hand on her thigh, a the small of her back, toying with her hair. Kate seemed to take it all in stride, a soft smile that somehow made her look impossibly young.

It was Kate’s eyes that Lilah noticed first when she’d stepped through the doors of Jackknife Jed’s.  They flashed with gloom, aging her in a way that in no way reflected in her actual face. Looking at her made Lilah feel so disjointed that she still struggled to hold the younger woman’s gaze. Still, despite the unease, Lilah liked Kate. She certainly made dealing with the ever-arguing brothers just a little bit easier. Lilah couldn’t so easily be out-voted any more, and that was worth the disquiet she sometimes felt in Kate’s presence.

The door to the office flung open, Seth barreling through with no regard for how it hit the shelf behind it, a few of Richie’s knickknacks shaking in their stands. He was wiping sweat from his brow, his ever present frown just a little deeper than normal. Lilah’s eyes narrowed as she watched him come closer.

“Hey, watch the merchandise,” Richie called out, one hand lifting from around Kate’s middle to gesture broadly at the memorabilia.

Fandom was the one thing that Lilah and Richie really agreed on. They’d spent a lot of time on stake outs talking Star Trek, and then Firefly, followed by a whole host of niche geeky topics. He was surprisingly insightful about the little details that made each show unique. And, Lilah had spent a lot of time in hotels watching old B horror movies to be able to hold her own when he went down a rabbit hole.  It made the fact that she disagreed with him about the tenants of Jedi life acceptable, in his mind.

“We’ve got bigger problems than Obi Wan’s lightsaber, Richie.”

Seth was definitely in a mood. He might not understand Richie’s interests, and he might roll his eyes when his brother went on a tangent about canon timelines, but he at least respected Richie’s belongings enough that he didn’t intentionally screw around with them. This, whatever it was, was serious. Lilah eyed him narrowly, waiting.

Eyes vaguely betrayed, Richie muttered, “Its Mace Windu.”

Kate patted Richie’s arm lightly, saying, “What’s the problem?”

Rounding his desk, Seth sat heavily. After a deep sigh, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, tossing it on the desk in front of him. It bounced, making a soft ‘shhh’ sound as it slid across the pressed wood of the tabletop.

“We got a message today,” he explained, “And I don’t know what to make of it.”

Lilah leaned forward and plucked it up with two fingers. The paper was a heavy vellum, thick woven. She unfolded it, curious. The ink was a deep red, the lettering thick. As she brought it closer to read, Lilah caught a fragrance that had followed her in the weeks since their last failed mission.

Oh, no.

The letter was meticulously worded. The writing thick and bold, swirling softly around the crosses. Formal. Elegant. Commanding. Brasa.

Lilah read and re-read it, “He’s asking for peace.”

She looked at Seth, brows lifted in surprise. Then, she stood, stepped to Richie’s desk, and handed it to the younger brother. All the while, she tried to keep her face as neutral as possible. Lilah was grateful that Seth never bothered with the overhead lights, that only the lamps on either desk illuminated the room.  Her face was hot, her hands shaking. She didn’t know how to stand so as to draw no attention to herself while she internally panicked.

“He’s playing a game,” Seth said as he opened a drawer in his desk, pulling out a bottle, yanking out the stopper, and drinking straight from it. “Its a trap.”

Richie took a few moments to read the letter before Kate took it from him. She stood and read it, as well. Lilah watched her face, trying to discern her reaction. Kate chewed her thumbnail as her eyes flicked over the page, her brows together. A shadow passed over her expression.

“No,” Kate uttered so low that Lilah almost didn’t hear it, “He’s really asking for peace.”

Lilah didn’t have the time to think about how she might know that, or the implications. Or, how she might feel about those implications.

Seth scoffed, “How the fuck do you know that?”

Setting the letter down on Richie’s desk, Kate shrugged, “I spent a lot of time with him when I was...when she was inside me.” She sniffed, “Even though Amaru thought they were bullshit, he obeys the old laws. This is a formal call for peace talks. He’s written it in his own blood.”

Lilah felt her eyes widen, shocked that Kate could tell whose blood was on the paper. Shocked even further that someone would write a letter in their literal blood. Shocked still further that she cared how he might have procured his own blood in enough supply to write such a letter.

There were a few side effects from Kate’s possession, little quirks that Kate would sometimes display without really thinking. She’d stand up way too fast, know who might walk through the door next, hear conversations from the next room. Lilah did her best to just roll with it, but this was a little bit too freaky for Lilah’s normal ‘roll with it’ sensibilities. She deliberately set it aside, hoping that she wouldn’t need to examine the thought later.

Richie lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke through his nose, “Why now? We’ve spent the last six months fighting and killing each other, and now he wants to talk peace.”

Lilah sat down, folding her hands in her lap as she tried very hard not to think this was about her. She could not be so self-centered as to think that Brasa would give up a war just because she happened to be on the other side. A war he was, by all accounts, winning as the Gecko’s ceded more and more territory to the culebras he seemed to govern.  There had to be another explanation. A trap, maybe, a false sense of security.

“Alright,” Seth drawled, “We get him in a room and gank him.”

Kate gasped, looking horrified, “We have a chance to get real progress, here. Do you want to fight forever?”

Lilah definitely knew the answer to that question. Seth’s entire life was a fight—physical or otherwise. He wasn’t comfortable if there wasn’t some sort of conflict to battle through, his brother at his side. Even if they achieved peace, he’d be at someone’s throat within twenty four hours. It was both endearing and utterly frustrating to watch him cycle through the same motions over and over.

Seth rose, leaning his hands on the desk, “You, more than anyone, have a reason to want every one of those snakes dead.”

Sneering, Kate crossed her arms, “I, more than anyone, have a reason to want all of this to stop. I don’t want to see any more death.”

Behind her, Richie shifted uneasily in his chair. Lilah took each of them in, knowing there was far more history than she was privy to playing out right in front of her. It left her feeling like she couldn’t make a good decision, didn’t have enough data to create a strategy. This was not her preferred method of moving through life. She remained still, waiting.

“We should meet with him,” Kate asserted, hip cocking to the side.

It was not a rare occasion that Kate would insist that they act in a certain way. She had a strong moral compass that clashed with the brothers’ more criminal predilections. More often than not, Kate centered them, kept them from going too far. Lilah was grateful. She had never been successful in stemming off their momentum, once they got started.

“Absolutely not,” Seth shot back, his mouth a firm line.

Lilah surprised herself by adding, “I agree with Seth.”

Richie stubbed out his cigarette, “I’m with Kate.”

This was not surprising. Richie tended to side with Kate on most things. Lilah caught the look he sent Kate, though Kate was still looking at Seth. His eyes were following the line of her petite body, admiring in a way that made Lilah look away, embarrassed.

Seth circled his desk, leaning his hip against it, “Two against two. How’re we going to break the tie?”

There was a beat of silence, then Richie stood and offered up his fist, “Best out of three?”

When Richie beat Seth two to one, Seth gave him a hardy ‘fuck you’ and strode from the room. Richie heaved a beleaguered sigh and followed him. Lilah dropped her head in her hands, boggled by the decision making skills of her partners. Rock, paper scissors...honestly.

“Why don’t you want to meet with them?”

Lilah lifted her eyes at the question, feeling her chest constrict, “I won’t have to do the actual meeting, Kate.” Lie, lie, lie, Lilah, “I just don’t think we’ll be successful.”

Kate tilted her head to the side, “You think its a trap?”

Lilah grabbed onto that line of thinking. It was logical, far more logical than ‘No, Kate. I just don’t want to meet up with someone who claims I am his bondmate and with whom I have exchanged blood’. Even in her head, it sounded so incredibly stupid. Not to mention the fact that she’d been hiding it long enough that admitting it would only lead to suspicion.

“I think Seth is too hot headed,” Lilah clarified quickly, “I think that it’ll fall apart before it even gets started.”

There, that was a convincing lie that was pretty grounded in enough truth that even Lilah half believed it. She very carefully did not study Kate’s face to see if the lie had landed.

Kate moved closer, her ancient gaze peering at Lilah carefully, “You’re right.”

Oh. Okay.

“Thank you.”

“You need to go with them.”

Ah, fuck.

“What?”

Kate nodded, her expression hardening, “You go with them, keep things level, make this work.”

“Me?” Lilah didn’t like how high her voice came out. She cleared her throat, “No, you know them better than I do. You go. Bring me whatever contract they draw up, I’ll red line it, make sure its fair.”

That was her role. Look over the game plan, find the flaws, work out the kinks. In that, Lilah was comfortable and safe. No need to put herself back in a room with Brasa. No need to let this get even more out of hand. No need for the messiness that would come from that.

Shaking her head, Kate took a step back, “I can’t. I can’t face him. What I did to him was,” she searched for words, “terrible.”

The sudden turn of Kate’s tone, the way her face screwed up in real disgust, made Lilah sit up and stake notice. Where had this come from?

She inhaled, trying to parse the words, “What does that mean?”

Kate’s eyes were focused on the middle distance, her mouth quivering, “Amaru loved torture, all kinds of torture. She didn’t care who it was that she hurt. I—she liked,” Another breath, “Brasa was blood bound to her, she could make him do things, do anything. She never got her hands dirty, but him…”

Lilah waited for more, but Kate simply stopped speaking. She looked shell shocked, tears welling up. God, but Lilah had been completely fooled by Kate’s frequent smiles and clear headedness. She hadn’t known how much trauma the hell queen had put Kate through, hadn’t even thought that Kate was conscious of the things that she’d done while trapped inside her own body. Moved to action, she stood and embraced Kate, saying to her the only comfort she could think to give.

“Its the past. And, it wasn’t you.” Then, “Are you still blood bound?”

She felt like real shit for asking, but she needed to know what Brasa’s relationship was with Kate, and if it would make their own relationship (did they even have a relationship?) more complicated. Kate made a soft sound in the negative and Lilah let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. That was one complication she had, thankfully, avoided.

Kate’s body was taut, “When she first brought me back, when I met him, I felt the power I had over him. And, she abused it. I drained him dry that first night, to regain her strength. After three days, when he managed to stand up off the ground, she did it again. Because she could.” Kate pulled back and looked at Lilah, “That wasn’t even the worst of it. How can I look him in the eye after all that?”

Lilah shook her head, “Like I said, it wasn’t you. And, if he really wants to talk peace, he’ll set it aside. If not, fuck ‘im.”

That, at least, was the truth. Lilah had been fighting his kind of less than a year and she was tired of it. She wanted peace. She wanted to go on nice, normal jobs—jewel theft, a bank heist, possibly even some fine art that they could sell on the black market. Stuff that was in her wheelhouse, in her comfort zone. If he was going to hold Kate responsible for the actions of Amaru, then he wasn’t worth negotiating with. Full stop.

Kate loosed a soundless laugh, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

[amythedvdhoarder]

Protection – Part 12

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Summary: Bucky cannot bear that Y/N was hurt because of him. He has to find a way to keep her safe. Forever

Chapter Summary: You and Bucky try to navigate raising your son whilst deciding what the future holds for the pair of you

Warnings: Just a  whole load of fluff

Word count: 4.2K

Author’s note: Gif not mine. So, it may have taken me absolutely ages to write this bumper final chapter but fingers crossed it was worth it? An epilogue is in the works and there is always the possibility of a few little follow up chapters delving into this little family’s future. Thank you so much for those of you who have stuck with this whole thing! Let me know what you think and please send over any requests for those follow up chapters.

Not beta read so all the mistakes are my own.

series masterlist

masterlist

xxx

Whilst you were still in the medbay Bucky stayed with you and the baby, only leaving when Steve was there to go and get a quick shower. He made sure you had everything you wanted and tried to make sure you got plenty of rest whilst you recovered.

“How about James?” you asked on the afternoon of the second day.

“I’m not sure, do you not think that will get confusing?” he countered.

“No because absolutely no one calls you James. But if you don’t like it, what about naming him after your dad?

“George? I like that but what about what you want?” Bucky looked down his son sleeping in his arms and then back at you.

You smiled softly at him. “Well it just so happens that I like the name George but I want to pick the middle name.”

“Ok so George-” Bucky said hesitantly.

“Steven,” you finished.

“You know he is going to cry when you tell him. It’s perfect though, I owe him everything. Especially for taking care of you when-“ Bucky’s voice trailed off, suddenly realising that he didn’t want to bring up the fact he had abandoned you. Both of you. He couldn’t look at you right now so diverted his attention down to George, who was scrunching up his little face.

“He has done a lot for both of us. There is no one I would rather name our son after.  George Steven Barnes. It’s a good name.” Bucky’s head flew up in shock.

“Barnes?” His voice was quiet, nervous almost.

“Bucky, you’re his dad. I want him to have your name, if that’s ok with you?” There were tears in eyes but he nodded and gave you a small smile. It had always been your intention for your child to have Bucky’s surname. Despite everything you knew Bucky was a good man and you were proud that your son would share the Barnes name.

“Thanks Y/N.”

xxx

Steve did cry when both told him later that day. He was holding George at the time and flicked his eyes between you and Bucky, checking if you were playing a trick on him. When he realised you weren’t, he looked at the tiny baby in his arms and cried. Sam filmed it all on his phone, he found it absolutely hysterical that a tiny baby made Captain America cry. Steve didn’t look like he could handle any more shocks so you held back on telling him that you wanted him and Nat to be godparents.

xxx

Everything became a little more complicated as your release date neared. You and Bucky had been getting along with each other whilst caring for George together in the confines of your hospital room. But neither of you had discussed what was going to happen when you left. Bucky and you weren’t in a relationship, you had barely seen the man over the last 9 months. You weren’t ready to let him back into your life fully, but he was the father of your child and had proven his devotion and love to your son already. So, a decision had to be made. George’s room was ready to go in your new flat, you had a spare bedroom which Steve was currently occupying. You toyed with the idea of asking Bucky to move into the spare room so he could be close to George, but you just didn’t know if you were ready for that.

The decision wasn’t really made until Dr Cho came in to check on you and George one last time. She asked Bucky to step outside so she could properly examine you. When Bucky was finally allowed back into the room he smiled at you and went straight to George, picked him up carefully, cradling him in his metal arm against his chest.

“Oh, it’s ok Georgie. I missed you. Yes, I did,” he cooed softly as his used his flesh hand to lightly tickle his stomach.

It was watching this moment that you knew what you had to do.

“Buck, can I ask you something?” you said pulling yourself off the bed and plopping into the chair that Bucky had been living in for the last few days.

“Sure doll,” he turned to you, a dopey smile still plastered on his face.

“Would you like to move in to the spare room in the flat?” you held out your arms as Bucky passed you your grizzling son.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, a shocked expression on his face.

When he didn’t answer straight away you began to panic slightly. “You know so you can be closer to George. I just thought it made sense, you don’t have to if –“ your words trailed off.

“Y/N” he said softly making you look up at him, “of course I’ll move in. Are you sure you’re ok with it though?”  

You rolled your eyes at him. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Bucky chuckled lightly before smoothly shifting the topic of conversation. “Did Dr Cho say we’re good to go?”

“Yeah, just need to pack up and then we’re out of here,” you made to stand up but Bucky stopped you.

“I can pack up Y/N, I am sure the Doc’ will have told you to take it easy,” you let at a sigh but nodded at him.

He grinned at you quickly and then started to pack up both yours and Georges belongings. 10 minutes later he was stood holding a couple of bags, casting a final look around the room before turning to you.

“You ready you two?”

“As we’ll ever be. Let’s go home,”

xxx

You had texted Steve when Bucky had been packing and by the time you got back he had already cleared out his stuff from the spare room. He had also cooked dinner for you and Bucky and left a cuddly bear for George. Bucky put George down for a nap and left you get settled whilst he went to grab some stuff from his room.

“Hey jerk, what you doing?” Steve walked into Bucky’s room as he was throwing some stuff into a bag.

Bucky threw his best friend a grin. “Just packing up some stuff, I’m moving into Y/N’s place for a bit, you know to help with George”.

Steve walked over and sat on Bucky’s bed. “Y/N messaged me earlier and said you were moving in. Just be sure you know what you’re doing ok?”

Bucky pulled a t-shirt from his drawers and turned to face Steve. “What do you mean?”

“Well I know how you feel about her, but you need to give her time. Don’t rush it”.

Bucky threw the t-shirt into his bag before sitting down next to Steve and releasing a sigh. “I can’t afford to mess up again punk.”

Steve patted Bucky on the shoulder. “You won’t. Just be yourself. Doesn’t take an idiot to realise after watching you two for the last couple of days that both of you have still got it bad,” Steve paused. “But you left her, it’s going to take her a while to trust you and know that you’re gonna’ stick around this time.”

Bucky dropped his head into his hand and let out a slow breath. “I did what I had to keep her safe. To keep my family safe. But there is no chance in hell I’m leaving again. I will take being friends with her any day if it means that I get to be in her life. In George’s life.”

“Pal, this is me your talking to,” Steve said with a small smile.

“Fine ok. Every minute I spent with her in the hospital all I wanted to do was take her into my arms and never let her go. All I want to do is tell her how much I love her but if it doesn’t work and she pushes me away then I could lose everything. Her and George.”

“Y/N would never take George away from you,” Steve shook Bucky’s shoulder gently. “Speaking of which you better get back up there.”

Bucky chuckled a little, “yeah, thanks punk”. He stood and shoved the last couple things into his bag.

Steve got to his feet as Bucky grabbed his bag and they both headed out of the door.

Just before they parted ways Bucky stopped Steve. “Um Stevie, I haven’t said thank you for taking care of her, you know”.  

“You don’t need to say thank you Buck. But, I didn’t just do it for you. You’re not the only one who cares about Y/N.”

Bucky dropped his head realising his friend was telling the truth. Steve was the best man he knew and would never walk away when someone needed help.

“I know, just wanted to say thanks anyway,” Bucky turned and headed towards to lift, leaving Steve feeling a little bit guilty about his mildly harsh but truthful words. “Oh, and cheers for dinner and Georgie’s bear,” Bucky called back over his shoulder

“Georgie?” Steve laughed. Bucky stopped and grinned at him.

“Yeah, he can be George when he’s in trouble, which I’m sure he will be when birdman corrupts him”. Steve shook his head.

“I’d be more worried about Tony”, Bucky’s eyes widened.

“Didn’t even think of that. God, supervised visits for everyone, well except you. Don’t think Georgie’s in danger of learning any bad habits from you except maybe picking fights with the big guy,” Bucky watched as Steve rolled his eyes.

“Hey I always-,” Steve started before being cut off by Bucky.

“Yeah had ‘em on the ropes. I know punk. Anyways, I’ll catch you later,” he waved back at Steve and got into the lift.

xxx

When Bucky got back to the flat you were curled up in the sofa fast asleep. Bucky briefly paused to look at you, that familiar warm feeling filling his chest and a sense of comfort returning just from being near you. He tore himself away to check in on George who was just starting to wake wanting a feed.

Bucky fed and winded George in the nursery and then sat in the rocking chair with him held against his bare chest. The nurse had assured him this was a good way to bond so he gently rocked George back and forth, holding a blanket to his back to keep him warm until he dropped off to sleep.

Once the baby was down for the night Bucky turned his attention to you. He reheated the lasagne Steve had made and gently woke you up.

“Doll, I need you to wake up and eat something for me,” you grumbled and rolled towards the back of the sofa, hiding your face.

“Come on, just eat a little bit and then you can go back to sleep,” Bucky coaxed.

“Not hungry,” you mumbled against the cushion.

“Doll, you had a baby a couple of days ago, you’ve gotta’ be hungry.” Bucky might have had you with that one. Plus, the smell coming from Steve’s lasagne was incredible.

You accepted defeat but not graciously. Pulling yourself up slowly, you scowled at Bucky for waking you up and got yourself comfortable. He passed you a plate and you muttered your thanks before diving in. Bucky sat quietly and ate his own plate and cleared away once you were both done.

“I better check on Georgie,” you yawned.

“I sorted him whilst you were asleep. I put a baby monitor in your room and mine, but turn yours off tonight. I can manage, you need to get some rest,” Bucky suggested.

“Buck, no you can’t do that,” you try to argue half-heartedly, really wanting nothing more than to sleep for the next 24 hours.

“I can and I will. I haven’t had an operation or given birth in the last couple of days. Plus super soldier serum has it’s benefits,” he countered.

You threw your arms up in surrender. “Ok, ok you win, but I need to let my dinner go down first. TV?

“Sure. Parks and Rec?” you threw Bucky as questioning look.

“How did you know?” you asked suspiciously.

“You mentioned it was your favourite last Christmas,” he shrugged.

“And you remembered that?” you couldn’t keep the surprise out of your voice.

“Well yeah, I remember everything you’ve told me,” Bucky blushed at his confession and you couldn’t stop the small smile creeping across your face as your eyes met his.

He quickly got to his feet, cleared his throat and grabbed the remote from the TV Stand. As he settled back down, you shifted and leaned against him. The tiredness you were feeling overcoming any reasoning for keeping your distance. Automatically his arm wrapped around your shoulder loosely. As the theme tune started you closed your eyes and let yourself relax.

After an hour Bucky turned off the TV, looked down at you and smiled as you snored gently. Careful not to wake you, he picked you up and carried you to your bed and tucked you in. Leaning down he placed a soft kiss to your head and then quietly left, closing the door behind him. He checked in on George and went to his own room and flopped on to the bed letting himself drift off. His mind occupied with you and the fresh memory of having you so close to him once again.

xxx

George’s cries through the baby monitor shattered the silence, waking Bucky up with a start. Quickly he climbed out of bed and hurried into the nursery, picking up his bawling son gently, hoping the disturbance didn’t wake you. After changing him, Bucky carried him through to the kitchen and began heating up the bottle. 30 minutes later, Bucky sat in the rocker, talking quietly to George as he tried to lull the baby back to sleep.

“Can I tell you a secret Georgie?” he glanced how at the baby in his arms who was grasping the metal finger near his right hand.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Your Mama is the best woman in the world. Oh yes she is. And you my little man are the luckiest little boy to have her as your Mama.” Georges eyes were blinking up at him slowly, he could tell the little one was fighting the urge to sleep.

“I love your Mama more than anything, except you of course little man. But Daddy was very stupid and I don’t know if she will ever forgive me. I would spend the rest of my life trying to earn her forgiveness, I really would. What do you think Georgie, do you think Mama could ever give Daddy a second chance?” Bucky sighed as he looked down at his son who had finally fallen asleep.  

“You’re a good listener Georgie,” he gingerly placed the sleeping infant back in his basinet. Bucky kissed the top of his head lightly, feeling better to have finally confessed everything. Even if the person he told didn’t really understand what he was saying.

What he didn’t realise as he headed back to his room, was that George wasn’t the only one to hear his confession. You had heard every single word through the baby monitor which Bucky had forgotten to turn off when he carried you to bed.

xxx

The next weeks passed in a similar vain. Bucky and you falling into an easy routine. He knew exactly where your limit was and instantly took over when he realised you were tired or sore. Of course, Nat, Steve, Sam, Wanda and a supervised Tony all came and spent time with little George. But normally their visits left you feeling even more exhausted, especially Tony’s; he was nearly as demanding as a new-born baby.

The evenings where spent with you laying on the sofa, legs resting across Bucky’s lap.  You hadn’t told him you had overheard him that night pouring his heart out. You also didn’t tell him that you had overheard similar conversations over the baby monitor as Bucky saw to George in the middle of most nights.

As the weeks had progressed you found it harder and harder to stop yourself running into his room and throwing yourself into his arms. As impossible as it seemed, even after he left you and said all those things, you still loved him. There were only a couple of things holding you back. Trust; could you count on him to stay this time for you, for George. But also, could you allow yourself to be vulnerable enough to let him back in? All you knew was that the more time you spent with Bucky, watching him with George, chatting with him in the evenings, even laughing when Tony nearly vomited when George filled his nappy, the clearer it all became. You wanted him in your life. No. Needed him in your life.

Somehow Bucky had allowed you the space you needed to heal and the time to feel comfortable around him, even though you were living together. He would never initiate it but would always let you snuggle up against him whenever you wanted. A couple of times you had caught yourself staring at him as he walked around the flat with no shirt on. But not once did you feel his eyes on you other than when you were talking. In fact, the only indication you had that Bucky even wanted to be anything other than friends was from those nightly conversations you were secretly privy to. You felt a little guilty about listening in, but at the same time enjoyed knowing that it wasn’t just you who was still in love.  Now it was just a matter of which one of you would break first.

xxx

It was you late one rainy Sunday afternoon nn one of the rare occasions that Bucky had fallen asleep in front of the tv. His head had somehow ended up in your lap and you couldn’t help but run your hand through his hair.  Just as you were about to place a light kiss to his forehead, the sound of George’s cried rang out from the baby monitor on the coffee table. As delicately as you could you manoeuvred yourself from Bucky and padded over to the nursey. Only after humming a lullaby to him a couple of times did the baby’s screams lesson and George’s little mouth formed a tiny little smile.

As you gazed at the tiny life you had created, once again struck by the striking resemblance to Bucky, everything suddenly seemed to make sense.

George’s hands reached up towards you and you let him grasp your little. “You’re gonna’ be a heartbreaker when you grow up Georgie. You’ll have everyone swooning over you. We’ll blame that on your dads’ good looks, shall we?” you cooed.

“One of these days poppet, your mama might actually tell your Dad that she is still crazy about it. Yup your Mama has got it bad, I don’t think I could ever love anyone else like I love him. Except you of course poppet.” George let out a little gurgle.

“I know pumpkin. Mama needs to just tell Dada doesn’t she? He doesn’t even know that really, I forgave him the moment he came back. He did what he thought was right to protect us. Besides, how could I stay mad at him when he gave me you eh?” You peered into the bright blue eyes of your son and slowly you got to your feet, kissing the dark mop covering the crown of head at settling him back into his basinet.

Satisfied that he was comfortable you turned to leave only to be met by a silent figure leaning against the door frame.

“Someone should make you wear a bell. It’s not fair that you can sneak up on people silently you know?” your eyes falling to the lopsided grin currently fixed on Bucky’s face.

“Sorry doll, trained assassin,” Bucky shrugged.

“How much of that did you hear?” you whispered.

Bucky stayed where he was leaning against the doorframe, “enough to finally tell you how I feel. Well, how I still feel.”

“Before you say anymore I need to tell you something” you stammered.

“You’ve overheard me talking to George over the baby monitor,”

“How did you-“

He held up the monitor from the coffee table and your face heated up with embarrassment.

“Let’s say I haven’t been stood here very long and this is your monitor not mine,” he took a backwards out of the room. “Come on Y/N, maybe it’s time to stop admitting our feelings to our 4-week-old son and talk to each other.”

You nodded and followed him out of the room. Bucky sat down on the sofa, you were about to sit next to him but then hesitated, instead opting to sit cross legged on the coffee table facing him.

“Umm doll, why you sat on the table?” he asked confused.

“Because I need to be able to concentrate properly. I can’t do that if I’m touching you,” you retorted making him laugh. “Hey you’re not allowed to laugh at me, we’re supposed to be having a serious conversation.” Narrowing your eyes at him trying to supress your own laugh.

“I’m sorry doll, serious faces now,” he quickly ran his hand through his hair and sat up straighter. “Who’s going first?”

“I will,” you said quietly now suddenly feeling nervous. “When I found out I was pregnant I was angry with you, I felt abandoned. But as soon as George was born, I finally understood. I would do anything to keep his safe and that’s what you did for me,” your voice cracked and you took a deep breath. “I loved you even when I hated you. Every day I spend with you I fall more and more in love.” You chuckled as both you and Bucky wiped away the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks.

Bucky took in a deep breath and regained his composure. “All I know is that when I was away from you I felt like a ghost, like I wasn’t really living because I was missing a key part. It’s you Y/N. I will regret how I left until the day I die, but I don’t regret leaving. If anything happened to you and Georgie I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I would tear the world apart for both of you if it meant keeping you safe, I would hand myself back over to HYDRA willingly for you,” you were about to protest but shook his head silently to stop you.

“I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you exactly how much and trying to be the man you deserve. Both you and Georgie come above everything else. I’m all yours if you want me?” his watery blue eyes searched yours, scanning for any sign.

“Sounds like your stuck with me then Barnes,” you giggled.

Bucky’s face beamed back at you. “You sure?”

You rolled your eyes at his self-doubt. “Of course,” you beckoned him towards you with a come-hither movement of your finger. Wiggling forward you closed the small gap the was left between you and pressed your lips to his. Despite how long it had been your lips moved instinctively against his. Muscle memory kicking in, you reached up to thread your fingers through his hair in an attempt to deepen the kiss but as you moved, Bucky pulled back.

“Doll, we should take it slow. Don’t you think?” he said his forehead pressed against yours his warm breath tickling your nose.

Sitting up, you quirked your eyebrow in amusement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck. “We had one date followed by one night together.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “What, you want to date me first? Buck, we have a kid together. Aren’t we a bit past that?”

“Well we skipped a few of the more traditional stages but I want to do this properly this time Y/N,” he said hopefully.

You smiled and shook your head softly. “You can take the man out of the 1940’s but not the 1940’s out of the man. Doesn’t that mean no sex before marriage?” it was too easy to tease him.

“We weren’t that old fashioned, but if that’s what you want doll I am sure we can figure something out,” he smirked, calling your bluff.

“You want to get married?” your voice a little higher than normal.

“Only if you want to?” his voice didn’t waver at all, letting you know he was deadly serious.

“Well we did have a baby after our first date, getting married after the second seems about right for us.” Biting down on your lip, you tried to hold in a laugh as Bucky’s eyes widened in shock. “I’m kidding Buck, jeez you should see your face. You’re right, after everything we should take it slow. We have the rest of our lives.”

“Damn straight we do doll. I love you so much Y/N,” he leaned forwards and brushed his lips against yours.

“I love you more,” you breathed against his mouth.

Bucky captured your lips against briefly before pulling back to allow his eyes to find yours “Not possible doll.”

Taglist for this series: @broco8​, @mela-noche​, @fallenoutofrose​, @drabblewithfrannybarnes​

[gmtmg41]

Alright. I need to get this all out of my head. My anxiety and adhd are running my brain today. And it's been ages since I let it get this bad. Ages and ages.

So, I've been talking with the one person who I think I knows me better than pretty much anyone. Which has made me so happy- I've missed him so much. And I didn't realize how bad it was until I stopped to think about how kind of low-key sad I've been until we started talking. And today we talked about heavy topics.

Some of that was the fact that I sent his 2ife an apology text about a month ago now and she still hasn't answered. And I just wa tes to know if there was even a chance of her ever forgiving me. And I know my husband says that the blame is to be shared and I won't deny it. But I never reached out even though they did. They both tried to reach me. And I just never reached back to them. And I regret that so much. They both mean so much to me but I never let them know what was going on because I was angry and upset. And ashamed. I was so fucking ashamed.

When we first moved to Mass I was so incredibly lonely. And depressed. And maybe a few other words that I've never really said out loud. I shouldn't have been left alone my depression was that bad. And the only thing that got me through the first few months was that I knew travis and tavia would be coming up to see me. It wasn't just for me but I did not care one bit. I was going to see my best friend in the entire world. And it kept me getting up everyday. It made me keep going.

And then I was up here and we were broke. Like eating ramen every meal kind of broke. It was terrible. I hated it. Matt was always at work. And the apartment was terrible. And the dogs were miserable and I was too. And I hated it.

But it was going to be fine. Travis and Tavia were I thought coming out to Worcester to see me. And then they weren't. And they wanted me to come to Boston. And I couldn't. We didn't have the money to make it out there. Not even for just me. And I remember how fucked up it all felt to me. .y best friend was like a hour away for the first time in months and I couldn't even get to see him. And I screamed and broke down. But I never told him that. I didn't let him hear me trying not to cry on the phone. I was a big girl and I didn't need him to come rescuing me. Even though I did. I would do anything to go back and to tell him and tqvia both that I was depressed and I needed them. I needed that piece of home- I needed the people who knew me and would have been able to see the signs of me doing stupid shit that was hurting me.

I think I tried explaining that I couldn't go out there. It's hard to remember all of it. The depression makes remembering it all a bit of a blur. But I didn't get to see them. And I remember breaking down. And this wasn't like. Oh let's have a good cry and be better. No this was a screaming and doing stupid shit kind of break down

This was me hurting myself like I hadn't done since high school kind of break down. I don't think I've ever told anyone that, definitely haven't written it down.

And then I let them disappear. Fuck. I stopped thinking about them because whenever I did I cried for ages and I just couldn't do that all the time. I drank myself into oblivion and threw myself into my new job at BN. Because if I was working or drunk I couldn't be sad. And I made new friends. One who reminded me so much of travis that on more than one occasion I caught myself almost calling him travis.

By the time that I finally realized what I'd done- and how I had lost 2 of the most important people in my life- it was too late. It wasn't. I didn't know that then though. I didn't k ow that if I had only answered one of the dozen texts or messages I could have fixed it. So I sat and was ashamed, and sad, amd a dozen other emotions that I never really processed. And I was angry but I couldn't tell you how to make it stop.

And so I wasted years. I wasted them and ignored messages about how travis missed me. And I never just once reached and said I missed him too. Even though I did. And everytime he posted something about a big life event or not big I broke a little more. And I just kept letting myself break over and over and over and over and over and over and over. For years.

But in April I decided to finally answer him. I'd say I don't know why I finally answered bit 100 percent it was the fact that I had gone to therapy at that point. And my therapist did not put up with the self pity or the ignoring important people in my life. And she made me talk about how i felt like I fucked up eht was probably one of my favorite and most important relationships I'd made. I mean this was the guy that I called at like 3 am to tell that I'd gotten engaged. This wad the guy that when something was great I wanted to tell. And that I wanted to complain yo about boys with when they challenged my nerd card. That when the newest nerd movie from star wars(which he knew the order of my favorites and I knew his), Marvel, DC whatever we had to talk about it. We had to examine every angle. He was the guy that I watched Packers football with- the only person I k ew that didn't say I had bad juju. He was there with me when we had that Cardinals game that I'll never forget.. And I threw it all awY because I was fucking terrible. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life.

I'm not sure what else I want to say in this. I just knew that I needed to get it all out of my head. Because if I didn't I was going to let it all fester which was what I was doing. Like. I had already broken down two times today. Partially because I re-read some of the essays that I ignored where he pours his heart to me saying that he missed me. And I know that I missed him then because I still.miss him. It'll never be what it was I've madd sure of that because well I was terrible and shitty and you can't go back in time.

I don't know. Maybe this will help me in the long run. Maybe I'll be able to be better. Maybe it'll help me fix this. Maybe. I don't know.

[awesomelephuoclocblog-blog]

Dropshiply Review: OTO + BONUS + DEMO + DISCOUNT – EASY MANAGE DROPSHIPING BUSINESS

https://lephuocloc.com/dropshiply-review/

Presentation OF DROPSHIPLY REVIEW With OTO, BONUS and DISCOUNT

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Dropshiply Review: OTO + BONUS + DEMO + DISCOUNT – EASY MANAGE DROPSHIPING BUSINESS

Dropshiply Review: OTO + BONUS + DEMO + DISCOUNT – EASY MANAGE DROPSHIPING BUSINESS

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Dropshiply Review – Software highlights breakdown

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https://lephuocloc.com/dropshiply-review/

https://lephuocloc.com/

[ilcaeryx]

Tenacity: Chapter 6 - Bankruptcy [Uraraka Ochako/Reader]

SUMMARY: Ochako had entered Tokyo Dome clad in white, salmon and lime and exited drenched in grey.

TAGS: Reader-insert Collection, Soul mate AU

Link to Chapter 6 of Tenacity on AO3

or continue reading below.

Chapter 6: Bankruptcy

The discoloured mesh of humans that expanded throughout Tokyo Dome made Ochako’s back shiver, from the nosebleed sections to the much-desired floor sections. She hadn’t known what to expect; this was the first concert she ever attended and while she had seen pictures of it online, the absolute size didn’t translate well in pictures. Bracing herself on the rail, she listened with her eyes to the fans roar as a new MV appeared on the large screens, their voices filling her with excitement. When their screaming toned down, for the general noisiness never disappeared completely, she re-read her ticket and confirmed that she had to go even higher.

The nosebleeds provided a great overview of the entire arena she noticed while climbing up the stairs, though she would be unable to see the performers up close. A pang of regret hit her, as both Jirou and Momo had managed to score tickets lower down. Remembering the prices, she straightened her back and felt a lot better about herself. Her mother had begged her to go, saying that Ochako had been working hard without any respite for the family, and eventually she had succumbed reluctantly. There hadn’t been many tickets to pick from since she had wavered for too long but she managed to get one. While she couldn’t afford the expensive floor tickets, she was certain she’d have a good time up here as well.

Her phone went off and she answered it almost immediately.

“Momo?” Ochako asked while taking the last few steps up to her row, trying hard not to reveal how out of breath she was. Covering the phone, she quietly said sorry to the people that let her through to her seat.

“Have you found your seat?” Momo’s voice said.

“I just got to my seat. Good thing I’m not afraid of heights.”

“Remember to use the binoculars I gave you, Ochako! I tested them at home and they worked quite well, considering it’s the first time I produced binoculars with my Quirk.”

Right, she made these using her body, Ochako thought as she fished the binoculars out of her bag and examined it. She looked through them and found that with some adjusting she could see the scene.

“They actually work,” Ochako said, laughter colouring her voice. “It’s hard to believe that you’ve only had your Quirk for a few months and you can already make this kind of stuff. That’s amazing.”

“I have had my Quirk for almost a year now.”

Ochako pressed herself against her seat and let some people by, not particularly paying attention to them. “It’s been that long since?”

“Yes. Life really did change for the better after I met Jirou but if I had lacked the education to support my Quirk I would struggle to make plates, most likely.”

Anticipation rose amongst everyone as the intro’s bassline shook out of the speakers, powerful enough to make Ochako’s torso vibrate to the rhythm. The beginning of the intro ushered the ending of the conversation and everyone lost themselves as the performers entered the stage.

Considering how loud the concert had been, everyone exited in relative silence. There wasn’t much talking done around Ochako, even as the music subsided and the chilly breeze forced the concert goers back into reality. If she was perfectly honest, she didn’t understand that it was all over. While mindlessly following the horde flowing towards the subway, she replayed bits and pieces of the concert inside her head, trying to immerse herself enough to relive it.

She barely acknowledged Jirou and Momo as they miraculously boarded the same train wagon she did. Much like Ochako had, Jirou dunked herself into a seat with a melancholy expression on her face. Ochako must have stared for a bit too long, for Jirou gave her a comforting half-smile.

“Welcome to my life,” she said, her head lolling limply against the back of the seat. She made an upwards motion with her hand, “You’ve been waiting for this for months and it’s over in two hours. Now you have to find something else to do with your life.” Her hand crashed down onto her thigh, symbolizing the post-concert life they now had to endure.

Ochako sighed and pulled her bag close to her chest, “I don’t like this.”

“Do you regret it?” Momo quickly interjected, probably before Jirou could further commiserate.

“I guess not. It was a fun experience that I hope I recall forever.”

“That’s what fancams are for,” Jirou stated, pulling up her phone. “Everyone is going wild online about… Hold on, how is this trending?”

“What now?” Momo leaned forward towards Jirou, her bangs almost hitting the phone.

“Do you remember the scientist who got trashed for trash-talking soul mates? He’s back for round two. Listen, this is what he wrote: ‘I'm quite amused that the mainstream thought of meeting your soul mate and acquiring your Quirk increases your overall productivity, with the conclusion that society would prosper the most when everyone found their soul mate. I find it a rather ineffective solution to the traditional school of hard work, considering that the chances of meeting your soul mate are low and the proper usage of Quirks takes years to master. There's a definite trade-off between time spent and actual success … and it's not in your favour.’”

Ochako blinked slowly, not certain she had the attention span to understand it anyway.

“That is quite the negative view,” Momo commented, returning to her seat. Ochako couldn’t see it because of the table, but both Momo and Jirou were probably doing some couple-stuff with their feet… whatever that could be. “You gain an ability without drawbacks and someone to rely on. Not everyone can use their Quirk for work-related purposes but surely every Quirk has some application. Even if mastering it is impossible, there’s an additional ability for you to use daily.”

“You would know that,” Jirou said and scoffed light-heartedly.

Momo shrugged. “This has been my experience.”

Ochako thought about her parents, both Quirkless and happily married. Even though the family business was stagnating for several reasons, Ochako doubted that Quirks could save them from what felt like inevitable bankruptcy. It was a laughable concept, honestly. The Quirks that appeared after meeting your soul mate ranged from barely changing anything at all to something life-changing, such as severely altering your appearance. Thus, Quirks could not only be hard to master but also negatively affect your life.

“I can eavesdrop on the people living below my apartment now, which is interesting, but other than that I don’t feel more productive than I did before. Not that I was particularly productive before…” Jirou touched her earlobes.

“My parents have been married forever now and they are both Quirkless,” Ochako said after some contemplation. “I can’t imagine them doing better than they are now, even if they had Quirks. If they had met their soul mates, perhaps they would never have started their business and done other things instead.”

“Exactly, people can mess up their lives even if they have Quirks.”

“What I meant was that Quirks won’t trump hard work or common sense.”

“That too.”

Until Ochako reached her stop, the trio continued to talk about easier-to-digest topics. Once again braving the cold air, Ochako left the warmth of the train and continued forward into the night.

Meanwhile, Y/N just entered the train from Tokyo Dome back to the city. Everyone in her section had started leaving the concert while the outro song was playing, their backs coloured with lights from the scene. She had remained seated for some time, basking in the cozy afterglow of the concert and refusing normalcy until she took her first step outside the Dome. Until that happened, the concert did not end.

Her gaze had travelled from the different sections to the empty stage and filled exits, searching for something. Perhaps a reason to stay even longer or to leave in all haste. She felt that if she left, a part of her would remain here in the nosebleeds. It was inevitable that she’d have to move on, sooner or later, and this realization made her chest drop.

Ochako accidentally grasped the door handle with all her fingers and cursed, the strange pressure inside the pit of her stomach growing. Carefully, she pushed down the handle and mechanically opened the door, smiling awkwardly before her visitors. Immediately after she forced her fingertips together and backed away, wringing her hands in front of her as her stomach relaxed. Momo, peering over a huge paper bag she held against her torso, gave her a sympathetic look. Jirou shut the door after entering.

“Thank you for shopping for me!” Ochako couldn’t help but move around, her irritation fading when her friends brought the merchandise into the kitchen.

“Don’t mention it,” Jirou said, getting the merchandise out of the bag and onto the counter.

“I really do feel for you, Ochako,” Momo said, stretching to reach the uppermost cupboard shelves. “It is unfortunate that it isn’t a complete activation type Quirk, which would be much simpler to handle.”

“When you learn how to use it properly you won’t even need Momo to put away the merchandise.”

Ochako approached to help out of instinct but was curtly shooed away by Momo. Instead she retreated to the table, watching her friends to all the work her shoulder slouched. She braced her elbows against her knees and placed her chin against her knuckles. “As long as I’m deliberate about where I place my fingers I can manage… I’ll survive.”

Momo looked back at her with a smile. “Happy to hear you. You’ve seemed… sad these last few days.”

With reluctance, Ochako acknowledged inside her head that that was an understatement. Her life post-concert had been veiled in nostalgic filters; when she wasn’t studying she visited her memories through videos and photos and when she didn’t do either her heart ached. The heartache felt similar to the pains she had growing up, reviewing her old memories of childhood and wishing she could relive it. However, she couldn’t tell whether reliving it would release her from this longing or chain her down further. Perhaps it would be like replaying a game from your childhood. In your memories, you had the best of times, yet the pleasure and novelty were now not as intense. This arduous craving would be fulfilled, leaving behind the knowledge that once you experience something you can’t get it again. More importantly, she didn’t know whether it stemmed from the event itself or meeting her soul mate.

Her Quirk had surprised her the morning after the concert, which she deduced meant that she had bumped into her soul mate there. What made her feel sick was the realization that any person she had touched could be her soul mate. A person without any relevance to her current life, who didn’t know her as a person. Someone who only desired her because of some mysterious fuck up. Conversely, what kind of life would she be intruding upon if they ever met again? Would the fact that it was impossible to find that person mean that she was in a constant state of longing?

“You know, I thought it was the post-concert depression hitting me afterwards but I’m not certain anymore,” Ochako mumbled. She described her feelings while Jirou and Momo nodded affirmatively.

“I guess you could describe it as nostalgia,” Momo mused and tapped her lip with a finger. “Sounds like what I experience when I’m away from Jirou for an extended amount of time.” Ochako grimaced as Jirou confirmed the sentiment. “I’m just getting my life together and this happens. I really don’t want to chase after the shadow of someone who may be my soul mate. It’ll be impossible to find that person. All I want to do is take over the family business and I don’t want someone else’s influence to steer me away from that.”

“You can take over the business and find your soul mate without compromising either. It’s just a matter of endurance.”

It had taken her an hour of writing and re-writing the same 3 sentences before eventually leaning back and pressing enter with an empty look on her face. Ochako was feeling rather bored with this soul mate ordeal. According to the Quirk specialist she had visited, there would be no emotional damage even if she never found her soul mate. It happened surprisingly often that people would randomly acquire Quirks from touching a stranger, only to never meet them again. Thus, her bout of sadness had been demoted to the good old post-concert depression. The specialist did warn her that if she ever came into contact with this person again she would probably be emotionally affected.

Therefore, that should have been the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Two weeks had passed since the concert and only now did she dare to write a post asking whether someone else from the same section acquired their Quirk then. Her drive to know stemmed partly from curiosity and partly from the knowledge that the future could possibly be better if this person was in her life. However, now that it was confirmed that she would remain herself and that her goals would be the same, she felt thankful and thought that the logical action would be to withdraw. After all, she had a new ability which could prove useful. It was maddening to simultaneously encounter herself in these two extremes.

Her necessity for relief from the rigid tension inside became palpable when she couldn't bear leaving her computer chair to take a shower. Without supervising all new comments, she could accidentally miss a comment from people having attended the concert in the same section. When she felt like there would be few updates, she hurriedly threw together some food and regressed back into her room.

After 9PM, her post in the concert group for that particular date was gaining traction, negative and positive alike. No one claimed to have awakened their Quirk back then. She remained by the edge of her seat, yet she was not surprised at this development. At most, this would be one of the big question marks of her life. Why was this any different to not knowing what would’ve happened if she had gone to another school or what if she had had a different set of parents? It wouldn’t solve her current issues and not her future issues, which she would have tons of if she didn’t straighten herself out.

Imagine going bankrupt because you’re this obsessed with a stranger, she chided herself and sighed deeply. Her bottomless need to refresh the page and scour the comments turned her mood foul. With a sharp click she exited the browser and shut down the computer. These two weeks of longing and dillydallying had been memorable… but reality was calling her back, even after the short memory exposition she relived every time she used her Quirk.

Today Y/N exited the health care facility carrying a booklet about Quirks, paperwork and a diary. Two days ago her partner had discovered that three ink black spots on her back changed places every few days. They had been worried about it being some dermatological issue, which was refuted by tests. Indeed, evaluation proved that Y/N was healthy and that the three spots were parts of her Quirk. As far as she knew, they had been on her back for a few years and she had never noticed them moving about. After all, who examines their back that often?

Because Y/N didn’t notice anything strange other than the moving spots the specialist mused whether it could detect meteorological changes or something subtle. However, since there was no data to collect about it Y/N was sent home with a diary where she would describe eventual changes. While she was relieved that it wasn’t a health scare, she wondered how long ago she acquired it and how the other person had reacted. Had they been angry or scared? She imagined that most people with flashier and active Quirks could not forget about something like that, but hers was insignificant and knowing that she had a Quirk didn’t change a single thing.

True to her thoughts, after four days of writing in her Quirk diary it was buried beneath a stack of paper on her desk, forgotten behind the normalcy of life.

If you like this, give it a reblog or like!

My Masterlist can be found here

[cortoonyart]

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[thequalityproblem]

Ugh. The Understaffing Issue

“Understaffing” is a term often used in the hospital to describe a whole host of issues, including:

Not having enough nurses to staff the UNIT appropriately.

Basically, each nurse has to suck it up and take on more patients. 

Not having enough nurses to staff the HOSPITAL appropriately.

Some nurses will have to suck it up and work on a unit they are not familiar with

Having enough nurses but not having enough support.

Nurses are having to do their own job plus someone else’s (like being charge nurse or being a tech/nurse’s aide)

Having enough nurses and enough support, but the patients are high acuity.

The patients are sicker and/or require more resources which means more time is spent in the patient’s room, which means less time for the other patients.

Generally, understaffing is a topic that I try to avoid at all costs. It always feels like a lose-lose situation. 

From the point of view of the hospital administrator, its a barrier that I have no control over, but it constantly impedes all my genius (yep, I said it) ideas about how to meet the goals I was hired to meet.

From the nurse’s point of view, this is the hard stop. The most basic element to providing good patient care is to have an appropriate number of patients to care for, and if the hospital can’t do that for me, I’m not doing shit for them. 

Pardon me for a moment while I trail off into a weird discussion about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Remember this thing? We learned about it in school? Ringing any bells? 

Basically what good ol’ Mr. Maslow was getting at is that, as a human, we have basic, primal needs that must be met (like shelter, air, water) in order to achieve the next level of motivation. I’d like to point out that this just a theory and there are a lot people out there who are smarter than me who like to argue the validity of this pyramid, but understand that I am using this as a METAPHOR for this whole understaffing thing.

If you look at this from the perspective of the nurse, the most basic needs are the things that provide career stability. Patients to care for, supplies to do that, support departments to make sure everything runs smoothly.

Here’s the part that is going to be a bit hard to swallow if you’re a hospital administrator: all those quality initiatives and metrics that teams of people have been hired to implement and improve upon - as the RN, those are at that highest level of the pyramid. Not to say the RN doesn’t care, I don’t know very many nurses to want to INCREASE your CAUTI rate, the problem is that it’s not even on their radar because they constantly feel like they are trying to make it to the end of the shift alive.

The hardest need to satisfy for nursing is safety. Nurses need to feel safe taking care of patients. Literally, the hospital’s most elemental task is to keep people alive. So if the nurse isn’t confident he/she can do that, you need to find a way to fix it.

Okay, but how do I fix it?

Well, that’s a little bit difficult. In fact, its an elephant... and the only way to eat an elephant is to take it one bite at a time. (I’m actually not really a huge fan of this saying, but you get the point. I’d much rather compare this task to Bruce Bogtrotter having to eat the entire chocolate cake in Matilda - I was pretty emotionally invested in that scene - also disgusted and proud - just a swirl of emotions, really.)

The best way to start the understaffing conversation with staff is to be as honest and transparent as possible. And I don’t mean explaining budget constraints and quarterly projections... I mean something like this:

Establish a staffing grid

Determine what your “hard line” is and put together a risk assessment  and detailed plan for the different scenarios you will encounter.

Example: at what point do you pull nurses to other units? What about techs? What is the magic number for allowing a unit to stop taking admissions? At what point does the hospital go to an “all-hands-on-deck” approach where all licensed staff are required to assist?

This is the point where the conversation usually stops. The grids are developed, the numbers are put into a policy or an operating directive where they hide in the nursing office and the poor bastards who are in charge of staffing and supervising take the brunt of the resistance when staff are upset about the situation.

In order to make a meaningful impact on staffing issues, you HAVE to keep going. The conversation has to be loud and in people’s faces.

Share the staffing grid with all staff - with a thorough explanation of how those numbers were determined (evidence based? provide the articles. Show the staff that you have done your homework and aren’t just picking nurse/patient ratios based on cost, that you care about their safety.)

Post the grids EVERYWHERE - this is going to be hard, because this part requires total accountability and transparency with staff, administration, and patients.

Update the grids with ACTUAL DATA. Just like with every other quality metric that is tracked on each unit’s KPI boards, keep track of staffing. Daily. Show staff how the daily assignments are lining up with the established plan. Change the perception of understaffing by being able to point to the actual data that shows that the last time we were “truly” understaffed was over a month ago.

Then (and this is my favorite part because I am a total data nerd) track and trend the data!! 

Track on the boards how many times nurses and techs have been pulled to or from the unit. Which units are the biggest offenders? Which units are the least common offenders? Why?

How many all-hands-on-deck days have there been? Is it rare or do we need to re-assess the grid?

Are there days/weeks when staffing is worse? Why?

Look at open unit positions, and examine all the factors that may have contributed to the issue. Let the data drive the change.

And finally but most importantly: practice extreme consistency. If you are going to take on the issue, do it all the way. If the plan says that an all-hands-on-deck situation has just been triggered, you need to dedicate your day to putting ALL HANDS ON DECK. Not just those hands that can probably reschedule the meeting this afternoon or those who can maybe cut lunch a bit early to help with a few tasks. The only way this whole plan will work is if it is taken seriously EVERY SINGLE TIME. I’ve been in these situations, and let me tell you, if I am told to drop everything I am doing to help the ED nurses, I’d better see the entire C-suite down there with me, because the first time I realize I’m down there alone while everyone else gets to go back to their offices, I’m going to realize that I’m the sucker and go back to what I was doing. And what does that say to the staff? “We care about your really hard day, but only kinda. Like, I care enough to tell other people that they should help, but I really can’t because I’ve got like a hundred meetings this afternoon” By the third or fourth time that everyone in administration is having to drop everything they are doing to go into staff, changes will start to happen. People will start paying closer attention to the data in order to fix the problem because it becomes everyone’s problem, not just the over-worked, over-burdened nursing staff.

The problem will not get fixed over night. But just by having the conversations and STAYING CONSISTENT with the developed plans, staff will start to see that their concerns are being taken seriously. Just like the light in the parking garage. (Same basic approach, just on different scales).

In order to finish off Ms. Trunchbull’s big, disgusting chocolate cake, keep everyone in the loop. Talk about what the data showed. Explain future plans to fix the problem and how it is being managed in the meantime (example: “Today sucks. There are too many call-offs, not enough people to cover, we tried all of our established and agreed-upon plans for improving staffing levels for you today, but unfortunately it can’t be done. In the meantime, we are going to have lab cover all your draws today. OR, we called in extra transportation so you won’t have to do any yourself OR we’ve had pharmacy change up a few things so that they can accommodate your requests quicker to help you out today.”)

Bottom line: SHOW the staff that their concerns and the hospital’s concerns are the same. When staff feel heard and safe, then maybe you can come at them with the whole “update your whiteboard” conversation.

[shae-ster93]

Lazy Sunday

One Shot

T’Challa x BlackReader

Just some fluffy shit :)

In honor of @brianabreeze 4K Celebration Fest

Prompt: “Dance with me.”

You and T’Challa have a rare, Royal Duty-free day

Warnings: None

******

- 9:00 am

Wakandan sunlight entered your bedroom, giving everything in the royal chambers a warm, golden-brown glow. You felt the sun’s warmth on your shoulder and blinked your eyes open. You smiled. Turning over, you found your husband still asleep. You traced a fingernail up his spine and down his arm. You snuggled closer and placed gentle kisses on his bicep and shoulder.

“Good morning, love.” you cooed. T’Challa stirred and turned over to face you. He smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead. He opened his arms, allowing you to lay your head on his chest. He rubbed his hand along your shoulder giving it gentle squeezes.

“Same to you, Mrs. Udaku.” You both chuckled at the formal title.

“What should we do today?” you asked intertwining your fingers with his. “There’s nothing on the schedule for us to do. No royal duties. We have a free day.”

“So lets do ‘nothing’’.” He replied with a shrug. You picked your head up to look him in the eye not sure if he was kidding. “What? Days like today are rare, love. Let’s take advantage and spend it enjoying each others company. I’ll have our meals sent up. We don't have to leave the room. Lets be lazy.”

You smiled and placed a kiss on his chest. “I’d like that.”

******

- 10:00 am

The both of you sat on the adjoining balcony overlooking the beautiful Wakandan view. T’Challa had ordered breakfast to be sent to the room and you both enjoyed the meal prepared by the royal chefs. You sipped your orange juice and popped a grape in your mouth. 

“Challa?”

He swallowed his bite of toast and looked up at you. “Yes?”

“How are you baby?” you asked. He smiled. “I’m fine. Although, I do wish my eggs were cooked a little longer.”

You laughed. “No baby. I meant how are you? You often have a lot on your plate... figuratively speaking. Being a King, a superhero, a brother, son....an eventual father?” T’Challa raised an eyebrow in your direction. You shook your head ‘ no’. You continued “How are you handling it? Does it get to be too much?”

T’Challa took a deep breath and reached for your hand. He stroked his thumb across the back of it. “sometimes, yes. I do get overwhelmed at all of my responsibilities but it was to be expected. I knew being a King was a lot of work. Look at my father, he went gray at 36!”

You snorted and ate another grape. T’Challa continued, “but that is what the council is for, to ease a little of the workload. I have a strong support system behind me. And a strong woman at my side.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m okay.”

You smiled. “If you say so, but you know all you have to do is say the word and I’ll pack our shit and we’ll get the hell outta dodge.”

T’Challa chuckled. “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

******

- 11:10 am

“Oh yes baby, right there.” you moaned as T’Challa scratched shampoo into your scalp causing your eyes to slightly roll back into your head. T’Challa smiled and kissed your full lips swallowing another moan. 

“Okay, okay. Time to rinse.” The King gently pushed you under the running shower water. You threw your head back allowing the hot water to run over your head. T’Challa took advantage of your exposed neck and began to suck on your sweet spot. 

“Baby,” you whined. “I still have to put the conditioner in.”

“Go ahead, I’m not stopping you.” He replied in between sucks and kisses to your throat. You poured a dollop of conditioner into your palm and lathered it into your hair. You wrapped a cap around your hair to let the product set in.

“Okay, now I’ll just leave this in for about fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?” Challa asked.

“Yeah, why?” you questioned. He effortlessly picked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. He pinned you to the shower wall and attacked your neck with more kisses. 

“It’s not a lot of time but I’ll make it work.”

You bit your bottom lip and let the water run over both of your bodies while T’Challa continued exploring your slick body with his mouth and hands.

******

-12:15 pm

“Cinderella was my favorite Disney princess. You know Prince Charming, Fairy Godmother and all that jazz.”

T’Challa hummed in response, concentration plastered on his face as he sat at your feet painting on a second coat of white nail polish to your toes. You rubbed some oil into his scalp and finished your thought. 

“But ever since ‘The Princess and the Frog’ Tiana’s been my fave. She’s smart, headstrong, she didn't need a man to save her, plus, she was from NOLA, AND she could throw down in the kitchen?!? I stan. Tiana’s bomb.” You sighed in awe.

“Tiana. I like that name.” T’Challa spoke softly as he blew on your toes while lightly tracing the trail of tattooed stars on your foot with his finger. You finished oiling his scalp and lifted his chin with your finger.

“One day baby.” You blew him a kiss. The topic of children had often come up but you both decided to take your time and enjoy being married. Although, after 14 months, Shuri was itching for a niece or nephew to spoil. T’Challa went back to your toes, now painting on the top coat.

“What I don't understand,” he began “is why she spent most of the movie as an animal. What gives?”

“I know right?!” You hallway shouted. “Some bullshit if you ask me.”

******

- 1:00 pm

Once again, the King of Wakanda had ordered for your meals to be sent to the bedroom. The lunch was mostly eaten in silence with a few stolen glances here and there. Along with a few blown kisses and a couple of winks.

You watched your husband enjoy his meal and asked yourself how you got to be so lucky. God knew what he was doing when He sent T’Challa to you. And for that, you were forever thankful. 

You reached across the table and took his hand in yours. He smiled warmly at you and you returned it. “I love you.”

He gripped your hand tighter. “I love you more.”

******

- 2:00 pm

“Esh, how long is this stuff supposed to stay on?” T’Challa whined resisting the urge to scratch his face. You had the bright idea to do couples facials and you were enjoying it significantly more than your husband.

You looked over at your man and fought the urge to chuckle at his charcoal covered face. “Ah ah, leave it!” you scolded. “It stays on until its tacky and rubbery. Just a few more minutes babe.”

“I don't see why I had to wear this mask..” Challa complained. “My pores are fine. In pristine condition.” He continued making the ‘OK’ sign with his fingers.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure.” *DING!*

“Okay baby, ready to peel it off?” you asked. The next ten minutes were spent painstakingly peeling off the concoction from your faces. you winced with every pull of the dried mask. “why? Why did I think this was a good idea?”

“Agreed. Am I still going to have face skin when this is all said and done?” T’Challa asked tugging at his own mask.

You sucked your teeth and gave him the side eye. “Face skin?”

“Ey, this was your bright id- ohh hold on.” You glanced at your husband to see he had freed himself of the mask and was now rubbing his face. “My face is a lot softer,” he examined the sheath of charcoal in his hands. “and it did remove some gunk out of my pores.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your face still halfway covered in the mask. You rubbed your cheek and gasped. “You’re right! She is smooth under here hunty.” You did some mock poses in front of the glass.

“Now I just have to get the res-”

*RRRIIIIIPPPP!!*

You shrieked. “BABY!!”

“What? It had to be done quickly, like a bandage.” The King said shrugging.

“Is my cheek still there?!?”

******

- 4:25 pm

You snuggled under T’Challa and shoved another handful of popcorn into your mouth. You had convinced him to watch ‘The Princess and the Frog; because after all, he owed you. He did almost snatch your face off. 

“Be careful love, you’ll get popcorn in the bed.”

“I’m always careful. Now shush, movie’s on.”

He chuckled and pulled you closer to his chest. You were so enthralled with the television that you didn't notice him sneaking glances at you as you watched the movie. Watching you enjoy yourself was one of his greatest pleasures. He’d watch whatever you wanted if it made you happy. Even if the movie was created for children. 

T’Challa stroked his chin “I like that Charlotte isn't in-your-face about her riches...well, not as in your face as she could be. She’s not the bratty rich kid you typically see in these types of programs.”

You nodded in agreement. “Exactly, even though she and Tiana come from different sides of the track, she doesn't make a big show of it. You can tell she really cares for her best friend. She’s a rare one.”

You looked up at your King. “Just like someone else I know.”

He blew you a kiss and you gave a wink back before turning your attention back to the movie.

******

- 6:30 pm

“Babe, you’re getting paint on the floor.” You looked at the mess your husband was making. Brushes and paint droplets were scattered on the bedroom floor.

The King waved you off, “It’s fine. It can be cleaned.”

The sun had begun to set on your beautiful country and you husband thought it would be fun to paint the sunset. He’d ordered canvases, brushes, and a variety of other art supplies to be sent to the room. 

“Meh, I guess.” you replied with a shrug. “Are you almost done?” you asked.

“Aaannnd there. Now I am.” he said matter of factly. “On three?”

You nodded. “One...two....THREE!” You both turned your respective canvases and studied each other’s work. T’Challa’s take on the sunset was a nice oil painting while you opted for a more watercolored effect. 

You nodded slowly. “Not bad chief, not bad at all.”

T’Challa slung an arm around your shoulder. “Not bad for you either.” You both smiled at each other. “Shall we hang them?”

You smile grew bigger. “Absolutely.”

******

- 8:30 pm

For the last time that day, you and T’Challa sat on your spacious balcony and had a meal. This time enjoying the delicious lemon butter chicken, steamed vegetables, and roasted potatoes the chef’s had prepared for dinner.

You looked up at your husband to see him already staring at you. “What’s wrong baby?” you asked.

He cleared his throat. “I was wondering, would you be opposed to doing this, say, once a month?”

“doing what?”

“This. Today.” He took a napkin and wiped the corners of his mouth before finishing. “I really enjoyed spending the day with you today. Just me and you. no council, no meetings. It was just what I needed. Maybe you too?”

You nodded. “I agree. It was nice having the day to ourselves.”

“So what do you say? We clear our schedules for one day a month?”

You raised your glass of champagne. “To lazy Sundays.”

T’Challa raised his glass and clinked it to yours. “To lazy Sundays.”

******

-10:20 pm

You sat on top of your shared bed perched against your pillows dressed in a tank top and shorts with your hair in a messy bun atop your head. Your reading glasses sat on the tip of your nose as you scrolled through The ShadeRoom’s Instagram. You giggled at the posts on their funniest tweets of the week’ segment completely oblivious to what your husband was doing a few feet away.

It wasn't until you heard the familiar opening chimes of Jodeci’s ‘Forever My Lady’ that you looked up from your phone. You saw T’Challa standing by the record player with his eyes focused on you and he wore that crooked smile that you loved so much.

“Oh no.” you playfully groaned covering your face with your hands hiding your blush.

“Stop it, stop it.” T’Challa walked over to you with his arms extended. “Come here. Dance with me.”

So you’re having my baby

And it means so much to me

There’s nothing more precious

Than to raise a family

You stood up and allowed yourself to be embraced by your loving husband. Letting him gently sway you back and forth.

“If there’s any doubt in your mind, you can count on me.” T’Challa sang along to the music still rocking you back and forth.

“Ah, look at you. Brushing up on your 90′s R&B I see.”

“A little bit,” T’Challa said with a laugh “It’s very comforting and extremely sexy. I can see how many children were conceived to this music. Especially that R. Kelly.”

You laughed loudly “Yeah, R. Kelly will set the mood alright.’

Forever my lady

It’s like a dream

I'm holding you close

You’re keeping me warm

If this is ecstasy

“Do you know how I danced with my father as a little girl?”

“Hmm, show me.”

You kicked you pink slippers off your feet and gently stood on the tops of T’Challa’s feet.

“Ah, I see.” T’Challa balanced you on top of his feet and continued swaying you about the room. you head laid on his chest and you listened to his heartbeat as it matched the rhythm of the music.

The two of you stayed like this, even as the next few songs began to play:

‘All I Do Is Think of You’

‘Beauty’

‘This Woman’s Work‘

The two of you were serenaded by the sensual sounds of R&B and truthfully, you could’ve stayed like that forever.

******

- 11:05 pm

Back in bed, you and T’Challa were resting against the pillows, your head on his chest as he silently read Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me.

You traced a finger around his nipple absentmindedly and ran your fingernails along his chest.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you read to me?” you asked before yawning. 

T’Challa looked down at you. “Are you sure? It’s not really a bedtime story, love.”

“I know. But I like the sound of your voice. Plus, it’ll help me fall asleep.”

“Oh, so my talking puts you to sleep eh?”

You playfully smacked his chest. “Just read.”

-”but this banality of violence can never excuse America, because America makes no claim to the banal. America believes itself exceptional...”

You felt your eyelids getting heavier the longer he spoke. You yawned again and continued to listen, eventually letting sleep take you.

T’Challa noticed your light snores and kissed your forehead. “Goodnight, sithandwa sam.”

******

Tags: @brianabreeze @kumkaniudaku @sarahboseman @dramaqueenamby @royallyprincesslilly @afro-royalty @avengersandlovers @sisterwifeudaku @elixirtchalla @eerythingisshaka @ororowrites @dreamingoftchalla @bosemanforever @captiansaveasmut

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Bodyguard II: Familial Ties (Part II - Chapter 1) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

You reached out a hand to grab the metal railing as you rounded the corner before starting up the glass steps. The S.H.I.E.L.D key card dangling from your utility belt created an audible smack as it hit against the top of your thigh with each rise of your leg; you made a mental note to request a re-do of your customized uniform – one that ensured that the garment wasn’t almost entirely made out of latex.

Agent Smith – or Spencer, as you’d come to know him as – passed you as he walked the stairs in the opposite direction, sniggering as he watched you snarl and angrily rip the card from your belt, having finally had enough of the horridly annoying sound.

You tossed him the filthiest look you could muster up, along with a very impolite hand gesture, which only made him laugh harder and send an over exaggerated wink your way. That was the dynamic of the relationship you had built with him over the past couple of months; both of you would seize any opportunity you could to annoy the crap out of the other. In fact, you were ninety-nine percent sure that he was the one who had arranged for your uniform to be manufactured out of such god-awful material.

It was all in good fun, though; playful banter pushed aside, you both genuinely cared for and looked out for each other. And that was more crucial than one might think – especially in such trying times.

You and Spencer found solace in the fact that you were both stuck in the same dreadful reality – a world without Brendon Urie.

Even though you had busied yourself with focusing on getting a grip on your powers practically immediately after the funeral, there was no escaping the crippling ghost of grief. There was a constant dull ache inside of you that, despite what you were doing or who you were with, would not go away. It felt as if a vile concoction of anxiety, dread and anguish was coursing through the blood in your veins in a continuous loop, returning in stronger concentrations with every beat of your heart.

There were nights when it literally made you sick. Where you would stay hunched over the toilet bowl, expelling only small volumes of bile because what little food you’d managed to stomach throughout the day had already come up hours ago. And you’d stay there on the floor, not wanting to go back to bed because you knew that when your head hit the pillow and your eyes closed, all you’d see was his face.

Those nights were usually the nights you’d call Spencer, and he’d tell you that he couldn’t sleep either and that he wishes that he had stopped Brendon from getting on that quinjet. Then you’d tell him not to blame himself, and that it wasn’t his fault.

Both of you knew it was a lie.

Because it was his fault.

And it was your fault, too.

It was everyone’s fault.

Because if one of you, just one, would’ve run faster or yelled louder or done something, then Brendon would still be alive.

Both of you knew it was a lie.

But you said it anyways.

Every time.

Because that’s the thing about feeling guilty over a loved one’s death; no matter how much you convince yourself that you are in some way to blame, there’s always a part of you that wants – that needs – someone to try and convince you that you aren’t. And that – that is crucial in the healing process. If there’s someone else that still has faith in you, then there’s a reason for you to collect all the broken parts and fix yourself up again.

That’s why you were so thankful that you had Spencer – and him, you – because you helped each other heal, even if it was fraction by fraction. You weren’t immensely close, the two of you. Those late night talks weren’t too frequent and your conversations regarding the topic were few and far in between, but still, the two of you shared a warped bond that allowed a sense of camaraderie and a pillar of trust to form. You knew that in a few months time you probably wouldn’t be as close as you are now, but the relationship’s foundation was set in stone, and despite neither of you having verbally said it, you both knew that you would always be there for one another if the other needed it.

“What are you looking at, Smith?” you snapped, hatefully squinting at the man as you climbed the steps.

He scoffed and looked you up and down before declaring, “Nothing much.”

“Funny,” you cocked your head to the side as you poked your tongue at the inside of your cheek and pretended to think. Then, you shut him down with a single sentence. “That’s exactly what Linda said when I asked her what she thought of you.”

Spencer stopped dead in his tracks and watched you with a blank expression as you continued upwards, sniggering as you took each step.

“That was uncalled for,” he said solemnly.

“Your face is uncalled for,” you replied tauntingly, reaching for the door to the tech room.

“You’re such a child,” he groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically.

Looking over your shoulder, you stuck your tongue out at him, causing both of you to burst out laughing before you waved goodbye and stepped in to see Dallon.

The room was dark, with the only bit of illumination coming from the abundance of active computer and holographic screens. You took careful steps, looking down as you did so to make sure that you didn’t accidently step on some important documents scattered on the floor or trip over some complex gadget.

“Dallon?” you called out to the techie, not able to see him in the bad lighting.

Soon after, a head popped out from behind a particularly big computer screen with a seemingly startled expression on its face.

“Oh, (Y/N), hey, um…” Dallon tripped over his words, hands rushing to get rid of the evidence of what he’d been busy with. “What are you doing here?”

“My watch is acting up,” you explained, taking a big step over a piece of equipment you didn’t recognize so that you could walk over to Dallon’s desk. “Who were you video calling?”

Dallon’s head immediately turned to look at his screen, and he realised that he’d forgotten to close the video call tab. Working quickly to make sure that you didn’t peek over his shoulder to check who the last call was to, he pressed a key on the keyboard and wiped the tab from the screen.

“Oh, that was just-“ the techie struggled to think of someone, eventually settling on: “my mom! Yeah, that was my mom!” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh huh,” you frowned slightly and ran your tongue around the inside of your mouth; Dallon was acting oddly strange and jumpy, but before you could ask if he was doing alright, he jumped in.

“You said you’re having watch problems?” he raised both brows and gestured to your watch.

Shaking your head lightly to refocus, you began removing your watch and nodded as you handed it over to Dallon. “Yeah. It’s been dropping calls and displaying interference while I’m on missions.”

“Huh,” Dallon pushed his glasses up the ridge of his nose as he examined the watch. When he came to a conclusion as to what the problem was, he gave you a small smile. “Just needs a software update. I’ll do it and get it back to you within the hour.”

“Great, ‘cause Romanoff and I are heading out at sundown. Thanks, Dall,” you pinched the techie’s cheek affectionately and he smiled in appreciation before you started to walk off.

“Oh!” he called after you, prompting you to turn around, “I forgot to mention… Doctor Ross is looking for you. ”

Shooting range. S.H.I.E.L.D HQ.

Swiping your key card over the sensor, you opened the glass door and entered the range, holding it open to allow two agents to exit.

They thanked you and you smiled politely before starting forward, taking slow steps toward the man you came here to see. His forehead was creased in concentration as he aimed the handgun at the target, determined to hit within the demarcated areas.

Much to both of your surprise, he managed to get shots that were quite close to perfect, and after staring at the target in shock for a second, he broke out into a triumphant smile.

“You’ve gotten better,” you commented with a grin, now picking up your pace.

Aaron’s head turned in the direction of your voice and when he saw it was you, he returned your grin with a much more charming one.

“Oh, yes, definitely,” he breathed, sniggering under his breath as he pointed up, “I’m not hitting the ceiling anymore. Fury will be pleased to hear that.”

“I’m sure he will,” you giggled softly, moving to rest yourself against the wall, “Agent Weekes mentioned that you were looking for me?”

The doctor frowned for a moment as if trying to recall why exactly he had been; when he remembered, he snapped his fingers and perked up.

“Oh! Right! I was thinking of going to see my father in Alcatraz tomorrow – just to get some answers of my own – and I wanted to ask you if you’d like to accompany me,” Aaron explained; you opened your mouth to respond but he cut you off with a raised hand and a nod of understanding, “But I then realised that it would be inappropriate to ask you to do that, considering he… you know, practically ruined your life… so, I mean, I wasn’t going to ask. I’ll manage by myself.”

With a wheeze and a slight shake of your head, you spoke. “I have no problem with going with you, Aaron. Yeah, he did majorly screw up my life but…” you took a deep breath and shrugged, “you need the support, and I’m gonna be there for you. I mean, you’d do the same for me, I know you would.”

Aaron smiled fondly at you before frowning in worry and reaching out to take your hand. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to put you in such an uncomfortable-“

“I’m sure. What time do we leave?”

✧ ✧ ✧

 Alcatraz prison. San Diego, California.

There was a loud buzzing sound and a mechanical whirr as the steel gate opened up to allow entry into the prison. It was daunting, being in this place. The air was so thick with despair and heaviness that it made your skin crawl, and it was as if you could sense the presence of all of the horrific people who’d once been sentenced to life behind these bars, almost like they were now a part of the building itself.

Judging from the way he’d tensed up, you could tell that Aaron felt the effects, too. After tossing a fleeting look at you, he led the way into the expansive corridor, with you following close behind.

As soon as you stepped into view, your ears were filled with the repulsive sound of hundreds of scratchy, rough voices catcalling you. The prisoners rushed forward to the bars, trying to get as close to you as they could, while vile comments spewed from their mouths.

They couldn’t reach out far enough to touch you, thankfully, but that fact didn’t deter them from trying. You were most likely the only woman that they had seen in years – possibly decades – and their sexual desires had skyrocketed at the sight of you.

Aaron tightened his jaw and stepped in front of you in an attempt to shield you from their view but since the cells ran along the left and right sides of the corridor, it wasn’t much help. Still, you appreciated the gesture and reached out to squeeze his hand to show him that you did.

In response, he intertwined his fingers with yours and gave a gentle squeeze back. The physicality of your and Aaron’s actions simply spurred the inmates on, and their hollering only increased, both in volume and in vulgarity.

You blocked them out for the most part, not bothering to pay attention to what exactly they were yelling at you. But when they began making gestures was when you started losing patience.

One man in particular, a gruff-looking one with thinning hair, saw it fit to make a V with his fingers and stick his tongue in the middle – a motion that stopped you dead in your tracks.

Letting go of Aaron’s hand, you took a slight step forward. Tilting your head to the right, you focused your gaze on his tongue and not a second later, it began freezing from the tip up, slowly, until it was completely covered in ice.

Then, with a sickly sweet, innocent smile, you snapped your fingers and the ice shattered, leaving the prisoner with a void where his tongue used to be. Aaron widened his eyes and let out a short, incredulous laugh, and you turned to smile at him before arching your brows and addressing the rest of the men.

“Anyone else?” you yelled out, holding out your hands. The silence in the air was cold. “No? Lovely.”

Once again slipping your hand into Aaron’s, you resumed walking, with you leading the way this time. The doctor couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips as you did; confident (Y/N) was his favourite (Y/N).

You came to an armed door at the end of the corridor and quickly typed in the S.H.I.E.L.D access code to unlock it and allow you and Aaron entrance into the next block of cells – the more heavily guarded ones that housed high-profile criminals, such as Doctor Jacob Ross.

His cell was not too far away from where you were currently standing and as you started towards it, you felt your stomach twist as you began to regret coming here. A lot of what happened last year was due to this man’s orchestrations, including a certain someone’s death, and despite what you’d told yourself the day before, you didn’t know if you could look at him without blowing your top and destroying the entire Alcatraz facility.

You fell a few steps behind Aaron, allowing him to be at the forefront yet again, and swallowed harshly as you looked at him. You were doing this for him. He’d helped you through every part of your trauma over the last couple of months, been there when you needed him and nursed you through countless panic attacks. The least you could do was support him while visiting his father.

Even if said father was a lying, psychopathic, evil son of a bitch whom you hated with every fibre of your being and wanted nothing more than to destroy.

Shit, that whole ‘not blowing your top’ thing was gonna be hard.

“Uh,” you said softly, stopping a few steps away from the cell, “I think I’m just gonna… stay here.”

Aaron, noticing the slight blue glow of your veins, nodded in understanding. “I think that’s a good idea,” he supported, “Won’t be long, promise.”

You gave a small smile and a nod and watched him walk off before letting your face fall and taking a couple deep breaths to calm yourself down. Sticking your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket, you closed your eyes and started to think happy thoughts, blocking out everything else.

Naturally, blocking everything out resulted in you not paying any attention to what was being said by both Aaron and his father. That is, until you heard your name.

“(Y/N), dear, are you going to simply stand in the shadows the entire time or are you going to come say hi?”

The sound of his voice made you sick, and you had to fight the urge to throw up as you opened your eyes and looked over at him. He was smiling at you – a knowing smile, a taunting smile.

Summoning your legs to move and not fail you by giving in, you cautiously stepped forward.

“(Y/N),” Aaron spoke, reaching out for you, “You don’t have to-“

“No, boy, let her come,” Jacob encouraged, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly as he watched you come closer, “She has something to say to me.”

Oh, yes, you did. You had so many things you wanted to say to him. But you weren’t about to give him that satisfaction, so you remained silent.

Determined to get you to crack, he smiled evilly before opening his mouth again.

“I must say, it’s very strange to see you without your bodyguard by your side. Where is he? Recovering from a bullet wound? On a secret mission in Peru? Oh,” he chuckled, looking down at the ground and snapping his fingers before fixing his gaze on you and smirking, “that’s right. It’s neither of those, now is it? Ah, nevertheless – I heard he went out with quite a… bang.”

There was a loud cracking sound as a shard of ice flew from your hand with such force that it pierced the Perspex of the cell, the pointy tip coming to a halt a mere inch away from Jacob’s face; the Perspex had slowed down the shard’s momentum and stopped it seconds before it could puncture the doctor’s brain.

Your breathing was heavy and ragged, and you tore your gaze from the prisoner to look at his son, who was standing in shock, mouth agape.

“I’m sorry, Aaron,” you breathed shakily, backtracking and shaking your head, “but I have to go.”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

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[poetryasf-ck]

Good Grief #1 - Catherine Wilson

This is a new project. What we’re going to do is talk to poets who have written and performed deeply personal work informed by grief, loss and/or trauma, and ask them how this affected them, and whether or not they’d do it again. As such, these posts will talk about traumatic events including assault, genocide and suicide.

In the last ‘Eight Poems…’ podcast with Claire Askew we talked about the tendency for poets - amongst other artists - to explore personal instances of loss, grief and trauma in their work, and how it can negatively affect them. There’s been some discussion about autobiographical works of this nature: how performing them over a sustained period of time (for example, a month-long festival run) can negate the cathartic effect by making the poet relive the event, and whether slams encourage performers to expose wounds that haven’t healed properly in return for heading to nationals via your devastating pathos.

This is a topic that, I feel, needs exploring in more detail. Why do poets do this? What are their reasons, and how do they feel about it in hindsight?

Photo by Chris Belous.

The first person we’re talking to is Catherine Wilson. This is specifically because of a guest slot I did at Loud Poets’ Fringe show a few years ago, when I was on after Catherine who was part of the regular bill. I was about to do a poem involving increasingly bizarre facts about the actor Robert Pattinson, which is generally considered to not be a serious piece, whereas Catherine’s poem was about the death of her sister.

In order not to give the audience mood whiplash Kevin McLean had to warm the audience back up before I went on stage (Loud Poets now let you know what tones the different parts of their show want to hit to prevent this sort of thing happening). As a result of both the poem’s content and knowing this sort of situation might arise, Catherine was visibly distressed afterwards. This stayed in my mind as we were less than halfway through a full Edinburgh Fringe run, that this was an experience she was going through daily.

As a result I asked Catherine to help me write the questions we’re asking poets in these articles, and to be the first person to answer them.

1. What motivated you to write about grief/loss/trauma?

Initially, when I first started writing about grief/loss or trauma, I think I did it because I saw it as the done thing. For context, my sister was killed in the Dunblane Massacre in 1996 and my father also died before I was born. I looked at my lived experience and thought "I can make a good poem out of this." Looking back this wasn't the right motivation at all! However, now, I'm glad I wrote what I did. It really was a fantastic first step into learning how to express myself about things that I don't often get to talk about - either because of awkwardness or not wanting to bring down the mood. Poetry offered me a place to admit that I wasn't okay and talk about it without being interrupted or edited.

Now, when I write on similar topics, it's a much more thoughtful process. I really think about how what I'm writing is going to look on stage - whether I go too far down a dark rabbit hole and need to pull myself back a little and mostly, how it will affect me personally to perform this piece again and again

2. How does performing this piece change how you look at what happened to you?

I think it has totally changed my perspective. It's given me my own way of articulating my experience which has naturally re-shaped how I conceive of it. By giving it words I've changed how I relate to it. I think too, that experiencing loss is a very de-personalising experience: you lose yourself a wee bit along the way in your grief. By writing I've put myself back in the narrative and marked out the place within the story that is mine.

3. How do you separate artistic performance from lived personal experience?

I am notoriously bad at this. When performing about my losses it's nearly always pretty much exactly my experience, I don't really write it through a fictional lens. My one tactic is to always remember that each poem is one poem, not the poem. I don't have to sum up absolutely everything with one poem - I can focus on one mood or capture one moment. Not only does this probably make my poetry better, but it stops me feeling guilty or worried about forgetting or neglecting to include something.

4. Do you find yourself affected negatively by performing this piece? If so, how do you look after yourself? 

I do find performing my pieces about loss more and more hard the more that I perform them. I always ensure I have someone in the audience I trust (usually this is my partner). At the end of the day, I have to constantly examine why I'm performing that piece: if it's because I've been booked/asked to or really want to - then great. That's a motivation. If I'm really not feeling it that day, or will upset myself then I tend to not do it. It's not healthy to constantly upset yourself onstage for the sake of performance. If it still makes you cry every time you read it, then chance is you need to process your feelings a bit more. 

5. Do you practice any aftercare after performing this piece (either for yourself or audiences)? (E.g., talking to audience members who are upset, taking some time out after your performance to ground yourself, ensuring you perform in places where you feel safe etc.)

My main piece of aftercare is recognising when to draw the line. Recently, I performed at the March for Our Lives anti-gun protest, I spent two hours there and spoke to three members of the press. I knew more press was coming, but I decided I was tired and wanted to go. 

When I perform this piece as part of a larger show, I would normally hang back and wait for some of the audience to leave. If someone is really upset I want to prioritise actually looking after them. What I don't want to do, however, is subject myself to a lot of "clumsy samaritanism": nearly everyone in Britain remembers Dunblane, it's a huge part of our history and our only school shooting. Therefore loads of people, if they see you, want to stop you and tell you where they were when it happened or how they remember it. They are processing meeting a Dunblane family member and the only way they can relate is telling you that memory. There's nothing wrong with it, they don't mean to do anything malicious at all - however - I still want to avoid it. By the time I've performed I'm normally hungry and tired anyway, and want to look after someone seriously upset. Being stopped constantly by ten or so people as I'm trying to leave by people who kind of want you to tell them "it's all okay" is too laborious and exhausting. So I normally hang back to pack up,  or hide for a wee while, or my partner helps me escape a wee bit.

Image from TedX talk

6. Do you do any content warnings for this piece? Why?

Sadly, a lot of promoters will still stop you from doing content warnings, which is unfortunate because if I saw a poem similar to mine, I would probably have to excuse myself (because of my own experience). I don't watch other poets do poems about guns or shootings - I have to leave because it's so uncomfortable (often because they don't actually have the experience themselves, but that's another story!)

I rarely do this poem at shows or in sets, if I did I would definitely give a blanket warning and also assure the audience I was totally comfortable with them leaving and/or coming back if they needed to.

7. Does the artist owe any kind of protection or safeguarding to their audience? 

I think so. Whilst I should be allowed to speak honestly about my experience, I also need to have context in mind. Most of the time, people haven't knowingly come to see me expecting to see me do very intense pieces about trauma. Most of the time I'm part of someone else's event or gig. It's not fair, then, to thrust my trauma on the room without at least some gentle framing: whether that be ending my set with another poem to soften the blow and allow breathing room, or doing content warnings.

8. Do you believe writing about areas such as grief, loss or trauma is a form of healthy catharsis or memorialisation?

I definitely think writing is one of the best, if not the best, form of catharsis and memorialisation, precisely because you get to decide what feelings you want to process or how you want to remember that person or event. It is, however, changed with performance, and I think it's important to examine WHY you want to perform this piece.

9. Do you believe artists whose work heavily focuses on their own traumas or losses should also attempt to explore other topics?

I definitely do. Whilst not every poet is going to write silly or funny poems, it's definitely not healthy to just write about your losses and traumas. Even if they never hit the stage, I think it's important to also write about what makes you happy.

10. What kind of warnings signs would you point out to someone new to poetry or performance who was performing about their traumas?

I have three:

If a poet cries, breaks down or is deeply unhappy or irritable when they do that poem, I don't think they're ready to be performing it. It's natural to be upset, but with an element of professional performance it's not healthy.

If a poet forces themselves to do the poem. If you have to push yourself to do it every time you perform, it's probably best to shelve it for a while.

If the piece becomes overly performed and completely separate from the lived experience. If a poet is doing this piece and shutting themselves down, or going into autopilot whilst they do the poem - this really isn't healthy. It's a numbing affect to shut yourself off from your real feelings.

What I would say about these warning signs is that the same poet can have all three, or none in the space of one week. Sometimes you feel everything really intensely and sometimes it's totally fine and really cathartic. I think it's about making sure you check in with your motivation for performing, how you feel on the day, and making sure you're in a space you feel comfortable in.

Catherine Wilson can be found on Twitter: @CWilsonPoet

Her website is http://www.catherinewilsonwriter.co.uk/

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