#for them is just another story to report for us is a devastating loss that we will never heal completely

[savebylou]

I'm looking for to the day the press, podcasts and youtube channels stop talking about Liam. I don't want to see or here anything they want to say about him and my heart skips a bit everytime I see a video on youtube on the thumbnail or hear them mention his name on a podcast.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

17.4

This story has hit me HARD today.

DRACO

From where they stood, Draco could see Fiadh standing outside of her tent. She was smoking a cigarette and watching several children run around the fire in the middle of their campsite.

Her eyes kept glancing out to the trees beyond their perimeter, as if scanning them for danger. As if she had sensed them.

As he and Harry moved into sight, he could feel the cool sharp gaze of the gypsy witch on them. She didn’t flinch as they began to approach her, stepping through the wards of the camp without harm, Draco marveled at the way her eyes appeared deadened. And he knew it was because she had suffered a loss that no mother should. She had suffered the kind of devastation that robbed one of their will to live, of any hope of finding joy ever again.

Still, he knew she had answers for them. And so he would press her until he was blue in the face. Because, in his gut, he knew there was something here. Soemthing with these gypsies that would give him some answers.

“It’s you two again.” Fiadh said as they stepped up to her, dodging several of the children who were running and screaming at each other in Gaelic.

Harry spoke first. “It is. You took off before we could talk again.”

“How did you find us?”

Draco’s lifted a brow at her and watched as she lifted the cigarette to her lips. She took a long, deep pull from it. She held it in.

“We stopped by your campsite the other day.” Draco said, ignoring her question. “Did you happen to leave anything behind?”

Harry sighed. But Fiadh exhaled, staring at Draco through the billow of smoke that wafted up and into the air around them before dissipating into nothing but odor.

“You found him, then?” She frowned and tossed her cigarette to the damp dirt at her feet before stomping on it.

“We did.” Draco nodded and glanced around the camp. There were no men visible. Only two other women who were standing near their own tents. There were at least a dozen children outside. There might have been more inside of the tents.

“Do you know who he was?”

She nodded. “Matthew Muphy.” She nodded to a young boy with sandy blonde hair. He looked to be about four or five. They watched as he picked up a rock and threw it at one of the stray dogs. “That’s his son.” She paused. Her eyes turned glassy as she watched the rock miss the dog. He picked up another and tried again. This time it landed close enough to cause the dog to whine and jump away before bolting into the woods. “My grandson.”

Harry stilled beside him. “You mean, Matthew and Belinda...?”

Fiadh nodded, solemnly. “He’s just lost both his mum and his dad.”

Draco and Harry exchanged a look before he spoke. “How did Matthew die?”

Fiadh looked at Harry and shook her head. “I don’t know. We found him like that in the morning. I assume that devil in the grass finally got to him.

“This devil....” Draco began. “Have you seen what it looks like?”

“No,” She sighed. “We just know that it’s there. It crawls around and always stays hidden in the brush.”

“Could you tell us more about Matthew?” Harry pressed. “Did he start to behave differently within the last year?”

Fiadh stared at her grandson as he joined the other children playing a game of tag. “Matthew was a good man to my Belinda.” She nodded to the tent’s to her left.

“Did he ever spend time away from the camp?”

“Aye.” She nodded. “He was aserious man. Always working. He made whatever money he could and was always out hunting or fishing.” She paused, her eyes squinting as she seemed to be considering something.

“What is it?” Harry asked gently.

“He would sometimes leave for several days. But he always came back with food or money. He always took care of his family.”

“Is Matthew the one who reported Belinda missing?”

Draco was less gentle with his questioning. “Why didn’t you tell us about their relationship or her son when we came by to talk to you? Why didn’t anyone tell us when you reported her missing?”

“Because your lot aren’t the most trustworthy.” Her words held a bitter edge, though they were still quite subdued.

“Our lot?” Draco asked with just a hint of disgust.

“Yes, your lot.” She coughed and it was ragged and wheezy. “Your ministry people are all the same. Always nosing about. Always trying to get ahold of our men and our children. Now, look at us!” She flung a hand toward the children playing in the dirt, her lone family member sitting in the mud. “All of our men are gone. Matthew was the last of them and now he’s dead. Belinda’s dead, Cara is gone and now we’re Struggling to raise all of these children that will. Surely. One day disappear, too!”

Draco blinked at her before shooting a look of disbelief over at Harry. Harry looked disturbed. The corners of his mouth were brackets of tension, his eyes distant as he nodded.

“I’m sorry about all that you’ve been through, Fiadh.” His tone was gentle, soothing. “But I promise you, all Auror Malfoy and I want is to catch the man responsible. “Your daughter and Cara Walsh are not the only victims. We have loved ones who fit the killers victim profile.”

“Aye,” fiadh nodded and she ran th back of her hand across her nose. “I know that now. But I didn’t know it then.”

“How did you figure it out?” Draco asked.

She looked at him, really looked at him. Her eyes latched onto his, they penetrated deeply.

“I can feel it.”

Feel what, he wanted to ask but he was transfixed by the intensity of her stare. The way it seemed to peel away some layers behind his iris’, behind the windows to his soul.

“You’ve been touched by death but you have been touched by something. Inch stronger.”

Love. She didn’t have to say it. Draco knew. He just didn’t understand how she could have gathered that and their worth.

Again, she answered him without his questions voiced. “It’s in the eyes, dear.” She smiled at him, it was a a sad smile with no joy. No happiness. Only a sort of pity. Draco was getting tired of seeing those pitying looks.

“Do you mind if we ask just a few more questions, Fiadh?” Harry asked, pulling her away from Draco.

She nodded.

“How did Belinda meet Matthew?”

“They grew up together.” She nodded to the group of children. “Raised together by me and the other women.”

“Did they always get along?”

“Oh, yes.” A ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of her lips. It was only for a microsecond. But it was there. “Matthew adored her, of course and Belinda was certain that she was going to marry him. Of course, there was a time when she almost didn’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“Belinda met a man from town when she was about 15. One of those dark and mysterious types.” Her eyes flicked over Draco. “You know the kind.”

Draco frowned at her. Was she insinuating that he was the type?

Harry cleared his throat, apparently agreeing with her. “What happened between them?”

“They had a bit of a whirlwind romance. Belinda wanted to bring him with us, threatened to run away with him if we didn’t let her.”

“What happened between them?” Harry asked, his eyes glancing to Draco. Something unspoken passed between them, an instinct. They were on the same page, getting the same feeling.

“We had to leave, rather abruptly. Cara disappeared just after a fight she had with the elders.”

There was creeping sensation starting to trickle over Draco. Something about the man Fiadh described cause the hairs on his arm to stand. It caused that damn pit in his stomach to twist. He had instincts, somehow, he just knew.

“Do you know what his name was?” Draco asked.

“Moore.”

“What?” Harry squinted at her, as if she had said something in a foriegn language.

“His name was Moore. I don’t know if that was his first name or his last name. But that was what he went by. That is what Belinda called him.”

Harry looked at Draco, and they silently communicated their agreement to show her the photo they had obtained from the Jane Doe casefile he had stolen from the muggles.

“Could you take a look at this for us?” Draco reached into his coat and produced the photo. He held it out for Fiadh.

Her expression said it all before Draco could ask her to identify the golden haired woman.

“Cara,” Fiadh rasped her name. Said it as tears slipped silently down her cheeks.

“That’s Cara Walsh.”

Draco pulled the photograph back, and quickly tucked it into his pocket. She was in too much pain. It didn’t feel right for him to keep shoving the horrible picture into her face. But there was just one more thing he needed to know. One little thing that might help them narrow their search.

“Do you remember what this Moore gentleman looked like?”

She nodded, her tear filled eyes looking up to Draco and then to Harry, she lifted her chin. “He looked a bit like you, but with brown hair.”

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - City of heroes

After however long she had been staring at the ruins of their house, she realized what made it so hard for her to accept the loss she had just faced. It didn’t look like their house anymore, so how could she believe that she had lost it as well as Hawk?

Losses always felt unreal. Denial was one of the famous stages of grief after all. The brain couldn’t understand that something wasn’t there. If you tried not to think about something, it didn’t work. It was always on your mind. So how could the brain truly understand that something was gone and taken from you? Never mind the heart.

What was lost of the home they had lived in were ruins. It was burnt out, a black, smoldered wreckage. There was nothing to live in anymore and as far as Felicity could see, there wasn’t anything to rebuild either. It was too destroyed for that. It had to be rebuilt from scratch, and that would mean that it wouldn’t be the home it had used to be.

Felicity wasn’t sure how much more her heart could take. It was in pieces already, and every new blow that it needed to face just shattered the pieces into even tinier pieces. It wouldn’t take much longer before there wouldn’t be anything left.

Lowering her gaze to her shaking hands in her laps, Felicity’s gaze fell on her engagement ring and her wedding band. How was she going to tell Oliver that the house he had built for their family had been set on fire – at least that was what she had overheard some people of the fire department say to each other – and destroyed?

It would hurt him as much as it hurt her, and they wouldn’t be able to comfort each other. For the first time in what felt like forever, they both needed to live with their pain and grief separately. They couldn’t lean on each other and endure it together. They-

Another noise of cameras clicking behind her, made Felicity close her eyes and take in a deep breath. She had heard the reporters from time to time. They were lurking close, trying to take the perfect picture of devastation. Someone – John or Bruce or some firefighter – had always chased them away quickly though.

“Have some decency guys,” she heard Bruce’s low voice just a moment later, “and stop taking photos.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Way-“

Whatever protest the reporter had planned on voicing, he didn’t. Either Bruce had offered him a lot of money, or he had just shot him one of those ice cold looks that made everyone shut up instantly. Bruce was powerful. Nobody with a sane mind would pick a fight with him. It was good to have a friend like him here. He would block everyone from approaching her because he knew that she wasn’t in any state to talk to anyone.

Felicity glanced at her watch briefly. She had lost all sense for time. It could have been seconds or hours since she had kneeled down at the side of the driveway where she wouldn’t be bothering anyone and just started staring. She felt utterly lost in time, space and everything else really.

She couldn’t stay here forever. The kids were in some hotel, distracted by Raisa and Alfred for sure, but certainly in need of their mother to show up and tell them that everything was going to be alright. Emmy might have already caught wind of what had happened to their house. She did know how to stay updated on the news, and she also had friends that might have heard about it and would text her.

There was a part of her that didn’t wat to leave though. Leaving felt like accepting that all of this was true, and Felicity wasn’t sure if she was ready for that yet.

“Felicity?”

John’s voice was gentle. She could feel him right behind her.

“I’m not ready to leave yet,” she whispered, still looking at the ruins of he home, “not yet.”

“There is someone who wants to see you.”

Felicity frowned, still not looking back. “I don’t want to see anyone.”

“I disagree,” John said.

When Felicity turned around to protest, John had already turned his back on her and was walking away. She frowned, wondering what exactly that conversation had been, and was already about to turn back to the house when she noticed the little standing a couple of feet away. The girl – maybe four years of age – looked a little shy. She was holding a stuffed unicorn clutched to her chest and looked at Felicity with her big, hazel eyes.

Despite the emptiness Felicity was feeling in her chest, she cocked her head at the little girl and flashed her a smile. She was rewarded with a smile in response.

“Hi,” Felicity said and quickly cleared her throat when she heard how much it croaked, “did you want to talk to me?”

The girl nodded her head. She looked Felicity up and down hesitantly before she took some cautious steps into her direction.

Looking at her, Felicity cocked her head a little more and narrowed her eyes at her slightly. She had seen the girl before. Although there were a thousand different possibilities where and how she had met her since Felicity had her own children and was often in places for children because of that, Felicity knew exactly where she had met her.

Somewhere in chaos that she had faced when she had arrived at

“I saw you at Rainbow Bridge-House, right?”

The girl nodded her head. She angled her head back for a moment and looked at the sky. She smiled cautiously and mouthed some words. Felicity’s heart ached at the sight, knowing that the little girl’s brother or sister must have died.

Despite all her rage and all the hopelessness, Felicity also felt warmth spreading in her chest. This little girl had come to see her. Despite the pain she had to be feeling, she had come here. It was admirable.

“I’m Felicity.” She held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Nayeli.”

She shook Felicity’s hand, releasing a long breath. She seemed a little nervous.

“That is a beautiful name.” Felicity shot her a smile and did her best to hide her own pain. “I am not sure that this is the right place for you. The firefighters said new fires could start. It’s dangerous.”

“I want to give you this.” The girl held out her stuffed unicorn for Felicity. “Maybe you need it comfort you.”

Felicity looked at the unicorn. It was white with a mane and tail in all colors of the rainbow. Just looking at it had something comforting to it because of its bright colors. Felicity knew that her kids would love the unicorn.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to keep it?” Felicity asked. “I am sure you need some comfort from time to time too.”

“You helped when Avila died.” She took a step closer and urged Felicity to take the unicorn. “Now I want to help you.”

When someone wanted to help, especially at this young age, Felicity felt like you shouldn’t reject the help. Empathy and willingness to help were rare in adults because they had learned as kids that those competences weren’t appreciated. Felicity didn’t want to be responsible that this happened to Nayeli.

She took the unicorn, lifted it to her face and breathed in its scent. There was some smell of hospital left in the fabric. The toy had certainly been disinfected thoroughly. There was something else though, its own smell or the smell of the children it had comforted. It stuck to the fabric as well as the disinfectant did.

“That is very kind of you.” Felicity clutched the unicorn to her chest like Nayeli had done before. “I am indeed in some need for comfort.”

Nayeli smiled and looked back over her shoulder. A woman – not the one Felicity had seen her with at Rainbow Bridge-House, but some other adult woman – was standing a couple of feet away, shooting Nayeli a proud smile.

“A friend of yours?” Felicity asked.

“My aunt.” Nayeli turned back to Felicity once more. “I need to go now.”

Felicity smiled at her. “Thank you for coming here and giving this to me. I will cherish it.”

Nayeli, unsure what more she could say, just smiled once more before she turned around and ran over to her aunt. The young woman smiled at Felicity before she took her niece’s hand and took her away.

If Nayeli was so strong that she could stand here just days after her sister had died, maybe there was still hope that Felicity’s kids would be able to get through the losses that they had to face. At least Felicity knew that she herself needed to be strong through it. If Nayeli could be strong, so could she.

Shooting one last look to the ruins of her home, Felicity released a long breath. She clutched the unicorn even closer to her chest and got up onto her feet slowly. Her legs were trembling slightly since she had been sitting on the for so very long. Standing still for a moment, she felt the sensation returning to them though.

Although it felt so incredibly hard, Felicity turned around and took the first steps away. Just as she had taken two steps, a car stopped at the edge of the driveway. Lyla got out from the driver’s side, followed by Roy at the passenger’s side and Thea from the back of the car. Thea’s face was almost white. Tears welled in her eyes and she shook her head in disbelief.

John, Bruce and Tommy all joined the three. Felicity approached them too.

As soon as she was close enough, Thea crossed the rest of the distance to her and hugged her tightly. Felicity wrapped her arms around Thea just as strongly and closed her eyes for a moment.

There had been a time when they had been very close. As sisters-in-laws they still were of course, but things had changed through the years. When Felicity had first gotten together with Oliver, Thea had been very close with the two of them. That had only increased when Emmy had been born. Thea had taken her job as a godmother very seriously. Of course she had gotten married then and had had her two sons, so her focus had, understandably of course, shifted to her own little family.

Holding Thea in her arms now, Felicity realized how hard all of this had to be for Thea too. Just like Felicity, Thea had lost Oliver before too. He was the one part of the family that she had grown up with that had been left. When he wasn’t around, a lot of memories they had created together in their childhood weren’t present for her either.

When they released each other from the tight hug, they were still holding onto each other’s hands. Their gazes locked for a moment, sharing a moment of pain and comfort at the same time. They let go of each other completely soon though.

“We need to do something,” Felicity said, her voice as firm as she managed it to be, “because all of this has gone too far. Blood Rose needs to be stopped, and the city needs to be reminded that Starling City is at its best when everyone is united.”

“That is certainly true,” Bruce replied, looking at her intently, “but you need to sleep first.”

Felicity shook her head. “There are more urgent issues. I can deal with a couples of sleepless hours. We need to stop this craziness before people get hurt even more. Starling-“

“-needs to be you second priority,” John said softly.

“They are right, Felicity.” Lyla took Felicity’s hand and squeezed it gently. “You need to be at your best form to face this, so you need some rest. And I am sure your kids would like to see you too before you face the struggle of the city.”

Releasing a long breath, Felicity nodded her head. When Lyla thought this was right, it had to be. She was a crime-fighting working mother too, so she knew what she was talking about.

“Fine.” She tightened her hold on the unicorn and rubbed a hand over her tired face. “I will go to the hotel, see the kids and sleep for three hours. Then we will work on putting an end to this.”

“Five hours,” Bruce replied, “but agreed on.”

Since Felicity knew that there was no reason in arguing with Bruce, especially given how tired she was, she nodded her head. She probably wouldn’t sleep at all, but five hours of rest might help her.

“I will get you to the hotel,” Lyla suggested.

“And I will drive you two home,” Bruce said to Thea and Roy.

“I will stay here.” Tommy shot a look towards the house. “Just in case there’s another emergency."

Felicity nodded and followed his gaze once more. It still felt unreal, but the thought of reality started so sink in slowly. Her home was no more, but it was time to look to the future. If she wanted a safe home for her family then, she needed to do something about it.

“Alright. Let’s say we will meet at the bunker at nine.”

“Are we sure the bunker is safe?” Thea asked.

“I will talk to McKenna and check on that,” Tommy offered.

They parted ways. Bruce, Thea and Roy went to his car down on the street. Tommy and John went to talk to some firefighters. Lyla nodded towards her car. She and Felicity went towards it, and Felicity had already grabbed the doorhandle when she heard a noise that she couldn’t really say what it was yet.

She turned her head back over her shoulder, trying to find out where that noise came from. There was nothing that caught her attention though.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah.” Felicity turned back and looked at Raisa over the roof of the car. “I just thought that I heard-“

Again, Felicity heard that noise, and this time she knew exactly what it was. She turned around fully, scanning her environment for what she was sure she was hearing. It only took her a couple of seconds to find the source of the noise.

Hawk came running towards her between the trees that surrounded the estate. He was barking and waggling his tail in excitement. Felicity had never seen him like this before. He was shaking from nervous excitement.

“Come here, Buddy!”

Felicity let herself fall on her knees just when Hawk come to an abrupt stop only to jump up and put his front paws on her shoulders and lick her face. He was whining while he was doing so, and his entire body was still shaking.

Petting him and hugging him, Felicity laughed with relief and excitement. She didn’t know if Raisa and Alfred had left the door unlocked and Hawk had just opened the door for himself and escaped when the fire had been set or if, whoever had set the fire, had let him go first. It didn’t matter anyway. Hawk was back with her and the family. She didn’t have to tell the kids that they had lost their home and their dog. They would never know what sorrow Felicity had felt, thinking that Hawk had been lost in the fire.

Hawk was back and that was probably the best news that Felicity had received in a while.

→ → → → →

The moment Laurel stepped into the small room Oliver knew something had happened. Despite the smile that she flashed the guard that had opened the door for her, Oliver could see the tension on her face. He felt his muscles growing tense in response.

As soon as the guard had closed the door from outside, Oliver looked at Laurel intently.

“What is it?”

Laurel didn’t seem surprised that he knew something was up. She placed her briefcase on the table, sat down on the chair at the opposite side of the table and released a long sigh.

“Before I tell you, you should know that everyone is safe.”

Oliver clenched his hands to tight fists, trying to swallow the wave of rage that swashed through him. Laurel wasn’t to blame for whatever had happened. She was just the messenger. Given how much she had been willing to give up to get him through this situation he had gotten himself in, she was one of the last people that deserved to be at the receiving end of his anger.

“What happened?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Someone set your house on fire.”

The words felt like a punch into the stomach. He didn’t know what he had expected. Maybe what he had expected had been worse. Maybe it had just been different. Either way, he felt terrible at the thought that the house he had built for his family had been damaged.

“Nobody got hurt?”

“Nobody,” Laurel assured him, sitting down, “I promise. Raisa, Alfred and the kids were already at the hotel. Felicity wasn’t at home. It looked like Hawk was in there, but apparently he got out soon enough. He is unhurt and with Felicity now.”

Oliver nodded his head slowly. Nobody had been hurt. That was what really mattered. He let his face sink into his hands and groaned.

“How bad is the damage at the house?”

The long silence that followed from Laurel made Oliver’s heart sink even more. He lifted his head, his shoulders sinking.

“Is there anything left?”

“Nothing that can be lived in.” Laurel shot him an empathetic glance. “Sorry.”

Oliver nodded his head once more, not saying a word. It wasn’t even the worst message that he had received in the last days, but it was bad even within all the others bad news. He had built that house, not with his own hands, but in his head. It had been built with his ideas because he had wanted to have a real influence on how the house that his kids would grow up in would be.

Once he had Felicity had gotten together, it had all happened so very fast. He had proposed to her in the early stage of their relationship when there had still been so many insecurities and so many unanswered questions. They had gotten married a year into their relationship, and they had had Emmy eleven months into their marriage. Presenting that home to Felicity had been his way of taking the next step. He had wanted to give his family what he had never had – a true home rather than a giant house you lived in incidentally.

Everything he had tried to give to his family – love, safety and privacy – seemed to be gone.

Well, the love wasn’t gone, but he felt like he couldn’t give it to his family the way that he had used to and the way he had always intended to do. As long as he was here, he couldn’t.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut for a moment a released a long breath. If this happened so early while he was imprisoned, who knew what else would happen. He had never planned for something like this to happen. He had tried to do everything to not make it happen. Now it was time to discuss other options.

“I need to talk to Felicity,” Oliver said, “and Lyla.”

Laurel looked at him intently. “Felicity won’t agree to that.”

“She has to for her own safety and the one of our children.” Oliver dipped his head down slightly. “Can you arrange that.”

“Yes.” Laurel sighed. “It will take some time, but it shouldn’t be too long. Felicity will be focused otherwise, anyway.”

Oliver perked up his eyebrows. “Which means?”

“Lyla convinced her to go to the hotel and catch some rest, but Felicity is determined to take down Blood Rose as soon as possible. She wants to put an end to the madness. Understandably.”

“In that case,” Oliver said, “you should be there too. The team needs all hands on deck. The fight for the safety of the city is more important than the fight for my personal freedom is right now.”

Laurel cocked her head slightly, looking at Oliver with slight disagreement. She didn’t seem to be willing to start a fight though because she didn’t say anything.

“You need to go,” Oliver insisted once more.

Although Laurel didn’t look like she agreed, she shook her head and leaned back in her chair. She was giving in to what he wanted because she knew that she didn’t really have a choice anyway. If he wanted her to leave, she would have to leave, or he would be the one leaving.

“Just let me tell you this,” Laurel said, getting up and grabbing her briefcase, “it’s not looking too well. Perrez was on your side. He doesn’t dislike the Green Arrow per se. He is worried what this case will do to his career though. He feels like he needs to take a stand, especially since you aren’t willing to name who you are working with.”

“I will never tell who I am working with.”

“I know.” Laurel shot him a smile. “People you love are well-protected. You wouldn’t give them away for anything.”

“I started this,” Oliver explained, “so everyone else just joined in because they wanted to support me or the mission itself. I won’t give away their identities to save myself.”

Laurel nodded her head slowly. “Like I said, I know these people are well-protected. I am sorry that you are losing so much because of that though.”

Oliver lowered his eyes. He was losing more than anyone would ever be able to truly understand. With the way he had been brought up and after these five years away had shaped him, he was losing more than he could ever put into words.

“I’ll go now,” Laurel said quietly and went to the door where she turned around to him once more, “but I will make sure that Felicity and Lyla will come to visit you and that you stay somewhat updated in here.”

“Thank you, Laurel,” Oliver said, smiling sadly. “I appreciate it.”

“I wish I could do more.”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. “Everyone is doing what they can. As long as Felicity and the kids and all of you are safe, I can take whatever will happen.”

He needed to believe that. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure if he could take it all.

→ → → → →

Felicity arrived at the bunker, accompanied by Bruce, she was happy and relieved that the entire team had already gathered in the bunker. Roy and Thea, Tommy and Laurel, Curtis, John and Lyla – they had all come because she had asked them to.

When all of this hard started, it had been Oliver’s mission. Then it had turned into a voluntary service for the city. Eventually, it had become a calling for all of them. Somewhere in that process they had grown from strangers to friends, and now they were a family.

As soon as Felicity had joined the others in her working area, she opened her mouth to speak as everyone was looking at her to say something anyway. She wasn’t sure how to start though. She had considered thanking them for coming, but she knew that it wasn’t necessary to do so.

They just needed to jump straight to action.

“We need to stop Blood Rose,” she said, “now.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Thea mumbled, massaging the back of her neck, “but how?”

“Did the bug in Rose Obold’s office do any good?” Felicity asked, turning to Curtis.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’, “because the bug is defective.”

“The bug was produced by Wayne Enterprise.”

Bruce’s voice was low and dark. Although he had simply stated that Wayne Enterprise had produced the bug, he could have as well just insisted that products by Wayne Enterprise never showed any defects. Admittingly, Felicity too found it hard to believe that Wayne Enterprise had failed producing a bug.

“Still, it does not work as it should,” Curtis said even more quickly than he usually did, sitting down in front of the computers, “because most of the times, there are glitches. The sounds are blanketed by noises. You can hear it yourself.”

“I will.”

Bruce shooed Curtis away from the computers with a gesture of his hand. Curtis lifted his hands in defeat and made room for Bruce to take over. He hurried to play some of the recordings that the bug had made. His facial expression darkened when he realized that Curtis had actually been right.

“That shouldn’t be possible,” Bruce mumbled through gritted teeth, shaking his head, “so why does this happen?”

“She probably noticed that we are intercepting and uses a jammer on us, don’t you think?” John asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and stepping behind Bruce’s chair.

Lyla shook her head, stepping next to him. “The bugs Wayne Enterprises developed are almost impossible to jam. We used some prototypes at A.R.G.U.S., and only the strongest of jammers achieved anything and nothing like this.”

“So a malfunction.” Roy shrugged his shoulders. “Happens. We need to find another way and-“

“It is not a malfunction,” Bruce insisted. “It has to be something else. Something is jamming it, but I wouldn’t know how Rose Obold could have produced a jammer that would be strong enough to create a disturbance like that. Even if she was Mida’s girlfriend.”

“Well, Midas was a good and skilled inventor,” Felicity said, “otherwise we probably wouldn’t have needed to take him down in the first place and-“

The words died on Felicity’s lips. One of the monitors showed the recording of the press conference Rose Obold had given. Something – something so small that Felicity wasn’t sure that she had really seen it – had caught her attention. She narrowed her eyes, taking a step closer towards the monitors.

“She didn’t say anything interesting,” Laurel explained, shaking her head, “I watched the entire press conference on their website. A lot of empty phrases mostly. She plans on making an anti-vigilante law. It’s been discussed ever since and-“

“It’s not that,” Felicity interrupted her, and beckoned Bruce to get up from the chair which he did, “it’s something else.”

She called up the video on the central monitor and wound it back for a couple of seconds. Moving her face even closer to the monitor, she fixed her gaze on the spot where Obold’s jaw joint her neck. She narrowed her eyes, forcing herself not to blink, so she wouldn’t miss the moment when-

There it was. A glitch. It was barely there, and it only lasted the blink of a second. For Felicity, who might have known – even if only subconsciously – what she was dealing with, hadn’t missed it though.

She turned her head back over her shoulder to look at the others, who were frowning at either her or the screen.

“Did you see it?” she asked them, unnecessarily though as she could read their answers in their faces. “Look closely.”

She wound the video back a couple of seconds once more and zoomed in on the spot that she had watched so intently before. She even slowed down the video then. At a little more than five minutes, the glitch showed again. Something on her skin opened like a hatch, revealing small wires and some blinking button. Obold lifted her hand quickly, pushed the hatch back into place and tightened her scarf around her neck. This time it was visible for everyone.

“Is that-?” Tommy started without ending the question.

“And does that mean that she is-?” Thea leaned forward and stared at Obold. “That’s not possible, right?”

In some way, it felt like a lot of puzzle pieces suddenly fell into place. Felicity didn’t know if she just felt that way because it seemed to her like there was real proof that Rose Obold and Blood Rose were the same person or because she felt like she was finally back in her element. Everything that had happened lately had felt uncontrollable to her. Now this was different. This was something she could, at least in parts, take control of.

Felicity turned in her chair, so she could face the team. She looked at them one by one and nodded her head, confirming all of their suspicions.

“Back when we went after Midas the first time, he was experimenting with robots. He had started with helping, human-like robots that could be used in different professions like housekeeping and at reception desks. His latest experiment back then were solider robots. He needed to be stopped.”

“But his ideas had made him a loner,” Bruce added, nodding his head, “so he used his skills to create the perfect partner for himself – someone he was attracted to and who could be useful to him.”

John angled his head and looked at them incredulously. “You want to tell me that Rose Obold isn’t only Rose Blood but a robot, too?”

Felicity nodded her head slowly. “That is exactly what it is.”

“But that means that she has someone she is working with now, right?” Roy asked. “I mean she couldn’t have planned all of this by herself if she is a robot.”

“Why not?” Felicity cocked her head at him. “Robots today are smart and programmed for problem solving in their field. Midas was good at what he was doing.”

“But I shook her hands numerous times and she felt like a human,” John said.

“Midas was that good,” Bruce said, shrugging his shoulders, “so good that I might have hired him if he hadn’t been so grimly determined. Something was off about him.” “Which is why neither of us hired him.” Felicity got up. “But forget about that. Let’s just assume that we are right and Obold is Rose Blood like we assumed and she is indeed a robot. Everything she is doing is determined by algorithms, and she has weaknesses like every computer system. We need to examine the robots Midas invented and check out their weaknesses. If we find them, we will know Blood Rose’s weaknesses. Then we can finally take her down.”

[hoursofreading]

This attack is especially horrifying because it represented the greatest loss of civilian life among Jewish people since the Holocaust, and I think it’s important to understand that many of us don’t know what it’s like to be less than one human lifetime removed from a systematic effort to end your people via the murder of over six million of them. Amid a huge surge of anti-Semitic actions globally, echoes of that tragedy, whether they come in the form of attacks on synagogues or lynch mobs in Dagestan, are especially terrifying because of the history involved.

One thing I think we find challenging as a species is to acknowledge the shared legitimacy of conflicting narratives. That is to say, there is legitimacy to the Israeli narrative that Jews need a secure homeland because historically when they haven’t had one, it has been catastrophic, and as we have seen again recently, anti-Semitism continues to be a terrifyingly powerful and profound force in the human story. There is also legitimacy to the Palestinian narrative that over the last seven decades, millions of Palestinians have been forced off their land and now live as stateless refugees in the West Bank and Gaza Strip, where their freedom of movement and assembly is highly restricted, and that the long history of violence in the region has disproportionately victimized Palestinians.

For civilians in Gaza, there is simply nowhere to go. They cannot go to Egypt, and they cannot go to Israel. And since Hamas’s terrorist attack, thousands of bombs have been dropped by the Israeli government onto areas of Gaza where civilians cannot help but be. The Israeli government argues the war is necessary to remove Hamas from power and cripple it as a military force. But the human cost of those bombings is utterly devastating, and I’m not convinced that civilian death on such a scale can ever be justified. Thousands of civilians have died in Gaza in the past three weeks, and many thousands more will die before Hamas is completely destroyed, which is the stated goal of the Israeli offensive. It’s heartbreaking. So many innocent people are being traumatized and killed–children and elderly people and disabled people who are unable to travel to the purportedly safer regions of Gaza. And I don’t think it’s “both sidesism” to say that civilian death from violence is, on any side, inherently unjust and horrific.

Save the Children, an organization we trust and have worked with for over a decade, recently said, “The number of children reported killed in just three weeks in Gaza is more than the number killed in armed conflict globally … for the last three years.” Doctors without Borders, another organization we’ve worked with closely, reports: “There is no safe space in Gaza. When fuel runs out, every person on a ventilator, premature baby in an incubator will die. We need an immediate ceasefire.” I am trying to listen to a variety of trusted voices, and this is what some of the voices I trust are telling me.

I don’t know what else to say except that I’m so scared and sad for all people who live in constant fear and under constant threat. I pray for peace, and an immediate end to the violence. But mostly, I am committed to listening. Even when it is hard to listen, even when I am listening to those I disagree with, I want to do so with real openness and in search of understanding. I will continue to try to listen a lot more than I speak–not just when it comes to this conflict, but with all issues where I have a lot to learn.

John Green

[thundergrace]

With all due respect, it's not a case of mutual abuse or that they're both toxic. I've followed you for about six years and I respect that you don't want to say much about this trial but stating that 'four things can be true' is damaging. This case is categorically and absolutely a case with no grey area of a man in a position of power who preyed on a woman, and started abusing her constantly whenever he was under the influence of drugs and alcohol. He raped her at least three times, controlled who she spoke to and what she wore, destroyed her career, was violently biphobic to her and homophobic and transphobic to her friends. He texted his friends before they were even married about how he wanted to kill her, burn her, and rape her burnt corpse to make sure she was dead. He isolated her from coworkers and others in the industry, and when she dared to leave him he defamed her in the press and sued newspapers who reported on his abuse. He lost his case in the UK because 12/14 incidents of abuse were proven beyond the civil standard.

Then when she simply stated 'Two years ago I became a symbol' of what our culture does to women, he sued her again in the US in a state that has one of the most ridiculous legal systems to ensure half her evidence couldn't get admitted and concocted this story about her so-called abuse and masterminding an elaborate hoax to steal his money.

His lawyer leaked edited audio to sway public opinion and got himself kicked off the case because of it, when it was clearly an admittance of self defense not abuse, but the damage was done. JD got away with this ridiculous trial being filed in VA because the servers that host the online site for WaPo are in Fairfax, VA. Inadmissible evidence included verified texts from his assistant stating plainly that he kicked her on a plane, medical records, and countless other pieces of evidence. He petitioned the judge to have the trial livestreamed because he wanted to achieve his goal of global humiliation for her, calling her an overused floppy fish market in the same texts. Her evidence includes dozens of witnesses, hundreds of contemporaneous texts, therapists' notes, licensed psychologists' tests and studies on the PTSD she still suffers with, date-stamped photos by the dozens. 99.9% of abuse victims don't have as much evidence as she did, and her loss in this case is a devastating blow to domestic violence survivors in the US and around the world. There are no two sides, no mutual abuse, no mutual toxicity, no 'both made mistakes'. There is an abusive rapist and his victim, and she will never work again. The virality of this farce of a TikTok trial has ensured that, and we are all complicit. I don't even care about her beyond the scope of this trial, but what this means for IPV survivors is devastating.

I didn't read this because I quite literally do not have time.

You (or maybe another anon) said it wasn't mutual or something and gave a reason pertaining to I think abuse as a response to abuse and I said, "valid point if true". That's all I've got.

I've already acknowledged more than twice that repercussions of this trial could be incredibly damaging to domestic abuse victims.

What I've tried to do repeatedly is move this conversation -if it must happen in my inbox- AWAY from these people and onto victims in general.

This is now just between you and the other anon who says with certainty that there was mutual abuse. I do not want to debate this at all.

You've followed me for a while so you know I will never say anything disrespectful (without provocation) so also with due respect - much due respect to your perspective and insight- please stop forcing me to discuss this hearing. I know I don't have all the facts and I do not want them. Maybe later after this circus has ended, and there's a comprehensive piece of literature or documentation where I can read Amber's story or the story of what's happening as a result of this verdict, I will do that.

Right now, it's just too much. All day .... all of this is what I got simply from some tags...

But I'll publish it for others. So many of my posts aren't for me anyway and I'm sure people will find this information valuable.

[abbatoirablaze]

White Wolf's Shadow, Chapter 10

Word count:  4.1k

Warnings:  There's a good bit of angst, some background information that adds to the story.  Guilt.

1.5 years ago

“Another devastating day in England, as the attack on the embassy has caused an extremely high number of casualties.  The loss of life is due in part to HYDRA, the terrorist organization, at the hands of the Autumn Assassin,” the television played. Steve watched the screen as the English news anchor faded, and an image showed you, in your black bodysuit, a rocket launcher being shot, as a navy tank began busting through the gates of the embassy in England. Large military vehicles, HYDRA's own, were falling in behind you as a wide shot view of the embassy falling occurred. Bombs went off.  People were scrambling.  But that was over eighteen hours ago.  HYDRA had attacked in the early hours of the evening, gathered what they needed, eliminated who they wanted, and left the building in shambles.  Then it split to a shot of what was currently going on. There were workers searching amongst the rubble, the last of the fires having been put out just hours ago, “twenty-two reported dead, six critically injured, and tens more reported missing as the search amongst the rubble continues.”

“You shouldn’t be watching this, Captain.”

Steve looked to Shuri and his jaw clenched.  He didn't like that she had been trying to control what he'd been witnessing.  He rolled his eyes and she sighed. His eyes flickered to the television once more as he tried to imagine where you were in that exact moment.

Why hadn’t they caught you?

"They haven't caught her yet."

"I am aware, Captain," she murmured, "just as I am aware that the young Ender takes his lead from you.  His curiosity grows when he sees you watching."

"They need to find my mate."

Steve was growing restless.

He had followed Natasha’s instruction and went to the Wakandans. Shuri had offered The Bartons, Bruce, and the Starks refuge amongst the Wakandan nation to ensure that they were safe. And sure enough, not even a full week after they’d been in Wakanda an attack was launched from Malta.

It was the first of a list of tragedies that happened under HYDRA.

That happened under her name.

Under her hand.

The government had tried to contact the Avengers to go after her, stating that it was a matter of great importance, and that it was necessary to ensure the safety of the world, but they wanted her to be publicly executed.

And none of them were okay with that.

But she was the new face of HYDRA.  The government didn't care that she was brainwashed.  Nat was right.  They viewed her as being compromised.  And that was too much of a liability to let her walk.

Steve continued to watch the television as they replayed video that showed you. It looked like your shadows' black skintight bodysuit had been repurposed. They always seemed to get a video of her where her fiery hair was whipping about in the explosions that always happened behind her. A contoured mask that adorned her face, covering the lower half of her jaw. And HYDRA's symbol painted across her right thigh.

But there was no mistake with Steve that it was you.

Even if the rest of the world didn't recognize you.  He felt like when he was watching those videos a small part of you was reaching out to him.  You wanted him to see you.

The suit was always unzipped enough that he could see the mark which you’d removed when you left the hospital. A clean chemical burn where he’d originally marked you. But much like the acid marring your skin, you were a blur.

Not at all the woman that he was in love with.

No.

They called her the Autumn assassin.

At first, Ender was angry.  He said she was no better than Bucky, and had abandoned not only him, but his little brother and sister.  He had the same misplaced anger for her as he did for Bucky.

But the longer they were in Wakanda, he softened.  Steve noticed him using his data pad and watching videos of his mother.  Of you when you were what he knew.  And then he started doing the same of Bucky.

But that day, when Ender saw her on the news, he called her lost.  Broken.  He could recognize that look in your eyes now. Shuri helped him see it.  It was like the picture’s he’d been shown of Bucky when he was the winter soldier. There was an emptiness there that he wanted to fix. He needed to fix.  Ender looked to Steve, and he couldn’t help but have mixed feelings.

He’d never questioned Steve’s decisions for. Steve was his dad, and he always took care of you, Stevie, Sarah, and himself. But when his dad told him to pack up, he never questioned who went after you. Through Bruce, Ender had found out that it was his biological father, Bucky, who went after her, headfirst. And as he stared at Steve, he couldn’t help but think about the six long months that he’d been in Wakanda.

When his dad told him that they were leaving, he didn’t question it. You had always said if something went sideways, they were going to leave. He always knew that there was some form of a plan in place in the event that something happened.  But now that the time was here, it felt weird without you. He’d somehow always thought that if things went sideways, it would be because of something Steve did. Not you.

Ender knew that you operated on a different side of the law than Steve, but the government always seemed to praise you.  Always seemed to go easier on you.  Treated you better than other thetas.

It felt wrong that Steve was asking him to pack up now, with you missing.

And he wanted to question it, but he didn’t.

Something had to be wrong.

He had to stay calm for himself, Stevie, and Sarah.  They were too young to understand but would follow if he did.

‘Good soldiers do not question orders,’ your steady voice would remind him. He could practically imagine you saying that as you straightened up his jacket every morning before dropping him off at school.  He was silently humored by the thought, because as of late, you’d begun to question everything. Ender could see the exhaustion in your eyes. And that’s when you’d told him about the plan.

He was taught that if the day ever came up, that he would help his parents make sure they all got to safety.  If both of them were to ever disappear, he was to find his grandma Nat, and hide in the location that you'd told him about.

The coordinates were engrained in his mind ever since he was five.

So, Ender became the good little soldier that his parents trained him to be when Steve quickly came home and told them that they were leaving. He helped pack up his little brother and sister, getting them dressed while Steve loaded up a bag of the essentials. When he found his dad in the office that his mother and he shared, Steve was pulling papers from a safe. Not just papers. Money.

He’d packed one backpack for them. He grabbed Sarah’s giraffe that she slept with every night. He grabbed Stevie’s teddy bear. And he grabbed the one picture he’d had of Bucky that he kept in the top drawer of his dresser. And finally, he grabbed the family photo album from his parents' room.

As he grabbed his siblings, and the backpack, he didn’t know where they were going.

Nor did he ask any questions when the Bartons, the Starks, and Bruce got onto the small plane with them.

It wasn’t until they landed in Wakanda that anything really added up.

“Young wolf,” Shuri greeted immediately, wrapping him up in her arms. He was the first one that she’d greeted, “you are safe here.”

As Steve and the rest of them thanked her, he found himself oddly curious as to why he was the only one that she’d greeted as if they were friends. Shuri was someone he was aware of, but he couldn’t recall if he’d actually spend an amount of time with her.

He couldn’t remember her ever coming to see him at their home.

But his questions were soon to be answered, when she came by later. She brought a picture with her. She had asked to speak to him privately, which Steve allowed. When Ender looked at the picture, he could hardly believe his eyes.

“What is this?”

“When they removed you from your mother,” she said simply, “they gave you to your father for a short period of time. I doubt you remember…you were so little. It was after his first marriage failed, and they told him that he would be given the opportunity to raise you since your mother would not comply with their demands. He tried to run with you here. He said that your mother would understand. He believed that she would join the two of you, and the three of you would stay in Wakanda.”

He stared at the picture, partially in disbelief. His father, younger looking of course, was holding him in his arms, smiling happily in front of the house that he was staying in now. Shuri was off to the side, talking to another person. He recognized him as Steve. While the two were in the background of the picture, he could clearly tell that they were arguing.

“I-I don’t remember this at all.”

Shuri nodded, holding her hands out as the younger Barnes tried to hand the photo back, “you keep it. I brought it because I want you to understand what is going on, young wolf. Your father tried to protect you. Steve brought you back to your mother once she agreed upon her contract.”

“I know what’s going on,” he said simply, “…that’s not it. Bucky didn’t have me. He didn’t bring me here before…dad brought us here to protect us. Mom is like Bucky now.”

“Your mother is lost,” she sighed softly, her hand reaching out to caress the young boy’s cheek, “she was trained long before you were born to do this…same as Bucky was. He went to find her with your grandmother…they are going to bring her back when they do. And she will need you, young wolf. Just as she will need Bucky, and Captain Rogers.”

“We don’t need Bucky.”

“You may not think so, but you do,” she said with a firm tone, “you need her just as much as you need him. You are part of their hearts. Just as they are yours. I advise you to help them both…they both love you, Ender.”

“If they loved me, they would have been stronger.”

He regretted saying those words to her. In just half a year, with every incident that occurred his heart broke a little more.

Shuri had unlocked access to the Winter Soldier data files and showed them to him. Showed him the tortures and abuse that both of his parents endured.

And he felt sick to his stomach.

He watched and rewatched everything, learning the littlest ticks and triggers to their conditions.  Soon, he found himself sympathizing with both of his parents.  Then he watched the videos from when his father came back.  When Steve had originally brought him to Wakanda, and Shuri worked with him to get rid of the manipulation techniques.

And he developed a bond with her.

Shuri didn’t shield him from everything like Steve tried to do, even though he was a child. But she had to encourage his curiosities when Steve wasn’t around. Otherwise, he would become upset. One day when Steve had been cleaning up in Ender’s room, he found the picture, evidence that Bucky had the chance to raise him in Wakanda, and he wouldn’t let Shuri near him for a week.

As he stared between Steve and Shuri, he knew that he'd walked into a tense moment, "dad?  I-is there any news on mom?  Did something happen?"

“Ender, go check on your little brother and sister.”

He looked away from the screen and back to his father, “are they closer to finding her?”

“Ender.”

Ender gave a heavy sigh and walked out of the room. Shuri looked at him, “you cannot shield him from everything, Captain Rogers.”

“He’s, my son.”

“No,” she corrected, “he’s Bucky’s son. He’s theta thirteen’s son. He does not belong to you. We had this same argument when he was younger. He is not a bartering chip between you and the white wolf.  Nor is he one between you and theta thirteen!"

“I raised him. I know that my son isn’t a bartering chip, Shuri…and I’m upset to hear you think that’s how I see him.”

“Raising someone doesn’t mean that they are yours,” she replied, giving him a slight glare, “stop erasing that boy’s natural feelings towards his father so that you feel more fulfilled.”

“I think you should stop telling me how I should raise Ender,” Steve growled in reply, “I’m the one here for him. Not Bucky. Not even her right now.”

“That is not her fault, and you know it,” Shuri growled, pursing her lips, “she was trained under your noses. Both yours and Bucky.  If you want to blame someone for her absence, you blame yourself and Bucky.”

“And yet who is here with the kids,” he asked, jaw clenching as he fought against his instincts to pounce on her and beat the shit out of her. His rage was taking hold of him as she insulted his parenting, as she insulted him, and he fought desperately against it, “I’m the constant in their lives. I have to be here, because they aren’t. Because they can’t.”

“You talk of being there,” she spat, “And yet, you’re not the one saving her. Bucky is. When did you become so short sighted, Captain Rogers?”

“Shuri.”

“Bruce could have cared for them, Captain,” she replied, “or the Bartons, or even the Starks. Call it for what it is, but you are a coward when it comes to this matter. You have become a shell of the soldier you were ever since your government had built up its new regime. You harassed Bucky because he was afraid of the government and left her with Ender. You forced him back to there, because he wouldn’t allow himself to enjoy his freedom if his family couldn’t enjoy it too. But you are afraid to see how she’ll react once she’s free. You’re afraid she’ll choose him and not you, so you have to make yourself useful while you still can. You have to invade her heart, through the pups.”

“I think you should leave, Shuri.”

“I think you should call a spade, a spade, Captain.” she answered, taking her leave. Steve raged as he heard the door slam behind her, throwing the television across the room.

“Bucky we’ll find her.”

Bucky was becoming antsy. He sat at his place at the metal table, chewing on his cuticles on his right hand as he watched the screens in front of him, a dozen different news channels on standby to see if there was another attack.

After six months of tracking her, he’d figure that they would be closer, but it felt like every day they searched, they never came out with a lead. Their signs of where she had been where due largely in part to the news outlets that reported the massacres.

The Autumn Assassin.

As he stared at the image on the screen, his heart shattered.

HYDRA had all but turned her into him from when he was The Winter Soldier. They had muzzled her for the cameras, but he could tell behind those glazed over eyes, she didn’t have a clue on who she was anymore.

He recognized that look.  It was the one that was all too familiar with him.  The uncertainty.  The shell of yourself.  Being confused and scared because you knew you were something else...but you couldn't quite grasp it.

She was in deep.

“We can’t keep up with her,” he groaned after a moment. Looking at the surrounding area he saw that it was just he and Nat. The clock read just after 2 am and he sighed, “why are you even up right now?”

“Kept thinking about her,” she admitted softly. She sat down at the old metal table and stared at the televisions that had repeated the attacks she’d been present at in London from just a few days ago. The computer software that scanned faces through different streetlights, traffic cams, and even cell phones hadn’t picked up anything, “did you ever start doubting things when you were the winter soldier?”

“I had small moments of clarity,” he admitted in reply, “but they were fragmented…like I was watching someone else's life through their eyes. It never felt real...none of it, but it was something that I’ll never forget. It fucks with your head just as much as the training that they give you. That’s what really makes you crazy. It’s why they wiped me a lot. Sometimes the memories would become too much You go into a rage and kill the ones you work with.  You lose what's left of your mind. You become too careless and cause more destruction.”

Nat nodded, instantly looking back to the television. She was on screen, taking people down and setting off bombs in the embassy, “I hope she doesn’t remember any of it.”

“You remember your missions.  Maybe not all the time, but they pop up at random times,” he muttered sadly. He switched hands, as he pretended to be interested in the yellow/gold undertones that were under the sleek black metal of his left arm, “I-I remembered them anyways…after Shuri helped me. It’s like a shotgun blast to the face when it hits you. I know that we’re assassins, and it doesn’t seem like it should affect us, but it does. The people we take out are meant to disappear. The people they make you take out were trying to be better. You can’t compartmentalize that.”

“Yeah.  I know what that's like.  You feel like there's too much red in your ledger,” she nodded sadly. She looked back over to Bucky and sighed, “I know that she won’t be able to escape the gravity of what she’s done once she’s back…she’s killed children Bucky.  Maybe unintentionally, but-.”

“I know,” he murmured, cutting her off as he began thinking about one of the last videos from Malta, where she’d bombed a school, “but we’ll be there for her. We have to.”

“I worry about how she'll be with the kids when she gets back," Nat admitted, "how she'll look at Ender, Stevie, and Sarah.  Is it bad that part of me hopes we don’t catch her? I-I just feel like she won't be able to even look at them when she comes to. They'll grow up without her...fuck, are we even doing the right thing going after her?  Sometimes I feel like she's already too far gone when I see the videos...”

Before he even had the chance to be angry, she fell against the table, sobs racking her body as she processed the statement she’d yet to say aloud.

All of them, Nat, Sam, Thor, Loki, Yelena, even himself had been dragging their heels on finding her. What Nat just admitted was something that crossed every one of their brains. They didn’t know how lost she would truly be by the time they got to her…they’d only hoped that it wouldn’t be too late. But hearing Nat’s admission of it made Bucky feel some type of way.

“I’m not going to give up on her, Nat,” he replied solemnly, licking his bottom lip nervously, “if-if you feel that way, you could always go to Wakanda with the kids. Shuri told me that Ender’s been acting out a lot more…she started training him so that he'll get out some of his excess energy.  And well, Steve’s breaking down…I’ll bring her bac-“

“I’m not leaving her, Bucky…I can’t,” she cried, looking up from her spot at the table. She reached out her hands to him, and Bucky took them, “she’s like my daughter. I raised her since she was eight. She always trusted me...I told her I would always protect her, and I'm not giving up. I just…I’m afraid that she won’t be able to come back emotionally…”

“And she’s the mother of my pup,” Bucky replied, “m-my mate. I’ll never give up on her…I’ll be with her through it all. It’s something I’ve been through, Nat…she’s strong.  I know she can come back from it...I love her...and I won't ever stop.”

“I know.”

“I understand that you’re scared,” he whispered softly, giving her hands a squeeze, “if I’m being honest, I’m terrified too. The last time I saw her, sh-she was so broken down because of me. Because of the government holding the kids over her. It made me think of when they gave me Ender and I took him to Wakanda…I never should have given him back. I should have made her come after me. Made her stay with me. We could have been a family then. But-I-I was afraid. Steve told me they were considering killing her. He had to come back with Ender, or they’d eliminate her, amazing record or not.”

“I know,” she admitted sadly, “I tried thinking up a million ways I could get to her, but they had her under such high security protocols…they always had someone lurking around the corner, watching her to make sure she didn't leave. And now here we are…Bucky, are you doing this for her, or for you?”

“What do you mean, Nat?”

“Do you expect some happy ending when we finally reach her?” she asked softly, looking up at him. He noticed that while the tears had stopped, her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, ”I’m asking because I need to know your intentions. Do you expect to be able to fix her, and then break her and Steve up?”

“I know that she’s with Steve, and they marked each other, and that I’ll probably never have another shot at her, but she’s the love of my life. Mark or not.  When I saw her hurting, I wanted to stay and make sure she was okay. But I also wanted to run with her and never look back…but that would have been unfair to Ender. To Steve and their pups,” Bucky answered, “My shot may be gone with her, but I will always still want to protect her.”

“What happens if it’s worse than what we’re thinking? What happens if we can’t save her?”

“Nat, I’m terrified that she’s going to be just like I was when I was the soldier. I don’t know if Shuri can help her like she did for me…or if we’re going to end up in a situation where she tries to kill me…but I have to try to bring her back. I can’t just let her go like that. I’m going to do any and everything that I can to make sure of it.”

“But what if we can’t, Buck?”

“We can,” he said softly, getting up to turn off the televisions.  She looked at him nervously, and he swallowed, knowing that he had to be the one that made her believe his own uncertain truth, “and we will. Like I said Nat, I’m not giving up on her. I can’t. I left her once, and it was the biggest regret of my life…when I tried to make up for it, I let my fear take hold of me, and I let Ender go into that life. Now, were at a point where I can’t let my fear guide me anymore. I can’t walk away from her again.”

Chapter 11

[gmwsuperfan5467890]

Season 5 episode 7, some words about Taylor, Buck, Bucktaylor

I was worried at first that the backstory they’re going to give her will make her look better and that she and Buck will stay together for a longer amount of time but then I realized that the backstory makes her look worse. Taylor losing her mum and her dad being villainized was made public for everyone. I can imagine that she must have felt violated in some sort of way, like everyone knew what she was going through and I wouldn’t be surprised if she constantly had to dodge questions from reporters and her classmates/teachers, it must have been exhausting. And yet she was willing to publicize Bobby’s devastating loss for a promotion, even though she went through the same thing, and she didn’t even know that Bobby was the one who accidently caused his family’s death, so it can’t be argued that she did it because she wants to “expose” his actions, like she just saw him re-experiencing one of the worst moments of his life and was like “that sounds like a great news story” like girllll. Another thing is that one can argue that we aren’t meant to remember season 2’s dosed but they placed the seeds of her backstory in the episode where a lot of the season 1 and 2 storylines got some closure. I can’t say that’s a coincidence.

Another interesting thing I’ve noticed is that Detective Lou Ransome called Taylor a “menace” because she she was annoying him but imo “pest” would make sense to use, pest implies that she is harmless but annoying while the word menace implies that she is a danger and a threat. So I’m wondering if that is foreshadowing something.

Now about Buck,

I find his reaction about him worrying about Taylor interesting because it parallels Taylor being worried with Buck in 4x14 which normally be an indication of a good romantic relationship however that scene with Taylor parallels the scene with Buck’s parents saying that Buck’s not invincible. Buck’s parents don’t know Buck and neither does Taylor but Buck’s scene also shows that Buck doesn’t know/understand Taylor either.

I’ve also found it strange that he was worrying in the first place because not only was the whole double murder scheme played as comedic, but Buck also knew from before that Taylor was investigating the attempted murder and he never expressed any concern about her safety.

Also I should mention, that when she showed visible signs of being upset during their conversation, Buck never even tried to ask what was wrong and the scene they showed us after is of Taylor being sad while Buck is peacefully sleeping. This is a huge contrast to season 5 episode 2 when Buck, Eddie, Ana and Ravi are conversing (so Buck and Eddie aren’t directly speaking to each other) like Buck doesn’t even have to look at Eddie but he does and when Eddie is showing visible signs of distress, Buck clocks it instantly and pesters him about it. Even with other people that he loves, Bobby (that scene where Buck told Bobby about Marie Curie), Maddie and Chimney, he pesters them about shit. To me this shows that Buck doesn’t love Taylor (romantically or even platonically), I’m sure he likes her but he definitely doesn’t love her. And he also doesn’t feel secure enough in her life to push her into telling him what’s wrong even though they moved in together (I’m assuming because she’s at his house a lot for breakfast and at night). That’s very telling and rather sad.

[missmcspooks]

DEADLY WOMEN DAILY: JOLLY JANE

Meet Jolly Jane. This woman has a story that kind of makes you scratch your head and wonder, why did she do what she did? Was she just a scorned woman who wanted to take her anger and frustration out on any man that she could? Or was she always just a deadly woman, who didn’t ever really need a reason to kill? Let's begin with her story.

Jane was born in 1854 and raised in Boston, Massachusetts. Her original name was actually Honora Kelly, the daughter of a lower middle class couple. Jane’s childhood was much less than satisfactory. Her mother died of tuberculosis when she was still an infant, leaving her and her three older siblings to be raised by their father, who turned into an alcoholic after the loss of his wife, and unfortunately he grew to be quite insane. Let me paint a picture for you of how mentally unstable this man truly was… Imagine coming home and seeing your parents sitting on the ground with a needle and thread, trying to sew their own eye-lids shut. Yeah.. Traumatizing. His insanity, along with the alcoholism made him very abusive towards his children, and as you could imagine, left them in a very toxic household. But he apparently had enough sanity to know that he wasn’t giving his children a good life, and took his two youngest children, Jane and Delia, to the Boston Female Asylum. However, another story states that the authorities actually rescued them from their abusive father. I suppose the two older children were old enough to make their own decisions to stay or not, and I’m not sure why exactly they’d choose to stay behind in a home like that. Anyway, it’s reported that Delia ended up becoming a prostitute, but Jane found work and a local house as a house maid when she was nearly ten years old. The owner of the house, Ann C. Toppan never officially adopted Jane, but still raised her as if she were her own daughter. Jane spent so much time with this family, that she decided to take their last name, Toppan. She even started having a close relationship with their daughter Elizabeth, as they were both close in age and went to school together. She even ended up meeting a boy in her senior year of high school, and they fell in love.

You must be thinking, “wow, Jane’s in a new home with a kind and loving family, she’s going to school, she’s making friends, she has a job, she’s in a relationship, things are going really well for her!” WRONG. Her youth of happiness only lasted a short while. It all started on her wedding day, when her fiance broke off the engagement and left her at the altar. Obviously Jane felt devastated by this. The man she loved and envisioned her life with just left her, and in the most embarrassing way possible. Following this was a string of multiple failed relationships, leaving Jane to feel like she was truly incapable of being loved or wanted by any man. This explains the decisions she makes in the future. 

Jane began training as a nurse in the Cambridge Hospital in 1885. She had a very bubbly and caring personality, so she was given the nickname Jolly Jane by her patients and co-workers. But she had a dark secret inside her that no one knew about, or could even understand. She started to use her most vulnerable patients for experiments. She gave these men high doses of morphine, and when they lost consciousness, she laid next to them in their bed. There’s no reports that stated whether or not she had sexual relations with them in that state, but she did admit that she got a sexual arrousal from laying next to slowly dying men, and she admitted to fodling them as they slowly died. She also apparently wanted to see their souls through their eyes, whatever that means. Anyway, time goes on, and Jane seems to spend much more time with her patients than any other nurse does, (for reasons we now know), people just thought that she was just really good at her job. That and including her pleasant personality, she was transferred to the Massachusetts Hospital in 1889. Due to the size of the hospital, and how many other people worked there compared to the last one she worked at, Jane couldn’t keep her strange behaviors a secret for too long. She was fired from there within a year, and afterwards tried going back to her old job at Cambridge Hospital, and she did for a short period of time. What she wasn’t aware of though, is that the Massachusetts hospital gave them a report of what she was up to while working for them, so they kept an extra close on her when they re-employed her. Of course, she was caught red-handed overdosing a patient and was fired again. After that, 

Jane was getting tired of being fired and having to be extra sneaky all the time, and wanted to change up her career a little bit to something a little more secretive… She became a private nurse. Yep. She now gets to take care of patients in their own homes, with no one watching her. She actually flourished with her new career as a private nurse. However, over some time, her instincts became more horrific. She killed her first two victims in 1985, while working for her landlord Israel Dunham and his wife. According to Jane, they were giving her a lot of trouble, so instead of quitting and finding a new household to work for, she decided to poison them both. I mean, makes sense right? Yeah.. Not really. 

Jane took a two year break between her second and third murder, but her third victim was extremely shocking. Jane decided to kill her former foster sister Elizabeth! She was sick at the time and Jane opted to care for her sick sister. But.. Did she really wanna care for her because she loved her and wanted her to get better? Of course not! Jane was jealous of Elizabeth. Elizabeth was beautiful, had a wonderful life, but most importantly, she was married. When Jane laid her eyes on this man, she was instantly smitten. She somehow became in love with this man, and she wanted him all to herself. So naturally, she had to get rid of Elizabeth… and she did. After the death of Elizabeth, Jane tried to seduce her husband, and it failed miserably. Even if he was attracted to Jane, what person would want to immediately get in between the sheets with someone else right after the death of their partner? Especially their partner's sibling? Yikes! This further proves that sexual frustration played a major part in the decline of her mental health. She killed another one of her elderly patients, Mary Mcnear, in 1899 by poisoning her, which lead to the ongoing trail of murders. She was able to take 30 lives by the 1990, without anyone tracing these murders back to her. This lady was good at covering her tracks.

That was until 1901, where her final kill would be her downfall. She decided to poison another elderly couple, Mattie and Alden Davis, and their daughter Minnie. But their family was not going to just let this suspicious event slide. Sure, maybe she could’ve gotten away with killing the elderly couple, as they were indeed old and sick, but their daughter as well? No, that’s some fishy business. The family demanded a full toxicology report for Minnie, and they found poison in her system. 

Jane was instantly arrested on October 29th, 1901. In 1902 Jane finally confessed to have killed 31 people, but authorities believe there were probably many more than that. She also stated something that shocked the nation, “I wanted to kill more people, helpless people, than any other man or woman who ever lived.” I guess 31 deaths just wasn’t good enough for her. During the trial, Jane told the court that she was not insane, but later asked her lawyer to try and convince the jury that she was actually insane. Even though she claimed to be sane earlier in the trial, she was somehow still declared insane and was sentenced to spend the rest of her life in Taunton Insane Hospital. She died on October 29th, 1938 at the age of 84.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Finding A Light

Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ron was left broken in the aftermath of the wizarding war. In an attempt to build a better life, he feels he may have unknowingly met someone who could put those pieces back together.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, fluff

A/N: Remus is very much alive in this series! This will be more than one part, I hope you enjoy!

Ron Weasley was a man of few words when presented the daunting task of expressing his emotions, preferring to stuff them down and deal with the consequences later. He never outright says what he’s feeling unless it’s pried from him, and in those times it’s usually expressed through anger. He isn’t great with his words either, so it didn’t come as a surprise to Harry and Hermione to see him so closed off after the war had concluded its disastrous rampage.

It was a battle that anyone and everyone involved was more than likely to never forget, the losses and hardships engraved in their minds as a permanent reminder should their memory allow it as they age. Some had come out on the other side more fortunate than others. Some had handled it far better than others. Ron was not one of those people.

His long awaited ambitions on becoming an Auror were rapidly diminished and pushed to the very back of his mind for a good while. He had wanted absolutely nothing to do with magic beyond that very day, thought that maybe if he hadn’t used it, it wouldn’t remind him of his tragedies. That maybe that part of his life would be forgotten in time if he tried hard enough. So, his wand, his robes, his Hogwarts letters and what was left of his sentimental wizarding memorabilia were hastily shoved into a cardboard box, taped shut and stuffed away to collect dust. Out of sight out of mind was his reasoning, though it didn’t quite work out that way.

The loss of his childhood home paired with the devastating loss of one of his older brothers had been a weight too heavy to bear, pressing down on his chest with each day that passed. He nearly lost two of his closest friends amidst the chaos the Dark Lord left in his wake. Such a lifetime of pain and loss was something he never anticipated to experience all by the young age of eighteen, and it left him feeling like a mere shell of the person he once used to be. As if the years of extraordinary magical endeavors prior to that day were completely erased and replaced with utter heartache.

It took him four years to bring himself out of the pit he found himself stuck in and find some semblance of strength, if only for his mother, and he wanted to build a better life for himself. One without so much sorrow written into his story. He wasn’t entirely sure how to go about doing so, knowing a return to a normal life simply wouldn’t be feasible. Not that his life had ever been considered normal per say.

The emotional scars were something that would never go away, he understood that, but he didn’t think he could go another day having the same mundane routine night and day. He felt ready for more.

Now, at the age of twenty-two coming up on twenty-three, he found himself returning to Hogwarts with hopes to become a professor. His heart nearly beat out of his chest when he arrived, sick to his stomach with nerves as he stopped and stood in the middle of the newly constructed stone bridge. His letter crinkled under the pressure of his tightly clenched hand, luggage in the other, eager students curving their stride to avoid running into him. The castle was more grand than he’d remembered it to be, perhaps they’d made it bigger to house more young witches and wizards, perhaps it wasn’t. Either way, against his instincts, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and continue forward before he convinced himself to turn around and apparate home.

He quickly found that things had been kept fairly the same as he roamed the grand halls in curiosity, as similar to the school he’d grown up in as it could be. The wondrous ceiling of enchanted candles in the Great Hall was a detail that briefly gave him watery eyes; the varying hues of reds, oranges and yellows coloring the Gryffindor common room, down to the house flags pridefully ornamenting the new quidditch pitch. He found himself turning to express his awe to Harry or Hermione on more than one occasion, but was only met with the unfamiliar faces of new students. His shoulders would slump as he exhaled a deep sigh.

It had taken him nearly two months to fully adjust to his newfound routine, to come to terms with the memories that flashed in his mind of their own volition. Whether they be good or bad, they had a habit of making themselves known at the worst of times. Over the course of that time period crumpled pieces of parchment had accumulated around the desk in his room, unsent letters to his mother of his wishes to return home. All of which were written hastily in either frustration or tears, or a mixture of the two. And of the ones he had sent, they were promptly returned with enchanted letters vocally telling him with the utmost of love and sternness that he will be staying, he needs this. Those letters kept him going on those days.

Amongst those days and nights it was strange not having his two best friends there, loneliness still having its hold on him.

Remus Lupin had made his return all the more welcome though, himself and McGonagall being two of the only familiar faces that he’d truly connected with. He felt it was an honor to be taken under his wing and trained, he always had been Ron’s favorite instructor of Defense Against The Dark Arts. He’d even go so far as to say he’s the best if he was being honest.

Regardless, despite his own personal conflicts, he was beginning to feel more comfortable residing there than he had ever thought he would. It was as if the nagging rain cloud dumping over his head was starting to dissipate for the time being.

“You did very good today, Ron,” Lupin says once his final class of the day has left, “the teaching of boggarts is never easy I’ll say, and if I recall correctly it wasn’t your favorite lesson.”

Ron chuckles at the thought, pushing his chair in when he stood. “Not particularly. I still have a nightmare or two about that bloody spider.”

Lupin laughs, nodding at the pleasant memory. Things fall quiet for a few moments as Ron moves to sling his bag over his shoulder. “Off you go, Mr. Weasley, enjoy your weekend,” he urges, grabbing Ron’s attention again before he gets too far. “Here’s your weekly report. You’re becoming a fine up and coming professor I’d say. I have no doubt that I will be leaving my classroom in the best possible care.”

Ron nods with a soft laugh, cheeks flushing a pale crimson at the reassurance as he takes the parchment from him, tucking it into his bag to be read later. “Thank you, Professor Lupin, really. It means a lot to hear.”

He smiles appreciatively before making his way across the long classroom, stopping in his tracks. He takes a breath to gather his thoughts before spinning on his heel to face him again, returning to the desk he sat at. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.”

He offers Ron a smile upon seeing the clear hesitancy written all over his face. Ron gulps, fumbling with the strap of his bag that rested on his shoulder. He could practically see the gears turning in the ginger boy’s head if such a thing existed. “Was it…was it hard coming back here? After the war, I mean.”

Lupin huffs out a soft laugh at the sudden ask of such a deep question, though he can’t say he was surprised. “I was waiting for this question to arise,” he says, lifting a hand to stop Ron from apologizing. “To give a short answer, yes. It took great thought. To give a long answer, one you may not like but I’m sure you already know, there will always be bad days after experiencing such trauma. It is not easy being born into a life where magic is real and not just a trick of the eye. While it can be wonderful it also brings with it a great deal of damage.”

Ron nods as he listens to his words, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Despite all of it, Hogwarts is a place that can be good just as much as it can be bad. You just have to take it in your stride. You’re stronger than you think, Ron. If you really want to be here, I believe it is worth it to try.”

Ron exhales deeply, taking a moment to process his insightful words, a certain wisdom he appreciated. It left him feeling considerably lighter than he had before, like he was a bit more hopeful of a better experience here. “Thank you.”

That’s all he can manage to say.

The blue eyed man in front of him nods. “Go on now, you’ve had a long day, Weasley.”

—

Ron found himself to be rather excited for this weekend. It would be his first time making a trip to Hogsmeade in nearly five years, though he’d been putting it off because the experience wasn’t quite the same when doing it alone. Third years buzzed around him with the excitement of their newfound privileges and independence, bouncing from shop to shop to fully take in all that it had to offer.

He, however, walked at a leisurely pace amongst the students bustling around him, taking a moment to fully appreciate everything he hadn’t seen for so long. Catching details that otherwise went unnoticed like the chipping pink paint on the curved windowsills of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, and the happy young couples residing inside. The vibrant green moss that formed inbetween the crumbling cracks of the old cobblestone walkways. However, the sight of Zonko’s Joke Shop made his heart lurch in his chest the moment he saw it.

He averted his gaze immediately, swallowing thickly as he tugged at his shirt collar that suddenly felt a little too constricting. It had been Fred and George’s favorite shop to frequent, always buying new things to add to their inventory of pranks. But now that one half of the pair was missing it wasn’t such a fond memory anymore, moreso a taunting one.

The sound of a couple students joyously greeting with a chorus of ‘Hi Mr. Weasley!’ pulled him from his thoughts and he was quick to smile, giving them a half wave as they had already begun to walk away. He let his hand fall back to his side, huffing out a sigh as he continued to walk along the path towards the one place he looked forward to the most, Honeydukes.

The little bell overhead alerted his entrance as he opened the door, the air noticeably sweeter than outside. He found himself smiling as his gaze bounced around the near unchanged shop, any candy you could possibly think of lining almost every brightly painted wall. Though not every single one is a desireable find, he learned that one the hard way. He almost didn’t know where to begin, much like how he felt the first time he ever entered the place, and every time after that for that matter. So he perused the shop, something he’s never done by himself.

His eyes landed on familiar chocolates, and he was quick to grab a box for Hermione because he knows they’re her favorite. Despite such knowledge she still adamantly denies having a sweet tooth to this day. To go along with that, he snags one of the last chocolate frogs for Harry.

It was a fond memory when he thought of it, a tradition they’d had as young students. He’s still got the cards he’d collected from each frog, they were tucked away in that box filled with other things. Maybe when he returned home he’d have the courage to reopen it.

He continues to look around for a bit more, finding himself wishing he had the same sense of enjoyment and innocence as some of the younger students held. For they were fortunate enough to narrowly miss being involved with such negative events. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t looming over his head anymore, to let himself enjoy this very moment. So, he tried his best to clear his mind and bring himself back to his current situation in the middle of an aisle filled with hard candies.

When he had turned the corner of said aisle he collided with something, someone to be more specific, the box clutched in his hands opening on impact and sending the assortment of sweets clattering to the ground with the addition of others. The chocolate frog had fell from its decorative box and hopped out of sight before he could process it.

“I’m so sorry!” A soft voice sounds in front of him, a warm hand enveloping his wrist.

“It’s okay…” Ron trails off when he matches the voice to its owner, blinking slowly as his mouth hangs slightly agape. He found himself staring at the girl, he was quite sure he’d never seen someone so alluring, so captivating. He didn’t know if he could manage to stop gawking. “I-it’s okay.”

His cheeks redden when he realized he’s repeated himself, the fiery heat of embarrassment burning from the very tips of his ears down to his neck, leaving his pale skin flushed. You too came to the realization that you were still gripping his arm, quickly dropping it as you laughed softly to stave off any awkward silence. He averts his eyes momentarily, needing a moment to regain his composure and not make a complete fool of himself in front of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Though he’s quite sure he already has.

“I told Mr. Flume it shouldn’t be quite so cramped in here, but he never seems to listen,” you laugh, looking at the smattering of sweets scattered around the two of them. Ron was focused less on the mishap and more on the way you smiled brightly at him, knowing his cheeks were undoubtedly the same shade as his hair. “Give me just one moment, please!”

He nods just a little too late as you rush off around another corner and out of sight, leaving him to stand there awkwardly as students in the vicinity stared at the mess sprawled at his feet. Shortly, you indeed did come back, a new box of chocolates and what was now the last chocolate frog in your hands. You thrusted them in his direction with a warm smile, one that made his heart flip in his chest. “Take these, it’s on the house.”

“Oh I couldn’t do that,” Ron rushes.

“Please, it was my mistake. I insist.”

He laughs softly, nodding after a moment. “At least let me help you clean up?”

You nod up at him with a laugh of your own, “deal.”

He tries not to think about the way your fingers brush over his as they pick up chocolates from the checkered floor, tossing them into the nearby trash bin. And he tried not to think about the way you’d had his stomach twisting in knots as if he was a thirteen year old again experiencing his first crush.

“I’m Y/n, by the way.”

He scrambled to think of a response, seemingly forgetting his own name momentarily. It hadn’t gotten any better when you looked up at him politely as if waiting for a response. “I’m Ron…Ron Weasley.”

He could’ve kicked himself for being so awkward, knowing him stumbling over his words couldn’t possibly give off any sort of appeal. He brushed his hands off with a sigh as he stood to his feet. Though you didn’t seem to mind his nerves as you brushed your hands off on your jeans.

“Nice to meet you, Ron. I only wished it were on better circumstances.” The pale blush on your face deepened a shade.

“That’s quite alright,” he says with an airy laugh, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “It was nice meeting you too.”

That same silence took up the absence in conversation again as Ron tried desperately to think of something to say, not quite ready for the interaction to be over. You beat him to it.

“I hope to see you around here again, maybe without the mess,” you say with a soft smile, “and don’t forget your chocolates.”

He was confused for a moment, too caught up in the way your eyes sparkled as they looked at him, or the way your hair fell around your face before following where you’d been pointing. “Oh! Y-yeah…thank you,” He grabbed his sweets in his shaky hands, feeling rather bold suddenly, “I’ll see you around then, Y/n.”

He was sure your words were only friendly, something you probably said often as a kind gesture. Probably not because you actually wanted to see him again. But he let himself think otherwise if only for a moment.

You simply nod, your grin widening a fraction, “bye Ron.”

—

Ron’s lifted spirits did not go unnoticed, not by Mrs. McGonagall who made it a point to bring it up at dinner later that evening. He could tell she picked up on it, could tell by the very way she’d glanced at him frequently. Though he wasn’t sure he was hiding it very well. He pretended not to notice, focusing his gaze on the rows of tables occupied by dozens upon dozens of students seated at them, the hardwood adorned with some of the best food he’s ever eaten. Second only to his mother.

“Is there a particular reason you’re so cheery, Mr. Weasley?” She finally asks, and he sighs at the question.

“Not particularly,” he responds using her wording, glancing at her as a smile pulls at the left corner of his mouth. He watches as she raises a skeptical brow; he knows what’s coming.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a number of years, Ronald. I know when you’re lying,” she says with a soft laugh, though she doesn’t pry.

Ron chuckles down at his plate as he shakes his head, pushing his food around as he thought about her. The way she smiled at him, so brightly the corners of her eyes crinkled. It still felt as though those butterflies were still fluttering around in his stomach. He quickly found himself wanting to hear your voice again, or hear your laughter—

“I’ve met a wonderful person today, that’s all,” he blurts, looking to his side.

She gave him a fond yet knowing smile, nodding her head. “I know the look of young love when I see it.”

“I’m not in love, Mrs. McGonagall,” he urges almost immediately, cheeks reddening once more at her preposterous conclusion, “I’ve only just met her today.”

“If you insist, my dear.”

“I do insist.” He tries to be sure of himself despite his inability to get you off his mind, but he hides his smile behind his goblet as he takes a sip.

Later that night he went to bed with something other than sorrow clouding his thoughts, instead feeling rather optimistic about the week ahead. Or maybe it was the plans he’d had at the end of it that had him so eager, time feeling agonizingly slow. It was definitely that. He couldn’t wait to see you next Saturday.

—

[ritsushinbro]

My Critique of Rebuild of Evangelion's Characterization: I originally wrote this post on the Evageeks forum and decided to post it here. It discusses the relationship between Misato, WILLE and the pilots and whether it is realistic and in-character. Warning this post contains spoilers and is very long. Also has references to self-harm and suicide.

With each revelation that comes out regarding the measures WILLE take against Shinji and their own pilots, it becomes more and more unrealistic for me to the point where it's almost comical. Let's go through some of them here:

They wear the explosive DSS chokers 24/7 which will kill the pilots should they risk awakening an Eva.

They are kept in a single room rigged with explosives.

In Shinji's case, he is (intended to be) put in 24/7 solitary confinement with explosives fitted as well.

Shinji is escorted around the wunder whilst restrained on a stretcher. (NOTE: The only time he isn't, is when Sakura takes him to Ritsuko).

It is confirmed in another thread that Misato gave clear permission to the crew for them to shoot Shinji on sight if they suspect he is attempting to get into an Eva. 

Now let me attempt to deconstruct these measures one-by-one:

It is understandable that Asuka and Mari wear DSS chokers because after all they are pilots and there is a risk of awakening. However in Shinji's case, he is forbidden from piloting and so there is no risk of awakening (remember Ritsuko did not think NERV would come after him, so they had no reason to think he would escape). So why place the DSS choker on him? Well we have already established it is simply because they have a resentment against him; there is no special, pragmatic reason. Is this realistic? Well I would say no for reasons I will explain later but I can certainly understand why others may say it is.

I don't think I will understand why they would keep their two main "soldiers" if you will, in an explosively rigged room. I believe others have  stated that from a tactical point, it's an extremely dumb move on WILLE's part. After all, if Asuka and Mari didn't have plot armor, what's to stop Gendo from tricking WILLE into killing their own pilots with these explosives? How would WILLE stop Gendo then? Will they use Shinji? No, for reasons I will state later. And another thing, we know that their rooms were already fitted with explosives so why on Earth would they add extra after the events of Q (when they stopped 4th impact). What do they hope to achieve with more bombs? Make the pilots more "deader" than they already are? In my opinion, this doesn't even come across as paranoid but just plain childish. Is this measure realistic from a story standpoint? No not in my eyes.

We know they intended to put Shinji in a solitary cell as this is what they do in Shin. If it was solitary confinement on it's own, then I believe it would be a realistic measure that would happen in real life. However I believe the writers did not factor in the effects of solitary confinement (especially one that is rigged to explode) on fully grown men; never mind a 14 year old who's just come out of a 14 year coma. Many people think solitary confinement is a walk in the park so I made another post a while ago highlighting why that's not the case:

"I remember when before Shin came out people here theorized that if Shinji stayed on the Wunder, they would eventually softened to him and let him help in ways that wouldn't have involved piloting. However with these revelations it looks like they intended to keep him in an isolated room far from everyone else that is (presumably) rigged with explosives as well as keeping the choker on his neck. Not even allowed to freely leave his cell without WILLE's permission (it is unlikely they would let him out judging from these measures). 

Even though Asuka and Mari were treated like this as well, at least they had each other and were able to leave as they had responsibilities in piloting. But Shinji was forbidden from piloting and was to be kept by himself except maybe being checked up on by Sakura now and again. So judging from these leaks (we will have to wait to properly see the full context) WILLE intended to lock Shinji in solitary confinement.

I have copied and pasted some of the effects of Solitary Confinement from Wikipedia below:

“Psychiatric: Research indicates that the psychological effects of solitary confinement may encompass "anxiety, depression, anger, cognitive disturbances, perceptual distortions, obsessive thoughts, paranoia, and psychosis." The lack of human contact, and the sensory deprivation that often go with solitary confinement, can have a severe negative impact on a prisoner's mental state that may lead to certain mental illnesses such as depression, permanent or semi-permanent changes to brain physiology, an existential crisis, and death.

Self-harm: According to a March 2014 article in American Journal of Public Health, "Inmates in jails and prisons attempt to harm themselves in many ways, resulting in outcomes ranging from trivial to fatal." Self harm was seven times higher among the inmates where seven percent of the jail population was confined in isolation. Fifty-three percent of all acts of self harm took place in jail. "Self-harm" included, but was not limited to, cutting, banging heads, self-amputations of fingers or testicles. These inmates were in bare cells, and were prone to jumping off their beds head first into the floor or even biting through their veins in their wrists. A main issue within the prison system and solitary confinement is the high number of inmates who turn to self-harm. Many of the inmates look to self-harm as a way to "avoid the rigors of solitary confinement."

Physical: Solitary confinement has been reported to cause hypertension, headaches and migraines, profuse sweating, dizziness, and heart palpitations. Many inmates also experience extreme weight loss due to digestion complications and abdominal pain. Many of these symptoms are due to the intense anxiety and sensory deprivation. Inmates can also experience neck and back pain and muscle stiffness due to long periods of little to no physical activity. These symptoms often worsen with repeated visits to solitary confinement.

Social: The effects of isolation unfortunately do not stop once the inmate has been released. After release from segregated housing, psychological effects have the ability to sabotage a prisoner's potential to successfully return to the community and adjust back to ‘normal’ life. The inmates are often startled easily, and avoid crowds and public places. They seek out confined small spaces because the public areas overwhelm their sensory stimulation.”

And this is just for solitary confinement. There are so many other things going on with and happening (or could happen) to Shinji such as the things below:

Shinji being only 14 years old.

Shinji being abandoned and neglected by his father.

Shinji being coerced/emotionally blackmailed to pilot Unit 1.

Shinji seeing girls he cared for "die".

Shinji being in a coma for 14 years.

Shinji being told he has a bomb on his neck.

Being told it is because he is being punished.

Being told he cannot pilot the eva anymore (he is effectively "useless" now).

Have his former co-pilot and friend try and punch him after he thought she was dead.

[Potentially] being told he started NTI and devastated the world.

[Potentially] being told that the girl he tried to save is "gone" and that she was a clone of his mother.

Being imprisoned in a cell (presumably) surrounded by explosives and not being able to freely leave.

Be completely isolated from everyone except when being checked up by a girl who's father he got killed. (NOTE: Mari might want to see him so Shinji at least has her, maybe). 

Have his mother figure (the woman who made him pilot the eva the most) threaten to detonate the choker around his neck and blow his head off when he tries to leave.

With the above list, is it any wonder his head is so messed up? I understand the purpose of these films is all about growing up and taking responsibility but expecting Shinji to willingly allow himself to be subjected to the treatment WILLE had in store for him is pure, unadulterated masochism. Much of what was is written here can safely be considered cruel, inhumane and arguably, torture. 

There is a massive difference between taking responsibility for one's mistakes and just letting the whole world torture you because you did something bad. My main fear and problem with Q and Thrice is that their main theme, which is accepting responsibility, is equated with accepting unreasonably cruel treatment. And I just think that is an EXTREMELY unhealthy message to send to people especially if they are depressed or live in abusive relationships."

When you take all these into account, does it place into perspective how messed up Shinji would have been had he stayed on the wunder? This is assuming that they thought they would never have a need for him, but as we find out in Shin, they needed Shinji in the end to defeat Gendo. If Shinji never left with Mark 09 and Misato successfully kept him "protective" custody, then one of three things would have happened when WILLE actually needed him to save everyone:

A: He would not have been in the mental state to pilot Unit 1 and Gendo would have completely wrecked him due to shit synch ratios. 

B: He would have told Misato and co. to fuck off and die. We've seen this nihilism before from Shinji (after the 5th angel). His incarceration alongside the humiliation and guilt from wearing the choker will have ratcheted up by a million.

C: He wouldn't have piloted because he would have killed himself. There's only so much a 14 year old can take and when subjected to a fate that causes even hardened criminals to resort to self-harm, genital mutilation and suicide, then what chance does Shinji have? 

Now back to my original point, do I think this measure is realistic? I would like to say yes if it was the solitary on it's own, however when combined with the other things, then I think the chances of Shinji commiting suicide is extremely high to the point where it's not believable for him to continue as an anime protagonist. You have to make sure the protagonist goes through difficulty in order to experience growth and change, however if you make it too harsh (to the point of committing suicide) then it seems less believable that they live to continue the story. On a separate note, many people think that Shinji was immature for leaving with Mark 09 the first chance he got and that this is proof that he is, in Asuka's words, a "brat". But let's be realistic, if this story is about Shinji's growth and maturation, then how exactly would WILLE's treatment of him be conducive to that? The truth is WILLE's sheer hostility towards him would have completely stunted any emotional growth and maturation in Shinji and it would have destroyed the point of the film. Also no-one can argue that WILLE would have eventually "come round" or "softened-up" towards Shinji because even after 14 years they still don't trust their own pilots. So yeah, Shinji most likely would have been stuck in solitary with a bomb around his neck until he either killed himself or the war ended (but even this doesn't guarantee his freedom).

Regarding the stretcher business. I don't understand why you have to restrain Shinji on a stretcher when the kid has already surrendered himself and has come voluntarily. Maybe WILLE are just full of bondage fetishists; it would certainly explain the chokers as well. 

If the DSS chokers and the explosive rooms weren't enough, Misato actually gave orders to the crew to shoot Shinji if they thought he was trying to pilot again. At this point, I just think this is just overkill. I mean the kid has a bomb on his neck that prevents him from awakening an Eva, you intended to keep him locked up even though he can't really leave the wunder except with outside help and now you intend to shoot him if you think he'll get into an Eva. The problem with this, is that piloting an Eva requires all the bridge-bunnies to sortie the damn thing. Shinji cannot enter Unit 1 by himself, especially since the thing is being used as an engine so why do they assume that Shinji is capable of being Sam Fisher and sneaking into Unit 1? We see that Sakura and Midori are actually willing to shoot Shinji in 3.0+1.0 and do so when he merely suggests that he pilot Unit 1. But seriously what harm would Shinji have done in Unit 1 considering the fact that Gendo was already going to start another impact anyway? Why actively try and kill (or injure in Sakura's case) the only guy that can save your ass? One cannot argue that they were just being "desperate or panicking" because in Midori's case, she actually takes the time to confirm her orders from Misato. This shows that at least, she was still of lucid mind. This particular altercation just beggars belief in my mind and the fact that Misato actually gave those orders on top of all the other measures is absolutely extraordinary. So as you can imagine, I do not think this was realistically executed.

However, I can already hear some detractors say: "So what? Misato hesitated to detonate the DSS choker and also took a bullet for Shinji. She redeemed herself from putting the DSS choker on him and the kill-order for if they thought he would try and get into an Eva." 

And to those people I say….not really. There is an idiom attributed to Benjamin Franklin and it goes like this: "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." How does this apply to Misato and Shinji's relationship? Well Misato wouldn't have had to hesitate to pull the trigger if she didn't put it on him in the first place. Misato wouldn't have had to take a bullet for Shinji, if she didn't give permission for the crew to shoot him in the first place. Let's take this following dialogue for example:

916-929:

Kitakami: "It's a good thing we got Major Shikinami back. But why'd we have to take that disease along with her?"

Aoba: "Just leave it alone. Better than Nerv still being able to use him."

Tama: "If he tries to get into an Evangelion, all hands have permission to shoot on sight. There's nothing to worry about this time."

Kitakami: "Come on, that's all for show. The last time he broke out of here, the Captain couldn't put him down. I've got zero trust about this time either."

Nagara: "He was a kid. I can understand why she'd hesitate."

Kitakami: "That 'kid' caused Near Third Impact and murdered my entire family!"

Hyuga: "Near Third was a consequence of what he did, not his goal. The Captain's doing her best to atone for that too."

Takao: "That's right. She's who Kaji entrusted with Wille, and it's our job to trust the captain."

We learn a few things from this dialogue. Firstly, the older WILLE members are much more understanding to Shinji and Misato's situation: Aoba and Hyuga understand that it's better to keep an eye on Shinji and that he never meant to start NTI, Takao is one who always trusts Misato's judgement and Sumire understands that Misato would have found it difficult to kill a child, especially one that Misato was close with. 

Secondly, it appears that the younger WILLE members (Midori, Sakura and Tama) are the ones that are fearful/hateful towards Shinji (NOTE: Tama is a strange case, he strikes me as the sort of kid that just follows what everyone else is feeling. He might not feel anything towards Shinji beyond what you'd expect). 

Finally it appears that most of WILLE crew members are actually reasonable people and are not the extremely desperate and paranoid individuals some people on the forum believe. Remember this is AFTER Shinji started the 4th impact in Q. The fact that some of the WILLE crew members speak of Shinji in this way, show they are capable of understanding. Most actually trust Misato and respect her judgement except for Midori, who questions Misato's capabilities in following through on her threats. 

Which brings me to my next point. Misato has had no hesitation in pulling rank in the past. In 2.0, she even has an altercation with Ritsuko, her best friend, right before they fight the 8th angel. Misato is a woman that will tell even her best friend to STFU, when it comes to doing what she wants. Having said that, (timeskip shenanigans aside) there's no reason why she couldn't have done the same with the younger WILLE crew members. She could have nipped all of it in the bud by telling Sakura, Midori and the rest of them that Shinji was groomed to cause NTI and it was not his fault.

Instead, despite being the captain that everyone loves and fears, she kowtowed to the crew's paranoia and had the pilots fitted with explosive chokers, put in explosively rigged solitary confinement and gave the order to kill Shinji if they feared the worst. This is the sort of thing that drives fully grown men to suicide, never mind 14 year olds that have just come out of a coma. Imagine if Shinji did commit suicide in his cell. Who would Misato and WILLE have turned to in order to defeat Gendo in the end? What if Gendo tricked WILLE into killing their own pilots with the explosives? They would be properly screwed then. If Misato actually cared, as we are led to believe from her hesitation to kill Shinji, then she would have told the rest of the WILLE crew to fuck off, instead of alienating and putting Shinji and the pilots in that much risk. Are we really expected to believe that Misato placed such extreme countermeasures on Shinji just to appease Midori and Sakura? Not likely. This is why I believe that Misato would not have put the DSS choker on Shinji in the first place, and her doing so in Q was extremely unrealistic and out of character, even with anything that happened during the timeskip.

Some of you will say: "Who cares about realism? It's a show about aliens and growing up." While this is true, Anno has proven that he is able to pull the themes off much better when you look at the NGE series. Disregarding the self-contained narrative, it is obvious that the purpose of Q was to bring Shinji to the same point he was at after episode 24 of the series. If we look at how NGE/EOE handled Shinji's depression, we see that it is quite realistic:

The neglect and coercion by the adults in his life, almost dying to angels multiple times, the sexual tension with Asuka, almost killing Touji, finding out Rei is a clone of his mother, Misato putting the moves on him and having to kill Kaworu all culminate towards Shinji's mental state during EOE. Shinji is passively suicidal but it's due to the *situation* and his own introverted tendencies instead of people actively trying to hurt and isolate him. He finds the will to live again due to his mothers words despite knowing just how difficult living might be. If you remove all the Evas and the Angels from the story, the themes that are touched upon (isolation, neglect, misunderstanding) still apply and the audience can still resonate with them. 

The rebuilds however go about it completely differently. They bring Shinji to that same suicidal state by having all the characters/plot actively harm Shinji's mental health by:

Putting him in a coma for 14 years so he is completely clueless. Imagine how groggy you are when you wake up in the morning and then multiply that by a million. 

Have Misato psychologically castrate Shinji by telling him he won't do anything with a look of disdain on her face.

Have Ritsuko make Shinji feel dread by telling him he has a bomb on his neck and it's because he is being "punished".

Not tell him why he is being punished when he asks Misato.

Have Asuka try to punch Shinji after he thought she was dead.

Tell Shinji the girl he saved is "gone”.

Have his "mother figure" threaten to blow his head off for wanting to leave with the girl you just told him is gone.

Have Asuka and Mari attack Shinji in Lilith's chamber even though Shinji was seemingly willing to listen to them had Asuka not kept attacking. (Watch that scene again and you'll see when Asuka learns what Shinji is trying to do, she stops attacking but instead of explaining that he's being manipulated, she just calls him a brat instead).

Even Mari was willing to potentially kill or cripple Shinji with the Anti-AT rounds. (We don't know what the AA rounds are truly capable of because the only time they are used on screen, they don't work. The round cartridges state that they are armor and AT field piercing and have explicit restrictions on their use. The fact that Mari requires Asuka's explicit authorization to use them imply that they are most likely lethal and would have killed/crippled Shinji had he been in a normal Eva). 

Have Shinji's friend's head explode with the device Shinji's "mother figure" actually meant for him. Imagine seeing someone's head explode and then remember that your "mother figure" actually meant that to be for you. That would certainly mess anyone up.

Have Asuka then kick and manhandle him when he is catatonic.

Have Asuka force feed him to the point where he pukes whilst he is still grieving the death of his friend. 

Have Shinji only be escorted whilst tied to a stretcher despite him coming voluntarily.

Have Misato place Shinji in 24/7 solitary confinement in a cell rigged with explosives.

Have Misato tell the WILLE crew to shoot Shinji on sight if they think he's getting into an EVA.

Have people tell Shinji that he's being a brat the entire time for reacting badly to all this.

By having Misato, Asuka, WILLE reject and "punish" Shinji so harshly so it kicks off his isolation and desperation, it makes Shinji's "recovery" seem less believable. Anno himself didn't even know how to make Shinji recover psychologically in 3.0+1.0 and he actually had to ask the voice actors on how to make that happen. The story made the WILLE crew go full scorched-earth and in doing so made Shinji's "growth" and his reconciliation with Misato seem impossible. 

I have already stated that I believe Q represents "Condemnation" and Shin represents "Compassion" and I think both films pull that off brilliantly. But that doesn't mean I think the characters acted in a realistic manner. I do not believe that Misato would have placed such harsh sanctions on Shinji in the first place for the reasons I have stated above. And if she did, I do not believe that Shinji would have easily forgiven Misato (even IF she took a bullet for him) as we see he does in the film. I do not believe that WILLE were merely "scared and desperate" because as the dialogue above shows, they are surprisingly understanding (but still disapproving) of Shinji's situation despite him literally starting another impact. I do not believe that Misato would have bent over to Sakura and Midori's resentment and taken measures against Shinji, just to ease their minds. 

In summary, my main problem with the post-timeskip rebuilds is that I feel they gaslight the audience in thinking that Shinji was just being a "brat" the entire time by having Asuka and Mari say: "You have grown a little/You smell like an adult now." However, the truth is Shinji's been through so much mental suffering perpetrated by the people he cares about, that it's a miracle he's not killed himself. It would certainly break most of us on this forum. The movies seek to show Shinji "finally" taking responsibility when the truth is, the plot went so above and beyond putting him down in such an extreme manner in the first place.

[earthstory]

The New Madrid Seismic Zone About once a year, residents of the counties at the border between Kentucky, Tennessee, Missouri, and Arkansas will feel the ground roll beneath their feet. This image maps out the location of earthquakes in this area over a 30-year period and clearly illustrates a major feature: the New Madrid Seismic Zone. This zone produces about 1 quake that can be felt per year in addition to many small earthquakes…and has historically produced really big ones.

The pattern of earthquakes clearly traces out a fault with 3 segments. This fault is not exposed at the surface; these earthquakes take place about 10 kilometers below the Earth’s surface on faults that are remnants of the continent’s ancient history. The story of the New Madrid Seismic Zone begins over 1.5 billion years ago. The continent that would eventually become North America was growing by adding volcanic arcs onto the core that is today found in Canada, expanding outwards a block at a time, when something changed. The center of the growing continent began to pull apart, forming a long rift valley. That valley is named the “Reelfoot Rift”. We don’t know exactly what all the plates were doing that long ago, but its clear that the continent started opening and things stalled. A comparison might be the East African Rift Zone today; the Arabian plate has fully pulled away from Africa to form the Red Sea, but East Africa itself is forming a deep, fault-filled basin loaded with volcanoes. If the East African rift shut down, it would eventually look a lot like the Reelfoot Rift. The continent bears many scars from this rifting. There are igneous rocks throughout the area formed between 1.5 and 1.3 billion years ago. during this rifting Measurements of the gravity and magnetic fields over the rift also illustrate its presence. The modern Mississippi River even generally follows this valley today as the ancient faults still allow enough movement to make the rift zone a lowland in the continent’s center. The faults formed during this rifting event don’t appear at the surface, they have been buried by sediments deposited by the Mississippi River system over the last 100 million years. The cities in the Central United States therefore sit mostly on top of fairly loose sediments that filled in these lowlands at the center of the continent. This is the area that in the early 1800s suffered a surprising series of disasters. Three of the largest earthquakes in U.S. history occurred in the area between Missouri, Arkansas, Tennessee, and Kentucky over a period of about 3 months starting on December 16, 1811. With earthquakes that occurred before modern seismic instruments were around to measure them it can be difficult to fully tell the story, but these events are important enough that scientists have assembled many details. See how there are 3 segments to the fault? You’ve already seen the reason why there were 3 quakes. The first quake took place on the southernmost segment and ruptured in a strike-slip motion. The second quake took place on the middle segment and ruptured a normal fault. The final quake took place on the northernmost segment and again had a strike-slip motion. This structure therefore looks like a piece of the rift, a normal fault segment with two large strike-slip faults on its edge. The quakes were extremely powerful; USGS estimates place their moment magnitudes at 7.5, 7.7, and 7.7; comparable in strength to the 7.8 Mw 1906 San Francisco Earthquake. Because the crust in the Eastern U.S. is older and colder than that in the west, the shaking transmitted over a greater distance; historical records report the earthquakes caused church bells to ring as far away as Boston. The quakes were a disaster for this area even though the population was sparse. The fault motion shifted the Mississippi River’s position, creating the modern Reelfoot Lake and also drowned and submerged many other areas. Sediments shifted and blew out of the ground across the region. Any structures present were likely destroyed, although there are very few remaining records. There was enough damage that a single landholder named John Hardeman Walker was able to cheaply buy up the affected land in the years following the quake as most of the inhabitants simply left. When Missouri became a state in 1818 he lobbied for inclusion of his land in Missouri at the expense of Arkansas, leading to the inclusion of 3 counties in Missouri as a “bootheel”. The New Madrid quakes therefore literally show up on the U.S. map. Although these events are huge, they’re very much an anomaly. We teach that most major earthquakes are associated with boundaries between plates; even if the earthquake is happening far inland of the plate boundary it tends to relate to plate tectonics. The New Madrid quakes are so far from any plate boundary it’s extremely hard to say what is driving the motion on the faults. There are ideas. We do know that plates can transmit stresses long distances as they move; the New Madrid area could be feeling the impact of stresses as far away as California. The New Madrid Area could also be responding to the change in mass on top of it from melting of the huge ice sheets 12,000 years ago. Finally, there are even proposals that a small mantle “hotspot” has interacted with the Central U.S. over the past few million years and that could contribute to stress on the New Madrid Faults. These big quakes aren’t the only things this fault zone has produced. Not only do we see that earthquakes continue to this day, but scientists have also found evidence for previous earthquakes in the centuries prior to historical documentation. When these quakes happen, loose sand in the soil bursts onto the surface like a geyser, a feature called a “sand blow” or a “sand boil” (sand blows covering the land were probably a big reason why it was cheap to buy after the 1812 quakes). Older sand blows have been found indicating several large quake sequences happened on this fault before historical records were recorded, with the most recent ones happening about 1350 and 900 a.d. Furthermore, seismic techniques have been used to image the subsurface throughout the Mississippi valley and found evidence of faults across a broad area that have been active over the past few million years - not just these exact faults, but a multitude of them throughout the valley. The sequence of prehistoric earthquakes and the ongoing smaller quakes is good evidence that this fault is still an active threat. If the smaller quakes were aftershocks of the 1812 sequence, there would be fewer of them with time; instead their rate is pretty much constant, suggesting they’re caused by continued stress on the fault. Although the fault most recently ruptured about 400-500 years apart, there’s no reason why it can’t go sooner next time. In fact, during the US Geological Survey’s most recent earthquake hazard assessment, they increased their assessment of risk from this fault system due to the mapping of the prehistoric earthquakes. If this fault system ruptures again, there are vastly more people in this area than last time. St. Louis, Memphis, and Nashville are all in the area that could see heavy shaking; smaller cities like Paducah, Jackson, Evansville would feel it as well, and smaller towns even closer to the epicenter could feel even stronger shaking. Several factors would likely increase the damage to these cities even beyond what is observed in major earthquakes elsewhere. Almost all the buildings in these areas sit on sediments deposited by the Mississippi River and loose sediments are extremely weak during earthquakes. When shaken, loose sediments break apart and lose all strength, a phenomenon known as liquefaction. Any buildings built atop those sediments will be at risk of severe damage or even collapse (http://tmblr.co/Zyv2Js1WTUw1o). These areas also have very little in the way of building codes that could limit damage. Building codes are hugely important during earthquakes as unprepared buildings tend to completely collapse while limited building codes can save huge numbers of lives. Some of the states in the area do have seismic building codes, but many local areas do not. Major commercial buildings tend to do pretty well during earthquakes if the ground does not liquefy, but only 10% of the local areas have seismic building codes covering residential homes. If another earthquake were to hit these areas, residences would be absolutely devastated and the losses would rival the recent hurricanes as the worst disasters in U.S. history. If you live in these areas, earthquake preparation is smart. Have an earthquake kit, including stored water (http://tmblr.co/Zyv2Js1pz9oUR). Make sure your family knows what to do if a quake starts. Practice the “Drop, cover, and hold on” techniques during the yearly shakeout drills. If you own property, see about a seismic retrofit – a few cheap upgrades can be the difference between no damage and a house being completely lost (http://tmblr.co/Zyv2Js1puIWDj). And, if you have any influence on the political processes in the area, keep pressure on decision-makers to be ready. Cities can and should practice earthquake emergency responses and building codes in this area need to be upgraded to reflect the seismic risk. This fault system is still there and active. It might be 300+ years before another major quake series strikes, or it could be much less. If a major quake does hit, this is not an area you want to be in given current preparation levels. -JBB Image credit: http://bit.ly/1CTZavp Read more (tons of references): https://www.usgs.gov/natural-hazards/earthquake-hazards/lists-maps-and-statistics http://dnr.mo.gov/geology/geosrv/geores/techbulletin1.htm http://www.new-madrid.mo.us/index.aspx?nid=132 http://s1.sos.mo.gov/archives/history/bootheel http://www.showme.net/~fkeller/quake/maps.htm http://pubs.usgs.gov/fs/2009/3071/pdf/FS09-3071.pdf http://pubs.usgs.gov/pp/1538e/report.pdf http://www.britannica.com/event/New-Madrid-earthquakes-of-1811-1812 http://www.reelfoot.com/new_madrid_earthquake.htm http://bit.ly/1OvtNsu http://www.shakeout.org/centralus/

[besanii]

Hi! Am rereading your shattered mirrors verse and I love it so much. Are we going to get the scene in which WWX explains everything that’s happened to him (with the poison) etc to LWJ after they meet wen yuan?? I’m dying for the angst but also fluff and comfort 🥺🥺🥺

@lurkingscientist asked:

I can’t wait to hear about all the sad things wwx experienced!!! :D my “stabby stabby stab stab stab” is feeling slightly neglected

Shattered Mirrors #61

“I haven’t told you everything.”

In the thirteen years Wei Wuxian had been gone, Lan Wangji searched desperately for every scrap of information he could get his hands on, from every channel he could access, in hopes of finding him. Or finding out what had happened to him. What he could find was piecemeal at best and unreliable at worst, often conflicting depending on the source. The result was him, driven mad by desperation and grief, chasing ghosts in the shadows until he could no longer tell what was real.

Even now, with Wei Wuxian back at his side these last two years, happy and content and safe, he still does not have a clear picture of what had happened during the war. If he’s being honest, he’s afraid to ask, and even more afraid to know. He tells himself it’s enough just to have Wei Wuxian by his side again. He doesn’t need to know, if Wei Wuxian does not want to share.

So Wei Wuxian’s confession punches the air from his lungs and he feels in its wake, his hands trembling where they’re entwined. Wei Wuxian watches him with the same care one would give to a startled animal ready to flee.

“That is,” he amends hesitantly, “if you wish to know.”

Lan Wangji inhales, and exhales again, with a shudder. Squares his shoulders. Looks him in the eye.

“Yes,” he says. “I do.”

It is Wei Wuxian’s turn to take a deep breath, the tentative little smile on his lips giving way to steely resolve. On his other side, Wen Yuan kneels by the bed, wordlessly offering his unwavering support. Despite all this, it takes Wei Wuxian some time to find the right words to convey the enormity of what he is about to disclose.

“I don’t know where to begin,” he admits with a shaky laugh, looking down at their joined hands. “I suppose you already know how Yunmeng fell.”

Lan Wangji nods. He has heard scattered details, enough to know that there had been a traitor in their midst, someone who had fed false information through their intelligence network while Wei Wuxian had been in Gusu. They had managed to secure Yunping, but sustained heavy losses that severely weakened their defences. The traitor had been found, but by then the Qishan Wen army was already at their doorstep, ten thousand strong, and they had no way out.

“We evacuated as many civilians as we could. Jiang Cheng, Jiang-wang and Yu-wanghou stayed behind to defend the city,” he says. His eyes and voice are distant, lost in his memories. “I took Shijie and we escaped via the lakes, with the rest of the civilians. Our priority was to get to Yunping, and then to Lanling. Shijie was engaged to Jin Zixuan, so they would definitely come to our aid—or at the very least, they would keep her safe while I gathered reinforcements.

“They were there,” he continues, still in that far-off voice. “Wen Chao and his men. They had split their forces to ambush us while we were defenceless. Our boats were burned, our people drowned—we in Yunmeng are strong swimmers, but even the strongest swimmers cannot survive when arrows rain down from the sky.”

He shivers with his next breath, but his voice is steady.

“I entrusted Shijie to my lieutenant, instructed them to use one of the overturned boats to cover their escape, while I distracted Wen Chao.” He smiles, but it’s stark and without humour. “We’ve had…altercations in the past, so I knew I would be an adequate distraction. I held him off for as long as I could, kept his attention on me. But I was only one person, and he had an army.”

The reports that had come out of Yunmeng around that time—the ones Lan Xichen had allowed him to read while recovering from his punishment, at least—had painted a picture so bleak, so devastating that he had wept. The lakes of Yunmeng, once teeming with colour and life, stained red with blood over the course of one night; and Lotus Pier, its seat of power, that had once risen from the depths of the lakes like a mirage, burned to ash. He had been back to the ruins of Lotus Pier in the intervening years as it was slowly rebuilt after the war—Gusu had offered aid wherever possible, in both money and manpower, as well as political support for the Yu family of Meishan, the maiden family of Queen Yu Ziyuan, who had been installed as stewards in the absence of the ruling family—but the shadows of war still haunts its streets and darkens its waters even now.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes fall closed and his fingers tighten around Lan Wangji’s.

“There’s a stronghold in Yiling,” he says. “Some call it the Burial Mounds, or the Mass Grave. Beneath the fortress, there’s an extensive network of cells that run beneath the mountains. That’s where they keep their highest security prisoners, the ones who get…special treatment.”

There is no need to ask what ‘special’ means, so Lan Wangji stays silent. His blood, however, runs cold—as cold as Wei Wuxian’s voice as he continues his narrative, detached.

“Wen Chao had a special—” that word again, spoken with such venom that it curdles in Lan Wangji’s stomach and burns his throat, “cell prepared. More a cage, really. Every second shichen, it would be submerged in water up to the neck, and stay there for another shichen until it was raised again. In the interim, the prisoner would be left soaking wet in the cold, damp cell.”

The memory of Wei Wuxian at the water’s edge, the frantic terror on his face as he struggles to breathe despite not having come into contact with it, the frailty, the susceptibility to cold and illness—it is all starting to fall into place, one horrifying piece at a time. But Wei Wuxian is not finished.

“There were beatings, of course.” A sudden, fierce anger wraps around Lan Wangji’s heart at the matter-of-fact way in which he says it. “Wen Chao always did have a sadistic streak. He liked to hang people up by the arms and have them whipped, or burned, or flogged. Sometimes he’d leave them there for more than a day, weighed down at the ankles, blindfolded, while they tortured others around them.”

A hand extricates itself from Lan Wangji’s death grip and peels back the edge of a sleeve to reveal the scars along his arms. Dozens of them, some longer and thicker, others as thin and fine as thread, criss-cross along the pale flesh. As he traces quivering fingers along the skin, Lan Wangji feels each cut, each slice, on his heart. Then Wei Wuxian turns his hand over, revealing a large, pale scar on the inside of his wrist, and a matching on on the other, too precise to be self-inflicted. He inhales sharply in realisation.

“Your hands—” he chokes, eyes wide as he stares at the scars. “He didn’t—”

Wei Wuxian lets the sleeves fall back down to cover the scars.

“If you fight back,” he explains woodenly, “they cut the tendons in your wrists and ankles. They’ll send a doctor to look over your injuries, of course. There is no benefit, no value, in a dead prisoner of war. That’s how I met Wen Qing and her brother, Wen Ning.”

“My aunt and uncle,” Wen Yuan, who has been silent until now, explains. Lan Wangji had almost forgotten his presence. He smiles sadly. “They were taken by my great-uncle as hostages to ensure our branch of the family supported the war effort, and served as doctors on the front lines.”

Wei Wuxian’s lips curl into a smile—not the harsh, bitter ones from before, but softer, tinged with grief.

“They took care of me,” he says. “Wen Qing was the best doctor in all of Qishan. There was no illness she could not cure, no injury she could not fix. And Wen Ning…Wen Ning was the kindest person I have ever met. Too kind, too gentle for war. They did their best to help me—slipped me medicines and food whenever they could, diverted Wen Chao’s attentions away from me when it got too much.”

His voice wavers and breaks.

“They died trying to get me out,” he says hoarsely. “First Wen Ning, then Wen Qing. And I couldn’t—I couldn’t do anything to save them—”

Lan Wangji gathers him into his arms, crushes him against his chest as he cries out in anguish, his body wracked with sobs. His own eyes are hot, and he sees Wen Yuan’s are also bright with unshed tears when their gazes meet over Wei Wuxian’s head. They stay like this until he quietens, curled in Lan Wangji’s embrace, eyes hollow and wrung out. Lan Wangji is about to suggest that they continue this another day when Wei Wuxian rouses himself with a shaky breath, and continues.

“They killed Wen Ning in front of me,” he says. “And then they forced Wen Qing to take the same deadly poison they had been using to experiment with on us—”

“Qianji poison,” Lan Wangji says before he can stop himself. Both Wen Yuan and Wei Wuxian turn to him in shock. He lowers his eyes. “You fell ill after your performance at Caiyun Pavilion,” he tells Wei Wuxian. “I had a physician brought in to see you.”

He is careful to leave out Mo Xuanyu and Madam Zhang’s involvement, but Wei Wuxian is not fooled. But rather than get angry, as they had feared, he only shakes his head and laughs.

“I should have guessed,” he says. “They always liked to make a fuss.”

“They care about you,” Lan Wangji chides him gently. “And I am glad they told me, so I was better prepared to take care of you like I promised.”

This time when Wei Wuxian turns into the cradle of his arms, it is out of exhaustion, as if a great weight has been lifted from his chest, and his eyes drift closed as Lan Wangji strokes his hair with gentle motions. There is still more to the story, Lan Wangji knows—and there are questions burning in his mind. But he feels the sag of Wei Wuxian’s body against his, the heaviness of his breath, and cannot bring himself to press him further. They have time. After a moment of silence, when Lan Wangji thinks him asleep, he stirs.

“I’m tired,” he murmurs. “So tired.”

“You’ve done well, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji reminds him. “Get some rest.”

Wen Yuan excuses himself as Wei Wuxian hums and nestles deeper into his arms. Lan Wangji nods at him gratefully and watches him leave, keeping his movements quiet so as to not disturb Wei Wuxian’s rest.

“I think I’ll close my eyes for a while,” Wei Wuxian agrees, his words already starting to slur. “I just need…a little break.”

Lan Wangji presses a light kiss on his forehead.

“Take all the time you need,” he says. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

--

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--

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[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH46

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 46: Star Death Reality Show (XXIX)

All of the blood in Qi Leren’s body had solidified, and every cell was screaming silently, "No, don't, don't be it"! But this useless prayer could not help their current dangerous situation.

The sound from the vent became clearer and clearer, and it came out through the metal shutters. Qi Leren suddenly woke up from the stiffness that was like being thrown into a freezer, pointed to the door, and shouted, "Open the door! Fast!"

Dr. Lu was closest to the door, and rushed to open it. As a result, as soon as he raised his leg, his left foot stumbled over his right foot, and he fell hard on his face. Du Yue reacted quickly and rushed to the door to unlock it urgently. However, Leviathan had opened the metal shutter in the vent, and its tentacles wrapped in tinfoil stretched out from the black tunnel.

Qi Leren fired three shots at the tentacles. Two shots missed and one shot hit, but like last time, with an ordinary gun’s offensive power, it was impossible to break through the octopus’s shell.

The monster fell down from above like a pool of mud and expanded to a size larger than before. Its mass had exceeded that of a human, and after it fell, those branching tentacles spread across the ground like dead roots, motionless.

Qi Leren retreated slowly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the door. Dr. Lu was struggling to get up from the ground while Du Yue was sweating as he struggled to unlock the door, because it had been Qi Leren who had locked the door just now, and Du Yue was unfamiliar with this type of lock.

No, I can't get out yet. I have to stall for time... But it would be difficult to stall by fighting. The best way is...

Qi Leren shouted: "Du Yue, use your skill!"

By the time the two rookies reacted, Qi Leren had been chased by the octopus and didn’t hesitate to jump into the vent!

"Stop, don’t move! There’s a kind of charge up!" Du Yue quickly launched this bug-like skill card [Protagonist Halo]!

[Protagonist Halo: When you use this skill card, you instantly become the center of attention, the protagonist of the story, and the fearless saviour! You, with the frightening aura of a king, can easily move people’s hearts, but you can always keep your last breath when you are beaten by a powerful enemy, because the enemy can’t help but explain his motives and modus operandi to you (although there may not be enough time). This skill lasts for one minute, with a cooldown time of three hours. During the start of the skill, persuasiveness increases by 20% and some people’s IQ decreases by 20%. You will not die if attacked. After all, you are the protagonist of this one minute.]

With He Yi’s brain, Leviathan was like any boss who had been faced with the lead character. It had forgotten who it was, where it was, and what it was going to do. It just stood there and listened to this guy who was 1.9 meters tall and 18 years old and could barely act as the teen protagonist. He shouted at it with a cracking voice, and sincerely advised it to abide by human laws and surrender itself quickly.

Ah, there was an invisible and intangible mysterious aura on this human being, which made everyone who saw him believe that this was the legendary protagonist! Although it was very angry, it still had to listen to the protagonist's words!

If it wasn't for its lack of vocal cords, it would probably explain its criminal motives and criminal record. Qi Leren took this opportunity to rush to the door, grabbing Dr. Lu with one hand and unlocking it nervously with the other.

This lock should be like this, wrong, so like this, wrong, how is it unlocked?

Under the Protagonist Halo, Qi Leren, whose IQ had plummeted by 20%, went crazy. It took half a minute to unlock the door and kick Dr. Lu out: "Run!"

Dr. Lu clutched his kicked ass and ran away in three steps.

The most delicious one had escaped the danger. Now there were less than 20 seconds left. Qi Leren shouldered the rocket launcher up off the ground and grabbed Du Yue to drag him out. Watching the "protagonist" run away, the monster finally woke up from the unexplained state of wonder, and the huge mouthparts hidden beneath its tentacles let out a sharp cry, rushing to catch up!

This speed was too fast! Qi Leren kicked Du Yue out with another foot, braced himself against the door, and aimed the rocket launcher at Leviathan, but it was too late. The monster had already jumped in front of him, and its tentacles suddenly stretched. He was dragged to the ground by his feet!

As soon as Qi Leren's hands loosened, the rocket launcher on his shoulder immediately smashed down and landed on his instep, causing a tingle of pain, and his left arm was swallowed by Leviathan's sharp-toothed maw!

"Qianbei!" Du Yue cried, looking back to pull Qi Leren out.

At this time, it was too late to save, and even if he loaded the file, he couldn't go back to the time before his left hand was injured. However, Qi Leren still saved. He felt the pain as if his arm was stuck in a meat grinder, everything below his elbow being ground by countless tiny teeth.

But this was also an opportunity. Qi Leren, who almost fainted in pain, used his quick wits, and a miniature bomb from his item bar appeared directly in his left hand—that is, in the belly of the octopus. Only six minutes were left before his privacy time ran out!

This explosion was even more devastating because it happened directly in Leviathan's body! This terrible explosion made the inside of its body turn inside out, and the brain hidden in it was more fragile than any internal organs. After the explosion, the human brain was useless.

Qi Leren's situation was not much better. The heat and impact of the explosion came out of Leviathan's mouthparts towards him, slamming him against the wall and breaking his neck. He died on the spot and was resurrected at the save point.

Du Yue, who witnessed the death of his senior, was still dumbfounded. Qi Leren had already judged the current situation—he couldn't continue to play! To say nothing of his left hand that was basically wasted, he would die in a few minutes if he didn’t stop the bleeding. Leviathan, though badly hurt, obviously did not lose its fighting power, and even became more violent!

At the moment when Qi Leren resurrected, it had already become like a giant spinning top, spinning wildly on the ground and rushing towards them!

Qi Leren, who suffered from the pain, relied entirely on willpower and kicked Du Yue out the door with one foot. After he slipped out of the door, he threw it closed. The sound of heavy objects hitting the door sounded behind him. Leviathan's bloated and heavy body hit the door directly, but it didn't open the door.

Because its brain had been destroyed in the explosion just now.

One destroyed hand, but he lowered the enemy’s IQ. This round was not a loss!

Damn, you shouldn't have forgotten to shoot He Yi's head before, otherwise, how could you play so badly?!

Because of the severe pain from the intense trauma just now, Qi Leren's right hand covered the elbow of his left arm. The part below the elbow has landed in Leviathan's stomach. The blood was spraying out like a broken faucet, reaching half a metre away. The ground was as horrible as a murder scene!

Du Yue looked at Qi Leren at a loss: "Qianbei, your hand is gone! What should we do! It's bleeding!"

Qi Leren glanced at his privacy time of only five minutes. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay awake. If he passed out now, with Du Yue's rookie first aid knowledge, he might really fall to the fate of bleeding to death. At this crucial moment, I have to rely on myself. Qi Leren took out the first-aid supplies that Chen Baiqi had once enthusiastically recommended from his item bar, and gritted his teeth: "Help me hold it."

Du Yue held his arm and listened to the thumping sound behind him. He helped Qi Leren to tie the rubber hose with trepidation. Qi Leren pulled hard and tied it around the middle position of his upper arm. The wound finally stopped bleeding crazily, but it still couldn't be stopped altogether.

Qi Leren remembered that Chen Baiqi had once said that if no measures were taken within three minutes, this kind of limb injury was basically equivalent to signing a death certificate. If there is no teammate who can treat it, take a soldering iron or flamethrower and burn it against the wound. Only when the blood vessels cauterize to necrosis would it stop the massive bleeding.

"Go, Dr. Lu certainly didn't go far, and time is running out," Qi Leren said, suffering from dizziness and severe pain, and hurried in the direction Dr. Lu had run away. Along the way, he was still thinking. He had had a fight with the big boss, and was injured and dying. He also ran away with the protagonist. It was like a life mentor of the leading role who was going to croak.

Bah, it's so unlucky!

Before running far, Qi Leren heard Dr. Lu’s voice: "You ran too far!"

Qi Leren and Du Yue stopped, looked intently, and Dr. Lu, who had opened the [Free WIFI] skill card, was squatted in the corner without any presence, shouting at them. Looking at Qi Leren's injury, he was shocked: "What's wrong with you, don't move, don't move, I'll give you quick first aid! Oh come on, this injury is too heavy!"

"There’s still four minutes left," Qi Leren reported the time, in too much pain to speak.

Dr. Lu immediately used "Doctor’s Orders". In the milky light, the continuously bleeding wound miraculously stopped. Although the amputated limb could not grow back, the wound healed quickly and new skin covered it. It was completely healed.

Dr. Lu was also shocked: "This effect is too good... Am I so powerful? Am I really a genius nurse?"

Du Yue said faintly on the side: "You’ve never had such a good effect in treating my injuries..."

"No, no, no, this must be because your IQ is not enough to affect the performance of 'Doctor’s Orders'. The skill card says that the more impressive the patient is, the better!" Dr. Lu said convincingly.

"But your treatment for others isn’t this good," Du Yue refused to accept it and refused to admit it was an IQ problem.

"Right, why is that?" Dr. Lu was also confused.

Just then, the pain that made him feel close to blacking out finally faded away. Qi Leren untied the rubber hose which left a bruise on his arm. He stared at the healed amputated limb on his elbow for more than ten seconds, and then he came back from the state of high tension just now.

Although he had died before, thanks to S/L Data, he has always completed the tasks with intact hands and feet every time, and this was the first time that he has lost a hand directly. He thought he would be disgracefully frightened, but because of these two rookies, he looked much calmer.

"Don't worry, there are people in the Twilight Township who can do limb regeneration. I know them. If you go back and pay a few survival days, you can grow it back." When Dr. Lu saw Qi Leren staring at the amputated hand, he thought he was sad, so he comforted him.

"Is it expensive?" As a poor player who has consumed a lot of survival days in the process of competing with Su He, this was what Qi Leren is most concerned about.

"It's okay, I remember it was just over a hundred days," Dr. Lu said.

Qi Leren, who had only seventeen days to live, didn't want to speak.

Du Yue was not rich either. He said gloomily, "That’s a lot, I only have thirty days..."

There was no harm without comparison, and Qi Leren suddenly felt that he was impoverished...

"It’s nothing, if you don’t have enough, I’ll pay for you. I usually charge for treating others. Healers are quite scarce, so I’ve earned a lot. Right now I have about two hundred survival days!" Dr. Lu said generously.

More than two hundred days… More than two hundred days… More than two hundred days…

Du Yue would be silent when hearing this number, and Qi Leren would cry when hearing it.

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Editor’s Notes: For anyone (me) who has forgotten the exact details, here’s the description for Doctor’s Orders:

[Doctor’s Orders] (Non-Binding Skill Card): The ability to work miracles comes with a price – a price for your patients. There will be no mercy given to those who do not deserve. Allows the holder to heal all who meet the following requirements: attractive, not a Virgo and an IQ over 100. The number of requirements met will determine the effectiveness of the treatment. Skill cooldown: 2 hours. (translated by Sigma)

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[runningdownthatroad]

I just have to get this off my chest after seeing some very disturbing posts about 9/11 floating around on my dash as well as some truly crude commentary. A lot probably won't agree with my sentiments but I feel like this needs to be said.

I've seen a lot of things on Tumblr in the past that maybe I consider to be in poor taste or don't agree with but I usually just scroll past, sometimes block for curating sake, but today is the first time I truly was shell-shocked. To see the memes and blasé jokes people are making about this day are just absolutely horrific and appalling.

I get that a lot of people on this site now may not remember what happened that day and only learned second hand through school or media or other people telling them. I get that a lot occurred after this that wasn't right which we definitely should be learning from. I also get that there is a lot of anti-American and anti-white sentiments going around currently, especially on this site.

But here's the thing:

Not only Americans died that day. Not only white people died that day. That's the thing about terrorists and what these hijackers did: they don't care about your skin color, your culture, your religious preference, your sexual orientation, your gender orientation, your age, your economic status, your personality, whether you support them or not, your political persuasion, your job, or any of it. Everyone is fair game to them. For crying out loud, look at what the Afghani people are currently going through and how the Taliban are treating their own country's people, women especially. If you think this is bad (which it truly is), have you seen how things went under their rule before 9/11 even happened? Do you know their terrifyingly violent and brutal history? Women had acid thrown in their faces if they didn't wear a full hijab. People were mutilated or executed if they didn't fall in line with the law of the Taliban. And this doesn't even begin to go into Al-Qaeda or Isis. But I'm not here to talk about that or delve into that topic too much.

My point in mentioning all of this is that white Americans weren't the only ones that were killed that day. People of all faiths, of all colors, of different countries, died that day, too. And the unity that is consistently discussed every 9/11 anniversary is in regards to us being aware of that fact, us mourning all of their losses together, and the collective desire to come together and help once the planes hit and after the towers collapsed.

So when people say "why am I supposed to cry over white Americans getting killed that day" think about that. Not only white Americans died that day. And regardless of their color, their nationality, their culture, their religion, etc. anyone dying is always sad. Whether it be a jetliner being used as a weapon that crashed into their floor or someone dying of cancer or someone being killed in a mudslide or someone dying in a car accident -- it is always sad. And empathy should always be shown in response, even if it doesn't impact you personally. Let's not forget these people have loved ones that got left behind, that are still here.

So when people say "if something knocks into a cow and knocks it over, I'm not expected to care, but if something knocks into a building and knocks it over, suddenly I'm supposed to care?" think about that. People aren't grieving two large pieces of steel architecture. People aren't saying "always remember those two towers". The WTC Towers were a symbol (yes, for American wealth, I get it) but became so much more of a multi-faceted powerful symbol after 9/11. The towers represent a way of life before 9/11 happened, but more importantly they represent the people lost that day, who were in the towers when they collapsed. For all of the first responders who were stuck on those floors still trying to help evacuate people to safety when the buildings finally gave. The two footprints and two blue lights aren't a symbol of American wealth or a naivete and simpler way of life pre-9/11 - they are a symbol of memorialization for that day. The Freedom Tower was erected to show that despite the loss of that day, we stood united (even if there seems to be more and more division these days). It's a message to the world that yes, destruction and death happened that day in NYC, but so did rebuilding and life carrying on. It's a symbol of strength, resilience, and unity - something that was everywhere you looked days after this event occurred. The two towers (aka NYC) may have gotten knocked down but the city got back up. They weren't kept down - that's the point of the Freedom Tower.

When people say "I don't understand, what is it that I shouldn't be forgetting since I can't remember it anyway" here is what we all should be remembering despite our age or our connection (or lack thereof) with this event:

2,997 innocent civilians died that day. Among them were 343 firefighters, 37 police officers, 23 Port Authority police officers, 8 EMS workers, and 4 other first responders. Also among them were 246 people on the four planes that crashed.

The passengers of United Flight 93 made a choice to fight back against the hijackers and saved lives that day by sacrificing their own.

Many children lost parents. Many parents lost children. Many brothers lost sisters, and many sisters lost brothers. Many spouses lost their significant others. Many lost friends, family, and loved ones.

For those who want a better connection to this day who didn't experience it and/or don't remember it, and for those others who are seriously lacking in empathy: yes, it was a highly publicized event due to the hundreds of cameras (including media outlets) watching that day, but if the horrific images aren't enough to garner some of your empathy, then there are plenty of other resources at your disposal. Documentaries like 9/11 by James Hanlon and the Naudet brothers, 102 Minutes That Changed America (which shows you not only all of the first-hand eyewitness accounts that day but also lets you hear 911 calls, radio transmissions between firefighters, and people's reactions to the event and each other who were there), 9/11 Firefighters (on Discovery Plus) and even more recently, 9/11: The Turning Point (on Netflix) which provides a 360 degree view of the events that led up to 9/11, 9/11 itself, and what came after, displaying all different viewpoints. You can read the 9/11 Commission Report or there are several books and memoirs out there like Wake-Up Call by Kristen Breitweiser, or even historical accounts in books, newspaper articles, and online. But most importantly, listen to people's stories. The ones who were there, the ones who saw it happen, the ones who ran in to help, the ones who lost loved ones. That is the most important part and the most powerful. On Hulu, ABC News ran segments of 9/11 Twenty Years Later, "Women Of Resilience" being especially powerful. It's hard not to feel a human connection to these stories or any kind of empathy.

For those who are making these jokes and memes, if you like shows like 9-1-1 and Chicago Fire, etc, imagine those first responder characters rushing into those buildings to save lives and losing theirs in the process. If you don't remember 9/11 or feel any connection or empathy, imagine hundreds of Bucks or Eddies or Bobbys or Hens or Chimneys dying that day as they worked to save so many. Sorry to be so blunt because I love those characters too, but do you get a little bit of the connection now? Do you feel any empathy? I'm not trying to equate real life heroes and sheroes with fictional characters of course, but if it helps you to understand a little better in some way, well...I'm throwing it out there.

I myself lived in the Tri-State area at the time of the attacks. I remember seeing the second plane seconds before it crashed into the second building. I remember the devastation I felt watching the first tower collapse knowing that a loved one was most likely inside and how hard I cried thinking he was dead. (thankfully, he had been late to work that day and he got out of the area before the towers came down) I remember the relief and gratefulness we all felt hearing from him to assure us that he was alive when he finally was able to get to a phone, stating he was covered in dust and ash from the buildings. I remember the panic and fear we all felt, thinking the world was ending and we were all going to die, that this was it, this was World War III, after it was confirmed that the Pentagon had also been hit and there was also a downed plane in Pennsylvania. I remember the grief another loved one suffered because she lost her entire floor (she had been out sick that day) and every single one of her co-workers. I remember the race to pick up children from school and get them home as soon as possible. I remember the rage that coursed through us seeing the footage of some people in certain countries celebrating the attacks in the streets, enjoying the deaths of so many Americans, a couple of these countries who lost citizens themselves in these attacks. I remember the camping out in front of the televisions night after night for a week straight afterwards, watching the news 24/7, worrying that there might be more attacks. I remember the feeling of sheer terror anytime a plane was heard overhead or seen appearing low enough in the sky that you could practically make out which airline it was for months afterwards. I remember seeing the lights the first time they were lit from our home. I remember feeling pure fear not only for what happened that day but also what came afterwards (not yet understanding that these weren't practitioners of Islam that did this but radical extremists who had literally hijacked the religion). I remember seeing the devastation at Ground Zero through a tear in the fabric over a fence as we walked through the city months afterwards. I remember not wanting to fly for years. I remember the anger I felt that our government had failed us due to political bs between agencies and countless others (which we found out especially when the 9/11 Commission Report came out) and that because of this horrific and absurd failure, thousands of innocent people had died. I remember seeing the crushed ladder truck, and the toy of the little girl who was on one of the planes at the 9/11 Memorial Museum and all of the pictures in that room that just floored me. (I also remember being pissed off that many were treating it as a selfie op where they were allowed to take pictures, completely missing the point of the museum's existence) But most of all, I remember feeling that life would never be the same for any of us ever again, and that the feeling of safety we had naively enjoyed on September 10, 2001 would never return.

But I also remember the compassion and unity we saw rising in the country after those attacks. I remember the gratitude for all of our first responders, those we lost that day and those who were still with us, actively working to recover those lost and to clear Ground Zero. I remember the feeling of collectiveness, that we all shared grief and showed support to one another in those days afterwards. I remember the fallen heroes and sheroes who ran into those buildings, who were off duty but raced from wherever they were that day to come and help. I remember The Man In the Red Bandana aka Welles Crowther (and many like him who worked to save others) who has become another important symbol of that day. I remember hearing all of the stories of people helping one another before and after the towers collapsed. I remember the good that this day represents. That while we may have seen some of the worst of humanity that day in the form of violence, death, weaponized airplanes, and devastation, we also saw the very best of humanity in the form of our first responders and people helping one another.

Look, did Islamophobia happen? Yes. Was it right? No, absolutely not. As I stated above, I myself feared the idea of the religion until I was educated by a friend of mine about the difference between the religion and extremism. This form of hijacking ideology can be seen in examples like the Westboro Baptist Church or even Hitler. Terrorists do not represent the true spirit of Islam no matter what the former tries to force people to believe. Just as the WBC is not the true spirit of Christianity, and so on and so forth. But even during the time I had feared the religion before gaining understanding and clarity, I never confronted or mistreated any practicing Muslim or Arab-American. Ever. I never posted hate or spewed vitriol against them. Just like with the current pandemic, I still cannot believe there are people out there attack Asian-Americans as if this whole thing is their fault. That's still mind boggling to me and it is absolutely 100% WRONG. It should not be happening. Same with Islamophobia. And it breaks my heart to read that many Arab-Americans and practicing Muslims still worry when this anniversary comes around that they may be attacked. It might not mean much, but I just want to say I am truly sorry for that and you have my full support. Always.

Did we go to war and was it just? Yes we did go to war. Was it just? Afghanistan? I need more information in order to have a fully-formed opinion but there are plenty who say yes and plenty who say no. Plenty who say we made things better over there (before we exited and the Taliban advanced) and plenty who say we didn't and only made it worse. I truly cannot say which assertion is correct and I think it would be narrow-minded and completely moronic (and possibly arrogant and presumptuous?) of me to speak on a subject I know so little about, one way or the other. Iraq? No, I don't think it was just and I honestly wish we could go back and do things differently.

But coming back to 9/11 and what this day means for so many, the people who died, the people who rushed headfirst into danger, the people who lost their loved ones. We saw incredible bravery, selflessness, and compassion for your fellow human that day despite what happened. We saw the strength within ourselves despite the fear and anger. We saw resilience. That is what the anniversary is meant to be a reminder of. The sacrifices, the loss, the courage, and the strength. Black, White, Gay, Straight, Christian, Muslim, Man, Woman, Young, Old -- it didn't matter. We all came together.

So regardless of whether it's the cool thing to do right now on this site (or elsewhere) to hate on America or 9/11 or white Americans or the anniversary itself on the very anniversary of these attacks, I ask that you please consider when posting these hurtful (and frankly harmful) words of hatred and vitriol such as referenced above that there are people out there who lost their loved ones on 9/11, that yes some of them may be on this very site and going through the 9/11 tag, and that some of them may have even lost a loved one in either war and are again on this site reading your words. Regardless of what you think or feel, please consider them and tag appropriately if you're going to post. Please consider that some of these people are currently losing their loved ones due to 9/11-related illnesses because of the cleanup at Ground Zero. Please consider that there are children who lost a parent or loved one, or who were orphaned that day (yes, they exist, we had some in our school district) who are also on this site reading your words. Basically, please just consider and be considerate. Please stop spreading hatred on a day that happened due to hatred; please stop perpetuating that cycle.

Like Martin Luther King Jr. said, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that."

TLDR: Love and light, my friends. Love and light. ✌️❤️

[rockislandadultreads]

Sob Stories: books for when you need a good cry

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng

Lydia is dead. But they don’t know this yet. So begins this exquisite novel about a Chinese American family living in 1970s small-town Ohio. Lydia is the favorite child of Marilyn and James Lee, and her parents are determined that she will fulfill the dreams they were unable to pursue. But when Lydia’s body is found in the local lake, the delicate balancing act that has been keeping the Lee family together is destroyed, tumbling them into chaos. A profoundly moving story of family, secrets, and longing, Everything I Never Told You is both a gripping page-turner and a sensitive family portrait, uncovering the ways in which mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, and husbands and wives struggle, all their lives, to understand one another.

The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman

Australia, 1926. After four harrowing years fighting on the Western Front, Tom Sherbourne returns home to take a job as the lighthouse keeper on Janus Rock, nearly half a day's journey from the coast. To this isolated island, where the supply boat comes once a season and shore leaves are granted every other year at best, Tom brings a young, bold, and loving wife, Isabel. Years later, after two miscarriages and one stillbirth, the grieving Isabel hears a baby's cries on the wind. A boat has washed up onshore carrying a dead man and a living baby. Tom, whose records as a lighthouse keeper are meticulous and whose moral principles have withstood a horrific war, wants to report the man and infant immediately. But Isabel has taken the tiny baby to her breast. Against Tom's judgment, they claim her as their own and name her Lucy. When she is two, Tom and Isabel return to the mainland and are reminded that there are other people in the world. Their choice has devastated one of them. M. L. Stedman's mesmerizing, beautifully written debut novel seduces us into accommodating Isabel's decision to keep this "gift from God." And we are swept into a story about extraordinarily compelling characters seeking to find their North Star in a world where there is no right answer, where justice for one person is another's tragic loss.

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

Greece in the age of heroes. Patroclus, an awkward young prince, has been exiled to the court of King Peleus and his perfect son Achilles. By all rights their paths should never cross, but Achilles takes the shamed prince as his friend, and as they grow into young men skilled in the arts of war and medicine their bond blossoms into something deeper - despite the displeasure of Achilles' mother Thetis, a cruel sea goddess. But then word comes that Helen of Sparta has been kidnapped. Torn between love and fear for his friend, Patroclus journeys with Achilles to Troy, little knowing that the years that follow will test everything they hold dear. Profoundly moving and breathtakingly original, this rendering of the epic Trojan War is a dazzling feat of the imagination, a devastating love story, and an almighty battle between gods and kings, peace and glory, immortal fame and the human heart.

In Five Years by Rebecca Serle

Where do you see yourself in five years? When Type-A Manhattan lawyer Dannie Kohan is asked this question at the most important interview of her career, she has a meticulously crafted answer at the ready. Later, after nailing her interview and accepting her boyfriend's marriage proposal, Dannie goes to sleep knowing she is right on track to achieve her five-year plan. But when she wakes up, she’s suddenly in a different apartment, with a different ring on her finger, and beside a very different man. The television news is on in the background, and she can just make out the scrolling date. It’s the same night—December 15—but 2025, five years in the future. After a very intense, shocking hour, Dannie wakes again, at the brink of midnight, back in 2020. She can’t shake what has happened. It certainly felt much more than merely a dream, but she isn’t the kind of person who believes in visions. That nonsense is only charming coming from free-spirited types, like her lifelong best friend, Bella. Determined to ignore the odd experience, she files it away in the back of her mind. That is, until four-and-a-half years later, when by chance Dannie meets the very same man from her long-ago vision. Brimming with joy and heartbreak, In Five Years is an unforgettable love story that reminds us of the power of loyalty, friendship, and the unpredictable nature of destiny.

[bi-bard]

An Extra Dose of Chaos- Malcolm Bright Imagine (Prodigal Son/Criminal Minds Crossover)

Title: An Extra Dose of Chaos

Pairing: Malcolm Bright X Reader 

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 1,861 words

Warning(s): Violence in canon of both shows

Summary: (Starts on season 13, episode 7 of Criminal Minds) The BAU found themselves in a time of need after their final confrontation with Scratch. Though absolutely devastated by the loss of Stephen Walker, (Y/n) was somewhat excited to not be seen as the new kid anymore when Malcolm Bright was brought on to the team. Now, if he could just stop making such a mess of things...

Author’s Note: THERE MAY BE A PART 2 OF THIS BUT I’M NOTE SURE YET! It took a long time but... I found a way to connect them! I am so excited! Also, I doubt Malcolm would’ve lasted this long in the B.A.U but this is the best way to put him in the story without using two seasons that were airing at the same time (Season 1 of Prodigal Son and season 15 of Criminal Minds)

Please consider supporting my Ko-fi account. It would mean a lot to me. If I know there are people interested in it, I’ll get the monthly donation part set up. 

Buy me a coffee? https://ko-fi.com/khoward0 

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I let out a sigh as I walked to the round table. Another day without Stephen. We had both joined the team around the same time, but I was still declared a new kid because he beat me here by about a month. Garcia had given Luke the official title but I still felt it whenever we were debriefed on a case. Stephen gave me someone to relate to. 

I looked over to the door as J.J walked in. She grinned at me.

“Emily hired a new agent,” she said. I nodded. “How are you?”

“Shaky but desperate to get some work done,” I replied, forcing a smile. I knew she was going to say more but luckily the team walked in before she could.

Emily stayed standing as everyone got settled in their seats.

“Everyone, this Malcolm Bright, he’s our new agent,” she said, pointing at the man standing next to her. He waved. Emily and him made their way to their seats. “Take it away, Garcia.”

Malcolm had sat in the spot right next to me. I glanced over at him while he read the case file. He seemed... giddy? That wasn’t the right word but I don’t think there was a better one. Something that should’ve disturbed him just... didn’t.

It was a strange case. Victims were kidnapped, had symbols carved into their faces, and then were found in their cars but miles away from where they were last seen. All without any memory of what had happened to them. 

“Alright, wheels up in 30,” Emily said before standing. Everyone followed close behind her.

“Hey, Malcolm,” I said, stopping the new guy before he left. “How are you feeling? I know some of this stuff can feel overwhelming on the first day.”

“I’m alright,” he replied. “Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

“When,” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing together for a moment.

“Oh, y’know, research for school and such,” he shrugged the question off. “I’ve gotta get my go bag.”

“Okay, see you on the jet.”

“We have our own jet?”

--Time Skip--

“Spencer,” I said, looking at the photos of one of the victim’s injuries. “These can’t be taser or stun gun marks.”

“Why,” the doctor in front of us asked. 

“They usually burn the skin around the radius of the mark,” I replied. “There’s no burn mark.”

“Did the victim report a metallic taste in her mouth,” Spencer asked as Malcolm looked over my shoulder at the photos. 

“They’re probably snake bites,” Malcolm noted, cutting the doctor off a little bit. “Blood tests would show if there was any venom present.”

Spencer turned around and listed off a few blood tests that I could never remember. I closed the file. 

“A snake as a way to subdue a victim, that’s risky,” I said, looking at Malcolm.

“Hot day, lock the snake in the car, and wait,” he mumbled. “It leaves a lot to chance. This is the element that matters. There’s no way a snake is a weapon of opportunity.”

“If it’s a dangerous reptile, there’d be records of licenses,” I said as we followed Spencer out of the hospital. “Once we have the kind of snake, we could ask Garcia to cross-reference.”

“Except if it was bought on the black market,” Malcolm added. 

“You do not know Garcia,” I smirked, picking up my pace to keep up with Spencer. Damn this boy and his gazelle legs. 

“She seems delightful,” Malcolm shrugged. None of us spoke again until we were in the car. “So... why does this guy choose body modification? Why specifically the scarring? Surely tattoos would have a similar effect to the women’s self-worth.”

“I don’t know yet,” Spencer replied. “I say we relay what we know to the team and see what they say.”

We both nodded, waiting for him to start the car.

--Time Skip--

I wondered why my heart could beat so fast yet I could look so calm when we got to crime scenes. It was like my fear responses stopped halfway. I’m sure there was a reason for it but there are some things you think about but don’t really want the answers to. 

I took a deep breath as the car stopped. I unbuckled quickly. We had split up. Matt, J.J, Malcolm, and me in one car; Rossi, Spencer, and Luke in the other. Emily stayed back at the police station to help us out as much as possible. 

Matt and J.J went around the back to keep watch. Malcolm and I got to the front door. I was just about to lay my hand on the doorknob so we could be smart about this...

and then Malcolm sprinted in. No count, no warning, he just ran in without any warning.

“Malcolm,” I hissed, following him quickly. What the hell was wrong with him. 

I barely got there at the same time as him when he busted the door down. 

“F.B.I,” I shouted, actually doing my job. I followed him inside.

He didn’t have his gun aimed. Did he have it out when he first ran in? I kept my gun fixed on Desi- the unsub- who was just staring at us. Her mom tied to a chair and her sister trapped on one of the seats you’d see in a tattoo parlor.

“Desi, drop the knife,” Malcolm said, holding his gun up. 

“You- You don’t know what she did to me,” she replied.

“We do,” he nodded. “We know about the neglect and... and the abuse.”

“I was so scared,” she was whispering.

“Who wouldn’t be,” I asked. “You were just a kid-”

“I tried so hard to erase any sign of her,” she continued. “And there she is on the front page. They think she’s perfect.”

My eyes drifted towards the snakes in the room. 

“The perfect woman! The perfect mother! They don’t know what she’s capable of... what I’m capable of.”

“We know,” Malcolm nodded, grinning at her. “I also know that if you surrender and we walk out of here, everyone else will know too. She’ll have to live with that. Isn’t that what you wanted? For your mom to live with the shame of all of this?”

Desi went to move forward, towards the snakes.

“Desi,” I said firmly. She stopped... for a moment. She then ran at the container, shoving it towards the ground before sprinting out the other door. 

“Help her mom,” I shouted, walking over to her sister. “Hey, stay with me, yeah? We’re gonna get you help.”

I went to call for an ambulance, only stopping for a second when I heard gunshots. I shook it off, calling the ambulance before helping her sister up and out of the room. Malcolm had already left with her mom.

--Time Skip--

We were all on the jet later that night. Some of the team was playing poker, others just relaxing. I was lounging on the small jet couch, cradling a mug of tea. 

“Hey,” Malcolm said softly, sitting next to me. I nodded as a way to acknowledge him. “I’ve only known you for a few days but I can already tell that silence is not a good sign.”

“You ran into the house with any regard for safety,” I replied. “Your gun wasn’t drawn, you didn’t wait for back-up and was just lucky I was there, and you ran into an active crime scene without announcing that you were the F.B.I.”

“I did almost everything wrong.”

“Pretty much,” I sighed. “But you did a good job reasoning with Desi. As good of a job as any of us probably could.”

“Well, I’m sorry about what happened... but can I ask something?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you so worried,” he asked. “I’d say you were angry but you aren’t displaying all of the signs of anger and you can’t just be nervous about the unsub because the event is over with.”

“I was the new kid before you,” I explained, already questioning whether or not I was ready to talk about this. “Around the same time I joined, Stephen Walker did. The team was looking for this serial killer that called himself Mr. Scratch. We thought we had found him and we knew the house was safe... we thought we were gonna catch him. Then, I think he laid spike in the road. Our cars crashed into each other. It was bad. Emily was kidnapped, the rest of us unconscious... except for Stephen. He died in that accident before they’d even found the cars. I had to tell his wife. I couldn’t even look to my right on my way home because her tears had stained my shirt. I lost the person I was closest to on the team.”

“Now you see another new kid running into snake dens like it’s no big deal,” Malcolm concluded. I nodded.

“It makes me really nervous,” I looked down. 

“I’m sorry,” he replied quietly. I shook my head.

“It’s alright,” I looked back up at him. “Just... please don’t do something like that again.”

“... I’ll do my best.”

I chuckled at his hesitation. If all went well, Malcolm would fit in just fine.

--Time Skip (In Between Seasons 14 & 15)--

“Hey,” I said as Malcolm walked over to his desk. He had yet another meeting with Emily and Cruz. This time it went a step further. “How’d it go?”

“I had a meeting to explain my actions,” he explained, grabbing his go-bag. It was pretty much the only thing he had at his desk. “And they fired me.”

“What,” I asked. I bit the inside of my cheek.

“Are you surprised that it happened or are you surprised that it happened?”

“You did punch a sheriff,” I trailed off. 

Malcolm nodded and started walking toward the elevator. I stood up and followed him quickly.

“Where are you gonna go,” I asked.

“Probably back to New York,” he shrugged. “My mom wants me back there anyway.”

“Oh,” I nodded. I wanted him to stay closer. I wanted to see him. I looked down nervously as we waited for the elevator. “It’s gonna be boring without you here.”

“Always kept you on your toes,” he chuckled. The elevator dinged. “You should come visit. Just give me a call.”

“Okay,” I replied. I was going to just wave but then jumped when Malcolm quickly kissed my cheek and stepped into the elevator. I could only watch in shock as the elevator doors closed. 

“Did that just happen,” Garcia asked, walking over to me.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, looking at her. “Oh my god!”

“Go talk to him,” she shouted as the other elevator opened. I ran in, waving at her and telling her to let Emily know where I went.

What I didn’t see was J.J walk up to Garcia after the elevator doors closed.

“What’s (Y/n) doing,” she asked. Garcia just grinned. 

“Proving that you owe me twenty bucks,” she replied.

“No he didn’t,” J.J said. Garcia nodded. “I’m waiting for (Y/n) to confirm that before I give you money.”

“(Y/n) might still be in shock when they get up here.”

...and maybe I was.

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