#fuck the va hospital

[youreyesaremyfavoritecolor]

i. see. you. i.c.u.

i see you in everything. your smile in strangers, your voice in your brother, your smell in the smokers on the street, the folded flag on the wall. i see you in the sound of trumpets and gunshots. i see you in sunsets and football games. i see you

[saeraas]

Huh, Sakurai Takahiro is trending I wonder if it's jjk- "Sakurai Takahiro has been found cheating on his wife for ten years" WHAT?!?

[hhnguyen]

aren’t you just precious

Everything medical related was a google search, so those in the medical field please don’t come for me - I was a literature major for a reason 😭

♢ Pairing: Parents!Jake & Neytiri x Oldest daughter!Reader

♢ Word count: 2k 

♢ Genre: suspense, action, angst, slight humor - Warnings: explicit description of injuries, blood, cursing, reader is a lil crazy

⌲ Description: Your iknimaya goes a little south. Aka introducing the ‘demon ikran.’

M A S T E R L I S T

Jake Sully, a marine veteran at the age of twenty-two had gone through absolute hell on earth before ever setting his disabled ass on Pandora. 

He thought he had seen the worse - comrades shot down right in front of his eyes, the blood covering their skin, blank dead eyes staring into his soul. Sometimes there were those who were actually blown to bits by bombs and grenades, screaming not even five feet away from him as they clutched their missing limbs, begging a nonexistent God for mercy.

Then there was his own injury. The pain he hardly remembered, because he had gotten to the point of delusion when they finally managed to drag him out of the war zone, half dead, and to the VA hospital.  

The incoherent words he had heard after waking up from his surgery despite his hazy vision and buzzing hearing at that time, yet the truth coming out of the doctor’s mouth had still hit him in the face like the largest ‘fuck you and your life’ to exist. 

“...ave severe spinal injury...fixable...expensive, marine.”

A severe spinal injury that was fixable but too expensive for a marine like him to afford. 

For an active man as he had been in the past, the thought of being paralyzed from the waist had been his worst nightmare to the point of being ready to waste away his life. 

Though even after all that shit, Jake Sully felt like he wanted to throw up as he stared at his oldest baby girl at the fresh age of fourteen laying there in front of him; delirious as he had once been in the same position, bleeding and bruised. 

He could only thank Eywa that your heart was still beating and your body intact. 

Well, mostly. 

The almost nauseous angle of your left wrist certainly did not look natural. And their bones were fortified, stronger than anything else to human knowledge. Yet it had managed to snap as easily as that. 

Neytiri - his beautiful, poor mate. She was distraught, one would say more so than him. Sitting only inches away from your fevering form in one of Hell’s Gate treating rooms for avatars, muttering prayers with dried tears upon her face. 

Your injuries had been so severe that not even the abilities of your grandmother, the Tsahik, could heal you solely through the spiritual power of Eywa. These kinds of injuries needed the advanced surgery of human technology. 

His other children were barred from coming inside, having been firmly ordered to remain in their village as he and Neytiri made sure that you would be okay. None of them wanted to keep them away, but neither did they want them to be traumatized by seeing your bloodied and broken form. 

A stark contrast from the smiling and proud sister that they knew. 

And yet, you had still managed to complete your iknimaya. 

Jake watched with a bated breath from the air upon Bob, his own faithful ikran through the years, as he saw the slight encouraging push Neytiri had given you on the edge of the nesting place. Your, oh so small form, looked firm and stubborn as you steadily stalked forward in a crouched form, the band for the beak held in your grasp with determination. 

He watched as one ikran flew away. Then another. And another. A third one. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth. 

He had lost count after the eleventh. 

You were getting frustrated, he could see that. Neytiri was still there, calling out for you to calm down. To be patient as he moved Bob a little bit closer, but not too much to distract you if you were to see him hovering. 

And there he was. 

Jake had seen it before you did. The vicious screech even reached him high up in the clouds and echoed above all the other ikrans. 

He felt his blood run cold as the midnight blue beast, nearly black in color with its yellow and green detailing jumped down from the highest point of the rocks and landed behind you as you whirled around with snarl of your own. 

But then as fleeting as it had been, you had grinned, taking in the magnificent animal despite its bloodthirsty aggressiveness. 

“Aren’t you just precious?” Neytiri had told him of your words in the aftermath. 

His mate hollered in encouragement, and he could hardly stop the prideful tug of his own lips. 

Rather than you leaping on the beast, Jake straightened up as he saw the ikran run at you as well. Both were only inches away from crashing, as you last minute decided to slide beneath its belly - slight enough to fit as you rolled away on the other side and then slung the catcher around its mouth swiftly before throwing yourself on its back. 

His expectations had been hopeful from that moment. Positive. But wrong, oh so wrong. 

Rather than trying to snap at you by turning, he watched in horror as the ikran seemed to have a human mind as it slammed against a stone wall, you hitting it first. 

Neytiri had screamed, already half leaping forward but stopping herself as she saw you still clinging to the beast. 

Both had thought that had been the worst of it until the ikran tried it again. This time deliberately falling backward to land on its back with a rumble, where you were hung on. 

“LET GO MA ‘ITE! LET GO!” Neytiri was yelling. Or begging. He couldn’t be sure in his own fear. 

But both of them underestimate you, as a growl mixed with what Jake had assumed to be a painful yell from yourself erupted. Legs manage to wrap around the animal’s neck despite being crushed underneath its weight. 

He saw belatedly you were only holding on to the banshee catcher with one hand as you pulled at its head hard enough to make the animal let out another vicious muted screech. 

And then you truly proved you were his daughter. 

“C’MON YOU MOTHERFUCKER. GRANDPA BOB WAS BETTER THAN THIS!”

The ikran had gotten angrier, trashing before suddenly rolling like a fucking bowling pin on the stone-covered ground. 

Towards the edge of the cliff. 

Neytiri ran, and Jake dove, both reaching out and screaming your name as you and the ikran fell off the edge. 

As his mate leaned almost desperately over the edge, Jake forced himself to draw Bob back up, only for a few seconds - not to interfere with the rite. But it was in those few seconds he felt like his heart had stopped beating. 

There was that familiar screech again. 

Then you were soaring. 

Up in a straight line, past Neytiri and him. Tsaheylu clearly made as the ikran listened to your orders. 

There was a blinding grin on your face as you soared, clearly looking for him and letting out a whoop. 

The moment your eyes caught his, Jake felt his grin slip. 

Your eyes, open just moments before suddenly rolled back. Your whole body went slack as you fell over the side, your newly bonded ikran screeching at the sudden weightless feeling as the bond broke and your body went straight down. 

Jake hadn’t heard his desperate yell, this time diving down without stopping. 

He thought you were dead when he managed to catch you and flew back up, only to have Neytiri meet him in the air on her own mount, an expression so clearly in distress. Without a word, they both made haste back to the village, your newly bonded ikran following closely behind. 

“How is she?” His voice sounded like it had gone over fifty years of smoking with no water. It felt like his whole body was weighed down with stones. 

“She’s alive,” that’s all that Max could offer with a grim expression. “She will need surgery. The momentum of her slamming repeatedly against stones with the ikran’s weight on top has managed to collapse a lung.”

Jake had never wanted to sob like a newborn baby until now. But he needed to remain calm, or at least sane. For Neytiri’s sake, and your siblings.

“Usually surgeries like these lead to long-term conditions in life, but we’re certain that with the Na’vi biology she will heal just fine without complications. But it’s the healing that will take time.”

He was nodding along, but it felt like he was far away. Only hearing a slight inconsistent sound in his ears as he watched through the see-through glass into the room where you were all connected up to tubes and an oxygen mask. 

It was so human, the whole situation of you being in a hospital bed for avatars - Jake wanted to laugh. Not in humor, but maybe in slight delusion at the situation. 

“Okay, okay…” he swallowed. “Anything else?”

His human friend was taking pity on him, Jake knew. 

Max has been there since the beginning. Seeing Jake growing his own family and now being placed in this position. “Besides the broken wrist and strained ankle, it’s mostly cuts and bruises. So she will have to wear a brace as well as remain seated for the next week or so. And check-ups every three days.“

“Yeah, we can do that,” Jake croaked. “When’s the surgery?”

“As soon as possible.”

Another nod. “Thanks, man.”

“Of course.”

He had to nearly pry Netytiri away from you as she snarled protectively. But he had to explain that she couldn’t join in on the surgery due to contamination concerns. The whole room had to be fixed to match that of a Na’vi body, the surgeons wearing oxygen masks as the space was filled with Pandora’s toxic air for your sake. 

It was an open lung surgery, Jake had been told. A risky procedure even on earth. It had taken four hours. Four hours full of anxiety and fear. 

But you had pulled through, Max said, Norm closely behind with a relieved teary smile himself. The man was like another uncle to the kids despite his avatar form. He had watched their ceremonies, rites and connections to Eywa. So to Norm, this was just like a family member to him. 

You had slept for a full day and a half after the surgery, still confined to the avatar hospital room before your eyes had fluttered open with difficulty. A cough erupted followed by your painful whine at the action.

Netytiri had hushed you gently, crouching down and stroking your hair back. Fresh tears fell at seeing you conscious again after so long, sobs breaking out as you flashed a sleepy smile at her. 

Neytiri had felt like Eywa had pulled the entirety of Pandora away from underneath her feet during the hours of your examination and surgery. Clutching Jake to her and never wanting to let go as her oldest baby was at the mercy of nature and your own will to live through. 

But she knew. 

You were strong. You always had been. And you had fought. 

Neytiri had never imagined a day when one of her biggest nightmares nearly came to pass. 

To lose one of her children. 

She would rather throw herself off the highest point on Ayram alusìng than lose one of her precious babies before their time. She believed in Eywa with her whole heart and soul and knew their beings were only borrowed and one day had to be returned. 

But Eywa would not take her children away from her until Neytiri herself agreed. 

Until that time, she would do anything to protect them. But to have it happen during one of their most treasured rites in life had prevented her from doing many things. 

Interfering for once. Because you had said so before as if knowing how horribly wrong it could go. 

“Do not stop me, mama. I can do this on my own.”

Of course, you could. And you did. 

Despite having to brush the doors to Eywa’s home yourself to succeed. 

And as your parents carefully helped you back home to the village after five days of observation at Hell’s Gate after your surgery, you couldn’t help but snicker despite the stabs of pain.  

Your mom had admonished you gently to not aggravate your wounds. Whereas your dad held back the roll of his eyes with amusement tickling the sides of his mouth. 

“Why are you laughing, flower?”

Your grin was shit-eating as you looked up at him.

“My iknimaya was so much cooler than Toruk Makto’s.”

“You little skxawng.”

I feel like I lowkey pulled this one out of my ass, but oh well. 

taglist: @nao-cchi @eywas-heir @ssc7514 @spicycloudsalad @calums-betch @httpjiikook @ricecakeslove @fanboyluvr @iwaslikeblah   @the-wandering-pan-ace @avatarloversblog @eternallyvenus @enchantinggoateefox @arianapntn @heydemonsitsme @slyvixen1029​ @promiseofeywa @love13tter @directioner5life @bambisposts-blogs​ @melllinaa​  @sugarmummystuff6​ @lovekeeho​ @hai-kbai​

[applejuicewerewolf]

Just watched M27 (in cinema! That was cool!!) And oh boy, thoughts!

First of all, I was sooo excited to watch this anime movie in an actual cinema, with other people who were also there to watch an anime movie (in an actual real cinema). Idk, I often still feel like liking anime is something embarrassing, even tho it becomes more and more mainstream, so seeing 20 or so people who also openly announced that they liked it was amazing.

Now, to the actual content of the film:

Love Love LOVE Heiji and Kaito's dynamic here. He was so angry that he drove his fucking motorbike through a window!!

The fact that the KaiShin same face thing is something Heiji is surprised by is very weird, considering that he knew that Kaito always disguises as Shinichi in movies (and yes, the movies have their own continuity, see the fireworks-soccer-ball!!)

Additionally, I watched this film in the German dub. In German, Conan and Shinichi have the same VA, and Ksito has a different one. Still, Heiji makes a note of Kaito sounding similar to Conan (their German VAs do NOT sound similar!!!)

(On that note, they replaced the German VA for Kogoro and I am scared to google why :(( )

Also in the German introduction, Conan LITERALLY calls Kaito his "fated rival" ("schicksalhafter Gegenspieler"), which is very gay for the movie that completely reveals them as cousins.

Kaito feeding seagulls. Just that. It was funny. This is what happens when he has to leave his doves at home. He is a disney princess but only for birds.

Loved the scene where Kaito was attacked while on the ground and was shown to be out of his depth. Catch him on the ground and he is a wingless bird.

Additionally loved that scene because Heiji and Conan jumped in to save him. Their dynamic was so good, with Heiji attacking front and center, Kaito trying to shoot the attacker, and Conan coming clutch with his soccer ball. These three are so much fun together, and I love how throughout the movie they hunt Kaito in one scene, and work with him in the next.

They also alway immediately recognize his disguises??? That was hilarious. These three are one the same wavelenght and I'm all for it.

Oh speaking of disguises, I am VERY surprised nobody even mentioned Okita being the third same face triplet. Would've probably taken away from the KaiShin cousins reveal, I guess?

Minor mention: idgaf about Momiji and I never will. Useless character. Why does she even exist at all. Focus on the main characters...

Okay, I cannot keep quiet about it anymore. The entire "Ginzo gets shot" scene was THE BEST THING EVER. Kaito literally reliving the trauma of losing his parental figure again, and being unable to even SHOW IT OR VISIT HIM? Him having to silently watch as Aoko (MY GIRL IS ON THE BIG SCREEN I ALMOST CHEERED) is going through this all alone??? She probably was still in Ekoda. Did she get a phone call and was flown in to Hokkaido? WHERE THE FUCK IS MIDORIKO IN THIS?!?!?! GOD. This scene. I want 500 character studies of this scene on my desk by tomorrow morning.

That being said, with the Toichi reveal at the end, NOT ONLY did Kaito hide his emotions as he visited his mortally injured father figure in the hospital, his actual father was RIGHT THERE??? TOICHIIII YOU RAT BASTARD I WILL KILL YOU!

Why even WAS Toichi there. Legit. Ugh, I wanna do this in chronological order.

Anyways, AOKO SCREENTIME MY BELOVEEEEED

I feel like she was underused tho. Her only contribution was calling Conan Kaito's twin, and that was it. Feel like that's a running theme with DetCo focusing too much on random murder of the day and not its actual characters (something that also HIGHLY annoyed me during the Scarlet Schooltrip >_<)

Speaking of, that plotpoint was also kinda never mentioned again after the half point of the movie?

Coming towards the end of the story, the car chase with like 5 different parties through the city was hilarious. This is the stupid Shounen action I expect from DetCo movies (but not the stupidest Shounen action we'll get!)

As for the actual plot, I don't really care for that in DetCo movies, I'm more interested in the established characters doing fun and wacky shit.

Also so not a fan of the "murderer misunderstands or misreads a situation, making their murders pointless" storylines in DetCo. Tho M19 was probably the worst one in that reguard (girl what!)

Okay, so the Kendo guy. His mother died to a bombstrike, so he wants to blow up a mountain with lots of civillians on it. Because he's anti war. Girl what.

And now to the peak of Stupid Shounen Battles: swordfight atop a flying airplane, one of the combattants wears no shoes.

Absolutely LOVED Kaito catching Heiji midair. He does it with Conan, he did it with Heiji. Hakuba, you're next.

Sure, Iori just randomly DROPPED A FLASHBANG right in front of Heiji and Kazuha. Tho shout out to my girl Kazuha who was quick and smart enough to cover Heiji's ears as she "Get down Mr President"ed him.

At this point, shoutout to Ran. She gives it her all to make this Ship a thing. Loved her "casually but ominously deduce Heiji's true intentions" thing she did. Go be a love detective, honey!

Okay, the after credit scene. VERY NATURAL REVEAL you guys did there. Just casually have Yusaku suddenly say "yes, my wife whom I have been married to for at least 18 years, I have a twin brother i haven't seen in 2 decades." Wow.

HE REGULARLY TEXTS TOICHI??? TOICHI WHO FAKED HIS DEATH. THEY TEXT! THEY! TEXT!

YOUR SON BELIEVES YOU DEAD AND WANTS TO AVENGE YOU YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE

WHY WERE YOU THERE! WHY WERE YOU IN DIGUISE THIS ENTIRE TIME!

I HATE TOICHI EVEN MORE NOW WTF

Conan kill your uncle with a soccer ball please.

[chronicowboy]

things from the tsunami arc that altered my brain chemistry irrevocably and eternally:

buck's hand twisted in christopher's shirt pre-wave

you're gonna be okay, kid and the hand on buck's face

the way buck cups christopher's head when he's finally got him in his arms

and the way he clings to christopher as soon as they're up on the fire truck for the rest of the episodes, always keeping chris nestled against his side or tucked under his chin whenever he's not saving people

how he freezes when he hears christopher fall in and just Knows its chris

buck finding christopher's glasses

the fact that we see the moment buck cuts himself and he doesn't even react because he's too heartbroken to feel anything else besides the grief

do i even need to mention buck carrying himself through most of LA on willpower alone?

or the black tent?

or buck calling maddie and not even worrying about telling eddie, just worrying about christopher, until he sees him at the VA hospital?

or how eddie nods as buck stammers through his explanation like he believes that its not buck's fault even as his heart is breaking over losing his child?

or the way buck hands eddie christopher's glasses?

or he was looking for buck?

how about the way eddie presses his forehead to christopher's temple?

and the Look between buck and eddie? buck, disbelieving, relieved, just utterly and completely relieved because whatever happens next, even if he never gets to see his diaz boys again, at least christopher is alive. and eddie, disbelieving, relieved, entirely and wondrously in awe of the man that kept his son safe and alive despite a tsunami.

and buck collapsing because finally, finally his job is done. nothing else matters now.

not to mention!!! the After

wait for me to come home my beloved <3

buck's whole voiceover

the way chris walks into the loft and rests his head against buck's stomach, trusting him to wrap him in a hug, and the way buck hesitates like he's not sure he's allowed

eddie pushing in, eddie, the strong silent type, filling the silence that buck would usually to try to drown (poor choice of words, i admit) out whatever thoughts are going through buck's head as he tries to object to being left alone

eddie's instantaneous, easy switch from nonchalant teasing to serious reassuring

two men five centimetres apart because they are gay!

eddie's hand on buck's shoulder and the fucking thumb on his neck... kill me :D

eddie being honest and vulnerable about his parenting

i love him enough to never stop trying and i know you do too because of course eddie has just had more than enough evidence of that, and not just evidence but tsunami-proof evidence that buck would quite literally go to the ends of the earth for christopher, but this quote, buddie or not, links buck to christopher, to that co-parent role, indefinitely and irrefutably

eddie's little comment about buck losing weight (sir... why are you paying so much attention 🤨)

and FUCK, perhaps the worst of them all, eddie pausing in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe, eyes down as he says buck's name and that little moment of hesitation before he looks up and says thank you. for not giving up.

[vintagepascal]

yours in the morning

word count - 11k+ (lord help me, so sorry this took so long)

rating - mature, minors DNI

content warnings/tropes - violence, threats to life, angst, children in dangerous situations, enemies to lovers if you squint, cat calling, sexual harassment, guns, smut, kidnapping its an emotional rollercoaster okay

summary - in a desperate attempt to save yourself, you end up kissing Javi in a bar, which puts you in enough danger that he feels like he needs to protect you... if he can

———————————————————————-

All you had wanted was one fucking drink. And you’d earned it too - after the day you’d had, no one would have judged you for downing your vodka the way you just had in the bar behind you. They may have given you a bit of a look for the second one, but fuck it. Your self defense instructor from back in the states, however, would have much to say about where you were now. 

Walking the streets of Colombia at any time could be seen as dangerous, especially as a foreigner who stuck out like a sore thumb, but you weren’t doing yourself any favors tonight. Purse on your hip, still in your work scrubs, by yourself as the sun set behind the town lights, with a ten minute walk home ahead of you.

Textbook bad move.

Of course, you weren’t a total idiot. You had a few tricks up your sleeve that you could use in a pinch if you had to. But most days you were smart enough to avoid getting yourself into a situation where you would have to worry. Straight to the hospital and straight home, in the daylight if you could help it.

Tonight was not one of those nights, and it seemed that luck was not on your side. Even with the bit of fuzziness in the edge of your vision, you noticed the three men leaned up against the car immediately. They were a few blocks away, but you took note, pretending to look busy and crossing the street quickly. 

The knot in your stomach tightened when the tallest of the three stood up, beginning to move in your general direction. It was only then that you noticed the car. Raised bed, nice tires, new rims. There were only a few people in Colombia who drove cars like those, and everyone knew it too. 

Bile began to rise in your throat. Suddenly, the ever present humidity was even more stifling, the exhaust of the cars and constant haze of cigarette smoke choking the oxygen out of the air all around you.

The women in Colombia had a code, even for outsiders. You never, ever, went with anyone in the cartels if you could help it. But if they took you? You did what they asked, and you didn’t fight, or you’d never make it. Rule number one was to avoid it at all costs. 

“Aye, preciosa, ¿a dónde vas?” One of them called out. You kept your eyes down on the pavement, quickening your steps. Could you make it to your apartment?

No, that would be a stupid move. You couldn’t lead them to your house. You racked your brain for any safe havens between where you were and the safety of your place. It was true that the embassy wasn’t far, but that seemed like a bit of a stretch, and you knew they wouldn’t let you get that far. In the distance, you saw the faint lights of La 40, the bar closest to your place. Surely you could make it there.

The men were enjoying the chase. You chanced one glance behind you and sure enough, they were on your heels. You could barely hear their catcalls over your heartbeat in your ears.

Just get to the bar, just get to the bar and find someone, make them think you’re with someone, find someone who will help you, just get there, just get there, you chanted mentally over and over. 

A hand grabbed your shirt, yanking you backwards momentarily. You felt something rip, shred, and you didn’t stop to think. You shoved at them as hard as you could, the keys in your hands puncturing skin hard enough to startle, giving you a chance to break free. And you started to run, full speed, towards the purple lights of La 40, practically bursting through the doors when you got there, not caring about the looks you got. You knew they wouldn’t be far behind you, and you didn’t put it past them to try to take you from there, especially since you’d drawn blood. 

In the few seconds you had to spare, you scanned through the bar. It was sparsely filled up with groups of friends, and the occasional lonely man. Sitting at the bar was the only one who looked the part you needed - handsome, alone, strong. He was nursing what looked to be a whiskey, and you could see a gun holster on his belt. 

Perfect.

You heard the men yelling behind you, and you weren’t sure if it was the vodka or the adrenaline that made your next move, but you didn’t hesitate. Instead, you walked straight across the bar to the man you’d found - who luckily had seemed to notice you as well - and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

Besides the obvious, you had an additional ulterior motive. By catching the stranger by surprise, you loosened him up enough to wiggle your way between his knees, turning the barstool so his body was between yours and the door, his gun on display for the men to see when they appeared moments later.

Your stranger played his part well. After his initial shock wore off, he melted just enough, one hand going to your waist to hold you steady when you pulled away, his other hand on his gun. And he was a damn good kisser, so you didn’t mind that he pulled you back in for another quick one, his mustache just the right roughness against your skin, his lips warm with the burn of whisky that lingered when he pulled back again to look at you.

“Hola, mi amor,” you said loudly, loud enough for the men in the doorway to hear. 

“Hola,” the man in front of you said cautiously, not chancing a look behind him. The panic must have been evident in your eyes, because he didn’t hesitate. “You okay?” He whispered to you. You nodded at him once, smiling when he brought a hand up to brush some of your hair behind your ear. You blushed at him, turning your cheek to kiss his palm.

His eyes flitted across your face, then down to your shirt. You followed them, drawing in a sharp breath. There was a gaping hole in your scrubs, and the place where your badge usually hung was entirely gone, as were your credentials. Your heart sank.

“My-my badge,” you whispered. The man in front of you looked confused for a moment, and then angry as he turned his head quickly towards the door. He watched as one of the men dangled your badge in the air and then disappeared out of sight. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “That’s got your hospital and your name? First and last?” 

You could only nod. You took a step back, disentangling yourself from him as soon as they were gone. With a huff, he took his leather jacket off the back of his chair, offering it to you. You weren’t cold, but you felt exposed enough to take it gratefully, shoving your arms through the sleeves. 

“Do you know them?”

“No”

“You didn’t meet them at the hospital? Are they patients of yours?”

“No, they just saw me outside. Saw I was alone I guess,” you muttered, the memory already making your skin crawl. You looked at your stranger, the disgust in his eyes obvious.

“I’m-I’m sorry about ambushing you like that.”

“Believe me, I didn’t mind. But -”

“They were following me, and I panicked. You seemed like the safest bet in here.” You explained further, already feeling guilty for getting him involved. Had you put him in danger? The thought made you sick.

The man sighed heavily, pinching at his forehead with his hand.

“Well sweetheart, you’re simultaneously really smart, and really, really god damn stupid. You know what they were driving?” 

“Red, four door. Maybe a Ford but I’m not sure.” 

“How many of them?”

“Three.”

“And they were just outside on the street?”

“Yeah. I was walking home from work.”

“Nurse?” You nodded.

“From the states.”

Another nod.

“What are you doing down here then?” 

“Everybody left after Escobar. But they still need people, there’s hardly any nurses here. I just wanted to help.” Your voice was smaller than you liked it to be, and you steadied yourself with a breath. “Wait, what about me picking you out makes me stupid?”

The man sighed before leaning back in his chair, reaching onto his belt loop for something beside his gun that you hadn’t seen. 

He pulled out a badge. 

DEA.

Fuck. 

“Agent Javier Peña, at your fucking service,” he chimed, picking up his glass. “And those guys out there are with Cali.” “The cartel.” It wasn’t a question. You slid back down into the seat next to him, burying your face in your hands. Fucking around with the cops in town never looked good on anyone. “They know who you are?”

“Everybody knows who I am,” Peña muttered, downing the rest of his liquor and raising two fingers at the bartender, pointing at you. Despite your urge to humble him, it was true - now that he had said it, you realized that you had seen him before, on TV. He was known for calling out the political connections of Cali, and he’d made several big arrests.

“Vodka, actually,” you corrected the bartender, rubbing at your eyes. “How bad is this for me?”

“Well, since you decided to jump my bones in front of some of the most dangerous men in Colombia, you just got yourself added to the hypothetical hit list, minus the protection of the US government.” 

“You’re kidding.”

He took the new glass of whiskey in front of him and tipped the rest of it back as his answer.

“So what the fuck am I supposed to do?” The bartender sat your glass down and you snatched it, downing it almost immediately. It burned the whole way, and you fought back the gag it threatened to unearth.

“Get on a plane and go home.”

“Not funny, Peña.”

“Not joking,” he shot back. “And it’s Javi.”

“Seriously. Can those guys really find me just from my badge?”

He looked at you incredulously. “They’ll have your address by the end of the night. You can’t go home. They might not go so far as trying to kidnap you, but you’d definitely be in danger of being attacked, especially since you got away from them. They don’t take well to losing. And now that they saw you with me, they’ll just assume you’re leverage to get to the DEA, which makes you priceless. They’re particularly pissed with me at the moment, so your timing is spot on.”

“I thought they didn’t mess with Americans. They always said it was too risky.” You couldn��t hide the hope in your voice.

Javi’s eyes were cold.

“That was Escobar. Cali plays hard ball.” 

You fought back the tears that threatened to spill over, pressing your palms into your eyes. It didn’t work, and the colorful mosaic of the bar top was blurry as you tried to settle yourself without much luck.

 When you finally looked back up, Javi was staring at you intently, as if he was trying to solve some sort of puzzle. His lips parted a few times with words unsaid before he sighed, running his fingers over his eyes before he looked at the ceiling in surrender and finally spoke. 

“C’mon. I’ll take you to your place to grab what you need and you can hole up at my apartment until we find somewhere for you to go.”

“What?”

“It’s my place or the embassy, who will just ship you home.” 

Javi dropped enough pesos on the bar to cover both of your drinks and stood up quickly. 

“Offers expiring cariño.” He reached for his jacket, remembered that you were still wearing it, and turned towards the doors without another word.

You didn’t see many other options besides standing up and following him out of the bar. To your surprise, he offered you an arm that you gratefully took, seeing that the room was partially spinning. How had your night turned into this? It didn’t feel real. But soon enough you were climbing into his car, watching him move around to the drivers side and giving him directions to your place. It would have been easier to walk with all the traffic on the roads, but you made it there quickly nonetheless.

“I can have a bag packed in 15 minutes,” you told him, but he caught your thigh with his hand before you could move. 

“You’re not going in there by yourself. Wait.” 

You tried to ignore the way your skin burned while you watched him climb out of the car, pulling his gun out of the back of his pants while he walked around to your door.

“Might as well play the part,” he muttered after he opened it for you, offering you a hand. You walked quickly with him, unconsciously squeezing his fingers as you walked down the hallway to your apartment door. 

“Let me clear it first,” Javi said, motioning for you to stay behind him and wait. You handed him your key, trying to control your breathing as he disappeared through your doorway, pulling you in behind him and placing you by the door. 

A few minutes later, he returned, gun still in hand.

“You’ve got ten minutes. I’ll keep watch.” 

He posted himself at the door, eyes already flitting back and forth across the corridor as you ducked inside. You didn’t have time to think- you grabbed your suitcase and began shoving your most worn clothes in, your scrubs, your makeup and everything from your shower. You hadn’t brought many comfort items from home, but you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them behind. Into the bag they went, followed by a few pairs of shoes and your favorite blanket. 

You rolled the suitcase to the door and out to Javi. 

“That was fast, I’m impressed,” he chuckled, taking the handle.

“One more thing and I’ll be out.” 

You headed back inside quickly, reaching into the hall closet to find the carrier you’d only recently purchased. 

“Bear, cmon buddy, we gotta go, cmon,” you called out, peeking around the apartment until finally you spotted him, cowering in the corner of your bathroom. You felt awful having to grab him and push him into his carrier, but you knew it would all be forgiven once he was safe. You gathered his essentials as well and took them to the hallway before emerging with his carrier and closing the door behind you.

Javi’s eyes blew wide when you reappeared. 

“Is that a cat?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“What?”

“You’re not bringing your fucking cat to my house.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and attempted to stand your ground by setting your feet, but you didn’t anticipate for the world to suddenly be spinning. The final of the vodkas had finally gotten to you it seemed.

“I’m too drunk for this conversation sir. Either take me and Bear, or leave me here to be disappeared or whatever the cali fucking cartel does to people,” you slurred with what you hoped was a smile, turning on a heel towards the car. A strong hand on your elbow turned you in the opposite direction and kept you from slamming into a wall. He was muttering in Spanish under his breath as he led you to the car, gruffly putting you in the front seat before locking the door and going back for your things - Bear included. 

You let your head rest against the cool glass of the window, hoping it would sober you up slightly on the drive. It served its purpose well enough, though the ride was short. You were able to at least carry Bear as Javi took your bags, eyes darting around as he hurried into an unassuming complex. Even drunk, you noticed that it took three separate keys to get in, and once you crossed the threshold you felt safe for the first time since you’d spotted the men on the street. 

Javi’s apartment was cooler than you expected - both in temperature, and in style. It was obvious that Uncle Sam was paying a pretty penny for a place like that so deep within Bogota, but you couldn’t quite be bothered about the details when you noticed that there was a nice leather couch in the middle of the living room. 

You began to walk towards it, and suddenly the tile floor was spinning up towards you.

“Jesus christ,” Javi muttered. There was a crash, presumably your suitcase falling as he dropped it, catching you instead. “You’re alright, I’ve got you” was the last thing you heard before the morning.

The first thing you noticed were the sheets. 

Silk. 

Definitely not your bed, and definitely not the couch. 

The lights were still out, but there was enough sunlight filtering through the blinds to illuminate the room and simultaneously hurt your eyes. The squint it caused immediately alerted you to your headache, causing you to roll over and bury your face in a pillow.

Something rough bit into your neck.

A zipper. A leather jacket zipper, from a man who you were suddenly very concerned about. 

You sat up quickly, head spinning a bit as you tried to scan the room, gather your surroundings. On the bedside table sat a glass of water and two small pills you recognized as advil. You took them gratefully, already feeling the pounding behind your temples. 

The air was chilly - a rarity in Colombia and a testament to the dedication of the AC unit you could hear whirring in the window. Even over the hum, you could hear the quiet clink of dishes in the kitchen. You pulled the sheets back, wrapping Javi’s jacket around yourself tightly and following the noise. Javi was in the kitchen, shirtless with his back turned to you. You couldn’t help but take the opportunity to stare at him. He was even more beautiful without the clothes - strong, sharp lines down his back that lead to the waistband of his pants. 

When he turned, you pulled your eyes up as quickly as you could, but his smirk let you know that it didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Buenos dias,” he hummed. 

“Good morning,” you blushed, pushing your hands into your pockets. “Thank you, for last night. I feel better than I deserve.”

“You’re welcome. Also, your kitten is a menace.” He frowned at you. 

“Sorry, he can be a bit shy around new people but he’ll warm up.”

Javi quirked an eyebrow at you and ducked down for a moment. When he stood back up, Bear was in his hand, gnawing on his finger. 

“Yeah, real shy. He’s been trying to make a meal out of me all morning. What’s his name again?” 

“Bear. At least, that’s what the woman who was feeding him in the street told me his name was. But that’s the only English word she said to me, so who knows if she was even giving me his name. He never responds to it anyways.”

Javi walked over towards you, sitting Bear down. He immediately greeted you, rubbing against your legs. 

“Oso,” Javi said. Bear immediately looked up, and you were surprised to see Javi smile. “We’re gonna have to start some Spanish lessons for you if you’re so intent on staying in Colombia. Which is still a terrible idea, by the way.” 

“I’m not leaving just because some assholes in the street decided to catcall me. They probably didn’t even recognize you anyways.”

Javi looked at you incredulously. 

“Do you know the first fucking thing about the cartel? Their reach? Any idea what the hell they’re capable of?”

His tone made your blood boil, both under your cheeks in a blush and in your fingertips, which gripped the edge of the counter. You didn’t take kindly to being spoken down to, especially hungover.

“Yeah actually, I do. I’m plenty aware of what both Cali and the DEA are capable of. Generally, when you all are raining bullets down in the middle of towns, I’m one of the nurses stitching up the aftermath.”

He was silent for a moment. Two pieces of toast shot up from the toaster on the counter, but only you jumped at the sound.

“All the more reason for you to just go home before it gets worse.”

“Who's to say they’re even going to come after me anyways? Javi, it feels like we're blowing this wildly out of proportion. So they saw me with you, big fucking deal. It doesn’t mean they’re going to target me - I know nothing about the DEA, or anything special about the cartel. I’m not actually important to you, and if they can really find all that information about me they’re going to figure that out pretty damn fast.” 

His eyes were cold when he turned to you. He looked as if he was ready to say something, but he stopped himself, thinking better of it. Instead he turned back around, putting one piece of toast on a plate and passing it to you, along with butter and a small jar of jam. 

You ate in silence, the tension palpable as you tried to think of the next thing to say. Javi seemed to be doing the same, stealing glances towards you that he thought you didn’t catch between bites of toast. 

You finally broke the silence. “I should just go home.”

“To the states? I’ll book your flight.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s not an option.”

“Fine.”

Javi stopped mid bite, quirking an eyebrow at you. Obviously he expected more of a fight. You turned on a heel and went back into the bedroom in search of your suitcase. It wasn’t hard to find - Javi didn’t have many things to begin with, and your bag stuck out like a sore thumb. You ignored the wrinkles in your scrubs as you pulled them on, wrapping your hair up in a bun and promising yourself a good shower later as you finished getting ready.

You knew that getting out the door wasn’t going to go smoothly. So you set your jaw and took a deep breath before you opened the door, not looking away from the exit as you headed straight for it. 

He was quicker than you thought. 

His hand hit the door just as you opened it, slamming it back shut.

“You don’t seriously think you’re going to work.” 

“Move, Javi.”

“Tell me you aren’t this stupid.”

“Move.” You repeated.

He didn’t budge, or warrant you with a response.

“If I realized that going with you last night meant being kept prisoner in here, I would have picked differently.”

“Yeah? And your night would have ended very, very, differently.” 

You chose to ignore that jab. 

“We have security at the hospital. I’ll tell them what’s happening, they can keep an eye out for me. And I’ll come straight back here after if that makes you feel better.”

“This isn’t about making me fucking feel better, Y/N. It’s about keeping you alive. Cali owns this entire fucking town, they probably are the security at the hospital.”

“Then what the hell do you suggest I do Javi? And if you say go back to the states one more fucking time, I swear to god-”

“Just…” He leaned up against the door frame, pinching the bridge of his nose like he had the night before. “Just give me a day or two. Call in today, let me get some stuff arranged and we can figure it out.”

Every part of you wanted to argue with him - it burned hot in the back of your throat, but there was something in his eyes, something earnest and true. 

Why do you care so much?

You chose your next words carefully. “Figure what out, exactly.”

“How to keep you safe.” 

“Fine.”

“Fine?” He obviously didn’t trust you after your earlier stunt in the kitchen. 

“Yes, Javi. Fine. I’ll give you today, and I’m already off tomorrow. But then I’m going back to work, one way or another.”

“Okay.” He looked you over a few times before turning back to the apartment and disappearing into his room. 

You wandered back towards the kitchen, busying yourself by cleaning up the plates from breakfast. Javi emerged shortly after in an outfit similar to what he was wearing the night before - devilishly tight jeans, with a bright red button down tucked in behind a belt, gun holster and badge on his hip and the outline of a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. 

“Phone is over by the table. Help yourself to whatever you can find, but there isn’t much. I’ll bring dinner later. Don’t leave the house, and don’t answer the door. Por favor,” he added sweetly at the end, throwing you a small smile before slipping out without another word. 

The next eight hours were boring to say the least. Javi’s apartment was the epitome of a bachelor pad. After you called in with the bullshit excuse of a stomach bug, you went on the hunt for something to entertain you for the day. The news was too depressing, every DVD you found was in Spanish, and otherwise, all you came across was liquor and various empty shelves in need of decor. It was obvious the man lived in his office and simply slept in his home, but you lucked out, finding an old English copy of Wuthering Heights tucked away on a shelf in his bedroom when you went to change out of your scrubs. 

It helped you pass the time, and Javi held true to his promise of bringing dinner home later that evening, coming through the door looking much more exhausted than when he’d left, with two paper bags in his hands. 

“Arepas,” he muttered, placing them on the counter. “Necesito ducharme, estoy asqueroso. Puedes comer sin mí.”

You stared at him for a moment over your book cover and he looked back, confused before he sighed. 

“Sorry. Long day. I’m gonna shower, I’m sweaty. Feel free to eat without me if you’re hungry.” 

“It’s alright, I’ll wait for you,” you answered, turning the page and pretending not to notice the way the sweat on his back made his shirt cling to his muscles. Damn. You really had picked a good one to follow home. 

Fifteen minutes later and he was back, rubbing a towel over his head as he spoke.

“Come eat, I’m fucking starving.” 

He was shirtless and in a pair of linen pants that took all of your focus to keep you from drooling over. They left little to the imagination, and you were grateful for Bear on your lap, or you may have gotten up embarrassingly quickly to follow him to the kitchen. 

There was a new energy buzzing around the apartment again - it had been faint in your haze last night, and you’d blamed it on the vodka but it was undeniable now. Unlike many others, you didn’t feel uncomfortable around Javi though. It was almost an excitement, a school girl nervousness that had you unwrapping your first arepa with your eyes cast down and afraid to look at him standing across the island from you. 

Javi was the one to eventually cut the tension. “So what’d you get up to all day?”

“I read mainly. Hung out with Bear. Or Oso I guess I should be calling him,” you chuckled. You’d only managed to find snack foods throughout the house, and the meal was welcome to your grumbling stomach. Javi didn’t hesitate to dig in, and somehow it was endearing to watch the crumbs get caught up in his mustache. Watching him be less than perfect broke his stoic persona. 

He looked back over at the couch, noticing your book choice.

“Are you a Brontë fan?” 

“It’s the only thing in English I could find. Are you is the more important question.”

He pondered it for a moment, eyes inquisitive as ever while he chewed before he shook his head. 

“I plead the fifth.”

“Uh huh. So, is it inappropriate for me to ask you what you did all day?” 

“Inappropriate?” He quipped around a bite of his barbacoa.

“I’ve heard you aren’t supposed to ask cops that. And, I’m not sure if you’re allowed to tell me anyways. Thought maybe it was top secret or something.”

That got your first true laugh out of him. “I don’t work for the CIA hermosa, it’s not highly classified. Mainly just run of the mill surveillance. Most stressful part of the day was watching your hospital, actually.”

“What were you doing at Marly?” You asked earnestly.

“I figured you’d be on my ass about when you could go back to work as soon as I walked in the door, so I’ve been trying to find an answer for you all day.”

You waited, chewing quietly. 

“They’re more lax than I’d like. But, there’s only your one main entrance and the ambulance bay, so if you can give good enough descriptions to your security guards they can probably keep you safe enough. Does anyone else know your work schedule?”

“My manager is the only one. It’s posted on the board when I get there so the other nurses know who is on the floor, but that’s required for safety. No one knows ahead of time though, so shouldn’t be a problem,” you reassured him before he could ask. 

He nodded at the new information, chewing through another bite of his arepa. The rest of dinner, and Javi’s two whiskeys, went down quietly, but you couldn’t help but tell him at the end of the night what had been on your mind since he’d gotten home. 

“Thank you. For doing all of this when you didn’t have to. I wasn’t fair to you earlier.” 

“You’re welcome.” His tone was sincere, and it made you relax. “It feels nice to help someone. Feels like all I’ve done since I came back down here is play damn politics. And I get it, it doesn’t feel good to be controlled.” 

“So… I’m forgiven?”

Javi gave you a true smile, and you felt your heart catch in your chest a bit.

“Forgiven, cariño.”

The rest of the evening went quickly, and suddenly you were faced with the realization that you’d forgotten about since that morning when you went in search of your suitcase.

Javi’s place was a one bedroom. 

You’d made up your mind by the time you’d brushed your teeth - over complicating things would be a bad move this early. And so you headed back to your couch, grabbing a blanket and towing it over to you. 

“Can I borrow a pillow?” 

“What for?”

“The couch.” 

Javi waited for an explanation, then laughed when he realized what you meant. 

“You don’t seriously think I’m gonna let you sleep on the couch, do you? Mi madre would roll over in her grave.” 

“I don’t see another option,” you murmured, picking at the fuzz on the edge of the blanket so you didn’t have to look at him. 

“I don’t bite cariño. We’re just gonna sleep, yeah? It’s a king bed, won’t even know there’s someone else there. Promise.”

If your pulse was any indication, you doubted that. But, you’d learned one thing for certain in your short time with Javi - he wasn’t one to back down from an argument. And so you sighed and brushed past him to the bedroom, avoiding looking at him as you climbed back into the bed you’d woken up in. You swore you heard him chuckle but you chose to ignore it, relieved when Bear jumped up onto the mattress and bumped up against your hand, giving you a welcomed distraction from Javi, who was looking around the room for something. Eventually, he grabbed his gun, his pack of cigarettes and a lighter, placing them carefully on his nightstand. 

He climbed into bed gently, as if he was afraid to jostle you. He did feel far away, but there was a tension between you, a rubber band someone could strum with the slightest flick of their finger. 

“Goodnight, y/n. I’ll try not to wake you up in the morning, I have to go in.”

“It’s fine Javi. Goodnight.” 

•••

The routine settled in as easy as a key in a well made lock. Javi drove you to work each morning you had a shift, and was there waiting for you like clockwork at 7pm on the dot when you left each evening. You shared dinner with Oso playing at your feet. After two weeks straight of arepas you’d finally demanded that Javi let you go to the market, which he of course demanded he accompany you to on his lunch break. But at least after that addition, on nights you didn’t work he came home to a fresh cooked meal, claiming that you ‘spoiled’ him. You felt it was the least that you could do considering you were living under his roof. Other small things changed. He brought home a few more books in English for you. You unpacked your suitcase. The space in the middle of the bed had gotten smaller. Some mornings you even woke up with a leg thrown over Javi’s, or your fingers touching under the sheets. Neither of you mentioned it. 

It was comfortable, and simple. 

Until it wasn’t.

He was supposed to be home at 6 that night. He wasn’t the most punctual of individuals, so you didn’t start dinner until close to it anyways. By 7, the pasta had gone cold, and by 8:30 you were pacing the living room, eyes darting towards the phone each time you walked past it. The last time he’d been running late he’d called, and that was when he was going to be home at 7:30. 

He’s probably just on a call. Surveillance. Maybe he had to travel. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine.

By 9, you were searching every shelf in the house for some form of the Colombian yellow pages, desperate to find the number for the DEA, or the embassy, or anyone who could tell you where he was. 

You were so engrossed in your search that you didn’t even hear the first two locks on the door click. The third one was louder, and it was the only warning you had before the door burst open.

“Y/N!? Y/N! Where are you!?” Javi’s voice boomed louder than you’d ever heard it, echoing through the apartment. 

He found you before you could answer. You didn’t have time to process what you saw - his drawn gun, his wild eyes, the tear in his shirt or the blood running down his arm. It was all gone too quickly. All you could see was white linen, all you could feel was a strong arm around you as Javi held you to his chest in a bone crushing hug, the tightest you’d ever experienced despite him only using one arm. 

“Javi, what-”

Then he was dragging you, towards the door as he clicked the locks back into place one by one, sucking in each breath through his teeth as he held you against his chest, still checking his six, gun metal cold against the back of your shoulder, your face still pressed to his chest. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered to you, just loud enough for you to make it out. 

“I’m fine Javi, tell what’s happening,” you pleaded for an explanation. 

You smelled it then - that metallic smell that you associated with work, and usually chased quickly with bleach. 

Blood. The image of him running in came back to you and you fought against his grip and won, leaning back so you could see his arm. 

You knew a bullet graze when you saw one.

“You’re shot,” you breathed, brain clicking back on. “Why the fuck didn’t you go to the hospital, why did you come back here?” 

He didn’t answer. Instead he leaned forward, chest pushing into yours as he fished into his back pocket and handed you something square and white. 

Your knees buckled when you recognized it.

Your badge.

“What-”

“That was on the hood of my car. They’ve been watching us.” His eyes were still just as wild, his chest still heaving, and you were afraid he was going to collapse in the doorway. There was no way you could move him if he went down.

“You left out the part where you got shot,” you said, just to keep him talking. You weren’t sure you could take hearing him tell you about getting hurt. 

“Got ambushed trying to make it back here.”

“In your car?” He shook his head. Only then did you realize how sweaty he was.

“You ran here?”

“I lost them on the way,” he shifted his shoulder, then groaned, head rolling back. 

“You should have gone to the hospital Javi.”

“Had to know you were safe,” he panted. “Besides, I’ve got a nurse.” 

Despite all his pain, he offered you a smirk that made you want to smack him and kiss him simultaneously. Instead, you just shook your head and tucked yourself under his good arm, leading him over towards the bathroom as smoothly as you could. He winced the whole way, but you could tell he was trying to keep himself quiet for your sake. 

You had never been more thankful for your paranoia than you were when you pulled out your spare medical kit from under the sink. You’d seen too many accidents in the street, too many times where you didn’t have what you needed that you’d stocked up and vowed to always have the essentials. Sure, you’d rather have a hospital supply room, but you had enough to get him stable. 

Javi looked pale, leaned up against the porcelain edge of the bathtub as you scattered supplies around you, throwing anything you didn’t need out of your path in search of sutures and iodine, gauze and bandages. You ripped his shirt the rest of the way off his arm, panicking when he didn’t react. His eyes were screwed shut, sweat still pouring down his face.

“Javi, baby you gotta keep talking,” you muttered, opening the first package with your teeth. 

You received a hum in response, but nothing else until you poured the iodine on to disinfect the area. Javi’s good hand shot out towards anything he could grab as you began to dab at the wound. His fingers curled into your thigh hard enough to bite, but you didn’t care. 

“Tell me about Texas,” you demanded, moving to straddle his thigh and get a better angle - the bullet had grazed his bicep, and it wasn’t as deep as you had originally thought now that you’d cleared some of the blood. 

“Texas?” He mused, voice much weaker than you’d like.

“Tell me about Texas,” you repeated. “What’s it like there?”

“Hot.” He rasped. “Dry.”

“Good, that’s good Javi. Keep going. Where’s your favorite place in Texas,” you coached him as you pulled out a needle. It wasn’t going to be pretty, but you knew you were going to have to stitch him up if you had a hope of stopping the bleeding before he fully passed out on you. 

He began to murmur about the state while you prepped your sutures, the guilt already heavy in your stomach about the pain you were about to cause him. You let him talk about the Rio Grande and a trip with his dad, happy to hear his voice until you had to cut him off.

“Javi. I have to stitch you up. It’s going to hurt, but you have to sit still. Okay?”

He only nodded at you, eyes darting between yours until you broke away, leaning over him to brace against his arm, pressing the needle into his skin.

“Mierda,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut tight and your thigh tighter.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be done soon, Javi, I’m sorry.”

“S’fine,” he grit out through his teeth, but you could tell it was anything but. You tried your hardest to go as quickly and smoothly as you could, using every bit of medical training you had to stay calm and collected until the last suture was through and his skin was pulled back together. You tied it off, letting out the breath you’d been holding as you leaned back. 

“Done. It’s done. I just need to wrap it and I can let you rest.”

He only groaned in response - you could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard, head still leaned back on the porcelain. 

“Gracias,” he murmured when he felt the gauze begin to wrap around his skin, taping it off as gently as you could. 

You stood up off of his lap, but he caught your ankle before you could move towards the door.

“Don’t.” Even as weak as he was, there was authority to his tone that made you listen. 

“I just need to clean up the blood, get some rags from the kitchen.”

“Use the towels. Don’t want you out of my sight.”

You were so relieved to hear him speak a full sentence again that you didn’t argue. Instead you grabbed the white towel and ran it under the water, wiping away the blood stains on Javi’s skin gently, methodically. When you looked up, he was watching you, his eyelids still heavy.

“You this nice to all your patients?” 

“I try to be,” you smiled despite having to switch to a new rag almost immediately, the first one saturated red.

“Maybe I should get shot more often.”

“Not funny Peña.”

“Not joking, Y/N.”

“Shhh,” you instructed. “Nurse’s orders.”

He obeyed, though you weren’t sure it was entirely a choice. He looked exhausted as you continued cleaning him up, your breath coming easier with each bit of skin you revealed from under the blood. 

When you were done with his arm, you surveyed Javi again. His pulse seemed stronger, his breathing more even. The adrenaline was wearing off, and in turn the exhaustion from his escapade was catching up to him it seemed. You used the last clean rag to clean his face, wiping away the sweat. He leaned into your palm a bit, grateful.

“We need to get you to bed Jav. Can you stand?”

“I can try,” he huffed, looking a bit sheepish. You got yourself settled under his good arm and heaved with all your might, glad that he was able to help as much as he was. His injured left arm hung practically dead next to him - he wouldn’t be able to use it much for a few days, that much you knew.

You led him to the edge of the bed, ignoring the butterflies it put in your throat to bend down and untie his shoes, slide them off his feet with his socks. Next was the remaining scraps of his shirt. You expertly unfastened the buttons, pushing the fabric off his broad shoulders gently and tossing it on the floor. 

“Stand up,” you instructed. You couldn’t look at him as you reached for his belt, pulled his gun out of his waistband and checked the safety the way he’d taught you before placing it on the bedside table. You’re just helping him. Just like a patient. You’re just helping. You repeated it over and over and you coaxed the leather of his belt through the loops of his pants, trying to ignore the way it set your core on fire. You unbuttoned his slacks quickly, careful not to touch more than you needed as you pushed the zipper down. They fell just enough and you were grateful to see boxers beneath - it wasn’t lost on you that Javi wasn’t a stranger to going commando, but he usually refrained at work.  You pushed them down from his hips, letting him steady himself on your shoulders as he stepped out of them. 

“This is humiliating cariño,” he whispered as you stood back up. 

“I doubt you’re going to remember it in the morning,” you reassured him, but you hoped that he did. “Lay down, get some rest.”

“Stay in here. Need to know you’re safe.”

His words were already slurring as he followed your instructions.  You knew you could leave as soon as his eyes closed, get the bathroom clean, get him some water, but something about the sentiment pulled at you, and you couldn’t help it. You wanted to stay. 

“I’ll be right here Javi. I’m safe.” 

With his good arm he caught your hand, squeezing it weakly as if to reiterate it. 

“Stay.” 

You obliged him, climbing gently into your usual spot next to him, taking care not to jostle the mattress. Before you could overthink it, you placed a hand on the center of his chest, felt the rise and fall with each breath he took.  He was snoring after 15 rises, and you relaxed for the first time since he came in the door. 

Only then did you let yourself actually begin to process what had happened - picturing Javi with guns pointed at him by faceless men, your badge in their hands, his blood dripping behind him in the streets - you felt the tears begin to prickle. You let them fall for what felt like hours before you could finally understand that it was relief that caused them - relief and sadness and gratefulness and anger and… love. 

So in his peaceful sleep, you allowed yourself to touch him like you wanted to. You ran your fingers through his hair, dark strands soft against your skin. You even chanced a few traces along his face, down his nose, over his cheek and down his jaw, memorizing him. He stirred and you pulled back, not wanting to disturb his rest. 

He was peaceful for a few hours as you kept watch, and then things began to change. It started with his head - when he first turned towards you, you almost thought he was trying to cuddle. But he turned away just as quickly, muttering something in spanish. His movements grew faster, his breathing quickening as his arms started to tense up, wincing in pain as he strained his wound. You recognized it then. Nightmare.

“Javi, Javi hey, wake up, wake up,” you said, gently shaking his shoulder. You flicked the lamp on so you could see him better.

“No, no no don’t,” he groaned, and you watched as his good arm reached for the bedside table. 

As quickly as you could you climbed across him, knocking his gun out of reach. You weren’t sure if it was the weight of you on top of him or the crash of metal hitting the ground that startled him awake, but either one brought him up gasping and grabbing at you. 

“Javi! Javi it’s me, you’re okay, you’re okay,” you repeated, bracing on his chest. 

His eyes were wide as you came into focus, and to your surprise his hands immediately went to your face, cupping your cheeks. 

“Oh christ, you’re alive, oh gracias a Dios (thank god).”

And then he was kissing you. Desperate but somehow gentle, his lips were against yours, his neck strained up to reach you as you hovered above him, too shocked to move as he held you. When he pulled back and his head fell against the pillow, his eyes searched yours, darting back and forth as he brushed the hair from your face with gentle fingers. 

He moved his left arm too much chasing a strand, and the pain seemed to pull him back to reality, shock replacing the fear as he realized what he’d just done.

“I’m sorry mi amor, I had a dream you were dead… I should have asked, I-” 

You shook your head before he could finish stumbling through his words. 

“Ambushing each other is kinda our trademark, no?”

He gazed up at you for a moment, calculating his next words carefully. 

“If my memory serves me, you got two kisses in at La 40,” he hummed, hands moving slowly down your sides to settle on your hips. “So I think I’m owed at least one more.”

You let out a breath of relief when you realized his confidence was back and that whatever had plagued him in his sleep seemed to have passed. You dipped down to kiss him sweetly, letting your lips linger against his as he chased you just enough to keep you there for a moment longer before you sat back up. 

It gave you a sense of confidence, his warm hands on your hips as you straddled him, and even you were surprised at the next words you said. 

“And the nurse who took care of you? What’s she owed?” 

That earned a chuckle from him, and you melted down into him as he kissed your forehead. His bare chest was warm, skin heating yours through the thin material of your tank top, but his next words set you on fire.

“She can have whatever she wants.” 

You hummed, leaning down to kiss him earnestly, letting yourself have what you had been craving for weeks without even realizing. Javi tilted your head up with his good hand, lips finding your neck. His mustache was rough against you and you groaned at the feeling, settling your hips down over his, seeking friction anywhere you could find it. The rubber band had finally snapped between the two of you, and you couldn’t get enough. 

“Tell me when to stop,” he whispered, breath sending goosebumps all along your collarbone. Something about him giving you an out made everything ten times hotter.

“Please don’t,” you begged, pulling him back up to your lips. He groaned into you, grabbing at your hips to move you and hissing at the pain it caused. 

“Easy,” you cautioned.

“Not in my nature,” he retorted. You smiled, shifting your hips to press against him like you knew he wanted, resisting the urge to laugh at the way his head fell back against the pillows just barely. 

“Let me take care of you.” You ran your nails gently down his chest. 

“Not in my nature,” he repeated, but his breathing was already getting heavier.

“I thought it was whatever I wanted.”

It was Javi’s turn to smile, and you gasped as his hands slid into your shorts, down over your ass to squeeze softly, kneading the flesh and pulling you along his own hips. The rhythm was electric, and you didn’t feel like arguing anymore, too caught up in him to care. You tried over and over again to speed him up but he kept you steady, back and forth as he grew harder and harder below you.

He guided you through it, lips tracing a pattern along your jaw, up to your lips and back down to your throat, along your collarbone until you were practically clawing at him. 

“Need more,” you moaned into his mouth, hands in his hair.

“Then take it.”

You didn’t need telling twice. You reached between your bodies, pulling him out of his boxers easily. He was velvet soft in your hand and you couldn’t help yourself - you began to stroke him gently, achingly slow. 

But Javi wasn’t one to be out done. He sat up slowly, leaning against the headboard so he could free up his good arm. You helped him get your shirt off, and as soon as it was over your head his fingers dipped into your waistband, cupping your folds and making your hips buck into him.

“Sucia,” he breathed, sliding one finger inside, making your nails dig into his shoulders. He put up a good front, but you could see his pulse in his throat, and you knew your unfaltering hand was having just as much of an effect on him. 

You gave in first, pushing his hand away and scooting back up to straddle him. He caught on immediately, helping guide you up so you could sink down onto him. You went slowly, giving yourself time to savor each inch of stretch and sting and Javi.

“Fuck,” you groaned when you finally settled fully, letting your forehead rest on his shoulder. He was big, there was no denying it.

“You okay hermosa?” He murmured, holding you steady. You nodded, shifting just barely and groaning again. You had never felt so full before, even just breathing was enough movement that you could feel him shift inside you, making your eyes water. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” you reassured him, trying to find your words. 

“Takin’ me so good baby,” he hummed, kissing your jaw. You leaned back to give him more access and the shift was delicious. You followed it, lifting your hips up just enough and moving back down slowly.

It was Javi’s turn to moan then. His fingers dug into your hips and he grit his teeth, using every bit of restraint he had to not pound into you the way he wanted to. 

You moved again, bracing on his shoulders but careful to avoid his arm. Based on the way he was groaning, you weren’t sure he would care if you stitched him again - he might not even notice. 

“Need more cariño, whatever you can give me,” Javi said, screwing his eyes shut. You gave him what you could, lifting up and lowering down as quickly as you could. 

“So fucking tight.”

You couldn’t really hear him anymore - you could only feel. You set a pace, willing your muscles to relax as you began to rock above him, wiggling your hips back and forth. 

He thrust up once and it was game over. 

Your orgasm came out of nowhere, ricocheting from your core to your fingertips. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, and you collapsed forward, chest to chest with Javi as your body shook. 

He stilled until you did, and then he was back to moving, lifting his hips and pushing against your fluttering walls. You whimpered at the sensation, and he wrapped his good arm across your back, hooking around your waist. 

“Doin’ so good cariño, so good for me,” he groaned. “Give me one more.”

“I can’t,” you panted, still reeling.

“You can.”

Something about the demand in his tone had you pushing down to meet his hips. Your teeth sunk into the muscle of his shoulder as he chased his high, pulling another orgasm out of you that had you practically blacked out as he came with a resounding groan, burying his face in your hair.

“Holy fuck,” was all you could pull from your burning lungs as you both settled in the afterglow, Javi tracing patterns along your back. 

“Fuckin’ a,” Javi chuckled, kissing your head. “What a day we’ve had.”

“How’s your arm?” You hummed, leaning up just enough to check his gauze. You frowned at the fresh blood you could see.

“I’m fine. Had much worse, believe me.” 

“Guess sex is off limits till you heal,” you sighed, looking up at him through your lashes.

“No deal,” Javi argued, making both of you laugh. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be. Besides, you can wake me up for that anytime,” you hummed, shimmying up to kiss him again. When your lips grew tired, he rolled you over, tucking you up to his chest and coaxing you to sleep. 

Your nights ended up with the two of you intertwined for the next month. Javi’s arm healed well, and he put it to good use every chance he got. He was busier at work, with new breaks happening in his case, which meant every evening you actually got to spend together was precious. 

And the evenings you weren’t together were spent wishing you were - at least, when you had a spare minute. But that night, you didn’t have many seconds to spare, much less minutes. 

It had been a long time since you’d been pulled off your typical unit at the hospital, but the emergency department was short staffed, and with multiple gun fights in the city they needed all hands on deck. The ensuing chaos put you in the ambulance bay, with a radio to your ear getting details of an incoming 9 year old gunshot wound case in the truck you could see pulling up. 

Right where they wanted you.

It happened quickly, and quietly. There was a child in the bed of the truck, covered in blood. You wouldn’t find out until afterwards that he worked for the cartel - simply a pawn to get you to climb into the bed and assess him. Your mind was racing, and though you’d never admit it, you were only half present with your patient. The other half of you was imagining Javi, desperately hoping that he wasn’t somewhere caught in the crossfire. 

It put you just enough off your game to not notice that the passenger had gotten out of the truck, snuck around the side. 

You didn’t know what he hit you with. Javi would find it later - a brick, stained with your blood, left in the street. He knocked you out, gave the child his payment and drove away with you in the bed, covered in a blanket. 

And so your nightmare began. 

You awoke in a foreign bedroom, sitting on the floor. Unsure of how much time had passed, unsure of where you were - all you knew was that your head was pounding, your hands were tied behind your back, and ankles tied together. You didn’t dare make a sound. There was a window covered in newspapers with a sunbeam shining through a gap, landing on your shoe and illuminating the blood left on them. Your stomach turned and you swallowed down the bile in your throat. 

All you could do was a quick self check - you were sore, your shoulders tight from where they were pinned back, your neck pinched from where you were leaned up against a metal bed frame. You could feel that your head was split somewhere, with dried blood caking your hair that you were desperate to itch. But otherwise, you seemed to be unharmed. So you started to plan. 

There was nothing in the room you could see that could be of use, and as you looked you heard them for the first time - voices, in the hall, that made your palms sweat and your heart race. You tried to picture their faces, but everything was blurry in your memory. The only face that seemed to come to mind was Javi’s. His sweet smile, right before he’d kissed you goodbye that morning from the driver’s seat and sent you into the hospital.

You’d give anything in that moment to go back to that first morning, to have him bracing the door and demanding that you stay home. 

“Focus. Fucking focus,” you whispered to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. Javi had told you what to do if anything like this had ever happened. 

“You stay quiet,” he’d said. “Don’t try to lie your way out, don’t tell them anything, even if you think it’s what they want to hear. No matter what they do, you survive, and you stay quiet until I get to you.” 

So when the first man walked into the room, you set your jaw. You found a small black dot on the wall across from you and locked onto it. You let yourself disassociate, let the man’s words, his blows, his kicks, wash over you one at a time as if they were nothing. Deep down you knew he was angry, knew he was going to come back. But you stared at your speck, and willed yourself to be okay. 

Time passed, more men came. More blows. More time. Maybe even a day.

Your facade broke only once, when you heard a familiar name, a break in the murmur. 

“... Peña. Dinos dónde está perra, o estás muerta.” 

You looked up then, only for a moment, and then back to your speck, repeating the words in your head. 

Javi is coming. Javi is coming. Javi is coming.

You had no way of knowing just how close he was. The last 64 hours had been some of the most stressful of his life. He’d arrived at his usual spot outside of the hospital, and he’d given you fifteen minutes before he was headed through the front doors. He didn’t bother stopping at the front desk - the night that you’d gotten stuck in a patient’s room past shift change, they had sent him upstairs anyway. 

He didn’t start to panic until they told him you had changed units.

He found the brick in the ambulance bay as soon as he burst through the doors, and put the pieces together after that. His next stop was the store across the street to get their security camera footage. 

When he found the cameras disabled, he ripped a shelf to the ground on his way out and called his team. 

The next hours were spent surveying every piece of footage they could get their hands on until they finally, finally spotted a vehicle that came and left the hospital far too quickly. 

When Javi saw the bedsheet in the bed of the truck, his lunch remade its appearance in the back of his throat. 

He didn’t let himself believe you were dead, though he could tell his team thought otherwise. They knew better than to even suggest it though. The office had never been busier, between tracking the red truck across the neighborhoods to running possible mugs to figure out who could have possibly taken you. Javi couldn’t stand to stay still, so he spent every hour on the streets, running surveillance and tracking down every possible crumb that his men fed him. He had everyone involved, every person who owed him a favor, every single individual he knew in Colombia that he thought may help.

 The crack came when one of Javi’s reporter connections sent him a lead, a cartel member who fit the description of what he was looking for. The entire team took to the streets, and by an act of luck, or possibly a higher power Javi would be thanking for the rest of his life, he found the truck, tucked into an alleyway on the south side of the city.

Inside the apartment, your speck was getting harder to see. 

You weren’t exactly sure why. It seemed like it was getting harder to stay awake, but you fought your weary eyes. Awake meant alive, no matter how painful. 

There were new noises in the hall. They were hard to hear over the wheeze of your breathing, but the man in the room with you muttered something before he left. You didn’t dare look away from the speck, afraid of what you might find. But you let your ears wander. 

One gunshot sounded, and then it was all yelling and commotion, too much for your exhausted brain to sort through. You leaned closer to the door, hoping to hear something recognizable. One inch too far and suddenly you were falling to the side, unable to catch yourself. Your face hit the carpet, hard, startling you out of your daze. You desperately searched the wall for your speck, but it had disappeared, invisible from your new angle. 

“No, please,” you cried, your lifeline suddenly gone. 

Another gunshot rang out from downstairs and you screwed your eyes shut, curling your knees up to your chest, accepting what was to come. You hoped in that moment that anyone but Javi would find your body, and that he would know that you tried. 

More commotion followed, and you curled up tighter when you heard the door burst open. 

“Mi amor. Cristo.” 

The hands that found you were as gentle as a feather, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. The now familiar sound of a knife clicking open sounded out through the room and you whimpered, waiting. But instead, a bit of friction on your wrists and then they were free, then your ankles. 

“Open your eyes Y/N. Look at me.” 

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, and you were met with pools of deep brown - you’d know them anywhere, and the relief was almost your undoing.

“I’m here. You’re safe, you’re alive. I’m here.” 

You nodded once, unable to move more than that. His lips on your forehead were a welcome comfort before he scooped you up from the floor. 

“Close your eyes,” he told you, and you listened, burying your face in his neck and letting him carry you out to the car. 

There were others outside. You could hear them, but you kept your face hidden. Javi spoke to them briefly, instructed them on what to do and selected one of them to drive. Almost immediately he was climbing into the passenger seat of a larger car with you in his lap, and you were on your way. 

The tears were falling by the first street you turned down, burning your raw cheeks. Javi felt them, hot and wet on the collar of his shirt.

“Shh, shhh shh amor. I’ve got you.”

He was scared to hold you too tight, to agitate the injuries he could see. But that didn’t stop you from clinging to him with everything you had in you. You clawed at his shirt, dragging yourself as close as you could to him, breathing him in, trying to make yourself believe that you were really truly there with him. Safe. Alive. 

You lifted an arm up, ignoring the way it pulled at your sore muscles, wrapping your fingers in his hair as you had so many mornings. 

“Javi,” you whispered. 

“I’m here mi amor.” He kissed your forehead again, blinking back his own tears at the sound of your voice. 

“I love you.” It came out too quiet, but you knew he heard it from the way he choked out a small sob. 

“I love you,” he replied. 

You sighed, wincing as you let your muscles relax. 

“What? What is it?” Javi’s hands ghosted over you, too scared to touch and make it worse.

“It hurts.”

“I know, baby. We’re going to the hospital, we’re going to make it better. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

“Okay.” You clung to his words with everything you had left and let your eyes close, the exhaustion finally taking over, safe in loving arms.

[yandere-daydreams]

Idk why exactly but the thought of Fake Doctor!Gojo and Fake Nurse!Geto remind me of this R-18 drama cd I listened to a few years back. My memory on the plot is shaky but I vaguely recall the Doctor performing experiments on people secretly and then developing an obsession with MC/Fem!Listener. He kidnaps her and like holds her hostage in this abandoned hospital where he subjects them to an experimental drug he’s developed that makes them feel worse with time. It’s very Stockholm syndrome in that he makes MC depend on him for shit, and tries to force them to develop romantic feelings for him. It also feels kinda Harper coded at times. There are ofc noncon and dubcon scenes in it. If I can remember the name of the cd and VA in it I’ll be sure to let y’all know lol. 🫡

anon where do you think we are because that is VERY harper coded. i think if he's unable to (or can't be bothered to) get you into his asylum in a semi-legal way, he'd probably call in a few favors with a few less-savory characters around town and get you all nice and snug in an unused wing of the hospital's basement, where he can look after you without having to worry about things like 'proper regulations' or 'accusations of malpractice'. away from the prying eyes of his staff, he's also be free to be slightly less,,, regulated in his approach to your treatment, which means that, depending on the day, he'll either be painstakingly gaslighting you into thinking that you're just a very sick patient with some very vivid hallucinations about your primary caretaker or fucking you rough on the bare cement floor of your room because he caught you trying to get out of bed on your own and decided he needed to take a more active approach to administering your medicine. bonus points if he can get your brain so fried that you genuinely think all medical injections involve sucking your doctor off for one reason or another. search dutifully and keep us updated anon 🫡

[swifty-fox]

What Comes After

blacked out. wrote 1.7k fic for @bcolfanfic's Young vets AU.

Fanfic/Sequel of

Tw for aftermath of a suicide attempt and all that may entail

Nobody tells you what to do in the hours after your husband tries to take his life. Nobody says you’re going to be angry.

Nobody tells Gale how much he’ll have to pay for gas to the only Hospital for miles, seven hours tailing the red ominous lights of an ambulance there seven hours back all alone for the first time in a long while (one-hundred-twenty-seven dollars and fifty-three cents).

There’s nobody to tell him how to smile at his husband as he’s led away in a stunned daze. Does he smile at all? Small and painful and fake? 

And who can he ask what to do as he comes home to a now empty home, dawn well past finished and a hole the size of a man's life in the wall. A hole, no bigger than a nickel and just perfectly at eye level. The difference between a happy ending and a tragedy; the scales tipped kindly in his favor this time. 

You never wrestle for a gun. That’s the easiest way to get your own damn self shot.

A coin flip. Heads for John, Tails for Gale. 

“Guess the quarter got stuck in a crack.” he mutters. He knows his thought patterns aren’t quite clear, confused and weighed down by exhaustion and shock. 

Somewhere an animal is in pain. It gasps raggedly; sharp and raw. Someone should put that animal out of its misery, nothing deserved to be driven to sounds like that. Gale knows he is that animal. He swipes at his suddenly-tear soaked cheeks with a rough palm and sits down on the floor hard. 

His phone is in his hand, it’s first instinct to want to call John, hear his teasing voice (it hadn’t been teasing in a long time Gale Cleven don’t you lie). Bucky wouldn’t answer. He knew it would be a day or two before he would get an update on his husband. Not until observation was over, until paperwork was filed and permission was given. The nurse had explained it all through the ringing in Gale’s ears.

“Curt.” Buck says, shocked by the steadiness in his voice even as more tears trail their acidic way down his face. 

“Hey Buck, y’just caught me on break what’s up?” The familiar voice, clipping all it’s ‘T’s  away to nothingness devastates Gale. He lets out a sob with all the violence of vomiting.

“Gale?” 

“Ah fuck Curt, John had a gun.” Gale moans, covering his eyes and trying to breathe. The gun, now tossed carelessly on their bed like a stray shirt. 

Nobody tells him how to inform their friends of what has happened.

“What.” Curts voice is so strangled, so tiny that Gale realizes his fatal error immediately. 

“He’s okay. He’s okay Curt the gun- it went into the wall. He’s at a hospital right now. He’s where he needs to be.” 

Gale had heard that phrase a lot; spoken by people trying to reassure themselves that their loved ones would come home whole and healed. Now he was one of those people whispering the phrase with false confidence.

John needed to be Home. 

Curt devolves into a mess of swearing, punctuated with a passionate “Fffffucking VA!”

“I woke up and he wasn’t next to me. I thought maybe he had gotten out somehow, past the alarms. I’d already gotten my gun out of the house Curt I didn’t think-”

There's muffled voices on the other line, Curt talking to someone else, “- No I’m sick can’t you see? Gotta go Sean sorry. Fuck the client pardon my fucking french I gotta family emergency.” A car door slams, the sound of keys in an ignition. “You didn’t know Buck. It’s not your fault you did exactly what ya should’ve.”

“He had the gun to his chin,” Gale says numbly. 

Is there anyone to tell him how to get that single heart-stopping image out from behind his eyelids? He saw it every time he closed his eyes. 

“Fuck, Gale.” Curt exhales. “He’s okay?” so vulnerable, so sad, needing to double check just in case. 

“He’s in fucking psych ward. I can’t even call him.” 

“Yeah dumb question.” A pause where Gale just tries to breathe, looks up at that hole in the wall. It could be a woodpecker's hole on any tree outside. It was in his home and smelled faintly of gunpowder and terror. “I’m looking up plane tickets right now.” 

“Y’don’t have t-”

“G’fuck yourself, I’m coming.” 

Gale has no strength to argue, he’s got nothing left, really. 

“I almost lost him, Curt.”

“But you didn’t.” Curt still sounds stressed and Gale feels a twinge of guilt for ruining the guy's day just because he wasn’t able to help his own partner. “You did everything right. And you’re going to go to bed, then you’re going to wake up and I’mma be there. And we’ll deal with things together.”

“Together,” he echoes. 

“Get some sleep Buck. I’ll send you a text when my flight lands.” Curt orders before hanging up.

The thought of going into the bedroom; to the bed he shared with John. To have to see that fucking gun again. 

Nobody tells him how to handle that.

Gale falls asleep on the couch instead. 

-*~*-

When he awakes it’s night again and he feels such a violent sense of deja-vu that he has to do a walk-through of the whole house just to make sure that saving John hadn’t actually been a dream. That his body wasn’t lying somewhere with horrifying finality. 

Nobody tells you that maybe your husband's trauma-based decisions might cause a little trauma themselves.

Even though he knows there will be nothing - John's phone kept safely in a plastic bag along with the rest of his personal effects- Gale checks their messages first. Scans them for any sign, any slip that he may have missed that told him what Bucky was planning. ‘Love You’s’ and ‘Be Home Soons’ and ‘Get There Safes’. Bucky had been struggling, but he hadn’t seemed quite that bad yet.

Or maybe Gale just hadn’t wanted to see it. 

There’s a text from Curt showing his seven hour direct flight was only a half hour from landing. 

Exhaustion still claws at Gale as he shuffles out to the truck, clothes rumbled and sweaty from sleep, from stress; from wrestling a fucking firearm from a man determined to end his life and Gale’s in the same action. The truck is too silent. John usually sat to his right, hand on his thigh or the back of his neck; always touching Gale in a way the blonde allowed no other man to do.

He has to pull over to stop himself from hyperventilating.

When he pulls into the pick-up zone at the Airport it’s nearly deserted aside from a short familiar man in a windbreaker and military boots. 

Curt takes one look at his pale face and walks around the nose of the car to the driver's side.

“Budge over.” He says, opening the door and waving an impatient hand at Gale. 

Gale didn’t think he could, felt like his hands were glued to the smooth leather of the wheel. Just twenty-four hours ago he’d driven Bucky to the hospital in this car. He wondered at how quickly he’d gone from seeing the next steps so clearly in front of him to having to remember how to even speak. He was a puppet, his strings cut the moment John had entered the doors of the hospital. Through security guard checkpoints and metal detectors and locked doors. It was like being back in the desert with that level of protective diligence; or perhaps a prison

That can’t be very good for Bucky.

Nobody told him it might have been a good idea to inform the hospital why sometimes the glint of metal in the light made John do a double take.

When Gale still hasn’t moved, Curt lets out a tender sigh and unclips Gale’s seatbelt for him like the other man is a child.

“Come on Cleven, scoot on down the line.” He says gently, gives him a light push.

This is enough for him to move his wooden limbs, shuffle awkwardly over the center console and collapse gracelessly into the passenger seat. Curt hauls himself into the truck with an awkward grunt. He takes a second to maneuver his leg, move the seat upwards and the wheel down, and adjust the mirrors.

Gale sits there, opening and closing his hands. John had sat here last. Cried here not because he was alive and safe like Gale had cried; but for the opposite. 

Nobody told him how to sit in a puddle of his husband’s shed grief. 

“Here,” Curt tosses his phone into Gales lap. “Text Kenny for me will ya? Tell him I got y- got  here safe” 

“Does he know?” 

Curt pulls out of the airport, opens a window and leans his arm out as if he could air out the stuffy melancholy of the truck. “He asked where I was going. I didn’t-”

“John’s gonna hate it.” Gale mumbles “He won’t want anyone to know.” 

“Yeah, well, if he didn’t want people to know, maybe he shoulda woken you up. Shoulda called m-” Curt cuts himself off, presses sturdy boxer’s fingers to his mouth. “Fucking VA.” he curses again.

“Fucking VA.” Gale agrees. And it feels a little good. 

-*~*-

When they arrive back at the house It’s Curt that leads them inside. Curt, who picks up the gun, carefully disassembles it and puts it safely in the lock-box to be gotten rid of later. Curt who makes them a simple dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

They stand at the counter, eating silently. Gale feels wired and too awake, his sleep schedule beyond to fucked. 

He’d have to call out of work tomorrow. Maybe take a short leave. How could he even pretend to be okay for the kids?

“This is- In here right?” Curt’s eyes are jumping around the dark room, searching searching. 

Nobody tells you the shame that curls in one's belly when you have to show your best friend the bullet hole that nearly ruined all their lives. 

Curt puts his hands on his hips, bread crumbs stuck to the corner of his mouth and brow furrowed. Neither of them say much for a long time. Curt surveying and Gale staring a little blankly and replaying the sound of the gunshot over and over in his head.

“Well,” Curt finally drawls, “That’s an easy fix. You got any spackle?” he turns and smiles at Gale, crooked and reassuring, 

Gale thinks he’d like to tell someone about this part. The part where people show up for you.

[dontfuckingbother]

Overanalyze helluva trailer with me:

i.m.p. has to get out of hell (or hide) that's why they move their job to earth (maybe?)

GHOSTBUSTERS MODE ON

why is blitzo waving a vibrator at millie will always be a question

why is fizzy waving a GIANT DICK WILL BE A QUESTION EVEN IF A KNOW A CONTEXT. and we can see wings jewelery in the background??? hmmmmm

dhorks and cherubs work together, not much of a surprise there

Stolas finally gave the crystal to blitzo

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT WAR MACHINE DHORKS CAME UP WITH IT LOOKED LIKE THAT SHIT FROM BIG 6

goetia family reunion WE NEED TO SEE PAIMON HE'S SO GOOD AT DADDYING

"this transactional thing we have, it's not right anymore, it hasn't been (Stolas VA, sit on my face)"

why is blitzo holding an XXL yankee candle will always be a question

traumatised owl(s)

OKAY WE HAVE MAMMON WHICH GIVES ME HOPE WE'LL SEE MORE OFF ASMODEUS AND FIZZMODEUS PLEASE PLEASE PLEAK PLEAK

"i just want someone to care, i want someone to want... ME!" (i want you stolas, don't worry baby, i will make it better shhhhh)

"YOU FUCKS THINK YOU CAN DO THIS EEVERYYYY TIMEEEEE like you can just PLAY WITH OUR FEELINGS BECAUSE WE'RE SMALLER AND NOT AS IMPORTANT!!!!!!!!!"

BLITZ UGLY CRYING (IN HIS MOTHERS ARMS???)

Stolas and Blitzo fight (first neilg gaiman, now vivzo, my death note does have page limit you know!!!!!)

I live for Stola's sarcastic bow to blitz

If I had a nickle every time i saw blitzo ugly crying on his red couch i'd have three nickles which is not much but it's weird it happened thrice

"YOU'RE A DISGRACE'" IS THAT YOU PAIMON MY PAIMON SENSES ARE TINGLING. Is it about him finding out he slept with an imp? Or him being gay in general? Or him divorcing Stella?

Millie having a beef with Blitzo, now that's unexpected

FIZZY AND BLITZO WORKING TOGETHER???? Also why are they standing next to a big heart-mirror-machiney thingy??

"YOU NEVER LOVED MOTHER, AND YOU DON'T LOVE ME, YOU ONLY LOVE HIM"

those are the most beautiful and haunting words i've heard in a while

"I DESTROY EVERYTHING I MAKE EVERYONE'S LIVES WORSE"

Fizzy's rehabilitation period!!!!! Another puzzle! Blitzo's father was with him at the hospital!

BLITZO WHY DID YOU JUST CRUSH MILLIE'S HEAD UP A WALL

"i don't wanna be this way... not forever"( NOT HIM IMAGINING STOLAS WHILE SAYING THAT)

"Thank you Blitz. For making me... SO happy. Even for only a little while" I am not well

Stolas singing on a stage with Verosika and Tex????

WHY DID STOLAS STROKE THIS ROSE LIKE THAT SIR???? SIR????

no fucking way we'll be getting two episodes now, and the other three after fucking october, i will fucking AGHHHHHHHHHHH AIHFIUHAKUSHKDJHAKJSHDKJHAKJHDAKJ

Let's overanalize the names of the episodes:

The full mood - the big party at goetia because of the full moon? Is this the episode when stolas and blitzo break apart??? who knows, i dont

Apology tour - is this the episode with Verosika? Please let Stolas go wild on that stage

Ghostfuckers - okay so in this episode they go work as ghostbusters in that creepy hotel or whatever

Mastermind - big climac with dhorks and cherubs plz

Sinman - Please let it not be a stupid fucking christmas episode, but a full ass redeption arch for blitzo and him reuniting with stolas, if it'll be a fucking cliffhanger like season 1 of OFMD i will fucking i dont know what set myself on fire, thats what will fucking happen fucking god FUUUUUUUCK i swear like a fucking sailor

I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine

I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine

I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine

I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine I am not fine

[youreyesaremyfavoritecolor]

in case his 'friends' are reading this: why the fuck didn't you help him?

it's weird, not being able to take more than one pill without wondering if i'm taking to much. it's weird that i go to sleep with an arm under my head incase i throw up. it's weird i hate to lean my head back for more than a second. it's weird i can't celebrate mother's day or my mom's birthday without thinking of you. it's weird how the only thing i have left of you is a cross, tags, and a flag. you should be here and you aren't. that's weird

[bcolfanfic]

Mollie I’m in desperate need of Curt HC’s from the young vet au!!! If you want!! Please don’t let me annoy you about it!!! <3

these are dedicated to @johnslittlespoon bc i associate curt with them <3

most importantly, he ain’t dead! this is an AU and i make the rules, yay

still from new york, still a little crazy

this is in the 21st century and post don’t ask don’t tell being abolished. but people are still people and a handful still give bucky and gale shit when they pick up on their relationship. curt is protective of them and gets into more than one yelling match and/or brawl coming to their defense

puts himself in charge of making the hype up playlists for the field and takes it super seriously. doesn’t take requests either, everyone just has to trust his judgment.

when he gets his leg blown off by a land mine and goes home he says they aren’t allowed to let anyone else make the playlists, he’ll keep doing it from the states.

but before he leaves when he’s still in the hospital in bagram he gets in his head about how he wasn’t doing anything “noble” when he got hurt and was just in the wrong place at the wrong time

bucky tells him that doesn’t mean anything- that his being here at all was noble and nothing can take that away.

curt says he doesn’t know about that, and sees bucky’s face shift.

they change the topic.

the guys are all bummed to see him go home but bucky is *crushed*. gale sits up with him the first couple nights he’s gone and rubs his back while he cries. he just really misses his buddy 💔

when curt gets back to the states he gets a service dog that’s the most spoiled dog on earth. that’s his baby and he names it some goofy human name like tony soprano.

he keeps in touch with everyone while they’re still over seas. but the first people he sees when they’re back stateside are gale and bucky- flying out to visit once they’re settled in wyoming.

he knew bucky wasn’t doing great, but actually seeing how bad he’s doing in the flesh makes his gut twist. especially when he brushes it off. especially when he can see it in gale’s eyes how worried and exhausted he is.

it comes to a head one night when bucky and gale get into argument and bucky goes from 0-100 in about 60 seconds. curt steps in to intervene, tells bucky to come outside with him and smoke to cool off.

bucky tells him to fuck off and mind his business.

“we don’t need a couples therapist, get the fuck outta’ my god damn house.”

“yeah no can do bucky. not letting you talk to gale like this, or me. get outside. now.”

but bucky is stubborn and just doesn’t move. gale looks near tears and before curt can think better of it he smacks bucky upside the head.

“look at what you’re doing to him- you think this shit is cute? when’s the last time he raised his voice at you off the cuff?”

gale tells him to stop, even if he does appreciate someone else trying to get through to him.

tells him to stop because he knows what’s coming when he sees bucky’s bottom lip shake.

bucky bursts into tears and presses his hands into his eyes- mumbling about being too fucked up for all of this as his chest heaves.

“i got my shit too man, come on, let’s go outside.”

bucky follows him this time and they sit out there for 2 hours talking about the war and the government and PTSD and the VA’s office.

which is apparently just as incompetent in new york.

but bucky can’t help but laugh at one of curt’s gripes with them being that his insurance would cover an a-typical prosthetic, not a peg leg from some guy that manufactures them in his garage upstate.

he needed that laugh.

“i put gale through too much. feel like he regrets getting a marriage certificate the second we came back. not settlin’ down with some girl. not like he’d have a hard time getting one.”

“hey- no way. he loves you. wouldn’t be so bent up seeing you hurting if he didn’t. if he wanted out- he wouldn’t be here. you’re the self destructor, all respect. not buck.”

bucky taps his cig in the ash tray on the patio table.

“when you’d get so smart?”

“gotta compensate for havin’ one less leg with something.”

[mintythecup]

I am beyond fucking pissed.

Anyone who supports qftim:c or praises their acts. Get off of my account right now.

Their fan base is FUCKING TOXIC. not to mention Connie was a groomer. And LIED about everything in order to make other people look bad.

Those people they mentioned

Did not fucking manipulate, lie or guilt trip anyone. I knew those people for a while and I never saw anything wrong with it. I would see it right away but no, there was nothing involved in those situations of those happening

They fucking lied alot, made other people look bad. And who fucking knows, they could be talking shit about me and saying things IVE NEVER DONE. I'm being fr, and I got screen shots about my friend who is a victim.

They lied about them. About the Florida cupsy , about overlee, about the old bendy VA.

The bendy VA was in the hospital at the time so I guess they were feeling pike absolute shit the whole time. I AM NEVER GOING TO SUPPORT THEM AGAIN. and if anyone says otherwise.

I don't care. My mind isn't changing.

Not to mention, I've been ignored, avoided and guilt tripped in that server, i don't have screen shots unfortunately but I was

I vented there a couple times but it was interrupted, ignored or completely noticed by another vent that wasn't there. Qftim:c is a toxic as hell fan base and comic. Owned by problematic creators. Again.

[dankmaths]

god fuckign dammit i cant stop thinking about thefucking hospital scene

just rewatched it and i don't want to spend 5 hours formatting a long unhinged twitter thread so here we are. i am mishmashing the game and anime and manga scenes together in my personal canon blender. p4 spoilers of course

cause like, naoto is the one to suggest they throw namatame into the TV. and kanji's on board with it too. but the one yu has to fight over it, the one yu has to think carefully about and talk down, is fucking yosuke hanamura.

of course everyone has a personal stake in it considering namatame was going around kidnapping everyone, but yosuke specifically...

he phrases it like "we have to stop him before he hurts anyone else," but it seems like a big part of his motive is revenge. saki's kindness meant a lot to him, regardless of how real it was, or selfish his motive is, and it wasn't fair she had to die. so now he's gonna kill namatame. and it doesn't matter if that goes against his morals, or if no one else is willing to do it. he is absolutely dead set on killing namatame (pun intended). the only thing stopping him from doing it is yu.

it's ironic looking back. because like yosuke, namatame also lost someone important to him, and is trying to use his power to do what he thinks is right in his own way... just like yosuke wanted to be a hero, namatame wanted to be a savior, but yosuke is too blinded by rage in the moment to see that. the big difference is who got to them first. yosuke's had yu with him the whole time to keep him grounded, and eventually, the whole investigation team- namatame got adachi.

(side note- i more often think about yosuke+adachi parallels; how they're both bored with everything, but yosuke has the team and adachi pushes everyone away, but that's not really relevant rn lol)

there's also the scene where yu goes to confront the true killer alone, and yosuke's waiting outside when he comes back. and at that point he's not angry anymore, just… disappointed. (feelsbadman) but i don't think it's because he changed his mind.

after you calm him down in the hospital, he's STILL thinking about doing it:

(another side note- the va in this scene is top notch. this line gave me chills rewatching it. first time i saw the hospital scene i was getting a little scared lol)

and after learning the true killer's identity he fucking hates adachi. even after defeating him he never really forgives him. he still gets pissed and tries to attack adachi when he shows up unexpectedly in ultimax:

yosuke was 100% willing to kill someone, and he'd 100% do it again if his partner gave the okay. but as much as he hates adachi, he understands that he's important to yu, enough to know yu would break their promise and sneak into the TV alone. and despite how he might feel, he doesn't want yu to lose someone important to him too.

there's also the scene in the anime after the hospital, where after yu tries to send everyone home promising he'll be okay, yosuke comes back to comfort him. he's still upset, but he's deferring to yu's leadership and more importantly, making sure that his partner is okay comes first.

that's why i think it's great the anime puts the fist fight after the hospital scene. cause he spends his whole social link struggling with his grief and insecurity and jealousy; and then, in december, with tensions running high and these nasty revelations about himself and awful feelings swirling inside, it all finally comes to a head. and he tries to get it all out in the only way he knows how: two dudes beating the shit out of each other. Thats True Love Babey.

not much of a point to all this, except that i really love yosuke's character (and souyo) lol. something is wrong with him. I Know What He Is. he's like the team mood maker and he's always joking around (and i think golden especially looooves to play him up for comic relief), but perhaps the moments when he lets the veneer slip are the moments where he shines the most.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery

warnings: swearing, Vietnam War, ableism

AN: I'm going to try to write post-war Dan. Please please please let me know if I do something wrong and how I can do this better. If I screw this up, LET ME KNOW. I want to do this right and can't do that unless someone lets me know I fucked up and what I can do better.

When I had gotten the letter that Dan was coming home, I had been ecstatic. They hadn't told me what happened to him or why he was getting a medical discharge. It honestly didn't matter that much to me since he had been preparing me to move on when I got the letter. The letter that was supposed to tell me he had been killed in action. Instead I got a letter that said he was wounded in action and would be at the evac hospital in Saigon before coming home. He had written me one letter, letting me know that he wasn't the same man who had gone off to war and if I wasn't there to meet him he would understand. As I scanned the men getting off the plane, I couldn't help but think how wrong he was.

"Yeah yeah yeah." I turned when I heard Dan's voice to see him waving off a flight attendant who was saluting him. "You can go now. Thanks."

"We're supposed to wait with you for whoever..." the attendant tried again.

“ain’t nobody coming for me. I’m fine on my own.” Dan cut them off. He angrily glared at the attendant until they left. That was when I realized he was in a wheelchair. Dan had reached down to wheel himself away when he looked up. I smiled at him and waved.

“hi Dan.” I said. He stared at me in shock.

“(Y/N).” He breathed out. Dan settled his hands in his lap as I walked over. I sat down next to him and reached over to take his hand. He pulled them out of my reach and I nodded. “You…you shouldn’t have come. I told you…”

“you weren’t the same man that had left. Yeah I know that.” I finished. “You also gave me a choice. You said if I wasn’t here you’d understand. But I am here. I’m not leaving you. You’re still Dan Taylor to me.” Dan frowned at me before slowly reaching over and taking my hand.

“The dumbass fucked with my destiny.” Dan muttered. He wouldn’t meet my eye and I frowned. “Private Gump. Long story.” He shook his head and squeezed my hand. “I am glad you’re here. I just…”

“yeah. I get it.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “But let’s get out of here yeah?” Dan nodded as he gave me a small smile. “Is it alright if I…?” I trailed off and motioned to the wheelchair. Dan sighed and nodded.

“Yeah.” He muttered. “I’ll figure it out eventually but go ahead. It’ll be faster anyway. Getting onto and off the plane…”

“if it’s going to piss me off, don’t.” I said. Dan looked at me over his shoulder as I started to push him through the airport.

“Huh.” He huffed and turned back around. “Anyway… I have physical therapy at the VA in a couple days. Would you…”

“I can drive you there if you want.” I said. “You’ll have to get me directions though. I didn’t even know there was one close by.”

“Neither did I.” Dan said. “I shouldn’t…” someone cut in front of us and turned to flip Dan off as he tripped. I flipped him back off at the same time Dan did. “Can’t you see I’m walking here?” Dan scoffed. “Asshole.”

“I swear people get worse and worse all the time.” I muttered, realizing this was going to become common place. I would be damned if Dan got used to it. “So this private Gump, why are you so pissed off at him?”

“you mean aside from saving my life?” Dan shot back. I gently pushed his head and he turned to look at me in surprise. “Alright. Alright. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a good kid. He was just going what his friend was telling him to do anyway. Run away.” Dan paused for a second. “And trying not to be separated from the other private he came in with. He kept going to back to find him and…” Dan hung his head. “Gump found everyone else and private blue last. He’s too good a person to leave anyone to die.”

“I’ll have to thank this private Gump.” I said. Leaning forward, I pressed a kiss to the top of Dan’s head. “He got you back to me.” Dan reached up and squeezed my hand.

“Maybe one day.” Dan assured me. “I already know you’ll get along with him. Probably too well.”

“You going to be alright outside while I go get the car?” I asked Dan as we grabbed his bag.

“yeah.” Dan said, pulling the bag into his lap. “You know me, I can give anyone a piece of my mind.” I nodded and got him situated by the entrance while I went to grab the car.

“I’ll be right back.” I promised and kissed his cheek. Dan cupped my cheek before smiling at me.

“thank you.” He whispered, drawing my lips to his. I hummed against his lips and pulled back. I smiled at him before running off to grab the car. When I pulled back up, Dan was screaming at a random guy who was standing awful close to him.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Blocking the fucking door!” The guy yelled. Dan flipped him off.

“fuck you asshole!” Dan yelled back. “Not like I’ve got much space to move for your sorry ass.” I raised an eyebrow and got out of the car.

“then let someone move you! Instead of screaming at them!” Dan made as if he was going to lunge at the guy. He jumped back and dan started laughing.

“I’m a fucking vet fuckwad.” Dan growled. “If you or anyone else touches me or this car, then you have to fuck with me.” I stepped up and put a hand on dans shoulder.

“and me.” I added. The guy looked up at me.

“You gonna let him talk to me like that?” He asked. I nodded.

“yeah. I am. Like he said. He’s a veteran. Just got back in country.” I said with a shrug. “He has a right to stand up for himself. In fact he fought for that right. So I’m gonna let him do that.”

“stand up.” The guy laughed. “That’s rich.” My face fell and I looked at Dan. He motioned towards the guy with both hands.

“I’ve been dealing with this since you left.” He explained. I nodded.

“I mean I knew people were gonna be assholes but I mean…” I shook my head.

“Hey he’s the asshole. Vietnamese raping, baby killer. You deserve…” he didn’t finish his sentence when I hit him.

“shut your fucking mouth.” I hissed. “You have no idea what’s going on over there. So keep your fucking mouth shut.” The guy held his cheek and there was a cheer that went up. I blushed as I turned back towards Dan. “Uh…” I looked around and smiled nervously. “Wanna go before the cops show up?” Dan nodded with a laugh.

“yeah.” He said. “Let’s go you little spitfire.” I blushed deeper as I pushed him to the car and stood back while he got himself into the passenger seat. I folded up his chair and put it in the trunk before getting in and driving off.

[trans-jon-rights]

Aight. Here we go for TMAGP time.

SPOILER WARNING FOR TMAGP 16

HDUGKGUDFZHHLKNVX HE DID NOT JUST 'HELLO JON US'

Aight, CAT1RB here we go, gonna update the list. 'Antisocial' though, not sure what to expect. The Lonely maybe. Or maybe how antisocial it might be to gurgle into a tape recorder in front of a girl.

Poor Alice, is it about the encounter ?

*checks date* it happens ten days after the Mowbray case

I'm sorry, she DIED ??? And the recorder disappeared ? Hm.

Chester !! So, how are the Horrors ?

Oh, a social media. Welp, the title makes sense now. We got an influencer Avatar. That's the second one, I bet they're buddies or smt.

OH INK5OUL !!! IS IT THEIR VOICE ?? ITS THEM !!!

'So as I'm getting Marked' hm. Hm. HM.

Okay so the girl in episode 2 didn't lie, it definitely sounds painful.

'Ink5oul drama' oooh what did they do. Is it about the grave robbing ?

Oh, yeah, Alex, you perfectly mastered the influencer discourse in the script, and Ki Griffin (VA) your voice is perfect for this. Omg I really feel like I'm listening to a Tiktok rant.

DIG.

It's always about the grave robbing innit.

Oh no :( they aren't good :(((

WAIT ARE THAT HOSPITAL SOUNDS ????

'Something wrong with my heart' shit they did something with the tattoo

FUCK NO I DONT WANT THEM TO DIE.

WAIT DID THE TATTOO JUST ???? DID THAT SOUND ?????? WTF ??

Tea and coffee trope let's go.

Lena hiii

Oh stop being mean and wait that was a stupid thing I agree.

Yess Gwen girlboss :)

Final Comments :

I'm less sure it happened ten days after last episode. What's sure is that the case had been assessed on the 15th, but Alice's encounter likely happened many days later, even later than Luke's concert. The concert was said to happen 'tomorrow', and I don't think Alice came back to the office traumatised days after her encounter.

For the CAT1RB, still nothing new, it's about Ink5oul, and it doesn't clash with the theory so I'm rolling with it (hah). I think rank B is for Avatars only, which would have some pretty sick implications about Mr Bonzo.

I'm not sure what Ink5oul did with the victim's heart, but I think I want to leave it like that, because whatever it is, the fleshy sounds are more terrifying than anything else.

This statement makes me think of The Flesh, because of, y’know, tattoo on skin, plus the SFX at the end, but also Lonely, with the whole social media isolation thing. Plus obv the Buried because DIG. Maybe reminds me of that one TMA statement where a thing comes out of a guy's shoulder (MAG 194).

I wonder if we will get to hear some of Gwen's training by Lena tho.

On other notes, I think Alex definitely needs to spend less time on the Internet because seriously. This script was perfect, but it's very disturbing that he was the one to write it. I'm way younger and I have no idea what are these words.

[ceoandslutler]

have you heard kuro dubbed in any language other than english? or in any other asian language other than korean or chinese? well i found a persian one and it's so fucking bad that it's hilarious.

(also stay tuned to find out why the persian dub of kuroshitsuji being so bad has directly to do with anti-shipping sentiment and puritanism)

i would like to politely invite anyone who's ethnically from/lives in/speaks the language of a country with an ultraconservative government to contribute to this post if they know a dub of kuro (fandub or licenced by a company) in their language to contribute to this post (agree or disagree that policing media causes a drop in its quality and accessibility in other countries) but let's keep it civil. if you are not from a country like this but have something to say, feel free to add anything on, the conversation is open to all :)

so i just heard the homemade persian dub of kuro's first ep made by some young people who sound like they're in uni (probs 18-23 yr olds), tears have been flowing from my eyes for the past 20 mins

(link under the cut)

to save time, go watch the bits i linked below or just laugh at the whole thing (full link) but don't blame these kids for being awful at this or just skip to the end of the post. as i said, there is a reason this dub is so bad and no official dub exists and it has to do with... anti subculture?!?*

but first, the funny stuff

ciel's voice is awful but just listen to the goofy dub laugh seb's va did at the start I'M FUCKING SOBBING (00:15-00:35), and also not ciel's va MOANING after the op song (2:35) ??? i REPEAT the woman who VA'd ciel was fucking MOANING, the YAWN was the worst part, dub team shotacons???

also SHEEL FANTOMHAYO?? THE KID'S NAME WAS DUBBED AS SHEEL FANTOMHAYO. (refer to 6:30 in the video linked)

now this isn't because we lack a 's' in our language (my alias is literally a persian name meaning shadow aka ✦sayé✦), we've just transliterated it as shiyel, but SHEEL???

the other guy calls him fantomhayo too (8:25) and the fantomhayo condition strikes again with sebastian's va talking about the fantomhayo hospitality at 12:40 ish in the video.

this is particularly bizarre because we do have a V in persian, please guys, use it!

please note: i have nothing but good things to say about finny's va... the way the va says "sebaastiyaan!" (12:43) is so cute <3

at 13:00, we get this golden crumb "meyrin... oh meyrin" from this college aged dude doing sebastian (who is SO lost) then he proceeded to say in persian "i beg you, ON MY LIFE, just pour the fucking wine in the glass and walk away" save me from the bad dub, ono daisuke, save me...

the furnace scene is just gold (18:50 onward is comical, the scream at the end... priceless), these people deserve an award, im tempted to do subs on this whole video because the translation is so wrong yet absolutely too hilarious to leave untranslated. also, i like how you can hear other people talking in the background constantly, they didn't even bother finding a quiet room 😭😭

finally i translated some of the best comments under the vid (everyone fuckin hated it 😭)

..tldr: irani/persian speaking netizens are brutal. but also, it shows that persian speakers are used to quality dubbing, otherwise this wouldn't be so offensive. if we were used to badly done dubs, the comments wouldn't look like this. many famous kdramas and jdramas and indian/turkish films have been dubbed. animated movies e.g. disney films and most commonly 70-80s anime have huge followings in iran and were dubbed extraordinarily well. in fact, in iran, many of our own films are dubbed especially if the original footage did not capture the audio well enough/the director was unhappy with the actor's delivery and it's usually hard to tell if this has happened because it's done very well. shockingly, dub is more popular than sub. so why does kuro not have an official dub? why is the fandub so bad???

PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING

*IMPORTANT: an anime like this is not allowed to be legally dubbed by studios in iran because iran is under an islamic theocracy (the islamic republic) and all media that promotes devil worshipping and blasphemy is banned, homosexuality is too (anyone can tell kuro has homoerotic undertones, the homophobic heads of media would never let this queer gothic romance through). oh and trans people are "allowed" on TV but only if they're not vulgar/explicit (not even then, half the time) & grelle would not make it into the anime AT ALL. even if we ignore all the devil worshipping and queerness, sex is banned too (as well as lewd appearances of women), so season 1/2 & boc would never make it. oh and alcohol, bom would never make it. oh and also, women's empowerment is banned too so boa would never make it. when will it end? will someday everything be banned? sure looks like it. but isn't this what anti shippers want? i mean kuro IS problematic media, it never condemns people for having sex or partaking in drinks, not even murder is condemned.

moving on, the subtitled version of the episodes are very well done for what they are but it's still not good, you won't understand what's going on properly. meanings are lost. a dub is much more accessible to those who can't read subs and generally a necessary option. people NEED dubs. don't get me wrong, the iranian fansub team are dedicated however subs are much easier for fans to do than dubbing. as you heard, kuro's persian fandub was frankly terrible. these kids didn't even know how to pronounce ciel's name and it's NOT because of the language barrier, my theory is that because the internet access is so limited, they had to figure out how to pronounce ciel's name purely from the japanese original or another lang dub and had no access to the eng dub. as you can see, they are not able to follow the mouth movements either (don't have editing software); i assume the internet restrictions targeted streaming platforms w the dub on it (because the government wants to CONTROL what media people consume) so they had to figure everything out from japanese or another language, (they probably used another fandub to translate since the ed seems to credit the eng vas while they can never be heard in the bg) which is not easy. unfortunately english is taught in schools around the world not japanese so the dubbers' translation was quite honestly terrible- after all, they had no official script to base their translation off. BUT if a professional dubbing studio (e.g. iran's glory entertainment) got their hands on kuro, it'd probably be dubbed very well. if mehrdad raissi, CEO of glory, was on for seb's role, it would be glorious (pun intended). if he did flynn rider well, he can do sebs well too. but that studio often has their shows played on state televisions and the last thing they want is to get blacklisted and arrested for dubbing the gay demon butler anime. please do not take this fandub as representing all persian-language dubs. and remember, kuro itself is banned for being problematic media in counties like iran... no sebaciel needed (although anyone can definitely see the gay undertones to the story from a cover alone).

if you want to ban people from shipping things or making fan works that are problematic... soon you'll have to get rid of problematic media in general. and already, antis sound like the media people in charge under a dictatorship. "violence is okay, murder is okay but s-sex?!? women in scandalous clothing!!! oh good heavens..!" this is the kind of mindset which leads people down the rabbit hole of "this is problematic!! let's ban it!!!" until there's nothing left, a slippery slope. imagine this was the english dub of kuro. imagine it was banned in western countries and a team of young'uns had to gang up and make their own dub using only the japanese raws. imagine problematic media like kuro wasn't picked up the west because it's "shota" and that's bad. we'd be stuck looking at the same sanitised stuff and if we wanted to watch kuro, our options would be trash dubs (no offense) like this one. pretty scary to think this could be the state of the english dub if puritanism was as bad here as it is in countries like iran. policing media and deciding what creators should or shouldn't create will take you to the side of theocratic dictatorships and you will fall into alt right puritan lunacy, fanpoll are about as woke as a dictatorship, remember that.

don't sound like this:

NEVER sound like this.

it is clear that conditional freedom is no freedom at all. there should be zero criteria to the media we want to create, no religion or purity culture to it. just be media literate. let nobody control what you want to create or consume! (or you'll end up in a world where the media that is deemed "problematic" is maintained but only through underground circles, losing quality and accessibility day by day, until these channels are shut down too and only a sanitised husk of options for media consumption remain)