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uomo-accattivante · 3 years ago

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Great article about Paul Schrader’s The Card Counter - a poker movie that’s not really a poker movie...

Some filmmakers write a hit movie and spend the ensuing years trying to escape its shadow. Paul Schrader never flinched. Forty-five years after his “Taxi Driver” script put him on the map, the writer-director has developed a body of work loaded with alienated anti-heroes compelled to violent and reckless extremes for the sake of a higher calling.

That includes “The Card Counter,” in which Oscar Isaac plays guilt-stricken Abu Ghraib vet William Tell, a man with a gambling addiction compelled to help the revenge-seeking son (Tye Sheridan) of a former colleague. Taking justice into his own hands, Isaac’s William Tell slithers through the Vegas strip in search of questionable salvation, not unlike a certain Vietnam vet named Travis Bickle did from the driver’s seat. As if to cement the comparisons, “The Card Counter” features Martin Scorsese as an executive producer, marking the first time the two men share a credit since 1999’s “Bringing Out the Dead.”

For Schrader, “Taxi Driver” comparisons are inevitable in all his work. “My tendency is to look for interesting occupational metaphors,” Schrader said in a recent interview. “‘Taxi Driver�� hit the bull’s eye of the zeitgeist and it doesn’t die. There’s no way I could’ve planned for that, but it does inform the stories I tell.”

At 75, Schrader continues to churn out movies much like his compatriot Scorsese, albeit on a much smaller scale. “The Card Counter” is the latest illustration of the secularized Christian dogma percolating through his work. “Our society doesn’t like to take responsibility for anything,” he said. “But I come from a culture where you’re responsible for everything. You come into the world soaked with guilt and you just get guiltier.” In his own prickly fashion, Schrader makes movies steeped in empathy for lost souls in search of redemption despite the daunting odds. “We’re all certainly capable of forgiveness,” he said, and chuckled. “Anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

The “Taxi Driver” dilemma looms large in nearly all of Schrader’s work, from the dazzling high-stakes activism of “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” all the way through Ethan Hawke’s eco-conscious priest in “First Reformed.” While the latter, Oscar-nominated effort brought Schrader new fans, “The Card Counter” is an even more precise distillation of his aesthetic — a moody, philosophical drama about the vanity of the personal crusade.

Schrader, who has labeled his homegrown character studies as “man in the room” dramas, embraces the parallels as usual. “There is this kind of myth that the taxi driver was this friendly, joking kind of guy who was a character actor in movies,” he said. “But the reality is that it’s a very lonely job, and you’re trapped in a box for 60 hours a week.” He saw the same logic with gambling, a wayward profession generally depicted in the movies in the context of escapist romps, rather than the somber rituals that afflict most players. “I thought about the essence of playing cards every day, or sitting in front of a slot machine. It’s kind of zombie-like,” Schrader said. “You see commercials of people in casinos laughing. But it’s a pretty glum place. Today with slots you don’t even have to pull the lever. You just sit there and let the numbers roll.”

The gambling figure led Schrader to the bigger picture of his character’s conundrum. “I was wondering why someone would choose to live in that sort of purgatory,” he said. “He doesn’t want to be alive, but he can’t really be dead, either. What could cause that? It can’t be a simple crime, murder, or a family dispute. It has to be something unforgivable. And that was Abu Ghraib.”

After the fallout of that debacle, William did time in a military prison, and reenters society before the movie begins. That was a world the filmmaker wanted to understand in clearer terms. Though Schrader has received blowback for his controversial Facebook posts in the past, in this case, the platform was an asset: He used it to track down soldiers who had done time in the United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, the only military prison in the U.S., to better understand the initial claustrophobic world that Tell endures, as well as the conflict between the justice he’s received and what he deserves. “This man has been punished by his government, set free, and paid his due, but he doesn’t feel that,” Schrader said. “What does he do then? How does he fill his time? That’s how it all began.”

Schrader himself toyed with gambling when he lived in Los Angeles early in his career, but soon gave it up. “I very quickly realized I was only interested in gambling if it was really dangerous and I didn’t want to expose myself to that kind of danger,” he said. Years later, though, the experience helped inform his story. “There is this whole fantasy of gambling movies from ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ to ‘California Split,’” Schrader said. “But poker is all about waiting. People will play 10 to 12 hours a day and two to three times a day, a hand will happen where two players both have chips. Now you’ve got a face-off. But that doesn’t happen very often. Most guys who are there are running the numbers, the probability.”

He envisioned “The Card Counter” as a repudiation of the traditional poker movie, which builds to the giddy release of a final tournament. When that moment arrives in the movie, Schrader takes the movie in a bleak, shocking new direction. “It’s not really a poker movie — that’s a red herring,” he said.

William is immersed in his casino journey when he encounters Cirk (Sheridan), the crazy-eyed son of another Abu Ghraib soldier who committed suicide. Cirk blames the soldiers’ former commander (Willem Dafoe), and hopes to loop William into the plan. Instead, the older man decides to take Cirk under his wing to talk him out of the act, which doesn’t prove so easy. In the process, the gambler forms a curious bond with La Linda (Tiffany Haddish), a gambling agent and pimp whose icy, relentless drive to make the most out of the poker circuit brings William some measure of companionship on his wayward journey.

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It should come as no surprise that the “Girls Trip” breakout is nearly unrecognizable in the role of the calculated La Linda, which is also a distinctly Schraderish touch: From his work with Richard Pryor in 1978’s “Blue Collar” all the way through Cedric the Entertainer’s supporting turn in “First Reformed,” Schrader has made a habit of seeking out comedic actors willing to play against type. That’s partly opportunistic on his part. “They’re eager to do it because they want to expand their palette, so you can get them for a price,” Schrader said, chuckling again. “That’s necessary, given the kind of films I make.” But that’s not all: “They will always find a way to be interesting, even when they’re not getting a laugh.”

Which is not to say that the process comes easily to them. Haddish recently told the New York Times that Schrader had to coach her out of speaking in a comedic sing-song. The filmmaker put it in blunter terms. “On the first reading of the script we had, frankly, she wasn’t very good,” he said. “I told her to go back and read every single line without emotion. Then I said, ‘You’re not going to do that in front of the camera, but you can’t hit every line either. So let’s pick five or six lines you can hit where you get a smile or reaction.’ Quickly she got that it was a different rhythm.”

As for Isaac, whose disquieting turn suggests a maniac lingering just beneath the surface, Schrader once again turned to metaphor. “I told him to imagine himself on a rocky coast in the ocean,” Schrader said. “Waves are going to come up and get you all day every day. They’re going to try to batter you. Let them. The waves will go away. You’ll still be there. Don’t compete. In the end, the rocks will win. You have to learn to trust that the way these things are put together has more power than the individual movement.”

William’s routine includes an odd ritual in which he covers all the furniture in his various Vegas hotel rooms with white paper. While the motivation is never explained, Schrader said it stemmed from an experience with production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti on the set of 1982’s “Cat People,” when Schrader realized the man was doing the same thing. “He said, quite simply, ‘I have to live here surrounded by these ugly hotel furnishings,’” Schrader recalled. The concept inspired the new movie’s most compelling visual motif. “Casinos are very ugly places. There are no exceptions,” Schrader said. “Often you aspire to finding pockets of beauty and there weren’t really any here except the only place he could control, which was his hotel rooms, where he could privatize his visions. I came up with this ritual for him to control those visuals.”

At a certain point, Schrader himself couldn’t control the visuals of “The Card Counter” for more prosaic reasons: After an extra tested positive for COVID-19, the production shut down last March, with five days of shooting left, and couldn’t resume until July. Though Schrader initially took to Facebook to fume at his producers, the pause eventually opened up an opportunity to tweak his vision. “I edited the film and put in placeholders for the five or six scenes of consequence that I hadn’t shot,” he said. “I didn’t have a fully finished film but I could screen it for people. Normally you only get that privilege if you have a big-budget film and you’re allowed reshoots.” The early audience included Scorsese, who provided a crucial note. “I asked Marty, ‘What am I missing?’ He said to me that the relationship with Tiffany and Oscar was too thin. So I rewrote those scenes.”

Schrader asked Scorsese to take on the executive producer credit as a favor. “I said, ‘Marty, wouldn’t it be nice to share a card again? I thought it would help sell the film but it would also be a cool thing to do after all these years,’” Schrader said. “Then a couple of weeks later his agent called wanting to work out a deal. What deal? I asked Marty and he said yes. That’s the deal!” Now, the pair are trying to collaborate on a new long-form TV series based on the Bible, though the timing has been delayed by production on Scorsese’s upcoming “Killers of the Flower Moon.”

In the meantime, Schrader has been mulling over the way “Taxi Driver” not only continues to inform his storytelling but the world at large. “Hardly a week goes by that I don’t notice or hear some reference to it,” he said. “But I don’t know how you’d tell such a story today. A number of writers have tried and I don’t think they’ve succeeded because it has to come out of a certain place and time. We have plenty of these incels around, but they’re not as original or revealing as they were 45 years ago when that character came on the scene. I wouldn’t know how to write about it.”

Instead, his next project is a love triangle called “Master Gardener,” which he hopes to shoot in Louisiana before the end of the year. He has several other potential scripts ready to go after that. And while he has expressed trepidation about the future of cinema in the past, he’s not convinced that audiences have given up on it yet. He recalled a conversation he had with Cedric the Entertainer when “First Reformed” made the rounds. “He said off-handedly to me, ‘You know, I didn’t realize there were so many people who liked serious movies,’” Schrader said, and chuckled once more. “Well, yeah, there are.”

“The Card Counter” premieres next week at the Venice Film Festival. Focus Features releases on September 10, 2021.

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#oscar isaac #the card counter #paul schrader #martin scorsese #tiffany haddish #tye sheridan #willem dafoe #taxi driver #master gardener #indiewire

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suituuup · 4 years ago

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pieces - chapter fifteen

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rating: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

Beca had never felt blood-running cold panic as she did when she saw the blood on Chloe’s hand. She tried to remain level-headed for the sake of taking Chloe safely to the hospital, white-knuckling the steering wheel as she drove, all the while talking with Dr. Harris through her car Bluetooth system to let her know what was going on.

A nurse was waiting by the ER entrance with a wheelchair, and they rode up to the obstetric floor, the silence in the elevator deafening. They were led to an exam room and Chloe was asked to change into a gown, being given a pad and disposable underwear, which Beca helped her put on.

The bleeding wasn’t as bad, but that didn’t mean it lessened her worry. If Chloe lost the baby… Beca wasn’t sure she would come back from it.

“Hello Chloe,” Dr. Harris greeted as she came in a couple of minutes later, casting them a soft smile and a nod. She rolled the ultrasound machine closer. “Let’s take a look. Anymore cramping since we were on the phone?”

“No, just those two times,” Chloe answered, reaching for Beca’s hand as she lifted up her gown for the doctor to apply the gel.

Beca watched Dr. Harris like a hawk as she focused on the screen, looking out for any hint in her features that could indicate something was wrong. After what felt like the longest minute of Beca’s life, the doctor finally spoke.

“The ultrasound looks normal Chloe, no evidence of placental abruption, but I’d like to run some bloodwork to be sure,” she explained, glancing at Chloe as she lifted the wand and set it aside. “We’ll monitor you and the baby closely until we get the results, alright?”

Placental abruption. Beca had read about that in the baby book, but she couldn’t remember how serious of a condition it was. She nonetheless puffed out a breath as the doctor didn’t look too alarmed, and squeezed Chloe’s hand.

Chloe nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

A nurse came by shortly after to strap a band around Chloe’s belly, which tracked the fetal heart rate. The steady beeping sound coming from the machine further allowed Beca to relax, and she remained by Chloe’s side as the nurse collected a few samples of her blood to be sent out to the lab.

As the nurse departed, Beca let go of Chloe’s hand to tuck a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Do you want anything to drink or eat?”

Chloe shook her head. “No. I’m okay.” Her lips curved into a small smile. “Thanks, though. You should sit down, I think we’re going to be here for a little while.”

Nodding, Beca glanced behind her and grabbed a stool tucked in the corner, reaching for Chloe’s hand as she sat down. “Should I call your parents?”

“No, not yet. There’s no point in worrying them before we know more.”

“You’re right,” Beca murmured, nodding once more.

Silence descended upon them, save for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Beca rubbed Chloe’s knuckles back and forth, hoping the movement was somewhat soothing.

Dr. Harris came by ten minutes later and checked the numbers. “I’m still waiting on the lab results, but the heart rate’s good. I’ll come back to check on you in half-an-hour.”

“Thanks, doc,” Beca said before she walked out, casting her a grateful nod. She turned back to Chloe. “I’m going to get myself something to drink, okay? Sure you don’t want anything?”

“Maybe some sparkling water?”

Beca smiled. “You got it.”

The vending machine was just down the hall, and Beca got herself a coke and Chloe’s water, heading back to the room a mere minute after she’d left.

“One sparkling water,” she said, setting it on the bedside table.

“Thank y--” The rest of Chloe’s sentence was cut off by a sharp cry as she doubled over, and Beca’s heart lurched to her throat when the beeping on the monitor increased.

She rushed to the open door, nearly colliding with a nurse coming in. “We need some help, the heartbeat, it--”

“I’m paging Dr. Harris,” the nurse interrupted as she read the monitor, then checked under the blanket, revealing a large pool of blood.

Beca paled, her eyes zeroing on the amount seeping into the sheet while Chloe curled up in pain.

“What’s going on?” Dr. Harris asked as she strode in.

“Gush of blood, heart rate’s dropping,” the nurse told her urgently as she kept her eyes on the monitor. “Now in the 60’s.”

“We’re going to the OR,” Dr. Harris announced as she clicked the bed railing into place. “Chloe, it looks like your placenta has abrupted and your baby isn’t getting enough oxygen. I need to perform an emergency c-section.”

More nurses rushed in, and Beca didn’t know where to stand as they bustled around her. She jumped out of the way when they pushed the gurney towards the door.

“Bec,” Chloe cried, fear flashing in her gaze as she was rolled away. Beca snapped out of her daze and grabbed her hand, walking alongside the gurney.

As much as she wanted to, Beca couldn’t tell her everything was going to be okay, instead of saying the only thing she was sure of. “I’m here, Chlo.”

They reached the flapping doors which read OR in big letters, and one of the nurses stopped Beca from going further. “You need to get suited up first, honey. Follow me.”

Beca swallowed and nodded, her shaky legs somehow managing to carry her to a room on the right. “Shit, I forgot-- she can’t have any morphine.”

Chloe had told her that a few weeks ago when they talked about possible complications during labor.

“The doctor probably knows, but I’ll go tell her right away.”

Before the nurse left, she gave Beca a pair of scrubs, a hair cap, mask, and booties to put over her shoes. Beca slipped everything on, and then, she waited.

She paced up and down the room, her hands wringing together as she tried to focus on her breathing and not the many terrifying scenarios popping up inside her brain. The nurse finally came to get her after what felt like an hour when it was probably just ten minutes and led her to the OR through a side door.

Chloe laid on a different bed in the center of the room, a sheet blocking her view from the chest down. An oxygen mask had been placed over her mouth and nose, and she turned her head when Beca approached, tears swimming in her eyes.

Various medical staff buzzed around the crowded room, cleaning, shaving, sterilizing, but Beca chose to focus on Chloe because that was her only job here. Being there for her, during what was probably the scariest experience of her life so far. She sat on the stool provided and took her hand, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of it.

“I’m shaking all over,” Chloe’s voice wavered as she spoke.

“That’s normal, sweetie,” a nurse let her know as she stopped by her. She patted Chloe’s shoulder, the crinkling at the corners of her kind eyes indicating she was smiling beneath her mask. “It’s just the anesthesia working.”

It was another five minutes or so before the procedure started. Beca remained wholly focused on Chloe, one hand clasped around hers while the other rhythmically stroked her hair, and she spent the next ten minutes murmuring sweet nothings to her while the doctor and nurses worked to get Bean out.

“Here we go.” Dr. Harris’ voice caught Beca’s attention, and she pushed to her feet to see her take the baby out and hand her to another doctor standing nearby. “Baby’s out, Chloe.”

“Is she okay?? Why isn’t she crying?” Chloe stammered, twisting her head to look at Beca. “Bec, tell me what’s going on,” she pleaded, tears seeping out of her eyes and running down her temples.

Truth was, Beca wasn’t sure what was going on. A team of three people was working around the incubator, and the man was talking about a tube. She watched as he inserted a tube down Bean’s throat, attaching a bag to it. It was a mere ten seconds before they rolled the incubator away and out of the room.

That same nurse popped in on Chloe’s other side. “Your baby isn’t breathing on her own, so they had to intubate, Chloe. She’s being taken to the NICU.”

A sob wrenched itself from Chloe’s throat, and Beca’s heart fell through her stomach as she once again felt absolutely powerless and unable to find the right words.

Chloe’s head rolled back towards her. “Go with her, please,” she croaked out.

Beca hesitated, as she didn’t want Chloe to be on her own either.

“I don’t want her to be alone,” Chloe added, squeezing her hand. “Please.”

“Okay,” Beca agreed with a nod. She bent down and pressed a kiss to Chloe’s forehead despite the mask on her face. “I’ll be back soon.”

She followed the nurse out of the room, her legs feeling even weaker than before. “31 weeks is good, right?” She blurted out as they walked down the hall, needing some sort of reassurance before she lost it altogether. “The odds of surviving… they’re high at this stage, right?”

“95%, yes. They’re running tests as we speak to assess her health and decide what treatment she might need if she does.”

Beca nodded, sucking in a deep breath. They reached the NICU waiting area shortly after. “It might be a while before a nurse comes to get you, you can dispose of your scrubs in the bin over there and have a seat.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Beca took off her scrubs, cap, and mask, then took a seat, her knee bouncing up and down as she waited. It was probably another hour before someone came to get her, just as Beca was getting stir-crazy.

“Are you baby Beale’s other mom?” The middle-aged woman clad in dark purple scrubs asked.

“Um, no, the guardian,” she stated awkwardly as she stood, clearing her throat. “The mom’s next of kin.”

The doctor nodded. “I’m Dr. Miller, the attending physician. The baby is stable as we speak. Her brain scan came back clear and her heart is strong and steady, showing no defect. She however can’t breathe on her own because her lungs haven��t developed enough, and her birth weight is very low. This is our main concern as of now. She’s being fed with a tube, and how well she fares over the next week will depend on her ability to gain weight.”

Beca’s throat constricted and she swallowed thickly as she nodded her head, processing the information. Bean wasn’t out of the woods, and the next week would be crucial.

“Am I allowed to see her?”

“Of course.” The doctor turned and hit a button to open the doors, and they stepped inside an airlock with a large sink. “You have bacterial soap here, wash your hands and forearms for thirty seconds, then rinse and dry with those clean towels over there. A nurse will come to get you in a minute.”

“Thanks.”

Once the doctor had left, Beca did as instructed, meticulously washing her hands, under her nails and up to her elbows, then rinsed the soap off and dried her skin with the towels provided.

She then followed the nurse inside the room to the right incubator, her heart squeezing at the sight of the tiny baby hooked to a handful of wires and a ventilator. Sensors were taped to her chest, and she had a tiny tube lodged in one nostril. A small hat sat over her head, and she only wore a diaper.

“Am I allowed to hold her hand?” Beca asked as she sat down on the chair next to the incubator.

“Of course. You can talk to her, too,” the nurse said with a soft smile. “As Mommy won’t be able to get out of bed for the next 24 hours, I’m sure she’d appreciate a few photos and videos if you want to take some. I’m around if you have any questions.”

“Thank you,” Beca murmured, watching the other woman walk away before focusing on Bean. She watched her chest steadily rise up and down for a minute, before slowly reaching up to slide her hand through the hole on the side of the incubator. She gently held Bean’s tiny hand, stroking the back of it with the pad of her thumb.

“Hi, Bean. I’m your auntie Beca,” her voice shook as emotions gripped her throat. “I need you to be alright, okay? Will you do that for me? If you’re strong like your Mama, I know you’ve got what it takes.”

She didn’t know how long she would get to stay, so Beca took a bunch of photos and videos with her phone to show Chloe. She hung out with Bean for another hour, telling her all about her Mama as she held her hand.

“I need to go check on your Mama, but I’ll be back soon Bean, okay? Hang in there,” Beca said softly, retracting her hand and gazing at the newborn for another few beats before pushing to her feet.

A nurse led her to Chloe’s recovery room when she asked for her at the desk, and Beca rounded the corner to find Chloe sitting in bed.

Beca walked over and gently sat down on the edge of the bed. “Did the doctor come to talk to you?”

“Yeah, she said the bloodwork came back normal, and the main concern was feeding.” She sniffled. “Were you allowed to see her?”

Beca fished her phone out of the front pocket of her hoodie, selecting the video she had of Bean. “Here.”

She couldn’t imagine how difficult it must feel for Chloe not to be able to meet her daughter just yet, and she held Chloe’s free hand as she saw Bean for the first time, through a phone screen.

“She’s so small,” Chloe whispered, tears pooling in her eyes as she ran her finger over her daughter’s face. “I wish I could see her.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll keep her company until then,” Beca murmured, squeezing her hand. “Are you in pain?”

Chloe wiped a tear falling down her cheek away and shrugged. “A bit sore.”

Beca tilted her head to the side, having the feeling Chloe was downsizing her pain for her sake. “Did they give you anything for it?”

“They offered, but I said no,” Chloe said. “I don’t want to touch any of that stuff again.” She cleared her throat, continuing before Beca could argue. “The um, the doctor said giving Bean some of my breast milk would help. Will you get my breast pump from your place?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll go right now. I’ll also grab you a couple of change of clothes and your toiletries. Anything else you might need?”

“My phone charger and my robe, please.”

Beca smiled. “You got it. I’ll be back soon.” She stood and brushed a kiss above Chloe’s eyebrow, closing her eyes as Chloe leaned into the touch. “Get some rest, Chlo.”

It was pushing six am by the time Beca made it home. Ignoring the need for sleep after an all-nighter, she took a quick shower, then packed a bag with Chloe’s things. The hospital wasn’t far, so she figured she could always come back to get more stuff in case she forgot anything. Right now, all she wanted was to be back by Chloe and Bean’s side.

Even if she knew Chloe might not eat much, she stopped by her favorite bagel place on her way back to the hospital, along with a cup of coffee after googling whether it was safe to have some while breastfeeding. She got herself one as well, with a double shot of espresso that would hopefully get her through the morning.

Chloe was asleep when Beca reached her room, and Beca didn’t want to disturb her. She set the bagel and coffee on the bedside tray, along with a note.

Went to check on Bean. Be back in a bit with news and more photos.

Beca xx

Once at the NICU, she followed the same protocol of hand-washing and sat down next to Bean’s incubator, where she was bound to spend the next few weeks.

“Hey Bean,” she whispered, smiling as the newborn legs moved. She slipped her hand through the hole, stroking Bean’s tiny fingers. “Where was I? I think I was just about to tell you the time where your crazy mom burst into my shower…”

#bechloe #pieces

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rightsockjin · 4 years ago

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Number 23: Yoongi

Here is Number 23 with Yoongi! It took a long time together right so I hope y'all enjoy! Looks like RightsockJin is back y'all!

Summary: When soulmates are found to be real, its only a matter of time before Yoongi is paired with his. But all is not perfect and he can't figure why.

Rating: T+

Genre: Fluff a little, angst a little, smut a little...

Warnings: mentions of depression and emptiness. grinding, kissing, destiny.

Send a request!

Prompt list

Yoongi was nervous.

Which was perfectly natural in a situation like this!

How anyone could feel anything other than paralyzing nerves was beyond him but… well he digresses.

He’d arrived much earlier than he had anticipated.

But he blamed that on the nerves once again.

He was scheduled to come into the S.O.-

(Soulmate office)

At around midday and yet, there he had been, bright and early at around six or maybe seven, waiting in his warm car, complete silence in his head and his body buzzing.

Honestly, he hadn’t slept the night before.

How could he when he knew what the next day would be?

He sighed, his head falling to the head rest behind him.

He was so tired.

Somewhere behind the haze of excitement and nervousness, he could tell he was tired.

Maybe he’d crash after everything was said and done.

Though, honestly, he didn’t want that.

He knew he would want to spend time with his person.

Whomever they were.

He should have slept.

In the back of his head, he heard Namjoon’s voice saying “I told you so” in the most maddening way possible.

He shook his head. His heart raced with annoyance.

He hated when Namjoon was right.

And unluckily for him, he was correct often.

He took another look at the clock hoping that somehow, the hours of wait were up.

No.

Still had about an hour and a half to go.

He had done this to himself.

He had no one to blame but himself.

He ran his hands through his hair, completely forgetting that Jimin had done it up earlier and strictly instructed him not to touch it.

His hands froze with his hair knuckle deep into his waxy strands.

His small eyes widened.

Then as quickly as the panic came, it went and he let his fingers finish their path through his hair.

This was his soul mate. They weren’t going to like him any less if his hair was a little messy.

Still, he turned the rearview mirror towards him to check that it wasn't too messy.

He didn’t want his S.O. to think that he was a slob or didn’t care enough to get nice to meet them.

He just hoped that he hadn’t gone too far out of his comfort zone when it came to this.

True, he didn’t dress up often, but he did for special occasions so in a way he would have been lying if he hadn’t dressed up right?

But then what if his person thought that he always dressed like this?

It was equally a lie.

Was he catfishing them?

Too many thoughts ran through his head. He began to miss the empty buzzing that was filling him only minutes before.

It was too much emotion for Yoongi.

Too much to decipher and feel.

He hated feelings.

Well… he hated expressing them.

This was mostly evident in how he had reacted when he told his friends that his S.O. meeting was that day.

Everyone was ecstatic and giving him advice, but he had only shrugged, said he was interested, and tried to change the topic.

Only that he was secretly vibrating on the inside with fear and excitement.

How would his person feel about this?

Would they hate how cold he came off?

Would they be emotional to contrast him?

Or would this person be just like him?

Which did he want?

He wasn’t sure.

In a way, he was grateful that the government had found proof of soulmates.

It took a lot of choices out of his hands.

And Yoongi hated making the wrong choice.

This was preferable to him.

Though he’d spent most of his life opposed to the whole thing, now that it was his turn, he couldn’t help but be optimistic about it.

Gross.

Positivity.

Yoongi’s eyes began to flutter shut.

He shook his head and sat up straighter.

He couldn’t let himself fall asleep.

But the sweet murmur of darkness pulled at his lashes.

He fought with his body to keep himself up but he was past the point of no return.

His head was heavy.

His shoulders were protesting.

His eyes burned.

How attractive could he look with red eyes? He reasoned with himself.

A quick nap wouldn’t hurt.

In fact, it might relieve some of the anxiety that had been bubbling in his chest.

Yeah.

If he set an alarm, then everything should be fine.

Okay, so at first it was cute.

Your soulmate was late to the meeting.

It was something you would have to get used to.

You supposed that this was a good contrast to how on time you always seemed to be.

His tardiness would go well with your incessant need to be early-

As being early is being on time and being on time is being late to you.

-and maybe this would be good for you.

Sure, it was your pet peeve to be kept waiting but a couple of minutes wouldn’t kill you.

But then a couple of minutes stretched into ten then into thirty and now it had been a full hour of you sitting in the hospital-white room with nothing to do but to sit and wait.

They had taken your phone before you entered the room.

They told you it was because there were supposed to be no distractions when you met for the first time.

That was also the reason for the plain rooms with only a table and two cushioned chairs.

So yeah, you had been sitting in a less than comfortable chair staring at a white wall for a whole… fucking… hour.

Were they sure that this was your soulmate?

There is no way that any soulmate of yours would have left you waiting this long.

This was not at all what you had expected.

You thought that it would be perfect.

Somewhat at least.

You thought he would walk in, your eyes would meet, you would… kiss(?) hug(?)... talk and then you would leave the facility with the camera that you knew would be given to you and the journals to document your first couple of months together and everything would be fine and dandy.

Maybe you’d go get some food together or something.

But no.

Your stomach was eating itself, you were bored out of your mind and to top it off, you were starting to doubt that this was your soulmate after all.

What if they couldn’t find your soulmate?

What if they died on the way to the meeting?

What then?

The anger in your system gave way to fear.

What would happen if your soulmate just decided that he didn’t want to meet you?

Maybe he had seen you walking in and decided that he didn’t like what he saw and bolted.

It was possible…

Sadly, you hugged your sleeve covered arms and made to stand.

Had they ever had this happen before?

You were going to ask, not taking well to being humiliated and not wanting to sit for any longer.

But as you pushed your chair back and fought back tears, the only door out of the room burst open.

You jumped back, a hand flew over your heart.

It took you a second to realize what exactly you were looking at.

In the doorway stood an average height man dressed in all black, a smart jacket on his admittedly thick arms.

His face was glossy and he was breathing heavily. He was bracing himself against the door frame and behind him was one of the S.O. workers that had escorted you in, but he looked frazzled and scared.

“Sir we asked you to wait for-” the worker was saying but when your eyes met the man’s, you couldn’t hear a single word.

It was like the world had faded entirely and the white room which had been fuling your insanity melted away and all you could feel was this insatiable want.

This pull from your navel that seemed to lead directly to him.

He was it.

Yoongi knew he had fucked up.

When he had awoken peacefully instead of the jarring awakening he had expected from the loud, obnoxious alarm he had set, he had known he was screwed.

How long had he been out for?

Had he missed his meeting?

No..

No, no, no, no…

He must have woken up before his alarm.

There is no way that his body would betray him like this.

He smiled at himself in the mirror.

He would look down at the clock and of course it would say that there were thirty minutes left for his meeting and he’d have to wait nervously for the rest of the time.

But he knew he was wrong.

It was a feeling in his stomach.

So when he glanced down at the clock and it was an hour after when he was supposed to meet his soulmate, his heart sank.

Still, he froze for a couple a second, not knowing what to do.

Did people often miss their appointments?

What happens now?

Then without a second thought, he threw his door open and ran out of the car.

He clicked his car key over his shoulder hoping that it locked but not caring enough to check.

He ran into the building, the sliding doors only opening a fraction before he squeezed himself through. His heart was beating fast.

He must have looked like a wild animal because the receptionist was looking at him with wide eyes and her arms across her chest.

“Is everything okay, sir?”

“I- I have a meeting- my alarm… I’m late… did I- did I miss it?” he said as he ran over to the desk trying to get his thoughts in line.

“A meeting? Can I have a name? I can check if your S.O. is still in the building.”

He did exactly that, as he tried to catch his breath.

She was too slow.

She was typing almost as slow as was humanly possible(?)

Or maybe it was just that his blood was pumping through his veins at a whole 60 miles an hour.

After( ten, twenty, sixty) a couple of minutes, she smiled and looked up at him.

“Looks like she’s still here. If you will wait for a couple of minutes, I’ll have and escort take you over to the room-”

“Wait no please,” Yoongi interrupted feeling his brain swim with anxiety, “I can’t keep her waiting any longer!”

Her…

His person was a her…

He felt a smile threaten to pull at his lips.

Any bit of information he got felt like he was floating.

He pushed the smile away when he remembered that he probably had already made a hugely bad impression on her as it was.

What an awful way to start a new relationship.

“Don’t worry, he’s on his way to get you. She not far,” the woman continued with an incredibly happy smile, like she was enjoying herself, “she’s right up that hallway in the last room to the-”

Yoongi felt his blood level rise.

“Thank you,” he said before taking off towards the hallway that the receptionist was pointing at.

“No wait! Sir!”

But he wasn’t listening.

He needed to get to her.

As he neared the double doors, he realized that he needed a key for the scanner.

Before he could even think of a solution, one of the doors opened and a man in a button up blue shirt and black slacks walked out.

It looked like the universe was on his side.

He smiled brightly and didn’t hesitate to run straight past the man.

He didn”t even see it coming as he casually ran into his shoulder.

“Sorry!” but he didn’t stop.

“Wa-wait,” the man said, taking off after him but Yoongi wasn’t slowing.

His person was so close. She had waited for him.

She hadn’t left.

He was going to run straight into the room and get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness.

When he neared the end of the hallway, he instantly turned left into the final door and ripped it open.

When Yoongi’s eyes met yours, his heart dropped.

You were the most beautiful human being he had ever set his sight on.

He couldn’t pull his gaze away from you.

He felt drawn magnetically. Like you were two opposite poles and you needed to be together.

And who was he to deny this urge?

The man behind him-

He assumed he was the escort who was coming to get him.

- was saying something or other but his mind was clear of anything but you.

He couldn’t understand any language.

All he could fathom, all that he wanted… was you.

He took a step closer to you, feeling both like it was the hardest thing he had ever done and the most natural one as well.

Each step was more difficult than the last and you weren’t moving which meant he had to do all the work but he didn’t mind.

He knew, the moment he saw you that he would walk over hot coals and needles if he had to just to get to you.

You were watching him move towards you with no apprehension.

You willed him on, feeling the same pressure to move yourself but you felt rooted to your place.

Like if you moved, this spell you were under would be broken.

Mentally, you sent him your strength as if this would somehow help.

Then, he was before you, and you could smell something citrusy and, for lack of a better word, green.

It was intoxicating.

It filled your nostrils entirely.

And you were drowning.

Drowning in a pool of his scent and you didn’t care.

It didn’t matter because he was following you.

He held onto your hands and drowned with a satisfied smile in the scent of your vanilla and lavender perfume.

His mouth salivated.

You smelled good enough to eat.

Good enough that he wanted to lick you clean.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

Way too ahead of himself.

There was plenty of time for thoughts of that sort later.

You had your whole life for that sort of thing.

And where did you start?

How did one start any sort of relationship with their soulmate?

And what type of relationship would it be?

Yoongi supposed he’d have to ask you to find out.

How did one speak again?

You reached out, not baring the small distance you had between you two any longer.

When your hand touched his, a sense of peace washed over you both.

“I- I…” but the scrumptious man before you-

Because come on, he was a full snack.

-was cut off by a voice from behind.

A female voice.

Reluctantly and with great difficulty, you both turned to the voice.

A woman in a lab coat was standing in the doorway seeming peeved.

The escort was standing behind her, a mixture of fear and uncertainty lay in his eyes.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt as usually we don’t want to skew,” she cleared her throat and avoided your eyes, “Soulmates reunions but you have been taking up this room for longer than we usually allow…”

“Oh,” your soulmate said, his voice vibrating through your entire body, “that would be my fault…”

He was soft spoken it seemed.

His voice was like a whisper that caressed your brain.

“Yes, it appears it is. Still, we’re glad that you made it...eventually,” again she avoided looking directly at you two, “but we have another meeting set up in a couple of minutes. If you could pick up your packets at the front desk, that would be great and we expect you back in three months.”

Your soulmate’s fingers webbed their way between your own. A whole zoo of animals stampede in your chest at the gesture.

You gently, awkwardly, squeezed his hand in return.

“We’ll get it on the way… I’m really sorry for taking up so much of your time Dr…”

“Yes well… what’s done is done,” she said, glancing at the man behind her who moved out of her gaze as quickly as he could.

“Please be on time for the next meeting Mr. Min.”

Min.

Last name Min.

“I will.”

The packets in your hands were heavier than you had anticipated.

Yoongi, you had found out his name after you had whispered your own as you made your way, hand in hand to the front desk, was signing a couple of releases that he didn’t bother to read.

It was standard stuff, he’d assured, so it didn’t really matter.

Was he a lawyer?

You didn’t know quite yet but you were excited to find out.

You picked up a pamphlet that was laying on the desk out of curiosity.

It was thin and said in bright yellow letters “What to do Once You’re Not Just You- a guide to you, your soulmate and what comes after”.

Interested, you read through a couple of the points.

Nothing seemed too out of the box.

Mentions of relationships and sex were widely covered which didn’t surprise you.

You wondered how many people just jumped the whole, “get to know you” section and jumped each other’s bones.

You couldn’t blame them.

If anyone had a soulmate as good looking as you did at least…

Though you weren’t keen to skip over everything.

Then something caught your attention at the bottom.

A little asterisk.

*Soulmates can choose to have platonic relationships if wanted. Soulmates don't equal romance.

What?

You had never heard of that little note.

Who would opt out of a romantic relationship with their soulmate?

Who had ever heard of such a thing?

Not you.

Still, a smidgen of fear wormed its way into your heart at the thought that maybe… he would just want to be friends…

“Ready?”

His voice cut through your internal monologue like a knife through butter. His eyes were bright albeit you could make out dark circles under the concealer on his skin.

“Uh… yeah.”

As you walked out, your hand still firmly held in his, he questioned, “Did you drive or…”

“No, I took the bus… I was hoping you would drive.”

Yoongi smiled softly as the sun poked through the clouds of the day.

“Guess you’re lucky that I drove here then.”

Yoongi did not like public displays of affection.

Yoongi did not like hugs.

Yoongi openly scoffed at couples- soulmates or otherwise- that walked around wrapped around each other like octopi.

(Like Joon and his damn soulmate that couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other for one seconds. Or Jimin and Taehyung…)

So when he pulled your entwined fingers up and pulled his arm around your shoulder-

Your sides were flushed against each other.

-He couldn’t tell you what had gotten into him.

Just that the proximity felt...nice…

You cleared your throat trying to keep the heat from your cheeks.

“Ye-yeah.. Lucky.”

In the car, he instantly turned the heating on, though you felt hot enough as it was. You considered asking him to turn it off but it was a cold day and you knew that once your blush calmed down you would be cold.

There was no music playing.

The silence seemed to stretch on.

But, unlike multiple of your other relationships and friendships and relationships that you had experimented with, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was…

It was nice.

You didn’t know what to do.

Should you speak?

Did you dare break this blissful silence?

Or should you wait for him to speak.

Maybe it was your intuition, but you decided not to say a word.

Instead, you looked at the interior of his car and noticed how messy yet neat it seemed.

Like he was actively trying to clean but was too lazy to finish it all the way.

In other partners, perhaps that would annoy you but for some reason, it was endearing.

He cleared his throat. Your head snapped to his profile. His chubby cheeks reflected the light of the day though they were a little red.

He was so pale.

You wondered if he was a homebody then.

“Wou- would it be okay if I took you home?”

In his head, the request was strange. Foreign.

It felt heavy rolling off his lips and instantly, a wave of fear creeped over his head.

Yet, he knew that you wouldn’t take it the wrong way. Of course you wouldn’t. You must be feeling the overwhelming heat that was currently consuming his whole being.

You must feel it too.

So why did he feel so sacred that you would reject him?

“Home?”

A pause.

A sigh.

It was taking everything in him to contain himself.

“My apartment.”

Oh.

Oh…

Already?

He was forward. He didn’t beat around the bush. You added these to the slowly growing list of things that you were learning.

From the nerves on your scalp all the way to the tips of your toes, your blood warmed and rushed.

Suddenly, the car was far too warm.

“Oh-okay yeah… sure. All good. Sounds good, yeah…”

And the only word that came to Yoongi’s mind was-

Adorable.

His apartment was cold.

Grey.

There were a couple of clothes sitting on the kitchen table, folded and ready to be put away but seemingly not ready to be moved just yet. There were a couple of cacti on the window sill, though if you looked closely enough, you would see that they were plastic and kind of stood out from the rest of the cool toned house.

At the corner of his living room, there was a key board.

Some sheet music-

Well… everywhere.

Computers and electronics were scattered around the entire space and some black out curtains kept the room fairly dark.

Yoongi felt a wave of embarrassment cross him as he saw a pair of his boxers on the floor next to the grey couch. If he was lucky, he could steer you away from it.

He could feel your presence close behind him.

His hand sat perfectly held by yours. Your warmth seemed to penetrate deep into his soul.

It was so hot.

So hot.

Why was he burning up like this?

It was so cold outside that it didn’t make any sense.

But he was burning up.

The fire in his soul was licking at his insides.

He was wearing too much clothing.

He might even be sweating.

You cleared your throat and suddenly (as if he had forgotten) he remembered you were here.

And like a wildfire, his mind lit up with a thought.

An inappropriate thought.

A delicious thought.

But wasn’t it too soon?

Would you think badly of him for suggesting that?

He barely knew your name.

Barely knew how cute you smiled.

How pretty your hair was.

How delicious you smelled…

He turned towards you, letting go of your hand reluctantly and taking your coat for you, then bending down and untying your shoes.

A small smile crossed his face as your curves met his inpatient eyes.

Quickly, he pulled his eyes from your form and focused on taking your shoes.

It was so quiet in the apartment that the pressure seemed to press hard against his ears.

His blood was pounding into his head.

He licked his lips.

He could feel the radiating desire coming off of him in waves.

When he looked up at you, with much struggle on his end, he was met with innocent eyes that hid something a lot less so behind.

Could you feel the pull as well?

It had come to you like a freight train.

Your body was shivering but it wasn’t because you were cold.

On the contrary.

You felt like you might have a fever.

You felt so tense.

All your muscles were constricting.

Weak.

And the solution could only be one thing.

You felt so empty.

So far from your soulmate.

Would he think-

But then he stood and you were looking up at him expectantly.

Your heart sped up.

He leaned close.

You could smell the coffee on his breath and more of that green scent from earlier.

You leaned in a little closer but neither of you want to close the distance.

Somehow you know that as soon as you do, you won’t be able to let go.

You won’t be able to unstick.

Yoongi let out a strained breath and licked his lips once more.

He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, revealing a row of pretty pearls and a single dangle.

His mouth watered. He was begging to kiss it softly. To whisper.

He wanted to see chills on your arms.

To see your back arch.

“Should I turn on some lights?”

You didn’t know what to answer. Not sure if that would mean that this energy would be broken.

When you didn’t answer, a small, soft smile crossed his doll like lips.

He pulled his hand from your hair, bringing with it the smell of grapes and all things right in the world before he forced himself towards the living room area.

He clicked a button that was hidden by the rug on the floor and on came a string of lights from the ceiling.

A soothing shade of blue lit up at first, then it shifted to an orange, then yellow.

Yoongi clicked on it until he was satisfied.

When he was done, a deep blue lightly illuminated the room. It gave him a halo and the ambience of peace which was the entire opposite of what he was feeling.

With a single gesture, you stepped farther into the apartment.

A smirk crossed his face as he clicked on a speaker.

His usual playlist came on. The popular rap songs of the late 90s filled the room for a second before he changed it to his calming playlist.

Songs that he had composed just to soothe himself on days where he was stressing out too much.

But this time, the music had a different effect.

It was arousing.

Your heart beat a tattoo on your rib cage.

You felt like you were walking willingly into a trap.

This time, when he touched you, you wouldn’t hold back.

And then you were in front of him and without hesitating, he pulled you with him onto the couch.

Your legs were straddled around his lap.

You sat on his knees not wanting to over step.

He held your hands in his, rubbing small circles into the backs.

He was looking up at you, like he couldn’t quite believe that you were there. That you existed.

You smiled softly, awkwardly.

He let out a small chuckle that was more air than anything then let his hands travel up your arms slowly. He touched every inch of skin through your long sleeve shirt he could.

When he reached your shoulders, he let his hands fall to your back.

He drew little shapes into you as he traveled down.

“This is crazy isn’t it?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“What is?”

“This,” he said, his hands at your waist now, “the fact that we finally are here.”

His hands moved sharply down an inch.

“That you’re in my apartment.”

Another inch.

“On me.”

And his hands were at your hips. Roughly, he pulled you closer on his lap.

Your core and his were unbelievably close.

You tried to hold yourself back from rolling your hips.

He was so smug.

Any hint of hesitation was suddenly stripped from him.

You let your hands balance you on his chest.

You could feel his heart beating almost as fast as yours.

They were almost in time.

The lo-fi in the background served as your unifying beat.

Then his smile faded and a bit of worry made it way back onto his face.

“If you want to stop, please say something…”

Your mind was blank.

“Li-like a safe word or???”

Yoongi laughed but there was no humor in it.

“If that’s how you want this to go.”

You didn’t not want this to go that way…

“Pineapple.”

“Pineapple?”

“Yeah… that okay?”

“Do you like...not like pineapple or something?”

“I love it actually.”

“So then why-”

“I just thought it would be obvious enough. We can use something else if you want-”

“No it’s okay!”

This time, you laughed.

“Are you sure?” he asked once you had calmed, but he didn’t really need to.

You pulled yourself the final inch that you needed to for your centers to connect as he spoke and an insatiable hunger filled him to the brim.

His hold on your hips tightened a smidge.

You let yourself fantasize about his fingerprints bruised into your skin so you could show them off to your friends later.

Let your mind wander to what was waiting for you.

What would this be like?

This wasn’t your first time.

There was a brief time in your younger years that you had truly believed that you wouldn’t be one of the people who had a serious soulmate so you had had boyfriends.

One of which led to some exploration of your own.

However, you weren’t sure if he had had any experience.

Would he just know what you wanted?

Was that how this soulmate thing worked?

Before you could dwell much more, Yoongi leaned up towards you again.

It was an invitation.

And it broke you.

The thirst pulled you forward.

Maybe it was a little too hard, because pain shot up your cheek and you knew that your lips would be swollen.

But that didn’t stop you.

Neither did the clang of teeth as you sloppily tried to figure out a rhythm.

Neither of you knew who was leading.

Who was following.

Who should give in.

But you didn’t stop.

As you had guessed before, you couldn’t pull away if you tried.

Your hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to your lips.

You were drowning, drowning…

He pushed your hips into his. He thrust up softly, just to get the feel of you against him.

You were so hot.

He was so hot.

You were burning up.

Too many clothes.

TOO MANY CLOTHES…

He thrust up into your center particularly rough and you moaned.

It felt fantastic. And this was through clothes.

Without asking, you began to unbutton his shirt, but he didn’t stop you.

Instead, his hands traveled up to your back again.

His nimble fingers found the hooks of your bra.

His tongue licked a thin strip across your slightly chapped lips.

You held your breath as he nibbled lightly then began to kiss desperately on your cheeks and your neck.

His left hand was on your jaw, tilting your head away so he could suck at your smooth skin.

Without warning, and with only one hand, he unclasped your bra through the fabric.

You were impressed.

Yoongi was as well. He didn’t know he could do that.

His mouth made loud wet noises that traveled straight to your core.

You finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it apart.

He slipped his hands under your own shirt and, after pulling away for only a nanosecond to give you a questioning look- which you answered with the smallest of nods-, pulled it over your head.

You awkwardly held your bra to your chest, suddenly realizing that you were two seconds away from flashing this man, this stranger.

Your eyes met his.

And all the worries melted, and you let your cover drop.

Why were you so angry?

It had been four weeks since you and Yoongi had first met and everything had been… strange.

After your first night, everything seemed to fall into place but then you guys began to argue.

You felt out of sync.

When he went left, you went right.

When he said up, you said down.

You couldn’t seem to see eye to eye.

Yoongi wondered if this was how it always was.

Namjoon sat before him, along with Taehyung.

Namjoon was sipping on a black coffee.

Taehyung was barefoot and flexing and unflexing his toes.

“Jimin and I are always arguing,” he said, making each of his toes do a small wave. He seemed highly interested in the way they moved.

“Remember the time we fought over the dumplings-”

“We all remember that,” Namjoon said, stopping him in his tracks.

“Well yeah, you guys were there,” he curled his big toe then the next four.

“The point is that we argue often but we always go back to being closer than ever after. Arguments happen.”

“Yeah but you and Jimin aren’t romantic. It's a little different,” Yoongi said.

“Then why am I here?”

“Perspective,” Namjoon interjected, sipping his coffee with a knowing smile.

Yoongi turned to the younger man with hope piling up. If anyone could help him sort out these problems, it would be Namjoon.

“What happens when you and your soulmate argue Namjoon?”

The smile on Namjoon’s thick lips pulled farther.

Something both fond and mischievous in his expression.

“Depends on what we argue about. Usually, we take a five minute break to calm down and sit down to talk about what’s bothering us.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung whined.

“What?”

“I don’t think moaning counts as a language,” he countered.

Namjoon had the decency to blush at the ears but only laughed.

“Just because you don’t speak it doesn’t mean that it isn't a valid form of communication.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“So you fuck the anger out of eachother? How does that solve anything?”

Namjoon shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Well...when we both,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee, “finish, we usually cuddle or shower together and talk about why we got upset. We’re both more vulnerable that way.”

Yoongi felt his shoulders fall.

This wouldn’t be viable for him and his soulmate.

You always fell asleep after any of those activities.

“But do you argue often,” he asked, trying to get some confirmation that you guys weren’t broken.

“Yes,” Taehyung interrupted loudly.

“No,” Namjoon said, glaring at his friend.

“Then how do you explain the constant communication?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes.

“Sometimes we communicate just for fun Taehyung.”

Taehyung scoffed and went back to his bare toes, alternating their flexing.

“Whatever you say,”

An awkward silence followed in which Yoongi’s heart sank to his stomach.

“Do you guys think it's possible to only bend your fourth toe?”

Namjoon furrowed his brows at the youngest of the group.

“No.”

Taehyung’s shoulders fell.

“Why is Jimin always right?”

You weren’t fighting anymore.

But you weren’t talking a lot in general.

Yoongi wasn’t feeling well.

You could tell.

But you weren’t sure if you were supposed to talk to him or let him have his time.

It had been three months and you had moved in together but you didn’t know if this was the right thing to do.

Something felt really off.

Like he didn’t want to speak to you.

Like you were a burden.

Your anxiety had been acting up a lot lately.

You were terrified that he was going to come home one day and tell you to get out.

Tell you he had never loved you.

That there was a mistake.

But every day he’d come home, kiss your forehead, then walk into his room and sleep.

You were beginning to wonder if he was depressed.

It wouldn’t completely surprise you.

But what did you do then?

Would he want you to ask about it?

You heard the door open.

Yoongi pulled his shoes off by the door like usual.

He slipped off his jacket.

Every hair on your body was standing on end. An energy that you couldn’t place ran like electricity through your limbs.

Every set seemed to charge you further.

It was like when you walked on carpet with socks on and you could feel your hair frizzing.

Closer.

Then you saw him, and your eyes met.

There were tears in his eyes and then you knew.

You just knew.

And you got up and opened your arms.

A tear ran down his round cheeks and he barrelled into your open embrace. He pushed you onto the couch, his body weight heavy on top of you.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck.

Hot tears rushed onto your skin.

He held you close, refusing to let you go.

He didn’t tell you, but he had been so scared that you would leave. That every day, when he came home, your things would be packed, and you would be gone.

His depression had come back worse than ever and it wasn’t helping your relationship.

But every day, you waited for your one kiss, with a warm meal that he never ate and you never once judged.

Strangely enough, he hadn’t felt like he was home until the moment he hugged you.

Six months later and you guys were inseparable.

You had met his friends at some point in those six months and had become fast friends with Namjoon’s S.O.

You both agreed that they were far too touchy and way too cringy.

Namjoon’s hand was always on her leg.

Her back.

Her hands.

She was always leaning into him, kissing him.

She was always smiling like a love sick child when he didn’t notice and he was always returning those looks when she looked away.

You both thanked God that you weren’t that type of couple, but then Namjoon’s S.O. pointed out how you and Yoongi never seemed to be apart if you could help it and how she loved the way he smiled at you when you weren’t looking.

And you blushed.

And then you realized that you were probably just as cringy as they were.

Because you too smiled at him when he wasn’t looking.

And you kissed him when you thought no one was looking.

And you felt like you could read his mind with just one glance.

But you drew the line at matching outfits.

You wouldn’t be that couple.

You would leave that to Joon and his S.O.

For now.

It had been a year.

A whole year that you had spent with the love of your life.

Because yeah.

He was the love of your life.

You were sure of it.

No matter how hard times got, or how ugly you fought, you wanted him.

You were connected to him.

Your red string-

Or as Yoongi liked to think about it, a glowing gold string.

- seemed to tangle more and more as the days passed and you were almost excited to show off how close you had gotten to the S.O.

You were to go in separately, but you didn’t mind.

You were sure that Yoongi and you would give similar answers.

You were extra early today.

Yoongi had insisted since he was so late the last time.

You sat in the waiting room, your hands in one of Yoongi’s.

He drew small circles on your knuckles, kissing them every couple of minutes.

He was nervous.

You could tell, though you weren’t sure that it was due to a soulmate connection.

He was shaking his leg incessantly.

You pulled a hand from his hold and pushed on his leg to bring his attention to it.

He blinked down at your hand then up at your pretty face.

He smiled then crossed his legs.

“It’s going to be okay.”

He nodded.

“Mr. Min?”

You both looked up to see the Dr. from the first time you both were here.

Yoongi swallowed loudly, kissed your cheek then let go of your hand.

“Ready?” The doctor asked.

“Yes,”

When he sat across from the doctor.

There was a tensnes in the air that he couldn’t comprehend.

His lips felt so dry and the separation anxiety was already starting to set in.

The doctor started to ask questions.

Things about his love life.

This about you.

He answered as honestly as he could.

A smile threatened to tug at his lips the entire time.

He could feel something lingering over their heads.

He could tell the doctor had something to say.

It began to eat at him.

The way she skeptically wrote down all his answers on a clipboard.

Her miniscule scoffs.

It wore on his nerves.

What was happening.

Suddenly, she sighed, slouched on the seat and rubbed her temples.

This was it.

“Mr. Min, I am happy to hear that things are going well with you and uh… Ms. Y/L/N, but I am afraid I have some… disturbing news.”

Yoongi held his breath.

What could they possibly tell him in the S.O.?

Did they also know if they were sick or something?

Were you dying?

Was he dying?

“We only waited this long to mention it because that’s how long the effects of the mist last and we wanted to give you the choice to continue or to start this process over. Since you signed the release forms a year ago, you did give us permission to use this incident for our research and while we could just mist you again, we thought you should have the choice since you are the older one.”

Yoongi didn’t understand.

What did any of that mean?

“Incident?”

The doctor sighed again. She seemed to hope that he would just get it, and maybe he did but no… he needed her to state it plainly.

“Mr. Min, the way that this soulmate process works is that we, The S.O., go through birth dates and personalities and match you up with a person who logistically fits well with you. We then set a date for you to meet, where both persons are at legal age. Usually, we try to keep it in the early 20s but sometimes we wait a bit longer to match you up.”

“Your person-”

“Y/N” Yoongi interrupted but the doctor ignored him.

“Was born a couple of years after you so we thought a later union would be favorable. That is why we called you in at the age of 27...and her at the age of 23…”

Something inside of Yoongi broke.

23?

You weren’t 23.

You had just turned 21…

Did that mean…

“When people come into a room, we mist you both with a concentrated form of pheromones that will help you stay together for a year. This gives you time for your natural chemistry to form. We stage this honeymoon phase to make the process easier. These are specifically tailored to both people.

“When you came in late, and ran into a room, you were sprayed with the wrong person’s pheromones. The wrong room.This means that the most likely wore off within a couple of weeks, can you attest to that?”

Yoongi only blinked at the doctor.

Was he understanding correctly?

You weren’t his-

When he didn’t answer, the doctor went on.

“This can be characterized by a period of arguing, feeling distant, deep depression, lack of sex drive amongst other things. Does that help?”

Numbly, Yoongi nodded.

The doctor wrote something down then looked back up.

“Alright. As expected then. Did that ever stop? Did you and Ms. Y/L/N, recover?”

Flashes of steamy nights and cuddle sessions and the many nights that you both stayed up chatting flashed in Yoongi’s mind.

Again he nodded.

The doctor’s eyes widened.

“Interesting.” She wrote some more.

“Well, now I have two options for you. You can continue this process with Ms. Y/L/N,or we can start this process over with the proper person. Your true soulmate. She was sent home that day. We told her that because of a logistical mistake, we had given her a date a year too early.

“She’s here now.”

Yoongi was reeling.

“We have a back up for her if you decide to continue on your current process. Again, this is up to you.”

Yoongi felt his whole body fall. What was he to do?

“So… so Y/N isn’t my soulmate?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

In his mind, the fragile image he had carved of you two together shattered into tiny pieces.

You weren’t his…

His eyes watered.

His soul felt like it was being ripped apart.

He was numb and yet he felt so deeply lost.

A hand was squeezing his heart.

How could this happen?

How could you not be his when…

When he was clearly in love with you.

When your very presence made him feel more yellow than grey.

When your smile gave him butterflies.

When you held him together…

No.

There must have been some mistake.

You had to be his.

“No?”

“I’m very sorry Mr. Min. If you want to meet your true soulmate-”

“How do I know that she actually is my soulmate?”

Tears streamed down his face but there was no emotion on his features.

“You have every right not to believe us. In reality, your soulmate is only so based on our intelligence. In reality Mr. Min, Soulmates are made, not found and that’s what we are doing in this office.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“Why are you telling me all of this? You know I could just tell everyone what you just said don’t you?”

The doctor smiled, as if she knew this would come up.

“You signed paper earlier today Mr. Min. One of those was a Non-disclosure agreement. You legally can’t tell anyone what I am saying to you.”

Like a stab to the heart, he realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to tell you either.

“What is your decision?”

When Yoongi walked out, you were waiting for him by the front desk.

A huge smile crossed your face as he neared.

His heart jerked.

How could he live with himself.

He had stolen your happiness.

He was selfish.

You seemed to pick up on it instantly.

Your smile faded as he got closer. You dropped the pen from your hand and opened your arms like you had so many times before when his world had been falling apart, when the image in his head shook violently.

Would you be able to put him back together now?

He leaned down and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. Your lavender scent filled his nose and fogged his head like a love potion.

He felt his body relax for a second before he remembered that he only had one week to figure out what he wanted to do.

If he wanted you.

The thought of you being pulled from his arms felt almost as painful as cutting an arm off but at the same time...you weren’t his arm.

He had taken you from someone else and now that person was armless.

He gave you one last squeeze and did his best to hide his emotions.

He gave you a small, gummy smile, hoping that you didn’t see the red in his eyes.

“What’s wrong babe?”

He swallowed the emotion that threatened to spew from his lips and cleared his throat. He begged the heavens for a steady voice.

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

He nodded.

You weren’t convinced, he could tell, but you also dropped it and for that he was grateful.

You finished signing some paperwork, which Yoongi saw, was also an NDA, but you didn’t seem to have read it.

“They mentioned to me that they wanted us back in a week?”

Yoongi’s stomach sank. Had they told you too?

“Ye-yeah.”

“I wonder why,” you said curiously handing the pen back to the woman at the desk.

You took his hand in yours and led him back towards your car.

“They didn’t tell you,” Yoongi questioned letting you take the lead.

“No. just said they needed one more meeting with us.”

You unlocked the car and looked at him over your shoulder.

“Maybe it’s because we’re such a great match.”

And then you winked.

And Yoongi knew then...exactly what he should do.

It was the wednesday after your year check in that Yoongi and yourself were over at Taehyung and Jimin’s place.

Namjoon and his S.O. were also there in matching outfits and sickeningly sweet smiles.

Jin had recently been paired as well and his new S.O. was chatting with Namjoon’s S.O. and you.

Yoongi watched you interact with the group numbly.

He couldn’t let his emotions bubble up to the surface. He couldn’t let you know that something was wrong.

You were so beautiful.

So perfect.

So you…

“Hyung,” Namjoon said, calling his attention back to his friends.

He tore his eyes from you and looked at the taller man, trying to keep his face neutral.

“You’re really quiet today…. Is everything alright?”

No.

“I’m fine. Just sleepy,” Yoongi answered, but the looks he got from his friends were telling enough. He wasn’t doing a good job of hiding his feelings.

“Yoongi, what’s the matter with you,” Jin asked jovially trying to lighten the mood, “You should be happy for your favorite Hyung! Now I get to be a part of S.O. night! Be happy for me!”

Yoongi gave his best smile to his friend, but it fell just short of his eyes.

He was questioning everything.

Was this soulmate even the real thing?

Was Namjoon’s?

Were Jimin and Tae soulmates?

How many mistakes had they made?

“Ouch… are you that sad to have me around,” Jin asked with a chuckle and a hard pat to his back but Yoongi could tell he was worried.

“No hyungie of course not.”

“Then why do you look like someone just farted and you’re the only one that smelled it,” Taehyung asked.

“TaeTae,” Jimin groaned punching him in the shoulder.

Tae smiled his boxy smile but rubbed at the place he was hit.

“Yeah hyung,” Namjoon continued, “You look like you’re having a rough time.”

Yoongi shook his head and rubbed his temples.

“It’s nothing guys. Really, I’m just tired.”

“Don’t lie to us hyung,” Jimins said, “we may not be your S.O. but we all know you well enough to know that something is bothering you.”

Yoongi slumped.

Why did his friends have to know him so well?

He glanced over his shoulder at the girls, the men followed.

When he looked back, all four men looked worried.

“It’s about Y/N?” Jimin asked.

Yoongi didn’t confirm, but he didn’t need to.

“What is it Hyung,” Tae asked, suddenly concerned.

“I can’t really tell you,” Yoongi said, thinking of his NDA.

“Bedroom problems?” Namjoon asked.

“Girl problems,” Jimin stated.

“Can’t get it up,” Jin asked, earning him a swift slap on the back from Yoongi.

“None of that!”

“Then what?” Tae asked.

“We won’t tell!” Jimin said.

Namjoon nodded in agreement and Seokjin crossed his heart.

Still, he couldn’t tell them what the doctor had told him.

But if he just gave them a… hypothetical?

“What if,” he was cut off slightly as the girls laughed from across the room. While they couldn’t hear each other, he lowered his voice and leaned in.

The men around him followed.

“What if… your soulmate wasn’t actually your soulmate? What if you woke up one day and found out that your S.O. isn’t your S.O.?”

Confused and shocked faces met his question and he instantly regretted saying anything.

“Hyung you don’t think that Y/N is your soulmate?” Jimin gasped quietly.

“Shhhhhhh!”

“I’m whispering!”

“Well whisper quieter!”

“More quietly,” Namjoon corrected.

“You know what I mean!”

“Well,” Jin interjected, “Answer the question!”

A small beat followed in which Yoongi pondered his next statement.

“Of course not. I’m just thinking,” he lied.

“What would you guys do, if someone told you today that your S.O. isn’t your S.O.? And that your real S.O. is waiting for you and you have the choice to leave the current partner for the real thing. What would you do?”

The small group exchanged strange looks.

Tae looked at Jimin suspiciously.

“Taehyung this is hypothetical! We are Soulmates!” Jimin scoffed.

“I’m getting in the mind set!”

Jimin rolled his eyes then turned to Yoongi with a grimace.

“How soon can I change?”

Tae frowned, “You’re so mean to me! I was going to say that I wouldn’t trade you!”

“Awe really,” Jimin asked, tears instantly brimming in his pretty eyes.

“Yeah! But now…”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the two but couldn’t help but smile as he turned his attention to Joon and Jin.

Jin shrugged, “I don’t know. I suppose I’d switch but I feel like you would know if they weren’t your soulmate… when I saw (J/S/N) I could feel it all the way to my core that she was mine.”

“Yeah,” Jimin said, wiping a tear from his puffy cheeks, “As soon as I saw TaeTae I knew I could never again live without him.”

Yoongi’s heart tugged. He knew that this was not a sign of a soulmate as he felt exactly the same way about Y/N, but he wouldn’t say that.

Yoongi turned to Namjoon, who had been eerily quiet this whole time.

There was something in Namjoon’s eyes. A clarity that the other men lacked.

“What about you Joon?”

Namjoon held his chin in his large hand and looked over at the group of giggling girls.

His S.O. was twirling a piece of hair in her hand and blushing.

“I don’t think I would switch.”

“Why not,” Jin questioned, seeming baffled.

Namjoon continued to talk, looking directly at his S.O.

“I love her,” he said simply.

The group waited for him to go on as he usually did but he said nothing more.

Jimin and Jin exchanged a confused look while Namjoon looked at his friend perplexed. Yoongi watched curiously.

“But if she wasn’t your soulmate, wouldn’t you want to… I don't know, meet the real one?”

Namjoon looked over at his girlfriend for a couple more seconds. His lips pulled into a soft, fond smile that reached his chestnut eyes.

Then he looked at Jin, and at Jimin, then Tae, and finally, Yoongi.

“Soul mates aren’t found hyung, they’re made. And even if I were to find out tomorrow that (N/S/N) wasn’t my official soul mate, I think I've made a soul mate in her. I can’t live without her. But more importantly, I don’t want to. As much as the Universe chose her for me, I choose her too. Every day. And I will continue to choose her. As long as she keeps choosing me.”

Then, like a magnet, Namjoon snapped his head to look at the girls once more and this time his S.O. was looking back. A fond smile that matched Joon’s on her painted lips.

With a nod towards the door, Joon stood.

Yoongi watched in surprise. Namjoon’s words seemed to fit his situation a little too well. They were a little too close. Hadn’t the doctor said something similar to him? What did that mean?

“Sorry guys but I think that (N/S/N) and I are going to head out.”

“Already?” Jimin whined.

“Yeah, sorry Jimin but we have a date tonight that I can’t miss.” He winked.

“More communicating?” Taehyung asked, slumping over his arm rest.

“Probably,” Namjoon shrugged as his S.O. came over and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“See you later. And hyung,” Namjoon said directly at Yoongi.

“Keep close the things that make you feel like sunshine.”

With that drop of wisdom, Namjoon and his S.O. said their goodbyes and left.

Yoongi released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Were Namjoon and his soulmate mistakenly matched as well?

But you would never know it by looking at them.

They seemed so perfect together.

“I just have one question,” Jin said, drawing the remaining people’s attention to him, “What the hell does Taehyung mean by communicating?”

Yoongi knew what he wanted.

He had known from the moment he had left the office earlier that week but Namjoon had really put it into perspective for him.

So when he walked into the doctor’s office and he once again was asked a slew of questions, he didn’t flinch.

“So Mr. Min,” the doctor started casually, “Have you made your choice?”

And Yoongi had never been so sure of anything in his life. Your laugh rang in his head and a smile tugged at his baby lips.

“I think I have.”

Master list

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im-just-a-random-fandom-girl · 4 years ago

Text

trying to articulate my frustrations with Marvel’s treatment of female characters and characters of color

Hi, hello, hola, bonjour. I've been having a lot of thoughts about Marvel’s lack of diversity and of how they treat minority characters, so I'm taking a page out of Luisa’s (@its-tortle) book and just making a long, rambley post to get it all out.

Please bear with me while I try to encapsulate all of my frustration within the limitations of English language.

(ALSO, I'm white. I’m Spanish-American, but I do not have the ability to speak for fans of color and the other grievances they have. This post is just a combination of my own thoughts and what I've heard other people say on Tumblr, in YouTube videos, in articles etc.)

Now that we've had over week to collect ourselves after the WandaVision finale, because it was such a tearjerker and the end of a true masterpiece of a show, we really need to talk about how Marvel treats their their characters of color and female characters. I'll specifically be looking at Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and Monica Rambeau.

Let's start with Sam.

Until Monica Rambeau became Photon just a few weeks ago in WandaVision, Sam was THE ONLY Black superhero in the MCU.

He first appeared in Captain America: The Winter Soldier 7 years ago in 2014, and he's been in 4 movies since then (not counting the post-credits of Ant-Man).

Let's see what we know about Sam in the MCU:

He was a pararescue airman in the U.S. Airforce

His wing-man, Riley, died in combat, prompting him to leave active duty

He works at the VA to help other veterans adjust to civilian life

That's it. This is all we know about his backstory, separate from Captain America. However, the MCU decided to include these parts of his backstory, (and exclude others) because they make him a better supporting character to Steve.

Sam's a vet - so is Steve. They have the same, early-morning run routine that alludes to strict military training. Steve is still new to the future and hardly knows or approaches anyone, but Sam is wearing his VA sweatshirt, so there's some sense of connection, one that is furthered when they talk about their beds being too soft. Sam is someone who can understand him, aside from being a super soldier.

Riley, Sam's wingman, died in combat - Hmm, haven't heard that one befo - oh, wait. *Bucky waves from the abyss of the Alps*. Yeah.

I'm not saying that these connections are bad, in fact, I think the opposite. In terms of storyline, these connections are incredibly important for their friendship. Steve is lost and alone in the future. No one he knows cares about him for any reason other than the fact that he's a super soldier, nor can he relate to any of those people on any level. Sam just fits. He's funny and kind and although they are 60 years apart in age, he can, to some extent, understand what Steve is going through in a way they no one else can.

But for the last 7 years in the MCU, all he's been is Steve's supportive friend.

Almost immediately after meeting Steve, Sam is dragged into an end-of-the-world battle. He readily agrees to put his life on the line to fight by Captain America's side. After SHIELD falls, Sam gives up his life for 2 years to help Steve find Bucky. When they find him, Sam, without a second thought, becomes an international fugitive to protect Bucky and Steve.

I mean, he practically says that he lives in Steve's shadow himself:

"Don't look at me. I do what he does, just slower."

Who does all this? Seriously? Sam is also a recovering vet. He, in theory, has a life, a family, a job, his own mental well-being to consider, but he immediately gives it all up to help Captain America, to follow in his shadow, to be his back-up and support in every battle. Marvel wrote him as a 2D character that lacks his own identity and agency.

Sam deserves his own storyline; he deserves to exist outside the orbit of Steve Rogers.

What Mackie has been able to do with the character is astounding. He took Sam off the page and truly brought him to life, turning him into a beloved character. I'm ecstatic that both Mackie and Sam finally (hopefully) get their time to shine in TFATWS, but it should have happened WAY sooner. Marvel has continuously overlooked Mackie, despite how much he brings to the movies and despite the significance of Sam as the only Black superhero. It's just so clear that they do not care about representation.

(And let's not start with the whole "Bucky should be Captain America" thing, thanks)

Next, let's talk about Natasha.

Nat has been in the MCU for 11 years, starting with Iron Man 2 in 2010. She was heavily featured in an additional 6 MCU movies (not including small cameos/post-credit sequences). She's one of the few female superheroes in the MCU, and the only one that's been there since the beginning. Nat was the only female superhero for 4 years until Gamora appeared in Guardians of the Galaxy.

Let's see what we know about Natasha's history:

She's a former KGB operative and assassin, trained in the Red Room project

When she was a part of the Red Room, she was sterilized

Clint Barton got her out of the Red Room and converted her to a SHIELD agent

THAT'S IT. The second point is actually nauseating because this is what she says to Banner when we learn about her infertility in Age of Ultron:

"They sterilize you. It’s efficient. One less thing to worry about, the one thing that might matter more than a mission. It makes everything easier — even killing. You still think you’re the only monster on the team?"

Like, actually, what the fuck? I remember watching this scene and having to rewind because I thought I mis-heard what she said. In truth, Natasha is probably referring to the terrible things she was forced to do as a KGB operative are what make her a "monster," but why in the world would they include this anecdote here?? It's just so distasteful and disgusting! It makes it seem like her infertility is what makes her a monster, perpetuating the misogynistic belief that the center of a woman's identity and purpose is to have children.

As Vox says in this article, the subject of Nat's infertility

"rears its head sub-textually when Black Widow sacrifices herself for the Soul Stone. [...] It’s reasonable for Natasha to make the calculation that Clint’s kids deserve to have a dad when they come back to life after the Avengers complete their “time heist.” But because of that Ultron plot, there’s also an insidious implication that Natasha’s infertility renders Black Widow just a little bit more disposable than the rest of her teammates."

Furthermore, Nat's death in Endgame serves for nothing more than motivation for the other characters working in the time heist, WHICH ARE ALL MALE. Even then, the other characters talk about her death briefly (in a mostly unaffected manner), and by the end of the movie, she's been pretty much forgotten about, completely overshadowed by Tony Stark.

I don't want to say that Nat shouldn't have died in Endgame. It caused me so much heartache and emotional pain, but I truly believe it was a great way to end her arc. CinemaWins on YouTube put it best:

"She needed to save her family, Clint included, finally wiping the red from her ledger. So much of her jouney in the MCU was trying to find her purpose, figure out which side she was on, and she finally feels like she's found it, just in time to die for it.

"It's not wrong to feel cheated by her death, [but I think] she deserved this moment because of it's importance."

She says it in the movie:

"I used to have nothing, and then I got this. This family. And I was better because of it."

Nat shouldn't have to die, but it's on her terms, and she is absolutely ready for it. Saving her chosen family... that is her purpose.

But altogether, over the course of the MCU, Natasha was cheated out of getting the storyline she deserved. Like Sam, she was relegated to the position of the supportive friend of Steve, but also of Bruce and Clint. For the audience, her identity is tied to this role that she plays. The identity and motivations she has independent from these other characters, her history, is skimmed over, and treated with immense disrespect.

It took 11 years, but it is thrilling that Scarlett Johansson finally gets to be the start of her own Marvel movie. There is no way that Black Widow will be able to completely make up for her and Natasha's mistreatment by the MCU, but I hope it will at least bring us some closure and allow us to have a better understanding of Nat's history and who she is away from the other Avengers.

Last, but certainly not least (despite what WandaVision may have you believe) is Monica Rambeau.

I spoke about this last week after posting about this review of the show, but it bears repeating.

Monica is a new character. You'd hope that, after 11 years of extremely limited diversity in the MCU, much to the dismay of fans worldwide, and after recognizing this and creating a movie with a cast like The Eternals, Marvel would try to get their shit together across the board.

Nope!

Monica was seriously the token diversity character of the show. It seemed like they would give her more depth after the episode during which they flashed back to the her during and after the snap, losing her mother, and seeing a little bit of what she's done as an adult since Captain Marvel, but that ended up being the most we got.

But why? Monica literally became a SUPERHERO. She became Photon! She deserved a much greater role in the show, especially in the finale, where she instead had maybe 5 lines and just stopped some bullets for about 30 seconds.

As the review I linked says,

“There are so many black writers, fans, and critics noting how Monica got relegated to a complete lack relegated to meaningless best friend protector lacking in their own self agency and story except for making a shoehorned comparison of grief.”

Marvel made the same, bull-headed mistake that they made with Sam with Monica!

Let's do this again. Monica was snapped away for 5 years, and when she was snapped back, she learned that her mother had died. Losing someone you love and having the whole process of mourning and pain be complicated by the snap? What an interesti- oh wait. *Vision phases his head through the wall with a smile*

The only reason we got this backstory was because it made her a more sympathetic character towards Wanda. Her understanding of what Wanda is going through allows her to be the catalyst in the creation of the ideological fork in the road between herself, Darcy and Woo, who see Wanda as a victim of grief and loss, and Hayward and the rest of SHIELD, who see her as a dangerous threat.

How do you make the same, major mistake that you've been making for the past 7 years again? Guess what? You don't! Maybe it's not intentional, but Marvel, again, clearly doesn’t care enough about their characters of color to consider the roles they relegate them to in the MCU, realize what they've been doing is harmful, and then change it.

Hopefully, they will not continue to treat Monica this way and will remedy this in the next Captain Marvel.

In conclusion: MARVEL GAVE A FUCKING ROBOT AN ACTUAL ORIGIN STORY, A RELATIONSHIP AND MORE INDEPENDENCE THAN ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS.

But in all seriousness, Marvel needs to be help accountable for how they treat women and their characters of color in the MCU. I just looked at 3, but you could also make a similar argument about Rhodey, Hope van Dyne and Valkyrie, as well as Jane Foster, MJ, and Ned, although they are supporting characters and not superheroes. And I'm sure there are many others. Marvel (and Disney!!) has had an awful track-record, and change is long overdue.

#fuck marvel #fuck disney #sexism and racism in marvel #minorities in minor roles #thank you for coming to my TED talk #discussion #fatws #wandavision #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #black widow #monica rambeau

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thegreatyin · 3 years ago

Note

I'm not very good at mmos but I love final fantasy, do you have any tips or advice? Your character is cute!

i don't actually know much about a good chunk of the game- i'm only at early heavensward context (the second expansion) so take my advice with a tiny pinch of salt.

having said that, sure, i can try to give advice! also please note that ffxiv is my first final fantasy game, but i'm experienced with mmos, so it's like... the opposite outlook.

if you look up literally anything about ffxiv, it'll be veterans saying that the current base game (a realm reborn) is slow and largely boring. i disagree for a number of reasons, but... it certainly does drag on for awhile. as i said, i don't know how this compares to other games in the franchise, but this one is a slowburn- well worth the payoff, but still slow as hell.

a single character can play all of the classes! this means, for example, rigel (my oc-turned-player-character) can be a black mage, white mage, warrior, dark knight, ninja... basically, alts (mmo-speak for alternate characters, basically any character you create and play outside of your "main") are effectively useless, but still fun to do if you don't mind a grind.

for the sake of all that is holy, when you unlock a job quest, drop everything and do it. these almost always give new abilities that become an essential part of your toolkit, and when they don't, they're leading up to one. i don't care if you're about to do a main story quest and think you can pass by without it, just do it and save yourself the trouble later.

you get your first mount at level 20, the grand company chocobo. however, due to the stupid amount of exp early quests give you/depending on if you're in a favored server or not, you'll likely be far above that when you finally get your bird. rigel was around 27 when he got bird-riding rights. said rights are tied to the main story quests, as is everything, so make sure to do those too.

red mage is really really fun i highly recommend it

at early levels the 2.5 second gcd (global cooldown, a timer where you can't use any abilities for a period of time) will seem agonizing. it gets better. by level 50 as a black mage i felt like it was too short.

i don't know how to navigate square enix's terrible site but be warned it is certainly something that needs mental preparation before attempting. buying this game is a nightmare.

so don't! the free trial goes up to level 60 and includes the entirety of the first and second expansions (first is actually the base game but that's a whole other can of worms) and lasts indefinitely. you can be a free trial player for years and never stop. just be warned that once you buy the game you can't return to free-trial status so once ur sins are committed, they're committed for good.

love yourself. don't play a healer class. or do, if you're into masochism.

housing is a fucking NIGHTMARE i haven't touched it with a ten foot pole

you can use FATES (open-world multiplayer events, basically) to grind extra classes in a pinch. it's not much, but you can do it.

you know that starting mount i mentioned? the grand company chocobo? you can nickname it. and dress it up. and change its colors. and eventually summon it to fight alongside you as a bird pet/companion/best friend and legitimately why would you use any other mount

seriously rigel's bird is named luhmel and i cherish him SO much i spent all my gil on outfits for him birb my BELOVED

i'd honestly recommend ignoring the gold/normal sidequests after the first few levels- they usually don't offer much, and don't give much back. it's only worth doing the blue "plus" quests (which always unlock something for you/your character) and the main story quests (which. are main story, lol. they're marked with a fire symbol around the edge of the icon)

oh hey whatcha know your job quests are blue plus quests maybe that means something

if you want to take Aesthetic Screenshots™ there's a thing called group pose (aka gpose) that you can use to loop an emote and modify lighting and everything to make some really nice pictures. i haven't used it much because i unironically discovered it two hours ago but i sure will use it in the future

once/if you hit levels 50/60/70, you should start hoarding poetics/tombestones! these can be used to buy fresh new gear that not only looks stylish but also will legitimately last you for half of the next expansion. i'm not joking. these are absolutely worth the investment.

if you play lalafell you WILL be pat on the head. it's normal. let it happen.

y'shtola best girl

new players are called sprouts, and are given a little sprout icon beside their name to represent that! this actually stays for a while- 168 total hours played and completion of stormblood (3rd expansion), iirc. i'm still a sprout. rigel's a little sprout boy.

once you unlock the waking sands, i highly recommend going into the side room and talking to all the npcs there! they have different/new dialogue every time the main story quests tell you to return there, and getting to know them all... well, let's just say that it'll make some parts hit harder, y'know? it pays off.

i haven't personally done them but i've heard the hildibrad sidequests are really funny i recommend those

there's a gambling cactus to gamble your life away and the parkour minigame infuriates me beyond reasonable definition

the community as a whole is super nice, and way better at giving advice on the spot than i am! for an anime game where i can play my depressed edgy angsty angel boy as a walking disaster gay catboy, it's really wholesome. not for everyone, but definitely a good time if it is your kinda thing.

okay but seriously do your class/job quests

#ask #ffxiv #thank you rigel is super cute i love my catboy

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cxmetery-gates · 4 years ago

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OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER ONE: FAKING IT

SUMMARY: Lynn Moore dreads the beginning of her greatest fear: the first day of senior year. WORD COUNT: 2.3k NOTE: Get ready for typical teenager angst. Let’s all bully Lynn. WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

JUST LIKE EVERY YEAR AROUND the middle of August, my mom tells me the same advice; have a good first day. Of course, most mothers, fathers, or whoever tell their child this, but it's as pointless as a circle. Whoever has a fantastic first day of school? There are new teachers to impress, you're stuck with the same bunch of losers you sit with at lunch, and there are more jerks and morons to pick on you, despite the status quo you fall under. High school is frankly really awful all the way around and there's no way someone can deny or even try to argue that. These are the four years of utter hell and we're all dying to get out. I've stepped through those heavy doors, resembling the gates of hell, on a first day three times now. My anger and hatred have only been fueled rather than dying down. I'm sure nothing will ever change.

"Don't forget--" Mom tries to tell me from the porch in sweats and a maroon t-shirt. Her unnatural dirty blonde hair piled on the top of her head with an old red clip. There are tears welling in her eyes, seeing her only child almost grown up. I have one last year of school and mere months until I'm an adult. For me, it may pass by far too slow, but I bet it's a whole different story for her. In all honesty, it's ridiculous that the woman is so upset and not to mention annoying. I have done this routine twelve times now, for Christ sake, she should get a grip on herself by now. I don't mean to belittle my mother but one of her greatest achievements is being able to replicate every single stereotype women have, including having no control over her emotions. An outsider looking in may say I'm a bit to harsh. All I can say to that is no one has loved with her for almost eighteen years like I have.

"I got it!" I yell against the wind as it smacks my face while I walk across the grass. "Christ on a bike," I curse tossing my messy light brown hair from my field of vision.

The bus would take another five minutes to get the corner, but I'd like to not look stupid on my first day by running to catch up with the metal rectangle of devilry Peter Parker style. Well, maybe it would turn into an interesting story at the least. Spiderman is my favorite superhero of all time after all. Despite this, I only allow an angry face to part my path. It's totally fake but faking it is the only way to survive.

Down at the intersection, there are already kids waiting. I think it's safe to assume that all of the puberty-sicken teenagers are freshmen or sophomores since most junior and seniors are still asleep at this early hour, knowing the good majority are able to drive. I take a good look at all of them. The fact that they find throwing bits of gravel at squirrels or birds makes me want to go over and smack them upside the head. That thought crosses my mind a lot. The world is so full of morons; it's hard to pick out which ones are actually tolerable. They're almost as bad as kids in letterman jackets with expensive sports cars. Those fuckers are the worst. All they care about is their ego and how much money they can wave around coming right from mommy and daddy's wallet.

Take the kid in the striped shirt tucked into his hand-me-down jeans. He looks like a nice kid; after all, he's got nothing to brag about. His parents are probably office workers or maybe nothing too difficult. Nothing too important. That's all we are, right? I mean, once we're dead and gone. No one is gonna care what car you drove or what brand your plain white shirt is. People who think they're hotshots or something special are the real morons.

Besides, who thinks it's cool to spend thirty bucks on a t-shirt?

An old car passes, a teenage girl in my grade sits in the driver's seat. I sort of duck out of the way. Not James Bond-like, but I move my already shitty hair in front of my face as if it's going to help hide my identity. The chick probably didn't even see me. I watch the car drive on, kinda imagining what sort of car I would drive once I get one. I suppose I would have to learn first. I personally am not a fan of getting behind the wheel. Hell, I can't even ride a bike without falling over. I'd rather move to a large city and order cabs to get me places. They seem more convenient and, if you get in a wreck, it's not your fault and it's not your money coming out of pocket. No car equals more money. Then again, no car also is equivalent to no freedom and taxis and Uber's can get expensive. It seems like each idea is flawed these days.

Upon scanning the area again— this time ignoring the idiots— I notice only one person who seems excited out of the group. Her dark brown hair and dark skin contrast to the majority of our town, including those waiting nearby. Her curled hair bounces with each stride she takes, happier than the step prior.

Some say it's strange that the girl and I are such good friends. You don't see God and Satan going out and having coffee every weekend or anything.

"What's got you in a good mood?" I question as I readjust my dark blue shirt underneath the flannel. Flannels are my favorite personal quirk. I own at least fifty, most being cool or dark colors. I don't have an obsession; just an interest that I care way too much about. Flannels are to Lynn Moore as controversy is to famous influencers. Looking back up, my eyebrow is still raised. I'm shocked to see her here, assuming her parents would have given her a lift. After a second, it dawned on me that this, riding the bus to school, was her punishment for getting into an accident she won't take responsibility for.

Posting memes and vines references are fun and all, but doing it while going 60 down a highway isn't the smartest. Forgive me for not following the strict millennial handbook but I don't actually want to die nor do I want my friends to.

My best friend, Ellie Graves, gives a small glare. "Why does it always seem like you're on your period?" I shrug my shoulders, and played with the wire choker I always wore. As my fingers slip underneath the necklace, it is evident how to lose it has gotten since I bought it a few months ago. I make a mental note to take a quick trip to the shopping side of the internet sometime soon.

I click my tongue before answering. "Probably because I'm closer to hell than you are," I say, referring to my obvious lack of height. I'm only five feet and just barely three inches off the ground while Ellie is at least five feet and seven inches. Personally I think we would make a cute couple given our attitudes and the extremities of our heights, except for the fact that dearest Ellie is not interested in people other than men. What a party pooper. For me, anyway. "But lets do our best to not reinforce stereotypes," I say referring to her comment.

She nods her head. "Yes, mother." I snort at her sass, leaning my body weight onto my right leg. "But hey! We have one year left! That's something to be excited about, am I right?"

Yes, I would say she is right. Freshmen, sophomore, and the dragged out junior year have come and passed, full of useless information and embarrassing memories with it. It's mostly embarrassing if I have to be honest. School isn't my thing, however falling up and down the main set of stairs apparently is. Who knew?

"Yeah, I suppose so. At least we're considered adults now," I reply trying to find some positive about the situation.

Ellie begins to lightly laugh, "True. That's kinda a scary thought, though." Her body shudders, either because a breeze just blew passed or out of what she just said.

The age of freedom is so close, I can nearly touch it. Despite my longing to finally buy a lottery ticket and spray paint, the fear of adulthood gnaws at the back of my mind. With eighteen comes responsibility, something I lack to a high degree. I muse the idea of getting a degree of irresponsibility. However, I don't think such diploma could help me get into a creative writing career.

I make a thinking face and bring my shoulders to my ears preparing for an exaggerated response. "Well, you aren't wrong," I reply in a forced high pitch noise, catching the attention of the guys. Now I notice they are all matching in basketball shorts and a jacket. Men's fashion, ladies and gents. Ellie chuckles at my utter dorkiness while I continue to make some weird face I'm sure she will get a picture of sometime within the next few seconds.

It's crazy how time is able to fly. Just last week, so it seems, the outgoing, beaming chick I have as a best friend and I were in third grade, the year I moved to a new house, a different school, and a very different town. Although my eight-year-old-self hated it at the time, I'm glad I left the northern state of Maine, all the way across to the midwest. That is if you consider southern Missouri part of the midwest. If I hadn't, who would have the privilege of being my first smack in the face? Or first sleepover (with an actual girl)? Who knows, and I honestly wouldn't like to. Ellie's my best friend; I would be dead if she didn't have my back. And I'm honestly positive she would say the same about her tiny best pal.

Little time passes after the picture was indeed taken and posted on Elle's Snapchat before an ugly shade of yellowish-orange appears entering the neighborhood. Ellie is practically fidgeting, fighting the urge to run up the bus even if it is some distance away. My eyes roll trying to not say anything to kill her spirit but I do let out an accidental groan as its loud hum draws nearer. The bus came to a screeching halt and I already want to turn on my heel and head home. When I step on, I notice there is a new driver this year. After Ellie got her license and could legally drive me around, I never bothered with the bus unless I needed space or she was busy, which was hardly ever. Ellie and I mostly spend our time together with our group of friends. Despite this, I still easily took notice of a different person in the seat. Instead of a balding old man with a face like alligator skin, a woman sat in the brown leather seat and looks roughly in her forties. She, like all of us except for Ellie, looks tired but fakes a smile anyways. The same rules apply; middle school and junior high in the front and high school in the back. It seems as if sitting in the back always made you cool of some sort. Every time a kid got away with it in middle school, he or she was automatically the bad kid, the cool kid, or the king of the bus. God, how stupid is that theory? These thoughts remind me how annoying and stupid we all were at ten and eleven years old. I'm sure if I had a duplicate of myself at that age, I'd shoot either one of us to cease me from the utter pain.

Instead of going all the way to the back, I turn to sit in the seat half way down the aisle while plunging in an earbud, leaving one open to listen to Ellie. I instantly scroll through an select a playlist that mixes rock, punk, and even some emo. Given today being my last first day, I figured early morning jams would be appropriate to get me pumped up even though I tend to listen to this genre quite often as of lately. I enjoy the heavy guitar and double bass pedal and lyrics I can either relate to or wonder who hurt the singer so bad. Needless to say, I'm definitely more of a rock person however there's still a lot of other types of music on my device, including orchestra and folk or indie. I don't like to limit what I listen to; whatever makes me feel good ends up on my phone. Simple as that.

"So, Lynn," Ellie says sliding in right next to me. I look in her direction, which was to my right, waiting for her to respond. She looks at me, but nothing came out of her mouth. Slowly, I arch a brow. Still, there was nothing. "I had nothing to say, I just wanted your attention." Ellie gave a stupid grin while I glare kindly at her if there is such a thing.

My head shakes and I reach out to pat her cheek, "You, my darling, are an absolute dumbass."

I feel her grin grow against my hand since I haven't moved it yet. "Not as big as you, though." I can't argue; she has a point.

As the bus lunches forwards, I look out the window and watch the world go by. Something settles in my gut about then, the feeling both familiar and foreign. I can't tell what it is, but as I watch the clouds roll in over the sun and birds flying through the sky, I only hope my last year of high school will be memorable.

#dark!tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston fanfiction #teacher!tom hiddleston #loki #obsessive teachings #high school #stalking #obsessed love #obsessive #dark!fic

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slutsofren · 4 years ago

Note

Hallo! Here’s my official request for some fluff with CEO! Kylo & Mistress for the time he tells her he loves her & his plans for the future :3

This one was super super fun to write but finding the words to put down was so difficult, im so so so sorry @bicthpotato but thank you dearly for your patience !!

Just Because I Love You

Summary: Kylo is in town to spend some time with you, you cannot wait for you two to take some time off and relax. Being the CEOs of your own companies was rough work so Kylo has a little speech for you.

General Info: CEO Kylo & Mistress AU, fluff, first time saying “I love you”, teasing, lots of teasing and sarcasm, light cursing, Kylo talking about his emotions?? whomst???

Read on AO3 here! Just under 2k.

It was 4:00 on the dot, you knew you’d be able to slip out of the office easily at this time. Besides, you were the boss, who was going to stop you? Your employees knew better, each one went through your rather rigorous 60 day training period and if they lasted then they deserved all the benefits you were able to grant them. They were grateful to be here under your care just as much as you were grateful they helped create a loving work environment.

It helps being a powerful boss ass bitch. You wore that title proud.

What you also wore proud was the immaculate silver necklace around your neck with an elegant “K” charm dangling, catching the light of every room you walked into. It was the latest gift from Kylo, just because he missed you and wanted you to have a small piece of him with you in Los Angeles after you came home.

Your fingers fidgeted with the charm, rubbing the “K” over and over. You looked at your watch once again, 4:05. You rose from your chair and rounded the desk, grabbing your work satchel and coat, flicking the light off behind you. Your assistant looked up from her computer, “Headed home early, ma’am?”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” you teased, “don’t call me ‘ma’am’ I’m not old.”

She let out a hearty laugh, “Of course, is there anything you’d like me to finish up, Miss?” You paused and thought for a moment but you couldn’t bear to think about work much longer.

“Do one thing and then you can go home, email each department to give everybody the rest of the day off.”

“On account of what, Miss?”

“On the account that I’m in a damn good mood and I’m going to see somebody that I’ve missed dearly.”

You gave her one last smile before continuing out of the office, a little hop found its way into your step echoing in the clinks of the darling heels you wore.

It’s been a couple months since you met the infamous Kylo Ren. You didn’t know who he was when you two met that fateful evening but after spending not just the night together but the following week with him, you knew he was somebody you wanted to continue keeping in your life.

In summary, the relationship the two of you cultivated was almost like two stars colliding in the galaxy and choosing to fly together. The choice to stay around each other, watching him with his explosive temper and him watching you in your cool rage, that choice made whatever you had with Kylo Ren feel powerful and unwavering.

After your time in New York with what you initially thought would be a fling, he visited you in California once before. After your second trip to New York, it was then that you knew in your heart that you were in it for the long haul.

It was nice, you thought as you drove down the busy Los Angeles freeways. You have an incredibly sexy date tonight and he is probably the sexiest man in the world.

You were eager to return home, hoping to see the man who invaded your thoughts soon. His plane was expected to land after it got dark and the two of you had planned a simple wine and dine on the balcony of your apartment. A nice cozy evening with one of the warmest souls you’ve ever met.

The apartment building you lived in was one of those that was lingering from old Hollywood, the art deco structure was an iconic look which made you love it from your first visit. It also helped the security on the building was top notch, something you’ve come to appreciate being a woman living by yourself.

“Honey, I’m home,” you said to no one as you entered your home, leaving your keys in a small bowl by the front door. As you removed your shoes by the doorway, you noticed there was a dark grey silk scarf on the coat rack, an item of clothing that was certainly not yours.

You ran your fingers over it, feeling its softness. After a moment you caught a whiff of the cologne that lightly came off it- it was distinctly Kylo. Your heart went into a flutter as your hands reached the bottom of the scarf where there was a black monogram KR embroidered on the rich material. That smile you had been forcing down finally spread wide across your face as you called his name loudly.

“Over here, little one,” his deep voice rang from outside your balcony. You took off your coat, throwing it off to some chair at your dining bar area.

Kylo stood on the balcony, waiting for you leaning against the glass railing. He looked incredibly handsome standing there, the sun illuminated each and every single one of his beauty marks that you’d come to love tracing over with sweet kisses during moments of reprieve. His shirt was a tad bit ruffled, adding to his charm. Clearly a man who worked as fast as he could just to fly to your neck of the woods just as fast.

You could hardly catch your breath as you took the few remaining steps that kept you from your lover, a truly decadent sweet. As your arms found themselves around his neck, his lips met yours in a sweet, chaste kiss. Nothing could be spoken that could mirror the joy in your heart, only the smile you felt sprawled on your face.

“Hey, handsome,” you spoke as you gazed up at Kylo.

He looked at you, letting his hands snake down to your hips, “Hey.”

The two of you kissed one more time before he grabbed one of your hands that was wrapped around his neck, he gave another kiss to the back of your hand. “A true gentleman,” you poked.

He let out a groan, “Quiet you, just sit in the damn chair, there’s something we need to talk about.” By the looks of his facial expression, you knew it was serious but nothing of concern, something that eased your mind for the time being. He led you by your hand, not once letting go and sat you down in one of the two chairs sitting on the balcony. You noticed that Kylo took the liberty of setting out your dinner plates for two on the table alongside fresh flowers, a colorful arrangement of carnations, daisies, baby’s breath, and roses. The mixture of reds and whites filled your heart with adoration for the gruff man in front of you.

Kylo always carried an air of aggression and being rough around the edges, something you’d easily recognize as his signature. It didn’t matter in the end, only that you’d know you’d never be subjected to the end of his red hot blade.

“So,” you edged him on, “Is it Bazine?” He shook his head. “Your mother,” you felt yourself grow cold. He shook his head again, saying nothing. Instead of words he sat down opposite of you and reached into his jacket pocket that hung around the back of his chair and grabbed something, a small box.

He passed it to you, a black box wrapped in a fine white silk ribbon. It was small, fit perfectly in the palm of your hand as you picked it up. “What’s this, Kylo? I’m sure I’ve told you time and time again not to get me gifts,” you laughed.

He looked away, resting back in his seat. “Just open the damned box already, brat.” You laughed again, knowing his little tantrum was a jest. Something you’ve grown to love about him.

The ribbon fell away easily, as if wanting nothing more than you to hurry and open the box too, you took a moment and glanced back to Kylo. His eyes grew dark as he covered his mouth with one of his hands, his eyebrows just as furrowed in hesitation. You could tell he was a bit anxious.

With a click, the little black box was open. Inside was a silver cuff bracelet. Simple, modest, and everything you could ever admire in a jewelry piece. “Oh, Kylo, I love it!”

“Keep looking at it,” his voice low.

A quick glance back down to your hands as you turned the cuff over and there it was, an inner engraving with a simple, “Just because I love you”. A phrase that instantly triggered tears of happiness well in your eyes.

“You love me?”

He looked at you, astonished you could say such a thing and leaned forward, “Of course, why wouldn’t I? You’re incredible in a room, you command attention, your very essence demands respect.”

You looked back down at the cuff, admiring the words shine in the sunlight, “You sure know how to charm a lady,” you teased in a deadpan voice.

Kylo leaned back in his seat, noting the hints of playful sarcasm you emanated and let out a scoff, “You’re ruthless, little one. I just told you that I love you and your first instinct is to bust my balls.” You chuckled but continued to admire your gift. He whispered your name, calling you to look in his eyes.

“You owe me nothing, and yet here we are. You waltzed into my life and after knowing the mess I’m in with Baz you stayed in my life, she’ll never forgive either of us for as long as she lives. Not to mention my own mother. You are a strong woman and you’ve seen the absolute terror I can be and yet here you are,” he paused, running his fingers through his hair.

“There is not a damn thing in this world that I wouldn’t change or do any differently if that meant I wouldn’t have met you in that restaurant. Fuck, go on a vacation, a long one, after I sign divorce papers, we could buy a whole new apartment in New York, one that Bazine will never step foot in and that could, I don’t fucking know, be an actual home for you and I. You’ve not a single clue just how much life and love you bring with you, and just how being around you makes me feel, I just-,” he pauses again, realizing he’s ranting, “I didn’t mean to go off on some big speech but what I wanted to say was that I love you, if you’d be willing to be in this fucked up version of a relationship with me for the foreseeable future and hopefully thereafter too, then maybe we can do that whole ‘let’s spend the rest of our lives together’ bullshit I’m always hearing about.”

This was the first time you’d ever heard Kylo Ren lay bare more than he ever had, admitting his own brash reactions, a mild hint at his own insecurities, and for the briefest of moments you were breathless.

Instead of choosing words, you hastily put the cuff on and stood from your chair taking two small steps to reach his noting how anxious he looked between your eyes and the newest addition to your jewelry set. You sat on his lap, taking a moment to caress his sharp jawline, “That was a lot of words to say I love you and you want to call me your girlfriend.”

He closed his eyes and threw his head back groaning, “Why are you like this!”

You gave him a flourish of kisses all over his face, finally letting those tears from earlier fall, “Just because I love you too.”

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chilledplantmum · 4 years ago

Text

CW: stillbirth, mental health, covid 19, trauma

*Names have been changed for privacy and confidentiality reasons

Life line: 13 11 14

Men’s help line: 1300 789 978

Beyond blue: 1300 22 4636

1800 RESPECT

SANDS: pregnancy and infant loss: 1300 072 637

Kids helpline: 1800 551 800

7.50 Monday morning

I was just doing my normal morning routine I was on the loo and I felt this weird sensation I thought Chester had moved away from my bladder as I felt a pop and a gush.

I didn’t panic I just thought it was wee but I called labour and delivery just for an opinion they weren’t concerned and as I had an appointment at 11am so I just chilled out and had breakfast I pushed away any worries because pregnancy teaches you to chill because if you worry about every little thing you’ll go mad. Matt was sleeping as he had had the flu with migraines and temperatures all the previous week and he was buggered. Then I went back to the toilet and I was shocked at that point as I was bleeding bright red blood. So I left the bedroom en-suite as not to wake up Matthew and called labour and delivery again and they seemed not fussed then Matthew came out to the lounge and his face was just shocked he couldn’t believe I hadn’t told him I just wanted him to not worry.

I drove myself to the hospital alone as Matthew was still displaying symptoms of being sick and as this was the thick of covid 19 stages 4 there was no way he’d be anywhere near the hospital though we both had negative results the previous weeks so we could see Matthews son as we didn’t want to expose anyone.

I was called into my appointment very quickly and the OB rushed me to ultrasound. The ultrasound was a bit strange even I could tell there was something wrong as the amount of 20-week ultrasounds I had seen on Facebook did not look like this. The OB said everything should be okay it did look like there was not much fluid but in her words at the time ‘I’m not great with ultrasounds I’ll send you up to the assessment unit they are much better’ but Chester still had a heartbeat so again I didn’t get too worried and I hadn’t had any pain so I made my way up to the assessment centre. Again I was called in fairly quickly even though I counted about 15 heavily pregnant women sitting waiting.

The midwife sat me down and checked on Chester with the Doppler he was rolling around running away from the pressure typical of my little nugget but she found his heartbeat no issues. She did some swabs and then called a doctor. The doctor performed a procedure to check my waters had truly broken. They couldn’t get an accurate answer as there was too much blood. But again they assured me that there was no ‘pooling’ of amniotic fluid so everything should be okay. I went to do the ‘pee cup’ the results showed high glucose which is typical of myself being hypoglycemic and a slight infection marker but nothing extraordinary. Then they transferred me to a single assessment unit to see the head OB and again I didn’t stress because no one seemed to be too worried. I was actually enjoying knitting the scarf I’d been working hard at the whole pregnancy.

The head OB again did a fluid swab which was a nasty painful 60 seconds of my life. Oh and the fact he made the comment that my vagina was at an odd angle and it was impossible to see my cervix. I won’t go into too much detail but it was rough and if I ever see another speculum I’ll most likely cry.

Called Matthew at that point can’t really remember what we spoke about but I was just updating him so he wasn’t out of the loop. I then headed to the toilet and on my way back to my room I saw my OB say to another midwife do you think this test is positive? She replied yes definitely a poor girl. I stopped myself went back to the room in a hurry and just kept repeating no it wasn’t my test why would they just talk openly where everyone could hear. I slowed my breathing something I had been very accurate to my entire life due to anxiety issues so I held it together.

The head OB came in and non-chalnonty told me yes the test is positive my waters had indeed broken. I immediately speed-dialled my love. At that point I could not talk I stopped paying attention to anything around me and I could barely hear any voices. The OB explained the situation to Matthew and left swiftly. Matthew and I just cried not saying a word but uncertain of what the future held. I had a few midwives come to comfort me and told me not to stress babies are born all the time at early gestations. I asked her for some food as I wasn’t prepared for a lengthy hospital experience all I had eaten was a bowl of rice bubbles at 9am it was now 2pm. All she could find was 3 custard puddings as I was feeling faint and quite hungry I downed all 3 without hesitation. I was admitted and given my own room hey it kind of looked like a fancy hotel room. Tad odd there was no TV.

Again I asked for food and asked to make sure my dinner had been organized they assured me it had been.

Then my mate Didrie* the first midwife I met on the ward. I will not forget her she was kind, she was gentle.

I asked her for answers there was none at that point.

I called Matthew so he could hear the plan she explained so he could have his questions answered.

Now at this point, I need you to brace yourself as I can hardly handle my anger for this moment.

My honest and compassionate self told Dierdre about Matthew and I’s covid tests and they were negative but Matthew had developed a dry cough that morning. He was instantly refused entry to the hospital and was made to take a covid test.

Bare with me this bits a little complicated. I had driven the car in and as we only have one car Matthew needed to come to pick it up so he asked Dedrie if he could bring my bedding and bags for the admission to the front door and give me a hug......... the answer of course ... no

I called my mother and asked her to drive Matthew to pick up the car and so I could at least see one familiar face..... breathe..... the covid rules for antenates was one visitor for the entire stay and only 2 hours of visiting per person.

At this point I had Deidre explain this to Matthew as I was exhausted beyond comprehension. Matthew begged and begged and the head midwife said absolutely not until his covid test was negative. He basically ran to get the test and was told it was going to take 3-5 days. He told this story to the nurse who completed his test she cried. That angel of a woman put his test under immediate healthcare exemption so it was fast-tracked for 24-hour turn around.

At this point, I was given the impossible choice of having my mum give me a hug and a conversation so I could cope or wait for Matthew when his test came back. At this point I almost shut down I had no answers for my unborn and my stupid empathetic brain pulled Dedrie aside and apologized for how Matthew and my mother sounded I had chosen to wait for the father of my child. I apologized to her and said they were quite angry as only a year and a half ago I had almost succeeded in ending my life. Deidre hugged me and said just wait.

She returned not more than 5 minutes later and said call your mother right now and get her up here. You have exceptional circumstances.

At this point, I was still waiting for food I believe it was around 8pm. The food service lady knocked opened the door and stated have you got your tray? I looked at her utterly confused and said what do you mean? I haven’t received my dinner yet. She just said okay well dinner service was over.

I begged mum to go get me food I was weak tired emotional and confused. My mother’s anxiety got the best of her and said she had no idea how to navigate sunshine. I dialled Matthew crying and said can you buy me some tea, my darling partner said what do you want anything for you.

Deidre Returned and said she had gotten approval for external food to be brought in. My mother went to the front door to collect the food from Matthew. She was hassled by security on the way back to my room.

It was KFC just chips and potato and gravy and as it was quite late at this stage I took in as much as I could but I could hardly eat it was the Coca Cola that saved my energy levels. I had to just force the food in.

Mum left after her 2-hour visit with a letter from the hospital stating she had permission to be out after curfew.

I just sat on my hard horrible uncomfortable hospital bed and just cried not sure how long but it was endless tears.

I finally passed out from exhaustion.

The night head midwife came in and woke me up around 1am for an obs check. I knew something was wrong as I could barely make out a human she had so much PPE. She said you are now in isolation and you will be given your covid test in the morning. I said can I get a can of Pepsi out of the vending machine just quickly as I hadn’t had any soft drink in soooo long. It was hard no. She did my obs and checked Chester with the Doppler she kept complaining how hard it was to find him as it was such an early gestation but for a fleeting 3 seconds, I heard the gallop of his fluttering heart. And everything was okay.

I was woken up abruptly the next morning at who knows what time. At this point, I lost track of days time and distance. The doctors said your ultrasound to check on my little nugget won’t be today as it was a too high risk of infecting people with my nonexistent covid. They left just as quickly as they had presented.

I just broke I have no idea how long I was crying for it was grief it was something between a scream and a moan it was so loud I had to drown out my own thoughts I had to drown out everything. I pressed the call buttons who knows how many times no one ever came.

I passed out. I was then woken again by a stranger covered head to toe in white there were no eyes no smile no humanity. She did my obs and said are you ready for your covid swab? I begged I had had no symptoms a negative test. She said it doesn’t matter you need to test clear for our safety. I said what happens if I refuse, she said your situation won’t change it will just prolong your stay. I opened my mouth with tears streaming down my face I have a pretty strong gag reflex but there were a few dry heaves. Then the nose she said I’ll be gentle I was just hanging to my thoughts of Matthew and Chester. She did one nostril and the pain was unbearable every nerve ending in my body was burning from emotion the psychical pain was just something I couldn’t cope with. The masked woman said you need to calm down it’s not good for you and baby. She asked are you ready for the other nostril, breathing through snot tears and pain I said if I refuse will I be made to take it again if there is a negative result. She said no, I said, in that case, you're not touching me. I’m not entirely sure what happened next I think at that point I stopped calling family as I couldn’t bear to see the pain in their faces or in their voice. I just kept saying be strong, bubs needs you to be strong right now. I don’t remember much from the interactions from those midwives that day. I do know that I started to develop a migraine as I had not had proper caffeine in close to 24 hours. There was another angel that day who said if you need anything to buzz me as you cannot leave this room. I said all I want is a can of coke and I’ll be able to survive the day. The midwives I could hear were run off there feet so many met calls for other mums every time I pressed the buzzer it was a good half hour to an hour to get service. Then came changeover I had a new midwife, my angel didn’t come through and the migraine started to become unbearable. Then she opened the door she said I didn’t forget about you. Look after yourself she took off her mask and smiled, it was an act of pure empathy and humanity.

I had been referred to my next angel the social work rainbow that came from pain and clouds. Rainbow* you saved my mind that day. You sat with me for over 2 hours listening. We swapped stories of our social work careers which were eerily similar. We talked about maternity social work and how horrible it can be and how unfair the world is. She then said she was off to do the paperwork for Matthew to stay the night when he tests negative the first exemption The hospital had to learn to deal with.

Then one of the best phone calls of my life came through it was Matt I could hear his smile from a mile away he had tested negative. I cried with joy a deep love.

Later that night my blood pressure plummeted I was faint tired and had barely eaten or drank any fluid.

The doctor said we need to hydrate you right now and ordered IV fluids

I demanded they did not the vein in my elbow as it was always the most painful IV vein he tried twice. I came very very close to passing out and giving up but I stayed awake and strong I downed some orange juice. He said the vein he found had collapsed and he would try the other arm I again said do not touch my elbow. Again he stuck in the canular needle and once again the vein collapsed. I went numb, I have an intense fear of needles but my blood pressure continued to plummet from the stress and pain. A second midwife gave it a try yet again they found a vein it didn’t produce enough blood. I remained steadfast you are not to touch the painful vein every doctor and midwife saying how much easier it would be. Now at this point, they brought in someone who never fails..... she spent a good ten minutes analyzing my arms finally stuck me number 4 she was in and then the vein once again collapsed.

I was so tired and delirious she talked me into the painful vein. Such regret for that moment.

She was gentle it was by a bit tender but not painful.

My iv fluids went in and I quickly started feeling better my bp came back up. They wrapped my arm and left me to rest. I don’t recall much else not sure if I slept. I believe it was a video call with my angels of a blended family my Matthew, my sons mum and Chesters brother and nanny. I was so happy just to hear My bonus son giggle and say he’s silly quirks I was floored how much he had grown in just over a week.

Sleep was not my friend that night the canula started to burn it started to ache and I started to just give in to the pain and let the panic take hold I just lay there hyperventilating and just giving in to the pain. Again the head midwife entered who knows what she looked like I knew she was older, I was so so weak and I begged and begged for her to take out the IV I started to lose it. She said to stop being silly it doesn’t hurt that bad I’ll flush it and you’ll be okay. You need to get it together. She broke a boundary she rubbed my belly and said you need to stay calm for the baby.

She bandaged me up and said okay shall we listen to the baby? I was so happy to hear those words just connecting to the little miracle in my uterus. He played up a treat she said sounds like there’s fluid in there and you hear the gushing? Hope-filled my heart and then I heard him hiccup I slept well that night even though I was writhing in pain from the IV

I sat there rolled up in my maternity pillow and therapy blanket and I’m not a religious person but I sat there cried and prayed I said Hail Marys our fathers I begged and pleaded with the universe, I promised I would do anything to keep my child. I was a good person I helped people, I am kind I am generous. How could God take my baby from me when my abusive ex who had threatened to kill me and any new partner I fell in love with, strangled me several times held a knife to my throat had a perfectly healthy child. I begged I pleaded I prayed. At the end of this stay, god religion whatever you believe does not exist there is no fairness. I just cling to love and joy family good friends and life.

Again like doctors do they banged on my room for rounds stated you will be going for your ultrasound in an hour. I didn’t comprehend anything they said to me the midwife entered the room just a mask and kind eyes and I said what is going on? She said did the doctors not tell you? Your covid test is negative and there ready for you to come down to ultrasound to see nugget boy. I called Matthew tears of pure joy running down my face.

The PCA collected me in a wheelchair I just couldn't find the energy to walk. It was the young woman’s first day and she had no idea where ultrasound was, I said don’t worry I got you to let’s go.

I arrived and waiting an hour for the ultrasound that was ready for me know. I asked reception for a mask from politeness to others couldn't give two shits about anything as I was negative for the dumb virus anyway.

Finally called into ultrasound. I stated to the tech can I call my partner, she said I’ll talk to my supervisor, came back 5 minutes later and said only for the first 2 minutes, I just politely said Thankyou and dialled. The second the machine hit my stomach I saw him I had no idea what I was looking at it was just like a car that had been crushed into a cube I knew it was bad when the tech went quiet and left the room. Matt and I sat there in silence quiet tears running down my face we knew it was bad. The tech returned with the more senior tech, at that moment I was a thing an object they talked amongst themselves about how there was no fluid there was no clear vision of anything. But yet there was his little fluttering heart. He was still going strong.

It was long painful ultrasound bursitis and arthritis in my hips was near unbearable I was just so sensitive to pain which is not something I’m used too I normally can barely feel a thing until I’m at level 8 or 9 levels of pain and even then it’s hard to get me to take pain killers. Matthew and I stayed silent he said I will shower waiting for the doctor.

I went to the toilet and in seconds I could hear my name being called I ran out and went with my next angel The high-risk OB (HROB*)She sat me down and even with all her PPE I knew that look it’s as obvious as a deer in headlights. I paused and said before we start I need to call Matthew. He had jumped in the shower so it took him some time to respond. HROB started I’m so sorry.... that was all I needed to hear I don’t remember the words said next but Matthew has called back. HROB said I won’t say much more until Matthew was there as decisions needed to be made for our child. I had tears again I was out of breath I couldn't catch my breath with the goddamn mask on HROB gave me a minute as I had snot flying everywhere. I said can Matthew please please stay more than 2 hours she said no the government and police make those rules. I could barely stand

HROB asked someone I have no idea who but they basically held me up while walking back to the ward. Just waiting for the elevator I fell to the ground trying to get my breath.

I have no idea how but I made it to level 7 I said to the midwife wait for me I’m going to the fucking vending machine

I was taken back to my room which now I could move freely in and out of. Matthew knocked and the sense of love and relief I had at the moment was indescribable. We just sat down and held each other for hours no words needed to be said. At that point, there were no words.

Rainbow knocked she was so much more beautiful without the lab suit on.

She said I’ve got 10 minutes as I am now running up to my office Matthew you will stay the night I promise you.

Hours went by and then 3.30 came

HROB walked in we arranged the room.

The news was something no parent no human wants to hear.

Bubs our little peanut, nugget bean had a 1-5% chance of having completely normal anatomy and a normal or healthy quality of life.

The next sentence I’m sure nearly killed Matthew right then and there. HROB said bubs had 4 more days to go till viability. But with every second he was safe in my tummy it became more and more dangerous for me. The next words I don’t remember and I still can’t imagine the power. She said if you go into labour bubs would not live. And then if I got an infection I would only have a very small chance of survival many women quickly end up in ICU with sepsis and can die within minutes. She said if any tiny hint of infection set in we would not be given a choice. She made me promise if infection set in I would not refuse treatment and induction as bubs would 100% not survive and if I refused neither would I. It’s was Wednesday I think at that point. HROB left us to hopefully make the decision between a mother’s health and babies life. Of course, my instinct was baby. I asked Matthew he couldn't answer but I knew the look in his eyes and what it meant.

Matthew and I needed the connection we needed family we needed his son my beautiful bonus son. And they all answered it was the silver lining in a fucked up time bonus sons’ hiccups had my near in tears he sounded just like his brother's little hiccups. He was so happy to see daddy and cag cag ( his name for me) his smile lit up my heart and I just felt love just for a little while everything was okay. But then I saw my face in the camera view I started to get pale, I got pale, I pushed to stay on the phone as I just wanted to hold onto hope and joy. But then I fell behind Matthew and passed out in pain.

Not 2 hours later the choice was taken away I started to cramp, it came on thick and fast. The most intense pain I’ve ever felt. Whole-body convulsions I was rolling over and over again punching things screaming a primal scream that I didn’t recognize.

It was a blur from there for me the one memory I do have was Matthew pressing the buzzer furiously running up and down the halls trying to find someone to help finally they took a preemptive blood test ordered by a midwife. And then the morphine injection.

I had never seen my partner so angry so bossy, so in control. The young midwife just kept asking if I was ready.

Matthew lost it and said just do it she can’t talk she’s in pain just do it!

That injection felt like it went through my entire thigh through the other side. Matthew stated that the way I pulled away I nearly snapped the needle off into my thigh.

But then it’s was a blur I do recall the midwife coming in and stating there was an infection that had set in but it was mild and there was still hope.

We were moved to the assessment centre not long later.

Matthew passed out on the couch I was high as a kite on morphine and I just wanted cuddles and he said cass I need rest.

I spent much of my time with the international midwives guessing their accents apparently I did well. Then in passed out from being so tired.

Sleep evaded me as I discovered that morphine started to make me hallucinate. I was having night terrors quite frequently.

Finally, the morphine wore off and then the hunger kicked in

The midwife offered me the Doppler I said there’s no point it’s too painful.

Upon reflection he must have passed at this point as the vegemite craving kicked in all I wanted was a strong desire for vegemite sandwiches.

Then the moment came, the pain was starting to settle in but I was denied pain killers as I had to be clear-headed to sign my consent to induction.

One of the most delirious moments of my life one of trauma and sadness and even though this is just so new I still feel like I sentenced my darling Boy to death. I screamed I yelled I cried, I punched the bed. The pain started to set in again

Matthew said please let me sign it but as it was my body I had to.

I just couldn't do it I couldn't terminate my miracle child the child I was told I could never have conceived naturally.

Then Matt held me tight he begged and begged and cried he said you promised. bubs is gone I can’t lose both of you.

HROB just got frank she said I need to go but your choice is you sign this piece of paper or instead of losing one life we are losing two.

It took everything in me to go against every human value I hold dear but I signed.

I was then given more endone so I could relax.

I was rushed to the birthing suite by wheelchair, I couldn't stand on my own two feet let alone walk.

It was a fast process they said you have time for lunch so ordered as many dumplings as I desired. They came at me with that fucking canula again 3 pokes later I said go away I do not give you consent to touch me if I have to have IV antibiotics for 48 hours I will not spend it crying from a nasty painful IV

the dumplings arrived and they said it’s time hop on the bed we are inducing you. They said you will have plenty of time to eat. 3 times the usual dose they said we will increase the dose again in 3 hours.

I started on the dumplings I had been craving all day. I had 3

The pain came on thick, fast and nasty.

First was an endone tablet it worked as well as panadol. Then I was given the gas it worked for about the first 3 contractions they were not very far apart. I was right side up to upside down there was no comfortable position. The gas was just making me giddy and slowed my breathing I started getting angry all I wanted was time to eat I was starving. I pulled my shoulder trying to rip the bed rail off the bed. And then after a little, while I was ready I have no idea if I was dilated to the full but the midwife set the toilet up so I could sit and relax and push and there were towels to catch baby I had the gas and I had to be forced to take breathes as I just wanted to be high. I looked at myself in the mirror I looked tired but I could still see the strength in myself. Then the last few contractions hit and he didn't take long.

Bubs was breech and I cannot describe the feeling of giving birth there are no words.

I was moved to the bed to relax and give the final push it took mere seconds and he was out

The most heartwarming words came out of Matthews's mouth. Cassie, it’s a boy

High from the gas, I had a short break and then got to hold my darling boy in my arms

There are no words for the love I felt

Matthew and I looked at each other and said it’s our little Chester.

#birth story #stillborn #child death tw #controversial #pregnancy

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verai-marcel · 4 years ago

Text

We’ve Only Just Begun (RDO OC x OC Fic)

Summary: Everett, a few weeks out of Sisika, has paid his debt to Mrs LeClerk. Though he’s now free, he can’t return to his old life as a ranger, so he opts for the next closest career: bounty hunting. When he’s handed a lead to some slavers related to the ones that had kidnapped his sister before, he jumps at the chance to wipe them out once and for all. But there’s a catch: he has to take a partner with him.

Author’s Notes: I’m being self-indulgent. This is how Verai and Everett first met.

Tags: oc x oc, rdo oc, origin story, historical racism, slow burn, strangers to friends, gun violence, minor wounds

Word Count: 8764 (I know it’s long, but mostly dialogue.)

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

Everett stood in the middle of the police station in St. Denis, listening to the sheriff ramble on about the man on the bounty poster he was looking at. The sheriff had heard that the bounty had been seen skulking around the ruins of the old train station a couple hours outside of the city. It wasn’t going to be a hard bounty; the man was just a sneaky bastard that had given his deputies the slip one too many times.

“Alright, I got it. I’ll bring’im back in one piece.”

“Preferably alive, Mr. Osborn.”

“Of course, who do you take me for?”

After taking the poster with the sheriff’s condescending ‘good luck’, Everett left the city on his black chestnut thoroughbred, the only thing tying him to his past. He had left Sisika swearing that he would drop his old life and everything around it, but he wouldn’t give up Ares for the world. Once Mrs LeClerk had told him he had some free time between jobs, he had snuck back to his old stable and taken him away. He was pretty sure they just let him take Ares back with no trouble, since he swore he saw a guard nod his way and turn around when he thought he had been caught.

The sun had moved overhead by the time he reached the ruined station. He let his horse rest a few hundred feet away and snuck over to the building, his navy revolver out and at the ready. Hearing some rustling amongst the rubble, he slowly turned a corner.

A man, sneaking past a broken wall, looked over his shoulder at the exact moment that Everett appeared.

"Shit!" the man exclaimed, bolting over the crumbling piles of bricks.

Everett immediately gave chase. Leaping over the wall, he landed with a loud squish into the bayou mud.

"Goddammit," he muttered as he pulled his boots out of the mud and made his way to solid ground. Putting on some extra speed, he whistled for his horse to follow.

"Leave me alone!" the man yelled over his shoulder.

Everett ignored him and saved his breath for running.

Then the man pulled out a gun and shot blindly over his shoulder.

Ducking and weaving, Everett dodged most of the bullets. The last one grazed his upper arm, tearing his shirt and burning his skin. His temper running a little short already because of the mud, he whistled again for his horse and kept chasing after the man, now more pissed off. He hated being shot at, and given that the man was running and shooting blindly over his shoulder, he really shouldn’t have been able to hit him.

The sound of a horse made him smile. He was going to run the bastard down before tying him up. Maybe drag him through the mud a little.

Then his smile faltered. That didn’t sound like Ares—

A blur of brown and white rushed passed him as a criollo leapt into his path, cutting him off.

As if in slow motion, he met the eyes of the rider: a woman, hair as dark as the midnight sky, eyes as sharp as a hunter’s knife, lips painted red like the lanterns near the gunshop of St. Denis.

He kept running, but watched as she expertly threw some bolas at the bounty. Hitting him in the legs, the man went down face first into the ground and slid a few feet. She skidded her horse to a stop and leapt off, landing in front of the man.

“Stupid bitch!”

The woman casually knocked the man out with a swift drop kick to the head before she pulled his arms out of the mud and tied his wrists together.

Everett caught up to her and was quickly met by a Schofield revolver pointed at his chest.

He put his hands up. “Whoa, hold on, I was hunting him first.”

The woman raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh? Since when?”

“Since this morning.”

The woman pulled a bounty poster out of her satchel with her free hand. “I’ve been after him since last night.”

Everett stared at the poster for a moment before clicking his tongue. “Damn sheriff,” he muttered.

She stowed the poster away, but didn’t stop aiming her gun at him. “You can go, I got it from here.”

For just a moment, he wondered if he could fast draw on her, shoot the gun out of hand, knock her out, and take the bounty, but quickly thought better of it.

“I’ll shoot you before you take a step,” she said, reading his thoughts.

He sighed. “I wouldn’t actually try anything,” he relented. “I know when I’m beat.”

“But you did think about it.” Nodding her head towards the man, she continued. “Help me put him on my horse, and we can split the bounty 20-80.”

“40-60.”

The woman hummed. "30-70,” she finally said, looking at him

Everett narrowed his eyes, glaring.

The woman shrugged. "You don't have to help me. I can do this myself."

And take the bounty for yourself, he thought. "Fine, fine. 30-70."

She stepped back, her gun still trained on him. Everett got the hint and slowly walked over to the unconscious man, picked him up, and dumped him on the back of her horse. Standing back, he turned to her, noticing her eyes were focused on something behind him, but he didn't dare take his eyes off someone with a gun aimed at him.

A soft nickering and the wet thud of hooves got closer until he could feel his horse nudging him in the back of his head.

The woman raised an eyebrow.

"Not now, Ares," Everett muttered.

His horse kept nudging him.

"Ares, stop."

He felt his horse's lips playing with his hair. Everett sighed. So much for trying to be a tough guy.

The woman snickered. "I guess you aren’t so bad, if your horse is this silly." She holstered her gun and walked towards him.

"Wait, Ares doesn't like strangers—" he started to say, just as she held her hand out. To his immense surprise, Ares dipped his head and pushed his muzzle into her hand.

"Hey there, big boy. Are you bothering your owner for a treat?" she said gently, her voice changing into something more sing-song while she spoke to the horse.

The woman was now close enough for her scent to wash over him. Most women he knew smelled like perfume, flowers, something exceedingly feminine. Her scent was different. She smelled of rain and thunderstorms, of leaves and meadows. And when she turned to look at him, he found himself drowning in her dark eyes. He noticed an emotion flicker in her eyes before she glanced away, looking back at his horse. What was that?

Everett swallowed. He suddenly had a strong urge to get to know her better. "Name's Everett. Everett Osborn."

Without looking away from Ares, who she was now petting with soft strokes, she replied, "My friends call me Verai." She turned to him with a wry grin on her face. "So you'll have to call me Ms. Marcel."

Everett grinned back. "Alright Ms. Marcel." He gave Ares a pat on the neck before mounting up. "Lead the way."

She nodded before heading back to her horse and trotting towards the city.

Everett took his cutter hat off the saddle and put it back on his head as he followed her. They rode in silence for a while, nothing but the sounds of birds and the occasional passersby accompanied them. Soon enough, he got curious about her.

"So what's his name?" Everett asked, gesturing at her horse.

"Sleipnir."

"Where'd you learn that name?"

"A friend."

When she didn't give any further details, he tried another question. "So, you do a lot of bounty hunting?"

"Yup."

Another few moments passed. Everett sighed. She wasn't a talkative one. "How long have you been a bounty hunter?"

Verai looked up at the sky for a few moments. "Nine years. Probably."

"Probably? How old were you when you started?"

"Nineteen."

Everett did the math in his head. She didn't look even close to his age, so he was surprised to find that she was only two years younger than him. He thought she was in her early twenties.

"And you?" she asked.

"Just started a few weeks ago," he said, a bit abashedly. He looked over at her to find her watching him with a patient expression, like a parent waiting for a child to confess.

But he was no child. He didn't particularly want to share the whole tale of why he suddenly decided to become a bounty hunter.

She eventually shrugged and looked away. Everett let out a small sigh. He wasn't going to get her to open up to him if he didn't do it first.

He wondered why he even cared.

The rest of the ride was made in silence until they reached the police station, nodding at the officers outside as they brought their horses into the courtyard. Dismounting easily, Verai moved to take the man off the back of her horse.

Everett quickly went to help her. "Let me…"

He trailed off as he watched her easily lift the man up into a fireman's carry and walk into the police office without breaking her stride. Following her inside, he could see the sheriff looking as if this was normal.

"Took a little longer than I thought," Verai said, dumping the body in a cell. "He's alive."

"I know, you're good about that." The sheriff opened a drawer and pulled out a wad of bills. "This is for you."

Verai took the money and counted it, then counted out a third of the bills and handed them to Everett.

The sheriff finally noticed Everett. "Oh, I see you ran into our lady hunter."

"Why didn't you tell me there was already someone after him?" Everett asked, trying not to growl.

The sheriff shrugged. "She didn't come back in the morning. Thought she might've died."

Verai let out a short laugh. "Please, you sent this greenhorn to me on purpose."

The sheriff grinned, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "You never stick around, Ms Marcel. It was the only way I could get you to meet Mr Osborn."

"And why would you do that to me?" Verai asked with only a small quirk to her lips indicating her faint amusement.

Everett felt a little affronted at being talked about as if he wasn't here. He opened his mouth to speak just as the sheriff suddenly stood up.

"There's a group of men that need to be arrested."

Verai raised an eyebrow. "I'll just get–"

"No. It has to be with Mr. Osborn." The sheriff turned to Everett. "It concerns those slavers."

Everett's eyes narrowed. "How do you know–"

"Your pa and I go way back. He told me to keep an eye out for you if I ever saw you. So here I am, throwin' you a bone."

Everett glanced at Verai, who was standing quietly, listening to every word. "Why does she have to come?"

"Because she's familiar with this area, much more than you."

Everett couldn't argue with that.

Verai finally spoke. "Why do I have to bring him?" She nodded her head at Everett. "This tenderfoot will only get killed if this group is as dangerous as I think they are."

"I–"

The sheriff interrupted Everett. "He's experienced."

Verai and the sheriff quietly stared at each other. Everett sensed a silent battle of wills and wisely stayed out of it.

"Fine," Verai said after a while. Then she turned to Everett. "But this is my job. I'm taking point."

Everett furrowed his brow. "Listen, I know this group, I know how they operate."

Verai ignored him as she turned back to the sheriff and held out her hand expectantly. He wordlessly handed her an envelope.

Taking the letter without reading it, she used it to salute the sheriff and left the building, Everett nodding at the sheriff as he followed her out.

***

"So where are we going?" Everett asked, falling into step beside Verai as they led their horses out of the courtyard and onto the road.

"The hotel."

"I know we just met sweetheart, but I like your style," Everett teased, reaching out to touch her elbow.

Gracefully dodging his hand, Verai rolled her eyes. "I am getting some sleep because I've been up all night tracking that halfwit. You are going to get supplies for our trip."

"Now hold on, I'm not your servant–"

"I thought you would want to be efficient. Otherwise you can wait until I've had some rest, then we can buy supplies together." She gave him a droll look. "Up to you."

He couldn't say anything at all. She was right. "I'll get supplies," he finally mumbled.

***

Verai split off from Everett at the intersection; she was going to get a bath and sleep, while he procured supplies for the trip. She didn't need to read the letter from the sheriff to know where they were headed. Having heard whispers about men hiding in Roanoke Ridge, taking people into caves who were never seen again, she had a feeling they would be traveling north and would be up there for a while.

Paying for her bath and a few hours sleep, she made her way to the room in the back and waited for the bath lady to fill up the tub.

"Rough day, sugar?"

"Yeah. And the sheriff just partnered me with some novice on the next job."

The lady gave her a sympathetic smile. "Well, good luck out there."

Verai nodded to her as she left. "Thanks."

Removing her clothes and sinking into the warm tub, Verai let out a deep sigh. She didn't want to work with the man. Nothing against him personally, but when she had finally gotten a good look at him while she was petting his horse, she saw a resemblance to her former partner, and her heart had squeezed tight.

She could stare down ten bandits without so much as batting an eye, but when face to face with a man who reminded her of far too much, she had shut down.

“Don’t be weak,” she muttered to herself as she scrubbed herself clean, finally hauling her ass out of the tub, getting dressed, and heading to her room for a few hours of shut eye.

***

A light rapping on her door pulled Verai from her dream. Blinking away the sleep, she was surprised to find tears streaking down her cheek. She couldn’t recall her dream, just felt a deep sadness. Deciding to bury her feelings, as she always did, she sat up to face the day, or what was left of it. She looked outside to see the sun low in the sky; she had slept longer than she had planned.

“Ms. Marcel?” A deep voice came from outside her door.

“I’m gettin’ up, hold your horses.” Grumbling, she rolled out of bed, pulled on the rest of her clothes and her gun belt, grabbed her satchel, and opened the door.

Everett was leaning against the door frame, a smile on his face. “I was about to come in and wake you up, sleeping beauty.”

“And I would’ve punched you,” she said without missing a beat. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” She walked past him to the front of the hotel. Passing the key back to the clerk, she exited the building and went straight to her horse.

“You’re not even going to ask about the supplies?” Everett asked, falling into step next to her.

“I trust you to accomplish at least that. Or are you saying that I shouldn’t?”

Everett shook his head. “You’re a tough one, ain’tcha?”

Verai checked the saddle one last time before mounting up. Turning to him as he did the same, she responded, “I’m not particularly tough. Just straight shootin’.”

She could hear Everett’s amused chuckle as they turned their horses towards the main road and started north.

***

“We goin’ to stop for the night?”

“The night is young. Best to get as far north as possible while we can.”

“We could’ve started earlier.”

Verai glared at Everett, who was focused on the road ahead, though his eyes did glance over at her before looking forward again. “I overslept. You could’ve left without me.”

“And leave a lady behind? Never,” he said, a little more seriously than she had expected.

Unable to think of a response, Verai just left it alone and changed the subject. “Let’s go a little faster then, if you can keep up. We’ll hit the border of Lemoyne and camp near there.”

Without waiting for a response, she urged her horse into a gallop and took off. Hearing the pounding hoofbeats of his horse behind her, she smiled.

***

They reached the border and headed off the main road towards a small clearing. By lantern light, they set up their bedrolls.

“Should we start a fire?”

“No.”

Everett looked at her, wondering at her terse response.

“Smoke will attract bandits,” she finally said.

“Oh.”

Verai considered Everett for a moment. “You haven’t been bounty hunting for very long. Have you spent a lot of time on the road?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I did. I guess I never really thought about bandits attacking me. Usually traveled with a posse.”

“I see. When you’re alone, you have to prevent anyone from finding you.”

“Is that why we’re in this circle of trees?”

She nodded.

Everett considered her for a moment. A woman, alone, bounty hunting. He watched as she switched off her lantern and plopped down on her bedroll. Following suit, he lay on his back, staring up at the stars through the trees.

“Ms. Marcel?”

“Yeah?”

“Sweet dreams.”

When she didn’t respond, he turned to look at her, only to find her staring at him blankly.

“What?”

“Been a long time since someone’s said that to me,” she said wistfully. “Good night.”

As she turned away from him and fell asleep, Everett watched her steady breathing and lost track of the time as he wondered how long she had been alone.

***

They got up in the morning and headed north once more. And once more, Everett tried to get to know his reticent companion.

“Why’d the sheriff stop you when you said you were goin’ to get some help?”

Verai shrugged at Everett’s question.

“C’mon, you can tell me, I can keep a secret.”

“More like you’re nosy.”

Everett shook his head. “Forgive me for giving a damn.”

Rolling her eyes, Verai decided to humor him. “I occasionally ride with another posse, but they’re… a bit wild.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They’re good people, but wherever we go, there tends to be a lot of dead people in our wake.”

“Did those people deserve it?”

“Let’s just say that if I utter their name, other gangs steer clear.”

Everett wanted to ask more, but she was clearly protecting them. “They sound fun. Maybe you can introduce me to them some time.”

Verai laughed out loud. “Oh, no, they’d eat you for breakfast.”

“I am mighty tasty, you know,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

She delicately snorted. “Right.”

***

“You sure you want to stop here?” Everett asked as they entered Van Horn, the derelict buildings creaking with the wind.

“Just for a quick meal before we head on. We should hit Annesburg sometime after nightfall. Then it’s all wilderness from there.”

Everett eyed the people in town warily. If he were still a ranger, he would’ve kept going. A lawman seemed like the last person that anyone in this town wanted to see. Following Verai into the saloon, he took in the patrons as he always did, quickly judging who would be a threat and who was safe.

Three men at the back of the room had turned their heads when Verai had walked in and hadn’t looked away. His hackles raised, Everett stepped closer to her.

“Been a while, Verai,” the owner said with a smile.

“Sure has, Ms Dawson.”

“I told you, call me Josie.”

“Alright, fine, Josie. Two stews, please.”

“That’ll be six dollars.”

Everett leaned past Verai and slapped the money on the bar.

Verai glared at him.

“Just treatin’ a lady right,” Everett said with a wink.

The owner looked at Verai. “You finally got yerself a nice one,” she said, chuckling.

“No, he’s not–”

“I’m just teasin’ ya,” she laughed. “I’ll get you your stew. Go sit down.”

“Thank you,” Verai said as she turned to find a table. Everett followed her, and she couldn’t help but feel like he was following her a little too closely, like an overprotective dog.

Sitting down, she noticed that he kept glancing over her shoulder. “Ignore them,” she muttered. “There are always people like that.”

“I don’t like how they’re lookin’ at you.”

“Well, get used to it. I did.”

Everett looked at her, and the pity in his eyes both infuriated her and saddened her.

“Listen,” she said quietly. “I don’t want your pity, or your misguided sense of justice. There’s no point in raising a ruckus if it’ll just cause more misunderstandings.”

“But–”

“No buts. Just. Let. It. Go.”

Everett let out a breath and huffed. “Fine. But if they try anything, I’ll tear them apart.”

Verai sat back. “And why do you care?”

“Because you’re my partner. That’s all the reason I need.”

“Oh,” she said, taken aback. Surprised by his response, she could only look down at the table until the food arrived.

***

They finished their food quietly, with the occasional comment on the quality, and left the saloon satisfied.

"We're being followed," Everett whispered.

"I know," Verai whispered back. "Don't do–"

"What do you want," he growled as he turned around, addressing the three men from the back table.

Verai closed her eyes and sighed silently before she, too, turned around. Facing the three men, she assessed each one. The one on the left was shorter than the other two and had a bowler hat on. The one on the right was a little lanky, with an ill-fitting jacket. And the one in the center had unruly mutton chops and a wicked look in his eyes.

"This isn't ideal," she grumbled.

"Don't see many of your kind around here," the man in the center said as he looked her up and down, as if he was appraising a piece of meat.

Verai narrowed her eyes as a cold calm started to settle into her stomach.

The man chuckled. "Maybe we can take you for a ride."

Without warning, the other two men leapt onto Everett, taking him down. As they wrestled on the ground, the man with the mutton chops stalked towards Verai. He leered at her, licking his lips. "Never had one of you before. Bet you're a crier."

Then he lunged.

Verai swiftly dodged, spinning out of the way and using the momentum to roundhouse kick the man in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground.

"And you'll never find out," she muttered as she quickly drop kicked him in the head, knocking him out.

Turning to Everett, she watched him throw one man off his shoulder just as the other man threw a punch into his stomach. Coughing harshly, Everett grabbed the man's arm and tugged hard, lifting up a knee and delivering a hit to his stomach in return. Seeing the other man get up, Verai ran and tackled him just as he was coming back for another hit.

Knocking out his current attacker with an elbow to the back of his neck, Everett turned around to see Verai pummeling the other man until he was out cold. When she stood up, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat from her brow, she looked over at him and half-smiled, a quirk of her lips that made his heart stutter.

What a woman.

***

They left Van Horn quickly after that, not wanting to stir up more trouble. Riding hard until sunset, they finally reached Annesburg, a small mining town filled with run down buildings and run down people. Everett followed Verai as she hitched her horse next to a nondescript building, the green paint faded and peeling from the wall boards. To his bemusement, she walked towards the gunsmith next door.

"I already bought ammo," he said.

"We're not here for that," she said as she entered, the door creaking loudly on its hinges.

The man behind the counter nodded in greeting, glancing at Everett for a moment.

"Two baths and two rooms, please."

"Only have one room available."

Verai balked. Turning to Everett, she opened her mouth to suggest camping, but he stepped forward.

"We'll take the room," he said, handing over a dollar and two quarters.

Verai stared at him in shock.

"You'll catch flies like that," he teased as he accepted the key and two bath tickets from the gunsmith.

Quickly shutting her mouth, Verai shook her head as she snatched one of the tickets out of Everett's hand and left the shop, walking back to the first building.

“Thank you, mister,” he said over his shoulder to the gunsmith as he followed after her.

The inside of the puke green building wasn't nearly as shabby as the outside, Everett observed as he looked around in the little hallway between the bathroom and the two sleeping rooms on the other side. It was rather sparse, but it was tidy.

Verai handed her ticket to the bath lady leaning against the wall. As she went to fill the tub, Everett opened the door to their shared room and tossed his satchel in the corner. Verai stayed at the door, leaning against the jamb and shaking her head. The bed wasn't very large and the rug on the ground looked muddy. She decided on bringing her bedroll in here to sleep on the floor.

"Not even going to ask if I wanted to bathe first?" Everett asked with an eyebrow raised as he sat on the bed, groaning softly as the pain in his ribs made itself known.

Verai turned to him with a droll stare. "I already know you'd turn it down. I'm not going to waste my breath."

"How do you know that?"

She grinned knowingly at him. "Because you're not an asshole."

"Why, thank you." Everett then gave her his most charming smile. "C'mere," he coaxed, patting the spot next to him. "Sit with me."

Laughing, she shook her head. "Nope."

"Why not–"

"Bath's ready!" the lady called out from the hallway.

Verai waved goodbye as she walked away, shutting the door behind her.

"Dammit," Everett uttered under his breath.

***

“Your turn.”

Everett was sitting in the creaky chair at the small table in the room, cleaning his guns. Getting up, he let out a pained breath. The punch to his ribs was hurting more than he thought it would.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” he lied as he got up and walked past Verai. The fresh scent that was distinctively hers hit him as he walked past, and it took everything he had to keep walking, to not turn around, pull her into his arms, and bury his face into her neck. There was something about her that made him both calm and restless, as if something was just not quite right, but it lay just underneath her composed yet snarky exterior.

Heading into the bath, the lady smiled at him. “Need some extra help? Fifty cents.”

Everett looked at her, with her corset pushing up her ample bosom, her blond hair in ringlets around her shoulders, her red lips, her powdered cheeks, and her eyes lined with makeup. She smelled like roses and had a very cute smile.

And for the first time, Everett declined. “Sorry. Not this time, sweetheart.”

She pouted. “Too bad. Not often I get to see a fine man like yourself around here.”

Shutting the door behind her, he was left alone, wondering what the hell he was doing. He had always welcomed the warm touch of a woman, whether in bed or in a bath, though he was a little picky about his choices. But he had never gone long without satisfying his baser desires.

Was it because of her?

Taking off his clothes, he looked in the mirror and examined the bruise that was growing on his abdomen. The coloration on his skin made him raise an eyebrow. How hard had the guy hit him? Figuring that there wasn’t much he could do about it other than wait for it to heal, he sank into the tub and bathed himself, lost in thought.

***

“No,” he said matter-of-factly.

“What?”

Everett had come back into the room to find Verai sitting on her bedroll that she had laid out on the floor next to the bed, mixing some herbs with a mortar and pestle. The fact that she had assumed she would be taking the floor hurt his honor.

“You’re takin’ the bed,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“You’re more injured than I am.”

Everett blinked. She noticed?

She sighed. “Lie down on the bed and take your shirt off.”

He smiled, his eyes softening. Taking a few steps closer until he was standing over her, he went down on one knee so he could look her in the eyes. “Sweetheart, been waiting all this time for you to say that to me.”

Verai reached over and pressed two fingers into his abdomen, exactly where he had been punched. He gasped and winced.

“Just do as I say,” she groused.

“Yes ma’am,” he said wryly as he took off his shirt and lay back on the bed.

He watched her stuff the herbal paste into a small muslin pouch and tie it off. Then she sat at the side of the bed and assessed his condition, observing him with a clinical blankness.

“What?” he said, his voice softer than he had intended.

She shrugged. “Just looking for other wounds.” Placing the poultice on his bruise, she flattened it out to cover more of his bruise and pressed down slightly.

“Hold this down,” she said, taking his hand and pressing it against the bag. “I’ll be back.”

“Where you goin’?” he asked as she got up and headed for the door.

“Need to stretch my legs, been sittin’ for too long, grinding those herbs for you.”

“Oh.”

She left before he could say anymore.

***

Verai quickly walked outside into the cold night air and took a deep breath. When Everett had walked in, his hair damp, his shirt half-buttoned and untucked from his pants, she had felt a heat in her body that she had not felt in a very long time. Very few men had this affect on her. The fact that he did wasn't lost on her. Old feelings were slowly being rewritten with new ones.

She did like him. She didn’t want to. But she did.

Taking another deep breath, she stared up at the night sky, the stars hidden by the gas lamps that dotted the road. Only the morning star and the waxing moon could really shine past the man-made illumination.

“What would you say, ài rén?” she whispered to the sky. When the morning star winked, she sighed.

I can’t let go of you. I won’t.

***

When Verai walked back inside, Everett was already asleep with the occasional light snore. She smiled softly at him, not understanding why she felt a fondness for him, only knowing that she did. His hand had slipped from his torso, so she quietly took the poultice away, setting it on the table to clean up later, and slipped the blanket over him.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispered before she crawled into her bedroll and closed her eyes, but her last thoughts were of the past, and as she drifted to sleep, she had a feeling that it would not be restful.

***

Everett woke up to the sounds of shifting fabric and soft gasping. Springing up, he hopped off the bed and knelt beside Verai.

“Sweetheart?”

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see her curled up in her bedroll, shivering slightly. He touched her shoulder but quickly removed his hand when she gasped again.

“Ms. Marcel!”

Verai’s eyes shot open and she turned to him, her eyes wide. She was breathing heavily, her heartbeat audible in the silent night.

“It’s alright,” he murmured.

She swallowed and nodded. Slowly sitting up, she waved her hand in a 'don't worry' gesture. “I’m good.”

He held her hand. “You're freezing.” He leaned in closer. “You want to sleep on the bed?”

She shook her head.

“Even by yourself?”

She kept shaking her head.

He sighed. “Then I’m joining you.”

“What?”

Everett lay down next to her. Not touching her, he turned to his side and offered his back. “Use me for warmth,” he said softly.

He waited.

Then he felt her lay back down and curl up against him.

He smiled.

***

The next morning, Everett woke up alone. He bolted upright, looking for Verai. When he saw her sitting at the table, cleaning her guns, he breathed a sigh of relief. Wordlessly, he got up and got ready to go, tapping her shoulder when he was done.

She looked up at him and nodded.

Neither of them spoke as they headed out, mounted their horses, and traveled north.

He wanted to ask what she dreamed, wanted to ask if she was really alright. But seeing her, seemingly fine, he felt his heart squeeze tight. She was shut off tighter than a mason jar and no amount of cajoling was going to get her to speak.

So he'd respect her silence. If she needed time, he'd give it to her.

They reached a crossroads north of Annesburg, and that's when Verai finally pulled out the letter the sheriff had given her. Opening it, she read the contents and flipped the paper over.

Everett maneuvered his horse closer and looked over her shoulder. "What's that map?"

"It marks where people have been reported missing."

She pulled a pencil out of her satchel and lightly drew a line through all of the dots, connecting them into an oddly shaped oval. "The slavers are probably around here," she said, tapping the middle of the shape.

Everett looked at the map, then looked at her. "Alright. Lead the way."

"Not trying to take lead?" she remarked with a wry grin.

"I can admit when I'm out of my element."

"Good. I like people who are self aware."

"So you like me?"

Instead of snorting or laughing at him, she only turned away and urged her horse faster.

"I'll take that as a yes," he mumbled, suddenly feeling happier.

***

They searched caves and abandoned cabins all day, but couldn't find anything, until they reached a small road that had recent hoof prints leading up towards the cliffs. Dismounting, they grabbed their weapons and quietly made their way up the hill.

Spotting a couple of guards, they both nodded at each other and split up, sneaking up on them and knocking them out before moving onwards, all the way to the cave mouth.

As Verai began to step into the cave, Everett grabbed her arm. She looked at the offending hand, then up at him.

"I'll take lead from here," he whispered.

"Why?"

"Because the first thing they'll do is dispose of the merchandise."

Verai's eyes widened as she realized what that meant. Nodding, she gestured towards the cave. "Lead on."

The cave was damp and smelled awful, but it was relatively well lit with torches dotting the path. Everett had his trusty navy revolver at the ready, while Verai had her Schofield, aiming upwards in case they ran into a victim.

Down the tunnels they went until they came into an opening with several cages, all locked. Inside three of the cages was a person, some curled up in a ball, others sitting with their backs to the outside, slumped over as if they had given up all hope.

Verai tapped Everett's shoulder.

No guards? she mouthed to him.

He leaned closer to her and whispered quietly in her ear. "They went on another hunt. Let's free them before they get back."

Together they shot off all the locks and herded the kidnapped victims out of the cave. There was one girl, one woman, and one boy. Scared and shaking, they barely registered the fact that they had been set free. Verai could only watch as Everett quietly calmed them down and got them to move as quickly as possible.

Outside of the cave, both Everett and Verai whistled for their horses. Walking down the path, they kept an ear out for the return of the slavers, but there was no sign of them for the time being.

Putting the children on Everett's horse and the woman with Verai, they rode back to town and returned them to the sheriff's office, where they could find their families from there.

Everett looked at Verai. "We have to go back."

"I know."

"They’re not going to be happy with what we did."

"They won't be happy with what we're about to do to them."

Everett smiled. "I like you."

Verai smiled back. "I tolerate you."

Laughing, Everett charged forward on Ares with Verai following close behind, back to the cave to capture the criminals.

***

The slavers were further up the road to the cave just as they were riding around the corner.

"Should we just carry on and circle back behind them?" Verai suggested.

Everett nodded. "Good idea."

"Of course, I came up with it."

He chuckled as they rode on as if they were just two travelers, keeping one eye on the slavers just in case. They rode a little further before turning up the hillside and through the forest to come up behind the gang. Grabbing their rifles, they left the horses and snuck through the bushes to a high point where they could see the gang riding down the trail towards the main road. Verai counted about ten men on horseback.

Keeping her ears open, she could overhear just a little bit of chatter as they rode past.

"They killed Kenny and knocked out Jimmy, freed our merchandise. Follow the tracks, get'em."

Verai glanced at Everett. "You killed him?"

"Only good slaver is a dead one," Everett growled, a darkness in his eyes that Verai noted for later.

"So. Five for me and five for you. You got this?" she asked, getting her Lancaster repeater in position.

"Of course." He raised his bolt action rifle.

Together they whispered. “Three. Two. One.”

Together they shot their marks. Two men went down, and the other eight men immediately scattered, some hopping off their horses and ducking behind cover, others brazenly charging forward to flush out their attackers.

Verai went right while Everett went left. She took a pop shot at one of the horsemen, striking their arm. Dodging past some bullets, she found a good spot behind some rocks and waited for the hoof beats to get closer. As they slowed, she pulled out her Schofield and peeked around the corner.

The man was slowly coming closer, his rifle aimed in her general direction, but he still seemed unable to see her. She quickly got two shots off, one hitting the man’s forehead. With no time to waste, she moved onwards, using the horse’s panic as a distraction as she headed in the opposite direction. Diving behind a fallen log, Verai holstered her revolver and pulled her rifle out once more. Peeking up, she saw three men coming towards her, and ducked back down again. Taking a deep breath, she gripped her gun, counted to three, and stood up.

“There’s the bitch—”

Bullets whizzed by, but she was focused.

Three shots.

Three men down.

Letting out a breath, she felt the burn of a light graze on her arm. Counting her lucky stars that she had only gotten grazed, she hopped the log and kept moving towards the sound of gunfire. She came upon the road once more and quickly ducked behind a rock. She counted three men shooting towards Everett, who was standing behind a tree. He shifted out and quickly fired off three shots with his revolver, finally hitting one of the men with his last bullet in the head, his skull opening up like a glass jar breaking apart.

At the same time though, another bullet flew past Everett, blood appearing on his shoulder as he quickly hid behind the tree again, gasping.

“Everett!”

The remaining men immediately turned to her location.

"Shit," she snarled as she shot her rifle from the hip, her shots going wild. She moved backwards until she heard a noise to her left.

Another man, bloodied and angry, burst out of the bushes and tackled her, knocking the rifle out of her grip. Throwing her elbow back into his face, she crawled out from under him, scrambling away.

She leapt up just as he slashed at her back with his hunting knife. The blade cut through her shirt and into her skin, the sting making her wince as she stumbled away.

"Was goin' to grab ya and sell ya," the man rasped. "But maybe I'll try ya out first."

Verai turned and pulled out her revolver only to have the man charge forward and knock it from her grasp. He then wrapped a huge hand around her neck and squeezed.

So she kicked him in the groin, hard and with precision. The man gasped and went down to his knees, panting in pain. She quickly landed a hard kick on the back of his neck, the cracking sound reverberating through the trees as he went down like a fallen log.

She took a moment to listen for anything else around her. Upon hearing nothing, she picked up her guns and headed to the last position she had seen Everett.

She heard the sound of a very hard punch and saw several dead men up the road. Following the trail of blood and death, she saw Everett holding a man up by his neck against a tree, his fist held up, ready for another punch.

"Where is your leader?" Everett snarled.

"I told you, I don't know."

Everert dropped the man and promptly pulled out his revolver. Pressing it to the man's forehead, he glared with dark promise. "One last time. Where is he."

The man started to blubber incoherently.

Verai stepped forward and put her hand on Everett's arm. He twitched in surprise, apparently so intent on his interrogation that he had not noticed her approach.

"He doesn't know," she said quietly. "Let's take him back to the sheriff."

Everett looked at her, but not seeing her. She lowered his arm, the gun moving away from the man's head.

Then Verai quickly stepped behind the man and elbowed him at the base of his skull, knocking him out.

Everett was standing still, his eyes still blank, watching her as she pulled out a lasso and tied him up.

"Everett," she called to him quietly.

He blinked. "I, uh, I lost sight of the job."

Verai glanced back at the dead men they had left behind. "To be fair, they probably deserved it," she said with a wry grin. "At least, that's what I tell myself so I can sleep at night."

Everett smiled in return; he understood it was her roundabout way of cheering him up. Holstering his gun, he picked up the unconscious man and together, he and Verai walked back to their horses.

"You're hurt," Everett said when he saw the angry red line slashed along her back.

She waved her hand. "It happens."

He stopped himself from asking if she was alright. With the way she was carrying herself, she was clearly in pain, but holding it in, just like she did most things. He would wait until they got back to Annesburg.

Then he'd treat her right.

***

Dumping the unconscious man at the sheriff's, Everett explained the situation. Verai shared the letter and got his signature so she could take it back to the sheriff in St. Denis. By then it was the end of the day, the sun sinking into the water and coloring the sky with reds and oranges. They left the sheriff’s office and started to head back towards the gunsmith.

"We need to take care of your back."

“We?”

“Yes, we. You can’t reach back there.”

Verai suddenly looked away. “I… I suppose.”

***

Everett took charge, getting a room and a bath, guiding Verai by the elbow into the bathroom, with nary a peep from her, which was both gratifying and upsetting. He liked that she trusted him enough not to protest. He didn’t like that she was in so much pain that she couldn’t even snark back at him.

“I’ll turn around, so get in the bath. I’ll clean your back.”

“Alright,” she said, barely a whisper.

He heard her clothes drop to the floor, heard the water splash as she got in, and then a soft cough.

“Ready?”

“Yup.”

He turned. Seeing her curled up in the tub, her head on her knees, dried blood giving the water a reddish hue, Everett’s heart clenched. He swallowed hard and rolled up his sleeves, took a washcloth and sat on the edge of the tub. Gently cleaning the wound, he started humming softly, a melody from his childhood. Once she was clean, he handed the wash cloth to her, letting her wash the rest of her body on her own, while he turned away, giving her some privacy, but unwilling to leave her alone.

He suddenly felt her leaning against him. Turning his head, he saw her eyes fluttering shut, as if even sitting up was too much effort. She looked up at him as he reached out to touch her hair. He saw the bruises on her neck when her braid shifted over her shoulder and felt a rage that he quickly tamped down. Now wasn’t the time for that. Besides, the man who did that to her was probably already dead.

“...’Rett?” Her voice cracked.

“Hm?”

“I’m sleepy.”

Everett nodded and got up to grab a towel. He held it out and turned his head away as she pulled herself up and stepped out of the tub, letting him wrap the towel around her, drying her off.

“You lose a lot of blood?”

“Feels like it.”

He could only nod. “Let’s hop back to the room, I’ll bandage you up.”

“Lemme put my pants on, at least,” she said with more vigor than she had since they returned to town.

Everett chuckled. She must be feeling a little better if, even in pain, she was worried about little things like modesty.

***

Everett poked his head out into the small hallway. No one was around at this time of night, so he quickly ushered Verai out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, locking the door behind him. Without being told, she sat on the bed facing away from him.

He could see her back, covered in white scars, and wondered about her past. Gathering up the bandages, he started to wrap them around her.

“Don’t ask,” she said all of a sudden.

“I wouldn’t,” he said softly. “I’ll wait ‘til you’re ready to tell me.”

“You’ll be waiting forever.”

“If you ain’t ready, you ain’t ready.”

He saw her shoulders sag a little, realizing that she had felt relief with his words. Finishing up the bandage, he handed her one of his shirts. “Somethin’ to sleep in, since your other shirt is cut up and bloody.”

She took his shirt and eyed it suspiciously.

“It’s clean,” he said, affronted.

She smiled and looked up at him. “Didn’t think you’d be offended if I thought otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t offer a lady a dirty shirt.”

“Who said I was a lady?”

“I did. End of story.”

Verai laughed softly and shook her head as she pulled his shirt on. It was one of his favorite ones, a light blue shirt that was starting to become a bit threadbare with age. She buttoned it up and slowly laid down on the bed, positioning herself on her side.

“Thanks ‘Rett,” she mumbled as she closed her eyes.

“Can I sleep next to you?” he asked before he could think better of it.

“If you like.”

Everett crawled into the bed with her, facing her back, and wondered why, for the first time in his life, he had wanted a woman in his bed, but only to sleep beside and nothing more.

***

The next morning as dawn broke through the curtains covering the one small window in the room, Verai awoke, her muscles sore and her throat dry. Her neck hurt from where the man had dug in his fingers, but otherwise she was alive and mostly healthy. She pushed herself up slowly and turned her head.

Everett was still sleeping, laying on his back with one hand on his stomach, one arm hanging off the side of the small bed. She smiled at the scene; he had kept his distance, giving her most of the bed while he hovered at the edge, making sure she was comfortable.

He wasn’t a bad guy at all.

She carefully got up and saw his cutter hat on the table next to their gun belts. Taking the hat, she smirked and put it on before looking in the small mirror hanging on the wall. Looking left and right, she grinned.

“Not bad,” she mumbled.

“I agree,” Everett said, startling her.

“Dammit,” she grumbled as she turned around. “Now I have to steal it.”

He laughed. “I’ll tie you up if you do.”

It was her turn to laugh. “You’d have to catch me first.”

They looked at each other, their eyes meeting, and her laughter died as she caught something a little more serious in his gaze.

“We need to get back to St. Denis, tell the sheriff what happened. And deliver the letter,” she said, rapidly changing the subject as she removed his hat and placed it back on the table.

Everett nodded. “Well, let’s get goin’ then.”

***

They packed up and rode hard back to St Denis. Riding as fast as their horses could carry them, they made it back to the sheriff by sundown, handing over the letter and receiving the bounty, though it was greatly decreased since most of the men were dead.

“Personally, I think you did the world a favor,” the sheriff remarked as Verai counted the bills. “But rules are rules.”

Everett nodded. “Appreciate the sentiment anyway.”

Satisfied with the payout, Verai took half and gave the other to Everett. “See you around, sheriff.”

“Have a good evenin’, you two.”

***

“Where to next?”

Verai looked at Everett, a little surprised by his question. “I need to get back to my posse. It’s been a week, I said I’d come back by then.”

Everett nodded as he stepped a little closer to her. “I’d like to work with you again.”

Verai looked up at him, his natural smile more brilliant than the flirty ones that he had tried when they first met. Was it only a few days ago? She took a step back, but then held her ground. “That’d be good. Maybe in a week we can meet back here and catch another bounty.”

“Sounds great.” He took his hat off and placed it on her head.

“What’s this for?”

“Keep it. Looks better on you anyway.”

Verai smiled shyly at his words. “How about I just borrow it. I’ll give it back to you next time I see you.”

Everett laughed. “Alright, it’s a promise.”

“A promise,” she said softly, making his heart skip.

They mounted their horses and looked at each other as they started to head in separate directions.

“Can I call you by your first name?” he asked.

She smirked. “I suppose you can.” Patting her horse, she gave him a wicked grin. “Maybe one day, you’ll get to call me by my real name too.”

“Wait, what?”

“See ya!” Verai turned her horse and bolted out of town, laughing as she went.

Everett huffed and shook his head before chuckling. She left him with more questions than answers.

He wouldn’t have her any other way.

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

End Notes: Completely self-indulgent, I know. Hope you enjoyed it!

#everett osborn #verai marcel #rdo oc #oc x oc #rdo oc x oc #writing #fanfic #very long post #everett x verai

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