#i hope the pen survives the op...

[yi3248]

the culprits.

officer, it's them. they destroyed my pen

(the original caption was 'that was weird. do it again.')

[j0kers-light]

how would j react if reader was in a coma.... i read "just one check" (i think that was the name of the one about the bank robbery and reader getting shot?)

and i kinda want to see him feel sad and guilty. maybe readers in a coma for a week or two. i feel like j would be upset seeing her laying in a hospital bed with tons of iv's coming out of her. or and im not sure how he'd react to her being weak and confused when she wakes up. and you don’t have to write it if it’s too sad/dark 🫶 i just kinda love hospital soap operas so i thought of this 😂

His Lighthouse: Say Something (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Say Something - Oneshot

Hey hi anon!!! 🖤✨

Phew this was an old request! I'm slowly getting back on schedule! Its never too dark of a request for me to write anon! I looooooooove dark content lol 🤭That being said, let's get into it! You requested sad and guilty Joker visiting bedside, you got it! It’s giving soap ops, like One Life to Live, vibes! I penned this on high off of period hormones and during the Super Bowl so buckle up and grab a tissue box! Joker is gonna be in his feels!! (and so was I)

Love you anon! Also, here’s the song inspo! 🖤✨

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse @jaysmentalspace

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

This was his fault. He deserved to be the one suffering not you.  

You did nothing in this life to warrant such a fate. Joker felt sick to his stomach being in your presence but at the same time, staying by your side was his penance. 

Even in a coma, Joker could argue that your beauty remained. Your colored skin, normally so rich and smooth, now gave off a mythical aura against the white hospital sheets. Your countenance was like an elfin or fae. All in all, you gave sleeping beauty a run for her title.  

Nurses and doctors bustled in one after the other to check your vitals as you slept on. Joker paid no mind. He was far too distracted by the constant beeping in your room. Everything was so loud; it quickly became a sensory overload. He flagged down a terrified nurse and demanded that she turn them off.  

“I... I can’t sir. Y/n needs them to survive.” That’s when Joker realized just how grave your injuries were.  

She took the time to point out each machine you were hooked up to and its function. Joker lost count after ten.  

He felt so small surrounded by all this tech. He knew nothing at all. For once, Joker had to trust someone to help him. He’d do anything to keep you alive and well. He already failed half of that promise, there was no more room for error. 

He wanted to grab ahold of your hand, but it looked so fragile lying on the hospital bed. Your nails were still manicured in your f/c and shape however your skin was pulled taunt so that three different IV lines could puncture your arm. The doctors had turned you into a pin cushion and Joker could only hope that you recovered from this. 

He had nothing but time to guilt trip himself into a downward spiral. He didn’t rescue you fast enough and this was the consequence.  

His enemies knew killing you would destroy the Prince of Crime once and for all and they nearly succeeded. Joker almost didn’t recognize you when he found you.  

Frost and the others assumed the worst, but they miraculously found a pulse and that was their cue to rush you to the nearest hospital. Joker didn’t care about the fallout— he walked straight through the front door with you in his arms, clown makeup and all.  

His sudden appearance caused panic, and no one dared to help until Dr. Sarai and her personal team arrived and wheeled you into an OR. Joker was then ushered into a safe room. He expected the staff to call Batman or the police, but they never did.  

He never understood why.  

Sarai broke it down plainly. “We don’t judge here. You didn’t see the desperation on yo’ face when ya brought Y/n in. How could we rip you away when it's obvious ya need to be ‘ere with her?” 

She guided Joker to a VIP room where he and his goons could visit freely without raising any suspicions. It was then Joker saw you for the first time all patched up. It was a shock to see how badly he failed at keeping you safe. Why did you of all people have to suffer like this?  

If he could transfer your pain to him, he’d do it in a heartbeat to rid you of this misery. For now, all he could do was watch over you helplessly. 

He grew to appreciate the steady beeps and hisses that filled your room. Each sound reported in real time that you were still alive. You were fighting to stay with him and he hoped you were giving it your all.  

Joker was still learning to love. If he lost you then he would never try again, for no one deserved to have his heart after you cherished it so. It belonged to you and you alone. You were the best warden in this prison called love and he never wanted to escape. He was just too addicted. 

An unexpected shrill noise brought him out of his thoughts. A crash team rushed through the sliding doors and carefully pushed him back.  

He didn’t have the time to be offended, “What’s going on?!” What were they doing to you? 

No one answered him as they talked amongst themselves; he didn’t understand a single word of their medical jargon, but he did catch, “Call a code!”  

He had seen enough tv dramas to know what that meant. A doctor voiced the trademark “clear!”, and everyone threw up their hands as he shocked you with paddles. The obnoxious beeping continued and then it hit Joker. 

The most important machine of them all. Your heart monitor. Joker memorized the rhythmic rises and falls as you breathed in your sleep. He could listen to your heart for the rest of his life. You were unable to talk but your heart spoke volumes.  

And now it was screaming out for help.  

“We’re losing her. We gotta get her into an OR.”  

It all happened so fast. One minute you were comatose in your room, the next they were pushing your bed down the hall into surgery. All that was left was the snake-like cords from the many machines you were previously hooked to. Joker was left in your room at a loss. 

It was far too quiet with you and your life’s music gone.  

Sarai found Joker still sitting in the bedside chair hours later. It didn’t appear that he moved an inch. The clown was mute, staring at the mess of cords on the floor. Sarai glanced at them briefly before clearing her throat.  

“Her lung collapsed again. We’ve managed to stabilize her but I gotta stress. It’s lookin’ like a temporary fix.” She flinched at the haunting green eyes staring at her. 

“WhaT. Does. That. Mean?” 

Great, he was already going through the stages of denial. How could she put this mildly? “It means... Y/n might not survive this.”  

He flung a rolling cart that was left behind into the wall. Its loud crash made Sarai jump. Somehow she remained composed. Joker wasn’t mad at her but at the situation. She had to keep that in mind with what would come next.  

He stormed over to her and growled, “Do not ever imply my Light might...” Joker’s throat closed up mid-sentence. He refused to say it aloud. “Y/n will be fine. She’s stronger than you think.” He noted.  

“I get that but let's face the facts. They moved her to the ICU so she could be on a ventilator.” 

“Great another machine.” Joker sighed.  

“That machine is breathing for her, Joker. If she loses any more oxygen to her brain, she’ll be a vegetable. No shocks or surgeries can fix dat.” Sarai waited until Joker locked eyes with her to drop the bomb. “She’ll be brain dead.” 

All was quiet as her words sank in. Joker didn’t expect forever with you, although he originally hoped for a few years at best. Time was never a given when this relationship first began.  

Joker was a wanted criminal and you, a famous citizen. It wasn’t destined to work out but the two of you made time. Living in the moment on borrowed time was enough, you were happy with J but now that happiness was being ripped away. 

He couldn’t think straight. The possibility of you dying hadn’t registered before but it became clear now. If only he been with you—kept you safe, then you would have never been abducted.  

This was all his fault.  

“I wanna see her.” He mumbled. Maybe seeing you again would help him make the right choice. At the most it would curb his sense of helplessness. Sitting around was doing nothing for his nerves.   

Sarai nodded and handed Joker a nurse uniform. “Y/n is on a different floor. Change into this 'n follow me.”  

He worn a similar outfit like this long ago so the disguise wasn’t an issue. It gave Joker access to walk alongside Dr. Sarai onto the ICU floor. There was a completely different atmosphere coming off the elevators. The dread was palpable and clung to his clothes.  

Joker could smell death that lingered in the air. He knew the smell all too well given his profession and it made his heart drop to his stomach, catching a whiff of it when he opened your door.  

You were knocking on death’s door and the cruel man was inviting you in.  

Joker pulled down his hospital mask and slowly crept towards your side. In the few hours he’d seen you last; you took a turn for the worse. 

It was going on two weeks that you been in the hospital, all of which you spent in a coma. There were countless surgeries and consultations and yet your health seemed to decline not improve. Maybe Sarai was right. He should probably entertain reality as painful as it will be.  

Joker came to a stop near your bedside to stare at your frail form. He knew from just one glance that you couldn’t survive for much longer. This wasn’t his Bunny anymore. All the light was sucked out of you and made you so small.  

“I’ll give ya some privacy.” Sarai said as she stepped out. She knew Joker needed to be alone with his grief. 

There couldn’t be any witnesses to what he was about to say.  

Pleading for someone to stay alive was such a foreign concept to him. Usually for him, it was the other way around, however Joker always found himself doing the unthinkable whenever it pertained to you.  

J cleared his throat before he began his dire plea.  

“Hey uh it’s meeee, Y/n. I dunno if you can hear me but I uhh.. Geez, I don’t know what to do without ya here. What I’d kill to have those pretty eyes of yours lookin’ my way. To hear your laugh. T-To feel your warm touch on mine..” Joker exhaled and looked up at the ceiling.  

He refused to cry. He did not cry yet a drop or two fell anyhow. If you were awake. the scene unfolding would be jaw dropping.  

Joker was a ruthless man with a matching reputation. None of that mattered as he spoke from the heart. 

“Uh, if you’re tired, t-that's okay, Y/n. Say the word and... d__n it, I’ll let ya go, okay?! I’ll swallow my pride. I can.. I can say goodbye when its time, but you gotta work with me doll. Give me a sign you’re ready and I’ll listen. But until then please... Fight. Stay alive.. stay w-with me, Y/n.” 

Joker choked up and backed away, suddenly unable to breathe.  

His hands were shaking and there was a ringing in his ears. J thought he was hearing one of your machines going off but your vitals were the same, sluggish but constant.  

It was just a panic attack that had him all discombobulated. You were okay (for now), but he was far from it.  

Why did he think you would hear him at his most vulnerable moment?   

This was nothing like the numerous tv show dramas where a heartfelt speech would instantly make the sick patient wake up. He was stupid for getting his hopes up and beyond weak for shedding tears for this. He got himself back under control and made himself comfortable on the room’s guest bed.  

He had to just hope that you would be okay. That’s all he could do.  

Funny how a week ago he couldn’t stand the noise your monitors made. But now? The slow beeps of your heart were his lullaby. 

The staccato pitfalls of your imminent demise roused him awake. Another team of personnel burst through the door, each one working on autopilot to get you back stable.  

You were crashing again. Another code. A shame that this became your version of normal.  

Could it be your lungs failing again or did Joker’s nightmare finally come true? Was this the sign he asked for last night? Was this your way of saying you were giving up? He honestly didn’t know.  

“No pulse! Charging to one hundred sixty joules!”  

Joker sat in the corner, resigning himself to this fate. That familiar bitter smell cloaked your room. You weren’t coming back after this.  

More beeping, more calls for procedures and useless equipment. There was so much commotion, he was forced to drown it all out in order to think straight.  

By no means was Joker a religious man yet in that moment, he closed his eyes and prayed to any high power who would listen.  

‘Please don’t take her from me. I thought I could let her go. I can’t. I just can’t.’  

Their attempts at keeping you alive went on and on for what seemed like forever until someone brave enough walked over to Joker’s hunched form to deliver the news.  

He appeared to be mumbling to himself, but she couldn’t be for certain. It made for a weird sight.  

“Um sir? We need your permission to..”  

So it was happening whether he was ready or not. So much for prayers. Joker wondered why he even bothered.  

He knew what they were asking for, yet he couldn’t help being bitter in his reply. “To whaT?” He snapped.  

The female nurse jumped at the frosty tone, “T-To pull the... um. We’ll give you some time alone.”  

She nodded at the others and in seconds the room was empty, save for you and Joker.  

Joker went to sleep fearing this moment would come. He thought he would have more time to prepare. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye, yet Fate was oh so cruel.  

The brief time that J spent with you skirted across his memory. He would never forget your eyes the first time he saw you. So bright and expressive. Your bravery and wit blew him away and your deep scars from your past humbled him. Joker had never met someone so resilient. You lived up to your nickname. 

You were his Light; always and forever.  

He would never forget your voice; how it felt in the hushed early mornings and intimate late nights, or your whimsical mind inspiring him to greatness. You changed him for the better in a fraction of a year.  

There were just too many memories to recap as he shuffled over to your body.  

Only a few vital machines were keeping you between life and death and they strained to complete their assigned workload. Even to the end, you were stubbornly fighting but it wasn’t enough to sustain you. 

Joker gently smoothed your hair back from your face. “M’sorry Y/n. I gotta let you go.” He rested his forehead against yours.  

You managed the unthinkable. You made The Joker cry.  

There was no time for theatrics, Joker spoke boldly and true.  

“You’re the only woman I’ll love. I will never choose another, I swear. I am so sorry that I couldn’t get to you. Please, Y/n. I’ll do anything just please.. don’t go.”  

For so many years Joker refused to be weak— he had a reputation to uphold, a symbol to represent; all of that meant nothing if you were gone. He would be nothing but a broken shell of a man.  

Joker cried as if his tears could bring you back.  

At first, he almost missed it. Maybe he was hallucinating in his time of grief— but then it happened again. 

A slight twitch. Coma patients didn’t move unless… 

J was pretty insane (he had papers to prove it) so he questioned if this was all a trick of his mind. Before he got his hopes up, he needed to be sure this was actually happening.  

And so you have him a sign.   

The back of your eyelids moved. The heart monitor picked up a sudden spike in activity.  

He felt your hand jerk. He saw your chest rise and fall. Joker felt as if he could breathe air again. He wasn’t crazy! This was actually happening! His life regained its purpose as more and more signs were recorded on your systems.  

And finally, the cusp of the performance; An explosion of alerts. Your heart was now beating too fast, the ventilator automatically turning off to let your lung take over.  

Joker couldn’t scream loud enough. “NURSE!” He mashed the call button as you struggled to wake fully. “C’mon Bunny, that’s it! Look. At. Me!”  

Two weeks he went without gazing into your gorgeous eyes. He could happily drown in them if only you would grace him with the sight. He didn’t have to wait much longer.  

Your colored eyes immediately met Joker’s expectant gaze. “Welcome back, my Light.” 

[away-ward]

Interesting! Some posts by PD on their FB group, from the pastinfound these days from X / Twitter

link: https://x. com/dearreadrr/status/1755958608171597855?s=61 (delete space between x. And /)

conversation from the link was about readers asking PD about what other pairing could happen, and some excerpt from PD i copy pasted from those links:

Pen Douglas

Michael and Banks. All day. It would be so hilarious. And Damon and Kai. He would soooo mess up Kai's clothes

And

Damon and Michael. I never got a vibe from Damon and Emory, but their connection is for life. Definitely.

2. Admin

Pen Douglas • 4 Oct 2022 •

Just a silly convo I wrote

***

Damon: I mean, I know we don't get along, but I do care about you.

Misha: You don't care about anything you can't screw.

Damon: And...?

Misha: 😳

Kai: 🤦🏻😆

Misha: I hate you. I've always hated you.

Damon: That hurts. Because I really love you. I mean, if we were stranded in the wilderness--and you were cold--I would warm you.

Will: 🤣

Damon: With my body.

Misha: Shut. Up.

Damon: And if I were dead and you were starving out there, Ikd want you to eat me

And i saw another extra that i forgot where i got:

Banks: Fine. I'll ask Kai if he wants to go, too.

Michael: No. Just you.

Banks: *laughs* | trust him around her. Now anyway. You don't trust her?

Michael: Of course I do. I just don't trust where my mind is going to go imagining you three alone in the dark together. Just make it a girls night.

Banks: I've been alone in the dark with her, too, you know?

Michael: Fuck.

(My note: wtf, so michael was always insecure when they're together? Wtf! So this wasn't new huh)

another one with Damon, Will and Emory, damon likes to spoil her. Again like PD said, their connection was for life, this too wasn't new. Wow, i think PD really already thought this out huh:

Pen Douglas • PenDragons-Penelope

Douglas Reader Group

Will: No. We do not need more chandeliers.

Emmy: 😥 But...

Damon: Ohhhhh, 70% off. *walks in store*

Emmy: 😊 *follows*

Will: 🙄

last one about readers complaining about why people hate emory and pd and someone else replied!

link: https://x. com/jurdandrew/status/1449132149894959107?s=61

(Delete space between x. And /)

conversation goes like this:

PenDragons-Penelope Douglas

Reader Group

Kétsia Mendes • 4h •

•••

Post: Emory Scott is definitely my fav character from Devil's Night. I don't understand why some people don't like her.

And I think she's almost a female version of Damon Torrance.

PD's reply:

Pen Douglas

Administrador

Many people had general problems with all of the heroines. We'll see the same thing in Hellbent. The double standard.

Or worse...the "Aro is so much better than Dylan" or "Tommy is the best girl" as if there's some competition between these women. It was one of the hardest things too see happen with Devil's Night.

But luckily, most understand Emory was at the survival level in high school and Will wasn't owed anything. Thankfully, her heart came around and she finally fought for him. 💕 I loved that SHE proposed. 😆 One of my favorite scenes. Will was so dang cute. Lol

another reader reply:

Donna Lynn Glushien

I didn't like her at first because Will is such a sweetheart to her and she treated him like dirt. But how she was, really added to her character.. and now I appreciate Emory a lot more. Love how strong and independent she is 💪🏼

original poster replied and quoted:

Kétsia Mendes Autor

Donna Lynn Glushien She explained why she treated him like "dirt" in chapter 29:

"Part of me resisted you because I didn't want to bring you into my horrible life," she told me. "I was embarrassed and full of anger and without hope. I couldn't give you anything."

I tipped my chin up, remaining silent.

"But a part of me also resisted you because I feared I'd just be trading one abuse for another," she explained. "How you coerced me, pushed me, wouldn't leave me alone when I told you to... Tried to scare me."

And PD liked OP's comment:

Pen Douglas reagiu ao seu comentário: "Donna Lynn Glushien

She explained why..."

There's ANOTHER surge of emory-hating video on tiktok too, and i think they probably didin't read thoroughly because they missed a lot of things that were going on in the text but luckily, that side of DN readers always are ride or die for emory!

link : 483 likes, 97 comments, ninguém é obrigado a gostar de ninguém e cada um tem opiniões diferentes 🤙🏻 https://vt. tiktok.com/ZSFFowdLU/ (delete space between t. And tiktok)

sometimes, i think some dn readers really don't have any critical thinking skills because they only read what they see, and even then, they don't read fully, as if they were just skimming. How are they gonna believe everything that damon and will said when damon likes to alter reality and mindfuck people, while will lies to everybody but emmy? Even damon and alex never knew his full story, AND their his best friends. And only for will to admit a couple times that emmy was right and he was just lying to convince himself he was right because he was prideful, arrogant, selfish, self-centered and spoiled? Like, if he admitted his flaws to be better, why can't these readers? And the thing that they're mad at her was not even because she was prideful, scared or a bit cowardly (like she admitted in her pov about her approach to her love life and will) but because she was caring for her grandma? 🤡 wtaf? Crazy!

some discourse happened too about will and her years of gone too:

https://x. com/raybanks/status/1755907408629485937?s=61 remove space between x. And /)

idk why but if pd can write all these headcanons about rika, banks, michael, kai, winter, will and damon, why is there nothing for emory? And it was half-assed too? I get that idea doesn't come easy, but still?

just wanted to share.

Heyy thanks for sharing! This was all very interesting to go through.

Thanks for putting the links together.

First, PD passing Damon around, and Damon literally wanting to sleep with everyone (except Emory apparently… which is so weird because he did say “it certainly wouldn’t be a chore” like…?) is kinda funny in that PD is exactly like the fandom in thinking Damon is like next level.

I still maintain that will would be the best lay. Damon said he's selfish and doesn't always keep his promises where that is concerned. why are they all lined up for him? We all know he only follows through for winter.

But at the same time my heart is like “Oh… so Emory is safe, right? No weird mash-ups?” And based on PD saying Michael and Banks and then following it was Damon and Kai, I can’t help but think it’s because those pairs have issues. Like they don’t really get along right off the bat, so there’s all this tension… which Emory doesn’t really have with anyone. So maybe that’s one reason why we never get HC with Emory. Because she’s just out there, being cute and not really causing any problems with anyone? Maybe??? I don’t know…

But it’s also weird that PD’s just like “Damon with Kai, Damon with Will, Damon with Misha, Damon with Michael… but I haven’t thought about Damon and Emory before.” Keeping in mind that Rika and Banks are the only other girls in the group besides his wife and they’re his sisters. If it weren’t for that fact alone, I really do think they’d be thrown into the mix.

And again… PD has thought about it before because they wrote Damon suggesting it. Like how have neither of them ever revisited that when the whole family is built on who Damon wants to have sex with, apparently? I’m laughing so hard on the inside because this all seems very…convenient.

Damon hassling Misha is fun. I can see it. Will and Misha are more like brothers, and we saw Will hassling Trevor in Corrupt. I think it’s probably a natural thing for them to annoy their best friend’s younger sibling. Now, if only Michael would stop trying to have sex with his best friend's little sisters...

As for the Michael and Banks convo, I didn’t read that as insecure. I read that as he didn’t want to be thinking about what the three of them would get up to alone when he could be there because he’d get turned on… and not be there. Such torture.

But gah.  They’re annoying.

Why would Will try to limit how many chandeliers Emmy has? I assume she would have a warehouse when she and Damon keep supplies for jobs. It’s not like she’s filling every inch of her ceiling with them. That’s just dumb design. So if she wants to have her collection of chandeliers, let her?

And of course, Damon has to spoil her. This is extra irritating because I went back and checked the tampon scene that PD wrote, and they ended it with “Damon probably went in and got them”

Like. I don’t try to defend PD’s portrayal of willemmy anymore. Obviously, I just don’t get it. But it would be impossible to do so when Will is constantly telling Emory she can’t have something or he won’t get her something, and then Damon goes and saves the day.

I feel like we get it, already. Damon is everyone’s everything, and Rika is the star of the show.

I also loved that Emory proposed to Will, and that he didn’t make a big deal about wanting to be the one to do it. But the thing about the favorites is… people are going to have favorites. That’s alright. People aren’t going to love every character on the page.

The reason there is a competition between the Devil’s Night girls is because they were in a competition for page time. It’s the most common complaint I see is that when we were supposed to be learning about Banks, Rika came in and made the scene about her. When we were supposed to be reading about Emory, Alex came in and made the scene about her. PD wrote the girls competing for time on the page and the reader's attention. Logically, the readers have a preference, and they will be jealous for their character. And since the series is what it is and there’s no changing it, of course that means readers are going to bash the character they didn’t want to read about who “stole” time from their favorite.

None of the girls had to be in competition. And I don’t think they are in canon. But PD definitely made it difficult to root equally for all of them when they weren’t all treated the same.

At least some readers are starting to see Emory more clearly, but I feel there will always be a bit of Emory hate. She’s really not given the same level of consideration from PD. Some readers do have a double standard when it comes to the girls, but it’s not always the case. Some readers just want the girls to be given equal amounts of attention across the series.

It’s not lost on me that Rika and Alex are the ones pitted against Banks and Emory the most. The fact is that Rika and Alex were developed during the first book when it was originally a stand-alone and not a series, so Banks and Emory often feel like an afterthought when the other two come around. That’s an issue with the writing, not the reader. And I’m not going to hold PD to the fire over it; writers will always have limits in their abilities. PD did the best they could at the time. But can we stop placing all the blame on how the readers are interrupting it and accept that somewhere along the line the author didn’t execute this in the best way possible? It's nothing to threaten PD over, but at least stop blaming the readers for being frustrated and championing one girl over the others.

And the tiktok… wow. But I can’t say I haven’t heard it before. It’s so strange how some readers are willing to hold Emory accountable for Will’s actions and not Will.

But as they said… we all have our own opinions.

And only for will to admit a couple times that emmy was right and he was just lying to convince himself he was right because he was prideful, arrogant, selfish, self-centered and spoiled? Like, if he admitted his flaws to be better, why can't these readers?

It really is weird, isn’t?

And the final bit of the discourse, not entirely sure what the post meant, but I feel like it relates to a post I made a few weeks back. Will wasn’t mad at Emory for leaving. He was going to let her go and live with the regret of what he did, even though it hurt. He wasn’t ever going to chase her down or seek revenge until he learned that she lied to him and about him.

His anger was never about Emory leaving. It was the lies and (what he saw as) betrayal.

Head canons really don’t come all that easy unless you’re obsessed and constantly thinking about even the most mundane things about a character. There has to be a little insanity around them for it to get that deep.

Again, I don’t really understand PD all that much, but if I had to guess… the boys started it all, and Damon is their favorite. So HC for them is easy. Rika was developed in Corrupt and came soon after the boys, so again, there was a lot of time to be a little obsessed. Banks and Winter aren’t mentioned nearly as much as those first, but still Banks more than Winter, but never without one of the boys or Rika.

I haven’t seen a winter hc or scene other than the alternative scene to KS.

I think the lack of Emory is just that PD was done with the series and the negative side of the fandom by the time they got to NF. If it’s true that they pushed NF out right after KS, then they might not have even had time to be obsessed with Emory.

This is a good or bad thing, depending on how you look at it. Sure, Emory has much less content and readers who favor other characters will find her an easy target. But the bonus of liking an unpopular character is that you’re free to do what you want, because nobody’s watching that character.

Nobody’s watching Emory’s fans. Let’s have fun.

-KO

[reasoningdaily]

By Christine Henderson

I remember the first time I was blown away by the strength of a mother to inflict change. A little girl in elementary school and learning of Emmett Till’s story, I was heartbroken on how evil adults could be to a child, no matter the race.

At a young age, through his mother’s story, I identified that innocence didn’t protect you from violence and a mother’s fight doesn’t end in her loss. It must extend through her grief to continue to protect the children in our village.

Through that heartbreak it was Emmet’s mother, Mamie Till-Mobley, who activated activism through her loss. Sixty-eight years ago, she decided to keep her son’s casket open, forcing the change necessary to take on violence and racism strategically and forcefully through her grief.

Even in the midst of her tragedy, she advocated for all in hopes that no mother should endure what she was forced to.  

Surviving the tears and trauma

Earlier this summer, I was privileged to be in a space with women from an organization called Mothers in Charge. An organization birthed in Philadelphia but one that has expanded nationally as mothers take to the streets to stop violence and support each other through the struggle of the loss of their own children.

A support system where mothers can be an ear, a hug, and hope for each other while building solutions to end violence in their communities.

I sat in a room where mothers shared the heaviness of their loss and at the same time paired it with the difficulty of their roles.

Advocates with the relentless charge of ending the same violence that took from them. In this room it was understood that when we wipe her tears, the bullets don’t die. This space is necessary for the recharge and the reboot to not just support, but to survive.

In that moment, a swift reality check reminds us that loss interrupts our lives abruptly and absolutely. With tragedy comes grief. And the roadmap is scattered. You learn that healing is never complete but your journey provides the recipe to continue.

How to heal through the tears

As I gaze around the room, I ask myself, “How can you truly heal when your advocacy causes you to relive that trauma everyday standing by someone as they endure theirs?” In that very moment your loss is the brace to her shattered heart. You can’t stop the pain but you understand her tears, her racing heart, the confused distress impacting her body, so you squeeze tighter. 

She’s got you… joining you with the steady breaths and comforting the tremors.  

She exhales with you…bracing for the screams that howl in torment.

She comforts you…shouting prayers and words of comfort giving direction in darkness.

Collectively…you have each other and healing reciprocates organically. 

Where does strength come when we can’t stand on our own? It’s the community around you that holds you. The individuals that stand up, and in the gap, when harm is done.

They represent the many women that can no longer celebrate birthdays with their children but never forget memories of their love. As a mother, a Black mom, with a young Black son whose daily life struggles controls my very heartbeat, I understand the advocacy of these mothers is our protection, our children’s hope.

Showing up for the village

This community of mothers, daughters, grandmothers in this tiny little office in Philadelphia, all harmed by violence, are incomplete individually. But as a unit they fill the void for each other. Rebooting in their safe space and activating advocacy; sharing their stories of loss and heartbreak as examples for the need for change. 

In recognition of the mothers who show up for their villages through their loss; whose individual healing journey continues to protect and strengthen our communities. You are seen, you are loved and you are appreciated.

Christine Henderson is Senior Manager of the Equal Justice USA Trauma & Healing Network, which supports communities and their grassroots leaders in addressing trauma in transformative ways that promote healing and create systemic change.

[onsomekindofstartrek]

It’s Moon Day Once Again

Apollo 11 was truly an incredible moment in history, and I think people now don’t really conceptualize how difficult and objectively unwise what these men did was.

Like, riding a motorcycle on the freeway is unwise. You’re basically a human with a little bit of metal accelerating you to speeds you can’t fully deal with, around much larger machines that wouldn’t be terribly damaged by smashing into you, also going at extreme speeds.

Going to the moon in 1969 was a lot like that. By April 1961 a man had orbited the earth. That was already very difficult at the time. Computers were rudimentary. Rocket technology was still very largely being designed around ideas that German scientists developed for Hitler’s V2 missiles, in both the East and West.

Now, the one good thing about being in orbit is, it’s not that hard to come down. You lose a certain amount of momentum, and suddenly your ballistic trajectory is no longer an ellipse but a parabola that intersects the ground. With parachutes you can even survive that intersection! Sometimes.

To get to the moon, for most of the way, you can be in a free return trajectory. That means you’re in an trajectory that would make an incomplete figure-8 before intersecting the atmosphere, which would rob you of enough momentum to bring you safely in to an ocean landing. You could lose main power and as long as you could keep the life support online and not freeze, you’d be fine.

As long as you didn’t step one foot (metaphorically) out of that trajectory. If you do, if, for instance, you want to orbit the moon and land there, then you better damn well hope you can put yourself back in a return trajectory or… you ain’t coming home.

For the first time, humans were flying so high that what went up might not come down.

Theoretically if you lost the ability to deorbit while still in a circular orbit around earth, they could have probably found a way to save you even in the 60’s.

But if you were going to the moon you had to be damn sure. You had to be motherfucking confident that your engine would re-ignite and put you back in an orbit that would lead you back to Earth, or else once you left the path, there would be a potential of getting stuck where nothing you could do would save you from a cold, choking death. This happened to some guys, by the way, and they lived, by the most stunning feat of engineering legerdemain in the history of space travel. There’s a film about them.

And things weren’t looking good. The first Apollo spacecraft ever built killed the three men who were supposed to fly it, on the ground in a goddamned dry run. In a pure oxygen environment, the Velcro they were planning on using to keep pens from floating around became extremely flammable and something caused a spark, causing it to go up like gasoline. The fire increased pressure in the capsule and the door, which opened in-wards, could not be opened against that pressure. They choked to death before they’d even left the ground, then burnt hideously leaving only charred wristwatches, bones and melted rubber. At that time it was very conceivable that the entire program would be halted. I have visited the exhibit, no, the shrine where their watches are kept. Their names were Grissom, White and Chaffee.

Somehow they persevered, and three people were brave enough to get in the Apollo 11 capsule, take it out of the free return orbit and then climb in a landing craft made partly of tinfoil, land on another world and… do a photo-op? Plant a flag? do geology?

Like, it’s easy to forget that, as far as the people funding and fighting for this program were concerned, this was colonial, geopolitical dickwagging. This was to show the Soviets who was the goddamned alpha male of the world. James Webb, for all his flaws, had to fight for the science to even be considered, to even get funding allocated for it, and that only by his feverish efforts to convince the president (another catholic moderate democrat, at that time) that the science was necessary to make the mission safe. The president did not care, he wanted the colors of the Yankees to be planted on the moon, and he wanted it to be ideally before the People’s Flag of the Soviet Union was planted there by the Soyuz program. The science, he said, was incidental.

What does it say about us that the most incredible scientific achievement of our species was an exercise in symbolic colonialism; a proxy war alongside other more bloody proxy wars against the Soviets, in Korea and Viet Nam and later in Afghanistan; a show of force that proved nothing but that we had money to throw away and men willing to give their lives for our cause.

But the science was there. While in chains, science prevailed. Humanity’s knowledge was materially advanced, despite Kennedy and Nixon doing their best to keep the dickwagging at the forefront. We learned so much from that period from the sixties to the nineties when space travel was actually funded. We can thank them for GPS and many other things.

And whatever we might think of their motives, you have to respect Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins. They got on that damned rocket knowing that it was like riding a motorcycle with no brakes on a freeway with hell on one side and hades on the other, and knowing that the best astronauts they knew had died when the same kind of ship decided to become an impromptu gas chamber. And they went to the moon, goddammit. That’s the kind of guts I wish I had.

And that flag, that it was all in service of? And the others like it, from the six successful lunar landings? The flag that it was so fucking important to plant in the regolith before the Soviets could?

They’ve all bleached to white, un-ruffled in a place where no wind blows, in a surrender to the cosmos. In the furthest outpost of humanity, America surrenders.

I think that’s beautiful.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 1. Back Into The Field

Intro: Picking up a few months on from the events of Stark Spangled Man, Katie finds herself on desk bound duty following a disciplinary for ignoring Fury’s orders. But when she’s finally released, and disaster strikes on the first mission she’s run in months, she kinda wishes she’d stayed there.

Warnings: Bad language, mentions of blood, injury, angst and a minor character death.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Katie Stark

A/N: So here we go. A relaunch of SSB thanks to my other blog being flagged. For those of you who are new, welcome! I hope you enjoy. And to all you current Stark Spangled Readers, welcome back, You might spot a few subtle differences as we go through, as things I’m not happy with have been rewritten but don’t worry, nothing will impact the mine lines in the hot mess that is Stark and Rogers.

As always, please leave your comments or send me messages, asks, anything. I love you all!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

March 2013.

Any doctor would cry if they visited SHIELD; the caffeine and alcohol intake of pretty much every worker there would way exceed a dose construed to be healthy. Mind you, if you asked any agent whether they’d give up coffee or alcohol, they’d say alcohol in a heartbeat.

Well, most of them.

Katie couldn’t imagine surviving without an ice cold beer on a hot summer’s day, but she also didn’t function until she had her morning cup of Joe. It was a tough choice to make.

Not today though, she needed coffee. And lots of it. After ‘going rogue’ to chase the Mandarin with her brother, month’s later Fury was still pissed and as such was basically giving her the most boring thing he could think of- working through piles of mission reports to analyse and cross reference with others to pick up on common threads .To be honest, she didn’t mind it too much. After the excitement of the festive period she had welcomed a relatively quiet return to work, and didn’t particularly give a shit what Fury thought about her either.

She circling a part of the hard copy of the report she was working on with highlighter pen, before glancing back at her computer screen to cut and paste it into the Scrapbook App she used to trace trends with, letting out a groan. Who was she kidding? Desk duty sucked ass.

*****

Steve’s morning wasn’t going much better.

Whilst he wasn’t desk bound, after a particularly gruelling Ops Training session during which one of the newest kids suffered a broken nose after colliding painfully with a stray shock baton, he was almost wishing he was. Following a quick debrief, he checked his schedule on his phone and found he was free now for the rest of the day so he showered and headed up to find Katie. He found her in her office, paper in her hand as she stared at her computer screen, eyes narrowed. Steve watched her for a moment, taking in the way her nose crinkled as she read something, her bottom lip being dragged under her top teeth as she continued her work, completely unaware he was there. With a groan she dropped the notes she’d been holding to the desk and ran her hand through her dark hair.

Steve felt he was interrupting something, even though he knew he wasn’t, but he also didn’t want to appear like he’d been watching her either, which he totally had. So he gave a little cough and, as she turned round, her pretty face cracking into a smile which he returned. 

“Hey! How was training?”

“Don’t ask.” He let out a snort.

“That bad huh?”

“In a fashion.” He nodded, leaning on the door frame. “You had lunch?”

“Nope.”

“Wanna come get some?”

She nodded instantly “God yes. Can we get FroYo after?”

“Yeah but don’t let me pile it with all that crap this time!” he shot her his best playfully disapproving look as he remembered his first trip the Frozen Yoghurt stall. He had loaded his with all sorts of different things and the result had been beyond foul.

Katie gave a laugh and picked up her jacket, shrugging it on. Standing up straight, he moved to allow her to step through the door and followed her to the elevator.

“Stick to chocolate chip, mint and cookie dough.” She said, stepping into it. “Trust me.”

They strode across the foyer and into the early spring sun. Katie pulled her jacket tighter around herself as they crossed the street, shivering a little in the cool breeze.

“How are you just wearing a shirt?” she looked at Steve as he fell into step besides her, making sure he was on the side nearest the road. He noticed that she’d long since given up chiding him on this old fashioned habit after he had revealed it was something he used to do for his mom too, and Bucky’s younger sister. In fact, today, he swore he saw something that looked like a soft smile flicker on her lips when he positioned himself on her left, but as quick as he noticed it, it was gone.

“It’s not too bad.” He grinned. “I’ve been through worse.” He opened the door to the Deli for her and followed her in as they took their place in the queue. After a moment or two he became aware that she was looking at him.

“What?” he asked, turning to her exasperatedly. Katie couldn’t help but grin, she enjoyed winding the usually mild mannered man up

“I’m trying to imagine how you would look with a beard. And with shorter hair.” she mused, causing the Captain to roll his eyes.

“Not gonna happen.”

“What the hair cut or the beard?”

“Neither.”

“Spoil sport.”

“Captain America doesn’t have a beard.” he shook his head.

“No but, Steve Rogers could…”

She was impossible, but Steve couldn’t help but want to laugh. This playfulness was the thing that he enjoyed the most, how she could just treat him like any other punk she knew.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re exhausting?” he rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his face as she stepped forward in the queue.

“Yeah, you.” she spun round to face him, grinning “Several times. But you still come back for more.”

“Well I have the distinct impression if I didn’t you’d hunt me down anyway”

They ordered and ate their lunch, Steve filling her in on the ops drill and after Fro-Yo they made arrangements to slob out that evening at his with a film. They walked back to the Triskellion where Katie headed back to her office to continue sifting through the Mount Everest of reports she had to do. As with anything, once she got the bit between her teeth, she completely zoned out. It was only when she heard a gabble of voices all bidding each other goodbye that she looked up from her work. It was dark outside, and past six.

“Shit.” she groaned as the realisation washed over her. She was supposed to be at Steve’s for half past. She clicked to save her work whilst calling him at the same time, phone sandwiched between her cheek and shoulder.

“So…I’m running late.” She apologised the instant he answered. He chuckled.

“I thought that you said the one good thing about being confined to desk duties was that you set the hours.”

“Yeah, well I got caught up in something, but I’m leaving now. Do you want me to grab pizza on the way?”

“Sounds good, not Chicago Style though. I’m hankering for a proper piece of pie.”

“God you’re such a New Yorker.” She rolled her eyes.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” His voice took on a mock hurt tone and she could imagine him pouting on the other end of the phone.

“Hmmm, I’m undecided. Right, I’m leaving now. See you soon.”

“Drive safe.”

“What are you my dad?” she snorted at his stern instruction.

“Old enough to be.” he shot back.

“Touche.” she sniggered, cutting the call

*******

“Boring New York style for Mr S Rogers…” she spoke into the intercom at the main door to Steve’s apartment complex and he buzzed her in. By the time she’d climbed the stairs to his floor he was waiting, leaning on the door frame.

“Bout time.” He muttered, taking the boxes off her “Was about to send a search party.”

“Mario’s was packed.” Katie said, kicking off her sneakers and heading straight through to his kitchen to grab a beer out of his fridge without waiting for him to offer, knowing he wouldn’t. He didn’t need to. 

Steve headed into the living room, depositing the thee boxes on the coffee table before he sank onto the couch and reached straight in for one of the pepperoni slices. A few moments later Katie flopped down next to him, handing him a beer.

“What we ticking off the list tonight?” she asked.

“A Few Good Men.” he said, nodding at the TV where he had queued the movie up ready.

“Wait, did you manage to navigate that Android box all by yourself?” She looked at him and he sighed. 

“I’m not completely useless ya know.”

“Jury’s out.” she teased, curling her legs up onto the sofa next to her.

They watched the movie. Steve got most of the references within it. He chuckled in the right places, and laughed out loud when Katie was unable to stop herself uttering the immortal line You can’t handle the truth. When the credits began to roll,  Katie unfolded herself from where she had been sat and they launched into Steve’s favourite part of Movie Nights- the post film analysis.

“Who was the guy who played the colonel, Jessup?” he looked at her.

“Jack Nicholson. Amazing actor. He’s in a few on your list.”

“He was good. And I know he was supposed to be the good guy so to speak but Kaffee annoyed me a little. He was so arrogant.”

“He reminds me of Tony” Katie sniggered.

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything” Steve gave a little smirk and Katie shrugged.

“I get what you mean though. He is an ass, and it pisses me off a little the romance angle they take with him and Galloway. I mean, she’s portrayed as this strong woman, in the male dominated military woman and they still have to go there.”

“It does seem to be a tried and tested format.” Steve nodded, leaning back against the cushions on his couch “Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy wins girl over…even the movies I saw back in before I took a sub-zero nap were the same.”

“I suppose it appeals to the hopeless romantic in all of us.” Katie shrugged.

They continued to chat for a bit longer until Katie glanced at her watch, and seeing the time, decided to call it a night. Steve walked her down to her car, he always did without fail, another thing she had given up chiding him for and when he came back upstairs and got in the shower, he found himself straying back to the first time he had seen her, the minute she had stepped into the light in the boxing gym and he’d found himself looking into the greenest eyes he had ever seen in his life.

The more he stood there in the stream of hot water, thinking about her, the more he started to feel something…well…different. And he couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it that he found her attractive? Well of course he did. To be honest, he reckoned you’d have to be blind not to. And if he was totally honest, since he’d seen her the first time in that little boxing gym in New York he had noticed how pretty she was. She had the figure of the stars of his time. Hour glass waist, brunette hair, shapely ass and legs and quite large breasts considering she was so slim. But what did it for him were her eyes. Deep, sparkling emeralds that he could lose himself in quite happily. And that smile, that fucking smile that could make him stop in his tracks when she flashed it.

But it was more than just that, she was…well…just Katie.

It was strange, really, she reminded him so much of Peggy in some ways, but in others she was so different. Both were vivacious, smart, strong willed and beautiful. But where Peggy had been harsh, after a military upbringing, Katie had a softer edge to her. She was still ferocious at times, but she was a people person, and somehow knew exactly how to explain and understand what he was trying to say even when he struggled to himself. She made him feel at ease. With that in mind it wasn’t surprising they had grown so close. He could trust her and knew that she would do anything for him because she was a good person. And she made it so easy to be around, he didn’t feel a shred of awkwardness around her. 

He hadn’t thought he’d ever find himself a friend he could be as honest and open with again, one he would happily lay his life on the line for, not just out of a sense of duty but out of a sense of love and friendship.

Who you trying to kid, Rogers? 

He knew his feelings went deeper than that. All those times he’d felt irritation at other men looking at her or touching her, all those times he’d looked at her and just wanted to smile because she was just her… the fear he had felt when he had known she was off chasing the Mandarin and he wasn’t able to help…none of that was anything to do with mere friendship. 

He leaned his forehead against the tiles of the shower cubicle and groaned. He was crushing on his best friend.

He was so fucked. *******

Katie’s desk arrest didn’t last much longer. Two weeks later she was catapulted back into the field, on what was supposed to be a simple op, simple by SHIELD standards, anyway. They had a request from the Cuban government – all very hush, hush, of course –to take down a drug lord who ran a cartel SHIELD had tangled with last year.

Katie, in her role as Mission Analyst, read the files and all the intel, pulled together a briefing and delivered it, answering questions that came her way from the team and then handed over to Steve when it was his turn to take the floor. He started issuing out his orders, and informed everyone that the three newest recruits would be joining them as it would be a fairly straight forward op to ease them into.

And it had been, for the most part, until one of those new recruits, Jack Adams, had frozen mid fire fight and as a consequence he’d taken three bullets to the chest. Which shouldn’t have been an issue given the armour they all wore. But when the man failed to get up, Katie knew there was something very, very wrong.

“Adams is down!” she loudly spoke into her radio as she took aim at the hostile responsible. As soon as she was sure the round she had let off had hit her target, she broke cover to get to Adams, as she was closest to him. She skidded to the floor, pressing her hand to his chest and her other reached to his face, turning it to look at her.

“I got you, Adams, look at me.” she urged gently, her hand warm, wet and slick with the young man’s blood. Steve dropped besides her and she turned to face him.

“Armour piercing rounds.” She shook her head. “Steve, I can’t stop the bleeding.” Her tone left the Captain in no doubt as to how worried she was and he looked around frantically for help.

“Medic, NOW! We need emergency evac…”

“Stay with us, Jack.” Katie reached into her belt and retrieved a tab of morphine as he young man’s hand gripped her other whilst she administered the pain relief.

“Son, you’re gonna be fine.” Steve spoke and Adams’ horrified eyes turned to Steve. The soldier swallowed, fighting to keep his face calm. He’d seen that expression so many times on the battle field, the one that told him the man who lay injured knew he was injured beyond repair, that there was nothing to be done for him. But this was now seventy years into the future, medical science had worked so many wonders since then, they had to be able to do something, right?

“RUMLOW WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT MEDIC?” Katie screamed, her tone frantic.

“Still got hostiles on us!” Rumlow replied over the coms. “Evans has taken four down but they’re approaching from the right! We need to cover the medics in and now you’re down there…”

Steve instantly looked round before he looked back at Katie “We’ll have to take him ourselves”

She bit her lip, looking at the young man, then up to Steve again. Everything in their training told them not to move casualties, but Steve knew if they stayed here he was going to bleed out. Katie seemed to come to the same conclusion and she nodded.

“Alright. Brock, we’re coming to you. Have the medics prep the bay on the jet.. Evans, we need top cover.”

“Roger, Cap…”

“Jack, we’re gonna move you now.” Katie looked at him, her voice calm and level as besides her, Steve moved to take the injured man into a lift over his shoulder. Once he had him positioned, he gave a small jerk of his head and Katie picked up his shield in one hand, and her pistol in the other as they broke cover, sprinting across the front of the industrial yard towards the jet. In the corner of his eye, Steve spotted two hostiles moving but before he could shout a warning, Katie had fired off two shots, the thumps and lack of returning fire meaning each bullet had hit its target. Soon they were joined by Rumlow and Rollins who flanked them up the ramp where Katie dropped Steve’s shield to the floor with a clang and offered her hand back to Adams as Steve placed him gently on the stretcher.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Katie soothed him as the medics bustled around, her eyes glancing up every so often to watch what they were doing.

“Can you tell my mom I love her and, and my dad.” Adams was mumbling now and Katie shook her head.

“You can tell them yourself.” She told him fiercely. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“We’re locked down outside, local authorities are handling it now.” Rumlow informed Steve who had stepped back from where Katie was knelt by the injured man. “How is he?”

Steve turned to Rumlow, shaking his head sadly. “Not good. He lost a lot of blood.”

At that point Katie suddenly drew back slightly, looking at the hand held in hers, before she glanced at the medic who was sadly shaking his head. Katie’s shoulders slumped as her eyes closed, face screwing up into a pained expression and Steve pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger as he realised that the young man had lost his final fight.

“Shit.” Rumlow muttered.

“Radio base” Steve turned to Rumlow his voice soft “Let’s get him home.”

*******

Writing mission reports wasn’t Katie’s favourite thing to do, but this one was awful. So she’d treated it like ripping off a band aid, and after a horrific night’s sleep, she’d been at the Triskelion early to get it done. As a result it was little after ten am, she was done for the day and was about to head home until she heard a familiar voice.

“Eat me…eat me…” The voice was accompanied by a bag from her favourite bakery, which was hovering in the space between the door to the office and the frame, before Clint Barton’s head poked round the side, a grin plastered on his face.

“Hey!” She beamed at her friend as he dropped a cup holder containing two coffees and the bag onto her desk before taking a seat, scooting the wheeled chair over the floor towards her.

“Heard you had a rough time of it yesterday so I brought donuts and almond croissants. And coffee.”

“Hawkeye, you are a godsend.” Katie smiled, taking a large drink and leaning back, closing her eyes.

“That the first time you’ve lost a man on a mission?” Clint asked.

“Other than Coulson.” she shrugged. “Shit, Adams was twenty-three Clint. He had his whole life ahead of him.”

Clint watched as she rubbed at her temple before reaching into the bag and pulling out an almond croissant. She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten, it must have at least been before the mission.

“How’s Cap taken it?”

“On the outside he seems okay, but I know he blames himself. Keeps saying he shouldn’t have taken him.” Katie shrugged “He’s gone with Fury to see Adams’ parents. Rather him than me.”

“This job is hard.” Clint said after a moment or two pause. “We fight to keep everyone safe, but y’know, sometimes not everyone makes it. Thing is, if we can’t find a way to deal with that, then maybe next time no one gets saved at all.”

“You mean like Collateral damage?” she snorted, shaking her head.

“No, I mean that everyone one of us that are out in the field know the risks Nova, hell last year 7 of us took on a horde of Aliens in New York. For hours we fought them, and did any of us give a second thought to our own safety? No, because that’s what we do.”

His words made sense. She knew they did, but that didn’t stop the feeling in her stomach that if she had done her research more, maybe she could have spotted something that would have told them about the armour piercing rounds.

*******

Adams’ parents already knew he was dead. Fury had the local authorities call ahead, common practice now, but still, Steve found himself sat on their couch, talking, informing them all about their son’s last moments. They hadn’t shouted, hadn’t screamed or blamed him. Instead, they’d thanked him for what he had done and for bringing him back so they could hold a proper burial.

By the time he got back to base, he was exhausted.

“Here.” Fury handed him a glass of scotch from the bottle he had pulled out of his desk. Steve took it, dropping onto one of the sofas at the side of the large office, Fury settling into the other. Steve knew the drink couldn’t get him drunk, but he liked the momentary buzz he got that lasted all of sixty seconds post sip, and the comforting burn it gave when he swallowed.

The pair of them sat in silence for a few moments before Fury sat forward, his eye fixed on Steve.

“Ever done that before, a death message?” he asked.

“Can’t say I have. Wasn’t really my job back in the day.” Steve shrugged, undoing his tie and popping the top button of his dress shirt.

“Worst part of the job. Doesn’t matter how many times you do it, never gets any easier.” Fury ran his hand over his face, and it struck Steve how tired his boss actually looked.

“Yeah, it isn’t exactly up there with my favourite thing to do.” Steve rolled his tie up and shoved it into the pocket of his old Army uniform pants.

“How’s Nova?” Fury asked.

“She’s upset.” Steve sighed “But she’s strong, she’ll be okay. I’m gonna head over and see how she is later.”

“You two spend a lot of time together outside of work.” Fury commented, innocently enough but there was something in his tone, something that was almost good natured accusation.

“Not a problem is it, Sir?” Steve asked, keeping his face straight.

“No, not at all.” Fury said “Why do you think I partnered you up in the first place? She’s a people person…”

“She’s a good friend.” Steve nodded “We get on.”

“Glad to hear it.” Fury nodded. There was another moment’s pause before he spoke again. “There’s going to be a debrief with the Secretary of Defense tomorrow.”

Steve sighed “If they’re looking to blame someone, the buck stops with me. I should never have taken the kid.”

“Bullshit.” Fury said simply “I’ve read the reports. From what they say, he just froze.”

“He wasn’t experienced enough.”

“Taking risks is part of this job. It’s a dangerous gig.” Fury held his gaze. “It was a straight forward in and out job Captain. What happened was an accident. A tragic one, but an accident none the less. From the reports, neither you nor Stark could have done any more to save his life.”

Steve shrugged, the words were kind but didn’t help him feel any better.

Three glasses of scotch later, Steve shook the director’s hand and left the office, pulling out his phone. He didn’t want to appear like he was checking up on Katie, so he pinged her a text, dressing it up like it was him who needed to see her, which wasn’t a complete lie. He did. He was craving the normality she gave him.

Can I come over? I could do with seeing a friendly face

He read it a few times, before deciding it was casual enough before he sent it. The reply was almost instantaneous.

My door is always open for you. And I made Mac and Cheese. Plenty left.

He couldn’t help but smile. One of the best things about this new life was the food, and her Mac and Cheese was frankly his favourite thing to eat on the planet.

He changed into a pair of sweats and a hoody, hastily making his way to Katie’s penthouse and the smile she gave him when he walked into her place instantly made him feel at ease.

“Hey.” she crossed the space towards him and gave him a hug which he happily melted into, a hug they both needed.

“How did it go?” she asked, pulling away.

“As well as can be expected.” He sighed as he followed her into the kitchen, dropping into the stool on the other side of the breakfast bar. “His mom broke down but they didn’t shout or yell.”

Katie flipped the lid off a beer and handed it to him. He took it, with a nod of thanks and pulled a large swig before he rest his hands on the counter, staring at the bottle.

He was brooding and blaming himself, Katie could tell, so she gently lay her hand on his, reaching over the counter.

“It wasn’t your fault Steve.” she spoke softly and he looked at her.

God, she did that all the time, knew what he was thinking. It gave him the unnerving impression that sometimes she could read his mind.

“I should have spotted that shooter.” he shook his head.

“I’m the fucking mission analyst.” she sighed. “I knew from last time those guys were packing, if I’d done more research, maybe I would have found out about the armour piercing rounds.”

“You can’t seriously blame yourself?” Steve’s frowned.

“Why not?” she shrugged sadly. She’d been over it a million times in her head that day and had come to the same conclusion every time. She should have spotted something, dug further. “I didn’t do my job.”

“Yes, you did.” he implored, his eyes locking onto hers “Your report clearly set out the layout, the learning from previous missions…Adams was just too inexperienced, I should never have taken him.”

There was a pause as the microwave pinged and Katie turned to look at it.

“You know, Clint made a good point before.” she reached in for the plate and the smell of the food made his stomach grumble again as she continued “This job, it’s hard. We fight to keep people safe but not everyone makes it back all the time…and if we can’t learn to live with that then maybe next time no one gets saved.”

“It feels like trading lives.” He took a deep breath as she placed the plate down in front of him “It’s just wrong.”

“I know.” She said, handing him some cutlery and sat down next to him.

“You eaten?” he asked, looking at her, suddenly aware she didn’t have a plate. She nodded.

“Couldn’t have waited until now, I’d have starved to death.” she said, shrugging.

“Hardly.” he replied, mouth full, instantly realising he had said the wrong thing as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Is that a fat joke?” she asked, making him roll his eyes as he swallowed. That hadn’t been it at all, he was referring to the fact that she never actually stopped eating, despite her tiny frame she gave him a run for his money.

“No, that’s not what I meant. You’re tiny.” he said, almost choking on his food through his protests.

“So now you’re making short jokes?” She shot back. Steve looked at her, dismayed she thought he was being mean to her but then he spotted the look in her eyes and rolled his own.

“Punk.”

“Jerk” she shot back. 

It was the perfect way to escape the trauma and stress of the last few days. Once they had finished eating the two of them flopped down on her large L shape sofa, Steve’s legs extended along one side of the L shape, her legs tucked underneath her as she leaned against his shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice the smell of her shampoo…apple, he thought, along with her perfume. Her proximity was making his head buzz but he wasn’t about to move her, the contact was comforting. And it clearly was for her too as about an hour or so into the film- the first in the Lord of The Rings trilogy- he felt her head growing heavy. He glanced down and saw that her eyes were closed and, as he watched, her head slipped slightly. He shifted so that he could catch her gently, and grabbed a cushion from behind him, placing it against his leg. He manoeuvred her head so that she was lay down, gently brushing her hair off her face. She stirred slightly, snuggling down further into the cushion as he absentmindedly rubbed between her shoulder blades as her breathing grew gentle and even.

Steve stayed like that, engrossed in the film right to the end, surprisingly. He had enjoyed it. Katie hadn’t woken up, and he looked down debating whether or not to wake her or simply carry her through to her bedroom. In the end he decided to do neither, instead he reached for the remote as he sifted through to find something else to watch. He didn’t want to leave just yet, he was too comfy and too at ease. Picking one of his favourites, Casablanca, he settled down, getting himself comfy as he immersed himself in the familiar world of Rick’s Café Americain. At one point he felt his eyes growing heavy and he lay his head back, deciding to rest them for just a little while…

**** Katie was jolted awake, quite violently, and as she jerked into an upright position she saw exactly why. Steve was thrashing in his sleep, his face contorted in horror, small murmurs and whimpers slipping from his plump lips. She placed both her hands on his shoulder and shook him. Softly at first, then a bit stronger, trying to rouse him.

“Steve…” she gave him a harsher shake and his eyes flew open, wide in panic and she reached up to cup his face in her hands. “Hey, it’s okay. It was just a dream.”

Her soft voice filled Steve’s senses and, as he realised where he was and whose eyes were looking at him, he took a shaky breath and lay his head back.

Damned it, he’d fallen asleep and had a nightmare. On her sofa.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice croaky, “I err…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s fine.” Katie shook her head gently “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Whilst she was gone he leaned forward, swinging his legs off the couch so his feet touched the floor, wiping his clammy head with his hands, the memory still flashing through his dream.

Cold air was blasting his hair back…there was a hole in the side of the train…then a flash of light and Bucky flew straight through the hole. “BUCKY…” he yelled, grabbing onto the side of the train, the bar in one hand as he stretched to reach his friend with the other.

“Steve…” The voice was louder, but not loud enough. No, he had to get to Bucky…

But he was gone, Steve was grasping at nothing but air.

Just a dream, Katie had said. It was anything but…

She appeared back in the room with a glass of water and he thanked her as she passed it to him. He took a large gulp, swallowing and was relieved when his breathing began returning to normal.

“You ok?” she asked, kindly as her hand gently knotted into his, her concern evident.

“Yeah, just a nightmare.” he nodded softly “I’ve not had one for a while.”

“Understandable with what’s happened. Wanna tell me what it was about?”

“It was Bucky.” he swallowed thickly “I was replaying the moment he fell. The moment he plummeted to his death from that Hydra train and I didn’t save him.”

Katie stayed silent for a moment before her hand curled round Steve’s shoulder and she pulled him to her, causing him to lay his head on her shoulder. “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have done more” The guilt ate Steve up every day, that he had survived. Why had he deserved that any more than Bucky?

“How?” she said again. “How could you have done anymore?”

"I should have gone after him.” he said quietly.

“What would’ve changed if you had?” Katie asked. “There’s no way he could have survived that fall.”

“He wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.“ He replied, "I should have gone after him, brought him home, done something.”

Katie remained quiet, her hand gently running through his hair which was nice, far too nice. He took a deep breath and sat up moving away from her touch.

"What time is it?”

“Nearly six in the morning” Katie glanced at her watch.

“You’re kidding?” Steve snorted.

“Nope. You want some coffee?” she stood up, stretching her arms above her head.

“Yeah if that’s ok.” he replied, following her to the kitchen. From her body language he could tell she was rolling her eyes, even if she wasn’t facing him.

“I don’t know if your Ma ever told you, but it’s rude to run out on a girl after you spend the night with her.”

“And as you know, I’m useless with women.” he sat down at the barstool on the breakfast bar. He watched her, but he didn’t say anything as she bustled about, throwing some bread in the toaster and then went to the fridge for the butter, marmalade and jam, sliding them onto the island. At that point Steve held his hands up.

“You don’t have to-” he started to say, but she silenced him with a glare, similar to the ones Peggy used to give him, the look that could stop him in his tracks it was that stern.

“Shut up.” she poured them both a cup of the coffee before adding milk and a spoon of sugar to each, passing one to him. The bread popped up from the toaster, and she put it on a plate before sliding it over to him and adding more bread to the machine.

His stomach rumbled and he gave in, smearing butter over his toast. He eyed the jam curiously. He’d had marmalade before but…

He looked at Katie and she nodded. “It’s good.”

So he added some, and after a bite he concluded she was right, and nodded in agreement. Once the next round of toast was done she sat next to him.

“So, when did I fall asleep.” she asked, swallowing her food.

“About an hour into the film.”

She shook her head “What an ass…”

“It wasn’t a problem.” He replied honestly as he took a bite of his breakfast. “To be honest I enjoyed it.”

“What, me drooling on your leg?”

He swallowed, his eyes wide “I meant the film.”

“I know.” she smirked.

***** Chapter 2

**Original Posting**

[kdjdhdhebx]

so death2america's sisu tattoo on wrist ask reminded me of one tattoo idea I had when I was like 15 it super cheesy but hold with me...

so when I was a kid I obsessively wrote "I hate me" in all my books and notebooks and scrap paper... and the inside of my left wrist. at a point it was routine, I would wake up wear my uniform and and along with it put "i hate me" on my wrist with a gel pen or a marker in the morning before rushing to catch my bus while the bus waale bhaiya shouted and called for me lmao. a lot of people saw and commented, after a while pulling up my sleeve to hide it from adults and pushing them back angling my hands just the right way for it to catch my friends' attention... got tiring because my mother starting scream crying everytime she saw it and my teachers kept rolling their eyes so it decreased in frequency but I still do it sometimes...

so the initial very sad idea i had was to just tattoo it on my wrist so i dont have to go around writing it... then it evolved into a desperation I was like I have to tattoo so I don't forget i am so disgusting... then it was same desperation and fear of forgetting but it was more i need to remember i was in so much pain at one point in my life. and then someday it evolved into, I'll tattoo it on my wrist and cross out hate and add love on top of it like a correction because... I literally cannot remember shit but I think someone did that to me? or maybe I did it myself in a moment of feeling okay idk.

and then eventually I settled on the idea, that for one of the first tattoos I will get will be just "I hate me" tattooed on my wrist... and then, the calculated assumption is that if I do live past a certain point in my life, after an age... it would because I finally found a path in life, rather than just dragging along pathetically and miserably, that I won't be doing that anymore if I am alive that long. it can be my point in my life when I dont feel the need to reassert i hate myself uk?and at that point I will scratch the hate out and add "love" on top of it, so it is sort of a set tattoo that will be complete or incomplete depending on how things turn out.

this was a idea full of hope for me. because I was excited at the idea of getting scratch it out someday and mean it.

and it is a hopeful idea. I ran it with some friends and they say that it is horrible that I would have "I hate me" tattooed on my wrist indefinately but the thing is I carry those 3 words with me constantly anyways tattooed or not. but those words tattooed, would contain an idea of hope within themselves... the phantom of the strike through and love on top uk? if anything when I see those words on my wrist I will feel hopeful and slightly proud...? it is srsly one of the only nice things am letting myself have... so yeah, that ask unlocked this memory... I forgot about this... but cause op was talking about writing sisu on their wrist when they were sad it gave me a flashback to what I used to write when I was sad... and then the tattoo thing reminded me of this idea I had a long while ago :)

this is how it will look when complete after 2 installments

it gonna look so cheesy sgdjdhJxh anyways thanks to that anon and user death2america I remember this let's see if I get around doing this if I survive high school✌

[cthulhuliet]

Alice in Borderland Episode 1 Rambles:

I started Alice in Borderland, and I typed out my live reactions while watching it, I am also going to give my opinions on the episode, this is for episode 1 (the rambles will probably be stream of consciousness but the review will be far more coherent.)

I am only on episode one now but I have to say go watch this show .

-Finally, gamer representation.

-The set up damn….

-Dead Mom, so true.

-Arisu is some kind of queer, what is that outfit?

-Lol 4:20.

-“I have some business to take care of” *punches Karube*

-Arisu is needy but kind of cute so it is ok. Seems to have a lot of friends which is shocking considering he’s a gamer. This music hits though.

-Gaming and walking you’re going to run into a pole or something.

-Vomit, nvm.

-Them all lined up? Wildly different vibes. Need backstory.

-"Imagine if the zombie apocalypse just happened" I have these exact conversations with my friends I swear.

-Are Arisu and Karube fucking or something? *puts Arisu on his shoulders* Yeah, they are.

-Oh, so they are stupid.

-They literally caused a traffic incident, this is literally the most realistic portrayal of friendship I have seen in a while.

-This show stole my color scheme (but the OP effects are really cool).

-The high angle shots really show how big the city is without people.

-"I think it would be kind of nice, just the 3 of us" Oh, ok, Arisu is a freak.

-Karube is the only one who has a braincell. Understood.

-"Game start". That is ominous as hell. Never say the word “game” with no context.

-... Arisu? Why would you walk towards the laser that you just saw your friends badge get burned off at? Is Arisu stupid or something?

-The game: waifu or emo

-Oh. They really just killed her, what the hell. I hope they are starting to realize this isn’t just fun and games.

-Arisu? Where is this coming from? You’re actually clever? Needed to get a pen and paper for your strategy. Glad Karube punched it out of you.

-These people have seen 2 people die from random lasers in front of them. I mean good job on the 3 day visa I suppose.

There was more commentary before the game started just because I became incredibly invested in what was happening with the game. Great work on that.

Review: One thing that stuck out to me immediately is the directorial style of the show. It all seems incredibly deliberate: the stark difference in style between Arisu, Karube, and Chota; the high school girl wearing mainly white is killed by the red laser; the shots showing Arisu's sweat from playing video games to later waiting to 'sacrifice' himself by opening the door (though he doesn't die in this game).

For the characters I thought that Arisu's shift from relaxed but slightly anxious gamer to puzzle genius was a bit sudden and heavy handed-- not saying it was bad, I just wish we got a little more foreshadowing of how clever he actually was beforehand (they gave us shots of his books being all about geometry and about cars, so it was not out of character). It was for sure a "where was this before" moment.

Arisu is a very intriguing main character. He is obvious the Alice in all of this (Arisu = Alice) and I know there are other characters to come, but he is just the kind of unhinged genius I need. Being able to work out the dimensions of the building based upon his knowledge of geometry was excellent. I am looking forward to seeing where they take him and how his gaming knowledge is going to move the plot forward and help them survive.

I really enjoy Karube as a character and I would be looking forward to more of him... If I were writing his character. I am worried that the show is going to reduce him into an hot-headed brute without any depth.

I also have to live with the knowledge that some of these characters are going to die, and that is ok. I also know that I have to look forward to more characters joining, as this is only the first episode.

Only thing I am worried about is that the show is going to Arisu solving all the puzzles while everyone else stands around and basks in his genius. It is obvious that the character has faults and faults that can be easily exploited, I hope they delve into more of that later in the games. Maybe there will be games testing mental fortitude rather than intelligence.

I am curious as to what the significance of the cards are so far. It was shown in the op different cards, and we saw it at the end that they got visa for the 3 of Clubs game they just played. What would a 9 of Diamonds do? Or a Jack of Spades? The numbers are equivalent to the difficulty, and the more difficult the game the more visas are credited to you. I can only guess that the different cards are the types of games that there are? Tests of physical, mental, social, emotional, something like that corresponding with the suits. Or it is possible that suits signify danger, and there are only Ace-5 for spades and clubs because the danger is lower, but for hearts and diamonds it is only 6-10 because these are riskier? These are just speculations, I know I will find out.

I am really enjoying this thus far, and this is just to kind of organize my thoughts. If you read this, thank you, I hope you enjoy my thoughts about future episodes <=>

[makku-ruko]

Promised Neverland spoilers:

Why people so butthurt about Yakusoku’s final episode? Like people are legit enraged??? So what if the anime ended with a slideshow— just read the goddamn manga. Maybe that’s why they did it in the first place?

“Look! A preview of what happens in the manga! Go look!”

Like, the first season was phenomenal. And I suppose the second was pretty high in demand too for it to have wrapped up so quickly. For me, you can’t have such a good series with everything and reduce it to nothing on purpose. Idk. I just don’t think that they should be butchered like that just because the ending was subpar.

Yeah, I read the manga. Yeah, it totally diverted away from it and followed the feel good line of storytelling after a while. Okay. Everyone was happy in the end and stuff was glazed over. Okay. So... well what? If the stuff that they showed gets elaborated on in the manga theeeeeeeen guess what?

Time to read the rest of the manga.

I want to know what happens— the details. I’m good with that. I’m not gonna get so salty bc I got a quick ending.

But then again that’s me.

Personally, I love Yakusoku no Neverland. There was some real good stuff in there. I adore the characters and I’m just proud of those children for surviving in that fucked up world to begin with. The writing imo was also great! I got palpitations whilst watching so many episodes because of the tension. How they’d try and fail. The hopelessness. The OP pen? compared to the tons of near death scenes, I think its their only fucking hope and even then, it wasn’t even completely reliable. They needed another one.

The way it ended was for sure a rose-tinted glasses kinda thing. But. With all of the ‘plot-cheats’, they all made sense at least. Emma was a headstrong pure girl from the start. They even had Norman thinking laterally to show a contrast— they know that her view is fairytale land. The characters know it too and it’s not the first time they’ve had to confront her about it. So, I’m not all that surprised it went in that direction. No matter how shitty the situation, and how obvious it is that sacrifices need to be made in order to survive it, you still want to believe that there’s an easier way where you don’t have to. That can be said for a lot of irl scenarios, especially where people are virtually trapped with no real way of escaping.

And the final rescue plan? Well I think it made pretty good sense to give a fake plan and counteract it afterwards. That’s a total Ray and Norman move. Did y’all want the kids to be gunned down even with that brilliant move? And the main boss, Ratri. With all of his intelligence, he’s blinded by his own arrogance. Just like Isabelle, he underestimated the children so of course he wouldn’t expect them to make a decoy plan just to throw them off.

Idk. It pisses me off tbh. I still think they did well with the second season. It was rushed, yeah, but taking the first season into account excluding the manga, the anime did what it sought to do from the get-go. They escaped, and came back to rescue the children. Main goal. Done.

[regolithheart]

Love In The Time of Coronavirus: Chapter One

Summary: One pandemic, one lake house, and two people who loathe one another. Will they be able to survive the outbreak...and each other?

MASTER LIST

Read on AO3.

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

CHAPTER ONE:

Nesta Archeron tapped her pen against her notebook wondering how much longer her conference call was going to last.

“Okay, team. Sounds great. Hopefully this thing will end soon and our lives can get back to normal. We’re eager to break ground,” a voice crackled through the line. “Send us the package when you’re done.”

“Will do. Thanks everyone.” Nesta clicked off the call before anyone else had the chance to respond. She could see her friend and desk neighbor shaking her head. 

“You really have a way with words,” Amren said, playing with the heavy ruby earrings dangling from her earlobes. 

“I hate conference calls.” 

“And here I thought you were just eager to get on the road.” Amren’s smile was feline. 

“Don’t remind me. I’m thinking about calling Feyre and cancelling. I’d much rather stay in my own home, get my work done, and avoid having to talk to a single soul for two weeks.” Nesta began shoveling the contents of her desk into her work bag. “At least then something good will come out of this pandemic.”

“Don’t put me down as your emergency contact when they find your body a month later, half-eaten by feral cats.”

Nesta leveled her grey eyes at Amren. As if she’d ever put anyone down as her emergency contact. She was the type of person who didn’t believe in emergency contacts and was offended that Amren thought otherwise.

“Besides,” the tiny woman said, flipping her jet black hair. “You make it sound like you’re being shipped off to Siberia. I would kill to be quarantined in a house on Lake Velaris.” 

“You’re more than welcome to come. I’m sure there is plenty of room.”

Amren eyed her friend and smirked. “Tempting, but I need to go home and take care of Varian.” She held up her cell phone. “Some idiot assaulted him when he was trying to help an old lady at the grocery store.  Can you believe these people?”

Nesta knew exactly what people were capable of and the fact that everyone was running around with no reins on their stupidity in a time of panic did not come as a surprise to her. 

“Is he okay?”

A wicked smile spread on Amren’s face and her eyes gleamed silver. “Oh he’s okay. He’s just using this as an excuse to get me to dress up as a nurse.”

“Okay, goodbye!” Nesta shoved her laptop into her bag and heard Amren cackling behind her as she walked through their nearly empty office.

As she strode past the glass cube that was her principal’s office, she nodded her head to indicate she was leaving, but he waved her over. 

Devlon Cerny was still waving her over while he nodded his head into his phone, “Right, right, right.” 

Nesta suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She leaned against the door, another glass panel, waiting for his call to end.

“Well listen, we’ve been through this with our China and Southeast Asia offices months ago. I’d like to think we’re better prepared in this situation than most architecture firms.” Devlon nodded again. 

Nesta glanced at her phone, wondering how much longer he was going to make her wait.

“Yep, we’ll continue to coordinate with the consultants. Thanks, Tamlin.” He finally turned his eyes onto her. “How’d the Carver call go?”

“What, don’t you trust me?”

Devlon gave her a pointed look. “Of course, I do. I still want to know how it went. I’m in charge of ops for this office, aren’t I?” 

Nesta relented. “Business as usual. They signed off on the master planning package and we’re full steam ahead on block F. Whose available on the viz team for renderings?”

“VR?”

Nesta shook her head. “We’re focusing on the commercial tower right now. A couple of exterior shots and some lobby and amenities spaces.”

Devlon thought about it. “I’ll let you know.”

Typical.

“Anyone but Eris.”

Devlon snorted. “I’ll let you know.” She knew he hated when she gave him orders. “You headed out now?”

She nodded. “Unless you need me to stay.”

Devlon shooed her away with his hand. “Go see the sisters. And stay safe out there.”

Nesta made sure he saw her rolling her eyes this time. “Anyone but Eris,” she reminded him before turning around to leave. She heard him half-scoff and half-laugh as she retreated. 

She flipped her phone back and forth between her hands as she waited for the elevator to take her to the parking garage. It would be so easy to send a text to her sisters, telling them that she changed her mind—that she wouldn’t be joining them on their isolation at the lake. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to stand hearing the hurt and disappointment in their voices when they’d inevitably call her, demanding a reason. It didn’t matter that they’d be with their respective boyfriends and Nesta would be left to talk to Feyre’s boyfriend’s cousin who barely hid her disdain. Or one of the family friends, the one who barely said a single word, or the other one, who—

Ding!

The elevator doors slid open, distracting Nesta from her thoughts.

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

Nesta stood in front of her bed, trying to decide between the two sweaters in each hand while her sister, Elain, kept her company on the phone.

“How much clothes are you bringing?” 

Elain hummed, her voice on speaker. “Between the two of us, I think we have four suitcases.”

“Four?!” Nesta thought that was absurd. 

“Well… we don’t know how long this thing will last, do we?” 

Nesta could just imagine Elain crossing her arms defensively.

“I’m sure there will be a washing machine.” She folded the grey sweater and tucked it neatly into her suitcase. 

“Yes, but…you’ll need a couple of bathing suits and some nice dresses…”

“Elain, we’re going to be in quarantine, not throwing dinner parties. And who is swimming in the lake in March?”

“I think Feyre said there was a heated pool…or was it a jacuzzi? And you don’t have to be so…practical all the time. What’s wrong with wanting to dress up every now and then?”

Nesta snorted. There was no one she needed to dress up for in that particular group—not that she believed in dressing for anyone but herself. 

“And how many grey sweaters are you bringing?” 

Nesta looked down at her suitcase and threw a glare at her phone.

Elain’s voice was much more cheerful after Nesta’s silence. “Nes, promise me you’ll bring at least one bathing suit, one nice dress…oh! And some work-out clothes. Feyre says there is a gym. I need you to show me your arms routine.”

Nesta sighed, “Elain, you do realize that I’m going to be working most of the time, right? This is not going to be a vacation for me. Maybe I should just—“

“Don’t you dare think you can worm yourself out of this, Nesta. You’ve already promised Feyre and me and what do we say?”

“An Archeron never breaks her promise.”

“That’s right!”

Nesta sighed again. 

Feyre had come up with the brilliant idea three days prior. Her boyfriend, no, fiancé owned a house on Lake Velaris and with the pandemic racing it’s way across the globe and people beginning to self-quarantine, it was only a matter of time before it was a mandate and not a request. 

And Feyre, always making lemonade out of lemons, decided that if they were all going to be quarantined somewhere, it might as well be together and on a beautiful lake. The phone calls were made, plane tickets were booked, and arrangements were set.

Nesta had flat out refused when Feyre had called her sisters from France. 

“But we’ll be together,” Elain had said. 

“With five other strangers.”

“They’re not strangers.” Feyre had said through a sigh. “You’ve met them all, numerous times. I’m marrying Rhys! They’re going to be my family…and yours.”

Probably sensing Nesta’s anger building, Elain had pivoted the conversation. “Nes, Feyre’s flying home to be with us. We haven’t see her in three months.”

“She was the one who decided she wanted to live in France for a year.”

“For art school!” Feyre’s voice had gotten high-pitched.

Ever the diplomat, and referee between Nesta and Feyre, Elain spoke gently. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that we should be together.”

“Fine,” Nesta had finally relented. 

If she was going to be cooped up in a house with seven other people, it might as well be a big house where she could hide if need be, and knowing Rhys, the house was going to be huge.

“What time is Feyre’s flight?” Nesta asked as she dumped the contents of her suitcase out on her bed to reassess, given Elain’s new parameters. 

“Not for a couple of hours, I think.”

Nesta frowned. “Isn’t it a ten hour flight from Paris?”

“I think they’re taking some new jet that gets you there in half the time.” Elain’s voice grew soft, as if she were unsure of the facts.

That’s how it always was with Rhys. Nesta never knew if half of the things he said were true or not, mostly because they just seemed so unrealistic or unbelievable. It always irritated her when she was proven wrong. Still, it was easier to believe that he was a grifter lying about being rich than accept the fact that he was actually the sole heir of his father’s multi-million dollar real estate empire. 

“I hope they bring goodies. Would it be horrible to ask for a box of macracons from Laduree? I should text Feyre now!”

Nesta shook her head as she rearranged items back into her suitcase. Elain would be happy to know that she had room for two dresses and Nesta was also pleased she was able to squish another sweater in before zipping the whole thing up.

“How many books are you bringing?” Elain asked, knowing her sister too well.

Nesta eyed the tote bag crammed full of books sitting by the door. “Not that many.”

“Good! We’re going to have so much sisterly bonding time that you’re going to get sick of me by the end of this whole thing!”

“Never.” Nesta looked around her apartment longingly, but after hearing the excitement in Elain’s voice, she lifted the phone and suitcase off the bed, heading to the door. “Are you sure I can’t pick you up?”

“I’m sure. Graysen should be getting off soon and I know you hate my music choices.”

It was hard to argue with that one.

“If you don’t mind waiting, you could ride with us,” Elain suggested, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

The truth was that if Nesta and Graysen were to be locked in a confined space together for the whole ride, no one of them would not make it to Napa alive…and there was a very big possibility that Nesta would end up being charged for murder. They all knew this, but it still never stopped Elain from trying to force Graysen and Nesta to get along. 

“Thanks for the offer, but you know how I hate sitting in the back seat.”

“Okay. Call me if you need anything. I’ll see you soon.”

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

Six and a half hours later, Nesta pulled up the gravel drive of Rhys’ lake house. To call it big would have been an understatement. The house was actually a mini-mansion which stood two stories high, but also had a ground level cut into the sloping hill next to it and she had a feeling she was only seeing half of its actual size from her viewpoint.

The sun was beginning to sink below the edge of the lake, causing the windows to glitter with the reflecting light and Nesta had to admit to herself that it really was beautiful. 

She turned off her ignition and looked around. She had expected Feyre to bound down the porch stairs to usher her inside, but the house sat quiet. And with the sun fading, she thought it was odd that there wasn’t a single light on in the house. There were no other cars that she could see besides her own and a beat up truck with peeling paint on its tailgate.

Perhaps it was a maintenance man, or gardener. Even with the woods at its doorstep, the house still had a manicured lawn and enough of a garden that Elain would swoon over the roses and an hydrangeas swaying happily in the breeze. 

Nesta grabbed her phone to make sure she got the right address. She was certain that she had, but she was starting to get an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, and that was when she saw the missed call and texts from her sisters. 

She almost didn’t want to read them.

01:03 Feyre: The airport is packed. Gross.

01:03 Elain: Don’t touch anything! Wash your hands!

01:22 Feyre: Flight is delayed. Don’t worry, Rhys is trying to find us a charter.

01:24 Elain: Keep us posted.

Nesta shook her head in disbelief as she scrolled down to the bottom of the text window. 

04:58 Feyre: No one’s flying out of Paris and London’s due to cancel all their flights.

04:58 Elain: So you’re stuck in France?!?

04:59 Feyre: For now, yes.

Nesta’s knuckles were turning white from clutching her phone. She tapped the play button on Feyre’s voicemail, one that she clearly left without allowing Nesta to pick up.

“Nesta, don’t be mad. We’re doing everything we can to get home. Rhys is calling in all his favors. It’s going to be okay. You’ll be with Elain and you can call me at any time—we’re heading back to the apartment now. I’ll call you if anything changes. Stay safe.”

Nesta could feel the heat rising from her chest and crawling up her neck as she punched in Elain’s number.

“Nesta! Don’t be mad!”

She had to take a deep breath. “Where are you?”

The two seconds of silence immediately made Nesta want to bare her teeth.

“We…haven’t left yet.”

“Elain! I offered to give you a ride. I even left work early! And now Feyre…”

“I know! I know, Nesta. Don’t hate me, but Graysen had some things he needed to finish up at the office and it’s already so late. We’d be lucky if we got there before midnight. But don’t worry! We’re going to drive up first thing in the morning.” 

“Why didn’t you call me when you knew Feyre’s flight was cancelled?” 

“I knew you were driving and I didn’t want you to be upset. Are you there now?” Elain’s voice went small. 

“Yes. I’m sitting in the drive way with no way to get inside because both my sisters have abandoned me.” 

Elain sighed, “We didn’t abandon you.”

“No? How am I getting inside the house? I’m all alone.”

Nesta could hear Elain’s breathing on the other end of the line, it was quick, almost…nervous. She narrowed her eyes. 

“Elain?”

Elain’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Well… you’re not entirely alone…”

Nesta closed her eyes and breathed out of her nose, trying to calm herself. She had felt that sense of doom all day. She should have listened to it—should have turned around on the highway and headed back to Los Angeles all those times her body was telling her too. But she ignored those warning signs—didn’t know what the universe was trying to warn her about.

But she knew now. She knew even before looking, knew before Elain said the words out loud.

When she opened her eyes and looked out her window, standing there, with his arms folded across his broad chest and a shit-eating grin on his face, was the very last person on earth Nesta Archeron wanted to be stuck in quarantine with. 

And his hazel eyes gleamed with delight.

[returnn-of-the-mac]

Companions react to Sole having been an FBI agent before the war? Bonus points if they’re basically Spencer Reid. (I’ve been watching criminal minds and it’s amazing)

Oh my goodness, what? I actually wrote something! Merry Christmas! 😂

I decided to work on this one because it hits very, very close to home, and it’s one of the major causes of my Current Life Stress™️. But I digress.

Unfortunately, I don’t watch criminal minds, so I wasn’t able to make Sole like Spencer Reid. Sorry, sorry! But hopefully you enjoy this!

FO4 Companions React: Sole Being an FBI Agent

MacCready

“FBI? Weren’t those guys like super-secret police?” MacCready asked, genuinely interested.

Sole nodded and MacCready nervously scratched his arm.

“So...uh...I hope you weren’t trying to read too much into me when we first met. I mean you probably did...”

Sole remained silent and their companion continued.

“I just hope you didn’t get the wrong impression of me. Our first encounter could have been better,” the ex-Gunner babbled, “I guess what I’m trying to say is I hope you don’t still think I’m a bad guy. I’m just trying to survive out here like everyone else, and I was just doing what I had to do for both myself and Duncan.”

Sole smiled in understanding, and a wave of relief washed over their anxious companion.

“Thanks for understanding.”

...

Longfellow

“So you were an FBI agent, huh kid?” Longfellow asked, chucking, “You know, you never cease to amaze me. And trust me, I’m a jaded, old sea dog. It takes a lot to impress me.”

...

X6-88

“So Father wasn’t joking. You really were a Federal agent?” X6 asked.

Sole confirmed and X6 nodded in approval.

“That’s truly fascinating, [sir/ma’am]. It definitely explains your aptitude for combat and your resourcefulness in the Commonwealth.”

...

Piper

“Wow, Federal Bureau of Investigation, huh? I’ll bet you know some pretty top-secret shit,” Piper probed.

Sole— knowing where this was headed—shook their head.

“Aw, c’mon! I’m sure there’s something you can share! I’m sure not every single detail is classified!”

Sole shook their head once again, prompting the journalist to grunt in annoyance.

In one final attempt to get a good story, she tossed her notebook and pen onto a nearby sofa.

“Look! No pen, no paper, no direct quotes! I’m all ears!”

Sole turned on their heels and exited the room, much to the annoyance of their disgruntled companion.

...

Hancock

“You were a Fed?” Hancock scoffed, “And here I thought we were on the same wavelength, [brother/sister].”

Sole frowned and Hancock chuckled.

“I mean hey, Fed Gone Anarchist is a pretty badass title, if I do say so myself,” the ghoul continued, “Besides, I got nothing against crime-stopping; I commend it. I just prefer vigilante type shit. Definitely more excited than organized law enforcement. Ya know?”

...

Curie

“Special Agent for the...Federal Bureau of Investigation?” The synth asked innocently, “I am sorry to say, [Madam/Monsieur], but I am not familiar with that title.”

...

Danse

“The Federal Bureau if Investigation?” Danse asked, studying the badge in his hands, “As in the domestic security and intelligence organization?”

Sole nodded, prompting the Paladin to light up.

“That’s truly incredible, soldier. I knew I saw something in you when you came to our aide in Cambridge.”

Sole smiled, and Danse continued.

“And that certainly explains how were able pass all of our phase I tests with aplomb; our new recruits usually struggle with the fitness portion until they receive a formal training plan,” Danse explained, “As a matter of fact, you scored so highly, Maxson gave the okay to forgo the mandatory formal training. That’s how you got promoted so quickly.”

...

Cait

Cait leaned over Sole’s shoulder to examine the badge.

“Secret agent, darlin?” She smirked, “Definitely somethin sexy about that.”

Sole glanced at the redhead, prompting her to wink.

“Brawn, brains, n all the charm. Full package if ye ask me. What more could ye ask for?”

Sole cracked a smile, making Cait shake her head and let out a chuckle.

“So, ye gonna tell me about any of ye top secret missions? Or is that all ‘confidential?’”

...

Strong

“FBI?” Strong asked, looking puzzled. “No know what that mean.”

...

Gage

“FBI huh?” Gage scoffed, “Buncha narcs.”

Sole crossed his/her arms.

“What? Them smooth-talkin agents used to turn bad guys all against each other,” the raider shook his head, “Managed to pinpoint all the Tekashis and convince em to snitch on their own kind. Ain’t somethin to be too proud of, boss. ‘’Specially not when you’re hangin around a buncha raiders, yanno?”

...

Deacon

“FBI?” Deacon hollered, “BUDDY...YOU WERE A SECRET AGENT!? SICK!”

Sole chuckled at their companion’s enthusiasm.

“Yanno, if the world wasn’t, like, destroyed, I would‘ve totally done something like that for a living,” he continued, “Did you do any undercover ops? Did you wear suits and sunglasses every day? What was the most intense mission you’ve done?”

When Sole explained that information was classified, Deacon pouted.

“C’mon. I’m sure your boss and coworkers aren’t even around anymore.”

Sole kept their lips sealed much to the annoyance of their partner.

Deacon decided to drop it for the moment, but would never fully give up on trying to convincing his partner to share their stories.

...

Preston

“General! You were a Federal agent!?” Preston asked in alarm, “That’s incredible!”

Sole smiled and Preston continued to gush.

“We’re so honored to have such an able, talented, and inspirational individual lead the Minutemen,” the Colonial continued, “Thank you so much for your service; in the past, and today!”

...

Nick

“Federal Bureau of Investigation, huh?” Nick chuckled, “That explains it.”

Sole looked at the detective quizzically.

“C’mon, don’t give me that look,” the detective stated, “Your resourcefulness, intelligence, your ability to track me down in Skinny Malone’s hideout...those assets don’t come without some sort of professional training. And clearly, you’ve received the best of the best.”

Sole smirked.

“I’m assuming you worked out of their base in Chelsea?”

Sole nodded.

“Our department has worked with them in the past, namely on the Eddie Winter fiasco,” Nick explained, “I wonder...if we have ever crossed paths.“

...

Codsworth

“YOU WERE A FEDERAL AGENT?” Codsworth shouted in alarm.

Sole laughed at the frazzled Mr. Handy.

“All those late nights...so they weren’t— pardon my disrespect, [sir/mum]— booty calls?”

[justjessame]

Babysitting Butcher Chapter 3

Somehow, by some amazing miracle, Billy Butcher and I did not implode and take out the building we used as headquarters during the two months we’d coexisted. Did he still bristle anytime I tried to offer a less extreme tact for one of his plans? Yes. Did he look like he was considering tossing my short ass out the fucking window as often? No.

I was on the phone with the still acting deputy director when he walked into my office’s open door. I hated having to jump up every fucking time someone came to speak to me, so I kept it propped open with a door jam most of the day. He looked like thunder, but I was in the middle of learning another fucking assignment that the higher ups felt fell under my new position’s heading.

“Are you sending the files over digitally or am I going to have to-” she told me that she was sending them via courier and I told her I’d be waiting. I hung up and looked up at the storm that was waiting to be unleashed. “Yes, Mr. Butcher?”

He started to pace and rant, and the jist of it was his irritation that he was running into walls when it came to dealing with one of the administrative shills that we were stuck with for reports or updates to reports. “How am I supposed to plan any fucking thing if Kevin in-” and on he went. I let him vent, waiting the rush of words out, until he finally seemed to hit the end of his stride. “What are you gonna do to fix it?” His eyes locked on mine where he was hovering in front of my desk.

“Me?” Sitting back, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m confused about why you came into my office thundering instead of thundering to Kevin?” His lips quirked into a smirk, and he raised an eyebrow. “Is this THE Billy Butcher showing maturity in how he deals with an irritating situation?” My tone coupled with the mock surprise did it. He laughed and it changed his entire bearing.

“Aren’t you the one who told me to calm my tits?” I snorted at the imagery of his uptight tits. “Here I am, calming my-”

“Tits, yes, I got the picture firmly in my head.” I shook my head. “Of course I want you to not fly off the handle and blow up anyone who is causing you frustration, but I assure you, unless you planned to throw Kevin off the roof of the building for his lack of skills, I’m fine with you giving him hell. Just hold back on the urge to light him on actual fire, ok?” I could swear the twinkle in his eyes was back. I’d seen it flash here and there over the course of two months, but it made me grin almost every single time. I say almost, because I tended to get heartburn when it came after me forcing a promise from him to NOT go to extreme measures.

“Toss him off the roof?” He shook his head and the smirk turned to a grin. “Thought you knew me better than that, Doc.” And then he was gone again. Shit. I REALLY hoped I wouldn’t have to write an incident report on Kevin, wait, did we even have a Kevin on staff here?

 We didn’t have a Kevin on staff. His name was Joseph, and he was in my doorway not an hour later looking like he’d seen a ghost. Smiling in what I hoped was a reassuring way, I invited him into my office. He looked like a scared mouse, his eyes glancing at my open door.

“You can close it, if that would make you feel more comfortable?” I offered, and he nodded and nudged the door jam out from under the door and let it click shut. “Now, Joseph, what has you in such a flutter?”

He haltingly told me about his run in with Billy Butcher, swallowing often and eyes darting around my office like he expected the man to hop out from behind a bookshelf and throttle him. I sighed as he painted a picture of the man, the myth, the pain in my ass scaring this poor report jockey shitless. Once he was finished, eyes still flickering around the room, Adam’s apple bobbing with every hard swallow, I sat back in my chair.

“Did he put his hands on you?” He shook his head, but looked confused by the question. “I need to know when I reprimand him, you see, if he was physical with you that would have to be addressed, Joseph.” A nod to show he understood. “He verbally threatened you?”

 “He said,” a gulp and more eye darting, “that he’d ‘toss my sorry ass off the roof’ if I didn’t make things simpler during his requests, but-”

I had to swallow my laughter. The asshole had used my words against me. Fucker. “But?” I managed to choke out.

“There are procedures that we have to go through, you know that Dr. Taylor.” He was pleading, begging almost for me to understand his hands were tied. And I had a flash that if we didn’t fix the situation, his hands WOULD be tied, and his ass might end up in the ocean.

I sighed again. “I’m well aware of the procedures, Joseph.” Rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck, I considered how to make everyone happy and safe. Or at least happier and not dealing with a chance of ending up fish food. “I suppose that Mr. Butcher can start running his needs and requirements past me, and then I can run them up the flagpole.” Joseph looked relieved and I felt a burning in my chest starting to grow. I was going to end up with a fucking medical condition from all the extra fucking stress and shit I was putting my ass through. Damn it. “Go, Joseph. I’ll let Mr. Butcher know that I’ll be his-” another sigh. “I’ll take care of it.” Dismissed, he started for the door. “Don’t replace the jam, please.” I needed quiet and fuck it if I had to get up and answer the damn knocks for awhile.

 I called Billy in for another meeting later that day. I swore I could hear his fucking grin over the phone and nearly growled when he told me he’d see me soon. Fucker. I was up to my elbows in boxes and boxes of files that the couriers had delivered soon after Joseph had left when a knock sounded on my still closed door.

Groaning, I made my way barefoot to the door and opened it. There he stood, the smug bastard, and as I turned to go back to the desk, ignoring the dozen boxes that I’d been sitting with on the floor.

“Cute toes,” he mentioned, and I rolled my eyes. “Didn’t take you for a red polish kind of-”

“Cut the shit, Billy.” I gestured to the empty chairs in front of my desk and he took one. “You’ll be happy, I’m sure, to know that I will be handling ALL of your op requests personally now.” His smile grew and I had to fight picking up a stapler and tossing it at his head. “Thought you weren’t thinking about tossing his ass off the roof,” I raised an eyebrow and he had the fucking nerve to laugh.

“I wasn’t, that was YOUR idea, Doc.” His smile held. “Worked, didn’t it?” Shaking my head I watched as he took in my new additions. “What’s all this?”

Giving a truly forced smile of my own, I let out another sigh. “This,” I offered, standing and walking back to the spot I’d been sitting in when he knocked, “is the rest of my new assignment.” Leaning down, I pulled a file from the first box I came to. “Matthew Alexander Rogers, born May 3, 1998. Given his first dose of Compound V days after his premature birth, after Vought convinced his parents that it would not only aid in his health issues, but make him stronger. Died July 6, 1998 when his heart gave out from the strain of his newfound strength.” I put it carefully back in the box it came from and pulled a file from the box next to it. “Joann Sylvia Constantine. Born September 3, 1978. Codename Angel. Current whereabouts unknown. Powers of flight, strength, and-” I tossed the file back into the box I pulled it from. “Seems that I’ll be dealing with the supes that AREN’T part of the Seven and ones that didn’t survive the dosage.”

“There are at least a-”

“Dozen,” I nodded and moved back to my desk. Ignoring my chair, I perched on the surface closest to Billy. “There are a round dozen boxes, I had to sign for them.” I knew my shoulders were slumped, but it was overwhelming how many babies and children had died from Vought’s bullshit. “They aren’t sorted by any discernible means. Birth, death, names. None of those are used to put them in order. I could have just as easily pulled three files from three different boxes that all told of dying children or babies. They fucking experiemented on babies, Billy, with no proof that the outcome would be successful.” I shook my head and felt the weight of it all.

“And I just added to your fucking load with-” I rolled my eyes. Now he considers my load. “Doc, if I have to, I’ll go back to dealing with Kevin.”

“Joseph.” I corrected him and he looked confused. “His name isn’t Kevin, it’s Joseph.” Hopping off the desk, I went back to my chair. “It’s fine, Billy, I can handle it, I just hate reading those fucking files and seeing people die so Vought could create a new fucking species.”

“Makes you wanna burn the entire fucking operation down, don’t it?” I shook my head. “Come on, Doc, you know the more you read them files, the more likely you’re gonna come down on my side of the fucking debate.” Shit, I knew he was right, but I couldn’t go rogue. Not my fucking job.

“Acting on wants isn’t necessarily the best course of action, Billy.” I pulled a legal pad from one of my drawers and uncapped my pen. “Now, tell me what you were willing to threaten Joseph over so I can work magic to make some of it happen.”

 Once I finished the list, handing it to him so he could confirm it, I stood to walk him to the door. Still barefoot, and he took notice. “Your toes are still pretty damn adorable, Doc,” looking up at him, I caught him licking his lips. Ew, don’t be a weird foot fetish guy, I thought, but shot it down. What did it matter what William Butcher’s kinks might be? His eyes met mine and for once I didn’t feel irritation, I felt an entirely new twist in my gut and nearly groaned. Nope, not happening, Veronica. Not him. Any fucking one but him. “Gonna have to visit more often to see what else you toss off to get comfy in here.” Shit.

“Just the shoes, Mr. Butcher,” I opened the door and nearly sighed in relief as he started to leave. I could feel the heat from him as he walked past me, but then his hand touched my arm and my eyes shot back to his face.

“You only call me ‘Mr. Butcher’ when you’re trying to knock back your irritation with me, Doc.” his fingers were still on my arm, and I was trying to focus past the feel of it to listen to what he was saying. “It’s Billy, just Billy.” I swallowed and nodded with what I hoped was a smile on my lips.

“Veronica, then,” I offered back. “‘Doc’ reminds me of Bugs Bunny.” He smiled, but his fingers didn’t leave my skin. I felt like his touch was burning me. “I have a lot of work to do,” leave, please, so I can freak out in private.

“So do I, Ronnie.” And then his hand and he was gone. I closed the door behind him, and leaned against it to try to make sense of what the fuck just happened.

No flirting with him, Ronnie, I thought. Then growled when I realized that I just used the nickname he’d given me to address myself and then really growled when I noticed that I was having an entire internal debate with myself. Fuck. I was going to end up committed by the end of this assignment.

[black-water-simping-ships]

yunmeng wei au

let’s add something to the list of “AUs I’ll never write” - feel free to play in this with me:

Jiang Fengmian was a servant and close confidant to Wei Changze, Cangse Sanren is still BSSR’s disciple who descended, Yu Ziyuan was the heir of a small, almost insignificant Cultivator’s family - almost insignificant except for the spiritual weapon Zidian. Bam, meet-cute, same pairings as canon, same kids as in canon, same timeline. JFM+YZY hit the road and die during a night-hunt in Yiling, YZY passes Zidian on to her (what the fuck are canon ages?) 10-or-so-years old daughter and tells her to grab her brother and run. lbr Yanli would manage to get them both to Lotus Pier somehow, might take a few months but they’ll get there, WCZ & CSSR adopt them both and by the time Cloud Recesses Boarding School comes around we’ve got:

Zidian-swinging Jiang Yanli. Still the only braincell of the three siblings, still caring, still a bit timid but she takes absolutely no shit. First disciple? First disciple. Basically the goal here is to make Jin Zixuan spot her absolutely decimating the other disciples in training during a diplomatic visit and go “holy shit that woman could kill me and I’d say yes and thank you” (if xuanli is the pairing...just saying, jyl/wen qing doesn’t get enough love) - regardless, OP yanli it’s what she deserves

Sect heir Wei Wuxian. fucking disaster. posterboy of “why familial inheritance is Not The Way To Go”. yeah he knows he has responsibilities and he does try but he’s sadly too carefree for his role. would still tear his own arm off for any of his family members but in daily life? no. (either that or he would be far too compassionate and drunk on the power to help the downtrodden i cannot tell...maybe that would be him as a sect leader. he will do so badly because he s a walking diplomatic incident with how irreverent and outspoken he is and I am not sure if he would have the mind to manage resources properly....)

Jiang Cheng, resident wwx-minder. spends most of the day attempting to get the sect heir to act befitting for his station. inferiority complex/competitiveness somewhat mitigated by good parenting and the station reversal because it wouldn’t do for a mere disciple to surpass the sect heir; still a bit of a jelly bean ofc. not sure how much threatening/yelling at wwx would be appropriate but wwx lets him get away with everything and wcz&cssr are just glad that he’s so sensible compared to wwx

misc:

the best part might be that the “sect heir” thing gives wwx a bit more immunity, no? lwj fights him over the emperor’s smile and then the next morning finds out he caused a diplomatic incident and almost started a war by nearly killing a sect heir, seeks him out to smooth the waves and witnesses jc chasing wwx and whacking him with his sleeves, also for causing a diplomatic incident, while nhs cheers them from the sidelines. lwj forces himself to be far more tolerant while screaming and dying inside constantly except by the end of the year he’s angrier at himself for falling in love with this obnoxious, uninterested sect heir - sect heir! you fool! that man needs heirs of his own one day

how much canon divergence will else happen? i’ve seen a few post by uh dr-wcn i think mention demonic cultivator!jiang cheng and ngl that would fit, that would hit

wen remnants are basically wei wuxian going: “respectfully, eat my entire ass” before settling the lot of them at lotus pier and done, while jiang cheng has an apoplexy in the background...or is secretly grateful because core transfer?

concept: cssr survives the massacre at lotus pier because she’s away helping her shidi xxc with a thing

wouldn’t it be hilarious if wwx never develops his fear of dogs and instead has. 2 dozen of them, not even spiritual dogs but ill-educated strays he picks off the street

concept: lxc mentions what a talented cultivator the ymw sect heir is to lwj and encourages him to write to wwx under the guise of diplomacy and the exchange of skills but actually because he hopes that lwj can make friends through pen & paper. it works, they become pen pals and are then completely disillusioned by their first irl meeting: lwj can’t believe that the smart guy with the admittedly messy handwriting is an alcoholic gremlin, wwx can’t believe the eloquent guy with the subtle, biting humour is such an unexpressive stick-in-the-mud

xuanli. just. the sole legitimate son of the richest bitches courting the daughter of a servant? the OUTRAGE

“live without regrets” or smth would be great sect words just saying

(excuse the incoherence i am so so tired)

[stainyourhands]

Vietreau with prompt #AF (this is okaystop on AO3)

Jon runs through the checklist in his head. Water, check. Power bars, check. Jon runs his tongue over the cyanide tablet lodged into his right molar, check. Five knives, check. Jon taps his ankle for the sixth, emergency knife, check.

Jon gets to the final item on his list and reaches over to tug Tommy’s straps, tightening them until his pack is settled more securely on his shoulders.

“Thanks,” Tommy smiles ruefully. “I always forget.”

“I know.” Jon shakes his head. “I don’t know where your head’s at tonight.”

“Yeah.” Tommy ducks his chin. “I don’t either.”

Jon frowns. He’s been reading Tommy’s looks since the day they arrived at The Farm, Tommy clutching his room assignment form between his fingers and asking “you must be Jon Favreau?” with a smile that was so young and naive and hopeful that it settled, warm and sure, in Jon’s chest and never left.

Jon’s seen this look - the deep, pale circles under Tommy’s eyes and the tightness in his forehead and the wrinkles at his temples - a handful of times before. The morning Tommy took Jon to breakfast and, with shaking hands, wrote the name of his very secret and classified assignment on a napkin before drowning it in his coffee cup. The afternoon in Bangkok when Tommy snuck into Jon’s hotel room through the outside window and had laid out a very carefully constructed plan that broke any of a dozen protocols and begged Jon to help him rescue Agent Rhodes. The evening in Venice when Tommy had broken those same protocols to rescue Jon, destroying six months of undercover work and saving Jon’s life.

Before Jon can push, though, Pri’s sticking her head into the tack room, her hand over her eyes, “everyone decent?”

“Nope.” Tommy pops the ‘p’ as he pushes off the wall. “Just dicks and nipples for days.”

Pri drops her hand so that they can see the full effect of her eye roll. “Ass. The Director’s waiting.”

“Better not keep her waiting, then,” Tommy says, his voice light and easy. But he pauses halfway out the door, that same expression on his face as he asks, “you coming?,” as if Jon’s ever given him a reason to question it.

Jon shakes himself. He has enough to worry about without imagining trouble. If Tommy throws him a curveball, Jon will roll with it.

Tanya’s waiting for them, the op details pulled up on her tablet and her headset already settled over the left side of her face. “You’re running late already,” she says by way of greeting.

“Sorry,” Jon offers, glancing at his watch, as Tommy shrugs easily, “better skip the briefing then.”

“Nice try,” Tanya snorts. 

She slides two tablets towards them and Jon grabs his, pulling up the mission details. He tries to follow along as Tanya walks them through each step, but Tommy’s shoulder is pressed tightly to his, the toes of his combat boots digging into Jon’s calf on the rail of his chair. Besides, Jon figures, no exit strategy or contingency plan will save them when they’re buried five layers under Kinshasa’s seediest crime ring.

“Is that clear?” Tanya asks, finally, tapping her pen rhythmically against her tablet as she narrows her eyes at them.

“Get in, steal back the flash drive, get out, preferably with all four limbs intact and without giving up the CIA’s most precious secrets,” Tommy summarizes.

Tanya nods. “You’re ready.”

“Are we?” Jon asks, skeptically. This mission is dangerous, less predictable and with higher stakes than he or Tommy have ever faced. Jon’s used to high stakes poker where his life is on the line. He still wishes the CIA would stop raising his bet with Tommy’s life, but, Tanya has always known how to motivate him.

“HQ is giving you 8:1 odds,” Tanya shrugs easily. “They’ve always underestimated us, so, how about we prove them wrong, yeah?”

She’s always known how to motivate Tommy, too.

Tommy grins, his toe pulling back from Jon’s calf as he leverages himself up. “We’re not going to let you down, boss.”

“You better not,” Tanya warns. She slides her tablet onto the table and reaches her fist out for a bump. “Good luck, prove the bastards wrong, break a leg.”

Jon stands and meets her fist with, “choose a metaphor and stick with it,” because if Lovett were here- 

Jon shakes his head. He can’t focus on the stakes of his mission or he’ll fail before it even starts.

Tanya smiles sadly, Jon’s thoughts visible as they run across her face. “I’ve got a smorgasbord of cliches, so pick your poison and get out of here.”

Despite himself, Jon laughs and manages to keep it going all the way down the hallway, through their final checkpoint, and into the industrial elevators.

The doors clang shut and then it’s just him and Tommy in the low artificial light and the sudden drop in temperature. The elevator is big enough for a SWAT team, but Tommy leans against the wall next to Jon, their shoulders brushing. His fingers flex, long and warm and wet with sweat as they twist with Jon’s.

Jon swallows. He traces the circles under Tommy’s eyes with his own, follows them up to the worry lines at his temples. Tommy’s teetering on the edge of a cliff and Jon doesn’t know how to stop him from falling.

“Listen,” Tommy says, his voice low and quiet and still echoing around the cavernous elevator, “we might not survive this.”

Jon’s throat is wet and thick. “Eight to one odds aren’t that bad.”

“They’re not good either.” Tommy’s eyes are clear, like the crest of a wave waiting at the bottom of the cliff, threatening to pull Jon under, waiting to pull Jon to safety.

Jon teeters at the top, toe to toe with Tommy, not breathing in case the merest hint of a breeze pushes them both over. Jon can’t do this. He can’t let Tommy jump. Jon can’t save him if he does.

They hang there, listening to the creak and groan of the elevator all around them and the crash of the ocean below them. Long, interminable moments that can’t last more than a few floors, until Tommy takes a long, deep breath and whispers, “we might not survive this and I can’t go without you knowing-”

“Tommy,” Jon pleads.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Tommy jumps, “and I’m fucking terrified.”

Jon watches the ground crumble under their feet, a decade of cliff that they’ve built with handfuls of dirt and moss and all the things unspoken between them, giving way in an instant.

Jon twists his fingers with Tommy’s, holding on tight as they fall, together. “Me too.”

The elevator comes to a stop, jolting through their knees and their shoulders. Jon feels the shock as they crash into the ocean, but Tommy’s still there, his palm still warm and steady in his, treading water in time with him.

“Ready?” Tommy asks, squeezing once, twice, as the doors clang open.

Jon nods, squeezing back before dropping Tommy’s hand and reaching for his gun. “Shake a leg.”

Jon doesn’t need to hear Tommy’s snort to know that he’s following.

[grizzlegreertrash]

Let me shill about Norman real quick... (manga spoilers)

And when I mean “real quick,” I mean thousands of words worth of analysis. 

Disclaimer: I started writing this out last weekend, before the release of 125, so some of my original stances have since changed. I reference a thread written months ago that has been proven to be false, so don’t mind that too much. 

Some of these introductory feelings are bitter, kind of directed towards a post that has since been deleted poking fun at Norman stans like me who are “defending” his current actions in the manga. Regardless, addressing those claims are not what this post is about. 

I will add on to this eventually, talking about Norman’s “bad boy” tendencies, but who know’s when that’ll be? 

So, I’ve been observing and analyzing Norman throughout the escape arc to give myself a good interpretation of his character. Why?

I’m getting tired of people making him out to be a black and white character.

What do I mean by that? Well, let’s talk about how ever since his reintroduction, there have been quite a few fans out there calling him evil, a villain, or worse a sociopath. I get that people are untrustworthy, and they have a right to be. I understand the position, especially since this isn’t everyone’s first rodeo with character arcs like this. I’m afraid to say we don’t have the answers to the questions we all have just yet. Like if he was modified or what exactly happened at Lambda. But what we do know is that what he experienced was definitely traumatic, and it is something he is still dealing with. 

Now Emma, Ray, and the rest of the escapees have had to go through their fair share of traumatic experiences, but what doesn’t change is the kids’ sense of family and close companionship. 

Norman doesn’t have that. He is forced to deal with his situation alone. 

Have ya’ll noticed that Norman constantly refers to the current group of escapees as “Emma’s family?” He doesn’t even associate them as his family anymore. He has isolated himself from the concept of family because at this point, he is above it.

I’ve already discussed Norman’s position as a symbol with some others in a thread last month, but the stance has since changed slightly with new information from chapters 124 and 125. Along with inheriting the title, the network, and the base, he also took on the persona to keep his identity as a cattle child from those he would soon choose to ally/play with in attempts to topple the demon society and change the world. He’s just playing a character, and with that comes isolating and hiding himself from the people who look up to him. 

Having subordinates and followers cannot compare to the family of Gracefield kids, where everyone is on equal footing and everyone is supporting each other. Norman is supporting a large group of kids by himself. Looking strong, confident, and cool headed, like he always has...

Let’s turn back to the escape arc, shall we?

One of Norman’s defining traits is his high-level intelligence. Like duh, this is kind of the frame work for his character. His mind, though is a double edged sword. On one hand, he effectively outsmarts everyone by the end of the arc, making the escape successful. Despite the outcome, it wasn’t easily gained. 

Through his inner mind’s eye, you can accurately see the mental strain Norman is putting himself through in attempts to outwit the adults, and to a lesser extent, Ray. Like any child prodigy, comes with a certain level of arrogance. And to while Norman doesn’t parade his intelligence to belittle his family, a certain frustration comes from a lack of control over the situation. In this game of survival, he is out to win, but not just for himself. 

In comes the most important factor in his character, Emma.

We all know that Norman’s love care for Emma drives his motives and actions throughout the arc. His first defining character moment is when he assures Emma that escape is possible for everyone, with that signature smile on his face. Even though very shaken by the recent revelation, he quickly buries his feelings to comfort Emma, as they would soon have to return to the facade of ignorance about the secret to save themselves from suspicion. He is shocked upon hearing her rather ambitious goal for their family, but immediately associates it as an admirable quality. One that he aspires to posses. I’ll touch on that aspect in another post. 

When explaining this event to Ray, he vows to utilize himself to the best of his ability to protect her. We know that Norman’s feeble body cannot protect Emma as well as she can protect herself, so how does he live up to this? 

By protecting her emotionally.

We all know that while Emma is reckless to a fault, her conviction is one of her strongest qualities. Norman is aware of this, and constantly hides his overwhelming stress over planning to keep her eyes focused on her main goal to escape with every orphan and change the world. 

Though he wants to scream, pull his hair out, and or bang his head against the wall in frustration, he cannot falter or show vulnerability, or else Emma will lose hope and all is lost. 

This of course comes to an impasse when faced with his incoming shipment. Entering the iconic “I want to live” scene, his first thoughts are of how disgusted he was with himself over “making Emma look so devastated.” 

He then takes it upon himself to make the rest of his life as useful as possible to aid the escape. With that comes deceiving his friends and working around new information like the pen from Krone and what was found over the wall, all while still hiding his true feelings about his dilemma. 

Then comes his departure from the house, when Emma’s reckless nature nearly comes to ruin her and the plan. This is when Norman’s calm facade is shattered as he tries to get through to Emma to save her from destroying everything they had worked for. But he made one fatal mistake. 

He forgot to factor in Emma’s emotional intelligence. 

While trying to protect her feelings, he underestimated her, neglecting the fact that she had seen right through him the entire time. This revelation along with her actions and outburst reignite his admiration of how true she is to herself, and that her care for him is as genuine as they come, resulting in him fully accepting his fate. He’s grateful for the life he had been blessed with, and is fully prepared to face his death with a smile.

Now we know that these sentiments are not completed, because instead of getting killed, he gets a one-way ticket to Lambda, but that’s besides the point.

But that’s what I’ve gathered about the escape arc specifically and there is more that I will add onto later. I may or may not touch more upon Norman’s character since his reintroduction, only because a lot of people are beating me to the punch and not all of the pieces have been put together just yet. (This is kind of why I’m working with things I already know)

I’ll be bedridden for 2 weeks post op on Tuesday, so I’ll continue this thread sometime in the coming weeks

Thanks a bunch :)

[janiedean]

the gwendoline christie meet-up of doom recap

... wow it’s been a week and I still hadn’t managed to do it hahahaha ops. okay I hope I haven’t forgotten any details klfjlak anyway HERE HAVE THE FULL-ON RECAP OF THE GWEN CHRISTIE EXPERIENCE OF DOOM.

so: of course the con had to be in dortmund which meant that getting there directly was Not Doable and I had to go to @incblackbird​‘s in belgium first and then take a bus with her to germany and back and guys let me tell you dortmund is a piece of work but it has a very nice subway at least. NOW, as everyone knows if they’ve been around here for more than one month I really have Personal Reasons To Be Into Brienne As A Character and since I was like ‘okay she does a lot less cons than most other got actors so idk if I’ll have a second chance to meet her I’m going all out on this’, instead of going empty-handed as I usually do because I have no imagination for gifts to the actors and I can’t exactly bring them fanfic I figured I’d polish some old meta, maybe write a bit about Brienne’s Importance As Rep For Not Standard Attractive People and give it to her. which was all good but since I also wrote some stuff on jaime and brienne for merel’s cersei book (which then obv. got edited to hell and back to fit that topic XD) I figured ‘heeey I can just put the unedited version in there as well’ aaaand.... then I was like ‘oh well if I went through all of asos then I should also do the jb-related parts in affc’ which added to the brienne-only related introduction ended up.... being..... long around 50k (with quotes of course but still) because of course WHO knows how to be a synthetic person around here? certainly not me. anyway, this was the thing:

(yes the cover is what it is but you don’t even wanna know the levels of GOING TO SLEEP AT THREE AM FOR TWO WEEKS PLUS PRINTING IT THE DAY BEFORE LEAVING that preparing it reached flgdsk)

soooo I’m skipping on organization-related details/trip details because no one needs to know and on saturday I get into the con place with my trusted and updated catelyn cosplay like THIS IS POTENTIALLY THE MOST EMBARRASSING CELEBRITY MEETING MOMENT IN MY EXISTENCE, I go to the panel where someone asked her about how she feels playing someone described as *ugly* in the book and she gave a honestly touching long answer about how she felt like it was a privilege because you don’t get many not-standard-attractive characters, that she wanted the role and she thought actually it wouldn’t be popular because *ugly* female characters aren’t usually popular and that she felt it was important to have more of that variety on tv and I was about like ‘oKAY NOW I KNOW I’LL NEVER SURVIVE THE AUTOGRAPH’. hahaha. soooo I tried to go and get it so we could do the photo op later but obv. the queue was long as hell and I got there just when she left for lunch so I had to do the picture before the autograph, now sadly since there was a long queue you couldn’t exactly do anything too complicated with the pictures but she 100% was lovely to everyone, said hi and goodbye to everyone who came up to her and she totes recognized the cosplay my heart. (also in the panel she said she wanted to resurrect cat BLESS YOU GWEN BLESS YOU.)

aaaand. you can probably see that I was about to go like OMG HOW DO YOU EVEN EXIST YOU’RE TOO MUCH FOR ALL OF US MERE MORTALS but anyway:

sjdgldsjk if I think about it I’m still like HOW DID IT HAPPEN HOW DID I SURVIVE IT. anyway.

after that I go immediately to autograph queue again and like I would like to specify that the queue was insane like there were a lot of people and while I was EXTREMELY happy to see it because your favorite getting long lines is always an extremely good thing I also was kinda worried they’d cut things short same as they did with the photo op and I wouldn’t have complained if they had because I totally get it was a lot of people but ANYWAY. I queue again (while @incblackbird was also there and probably being extremely amused at my distress), I get there, I miraculously don’t faint the moment we make eye contact (could have happened tbh) aaaand I go like ‘okay about that thing you said at the panel before when it came to representation, HMMMM I’ve got to tell you something’ and thank fuck no one stopped me, I managed to more or less tell her that I read the books before season two and I really had a not so mild case of relating to brienne because of shared life experience and I was really hoping that the show would find an actress who’d make justice to the character and she one hundred per cent delivered on that and then I probably went into a string of embarrassing compliments while still trying to sound like a reasonable human being (count that I hadn’t had time for lunch or anything so I was running on adrenaline lmao) aaaaand...... she answered going more in-depth about the stuff she said before in the morning for... a good five minutes actually? I mean we definitely talked about it and she said the same things except more one on one obv. and she also said that she had read the book and realized What She Was Representing but she wasn’t sure people would grasp it and I was like NOOOOO DON’T WORRY SOME OF US DEFINITELY DID and honest she really took the time to talk to me when there was a really long queue behind us and it wasn’t basic niceties - like I’ve done enough signings at cons to grasp the difference and it definitely wasn’t, I left her a copy of that meta in the middle of all of this and she was like ‘for one I wasn’t expecting for people to be as much into brienne to actually do this kinda thing’ or something like that and she also signed my copy... with the goddamned golden pen like after I show it to two people they go like ‘aw how cute she used the lannister pen’ and I was like ‘..................... LMAO I WAS SO STARSTRUCK I DIDN’T NOTICE’ ops /embarrassment anyway at some point saint merel goes like (because I had totally forgotten) ‘btw she came all the way from italy just to see you’ and she was like ‘WAIT REALLY OH WOW THANK YOU’ and I was like ‘NO THANK YOU IT WAS ABSOLUTELY WORTH IT’ aaand we shook hands and I left after some good five minutes I think which is... kinda more than I ever talked with anyone in an autograph line in my entire life lol honestly I was just glad I didn’t end up doing something terribly embarrassing like dunno getting too emotional but thankfully I didn’t and it was honestly... really the best autograph experience I’ve had I think? or better time #1 with alfie allen also was great but I wasn’t exactly you know discussing stuff that was personally affecting me so yeah haha that was it and she was absolutely worth getting there and back and this woman is too good for this world and yeah. best idea I ever had tbh or top ten ideas I ever had a+ would re-do it in ten seconds.

(if anyone’s interested in the lannister pen autograph:

... aaand okay that was it when it came to gwen because she had no panels the next day and I used up both picture and autograph on day one but again, 100% worth it would re-do it immediately and she’s the best and yeah I’m still like DID IT HAPPEN and it’s been a week. she’s the best okay? k.

(also, someone’s already asked, so if anyone wants to know if I’m planning to share that meta: the ending was polished stuff that’s already on tumblr, I’m planning on posting the first part on here because it’s a question of principle and the rest I need to re-elaborate because at this point I might just throw in catelyn as well and do a full-on brienne text analysis idk but anyway at some point I’ll make it surface somewhere uu)