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spidxysense · 7 years

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Different | 03

Summary: You weren’t like them. You didn’t submit yourself to experiments, unlike them, you didn’t have a choice in becoming what you were. Now, years later Mr. Stark has sent you over to Queens to watch over one of his newest proteges in order to get your mind off of your sister.

Word Count: 3,247

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader/Spiderman x Reader

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

A/N: Alright, I said I’d make this longer but honestly, I wanted to finish it early for you guys so I decided that 3,000 would be my average word count. Hope you guys like it. You all super effing rock btw for getting my other chapters to 200+ which is like so friggin amazing! Sorry about the action scenes, I am just shit at writing those. I might not update for the rest of the week though, because I really need to finish writing for my other fan account, but I’ll be sure to work on the next chapter when I get some time. Thanks for all the love and feedback, I love you guys!

You reach the abandoned gas station just in time to see Spiderman fling himself off the building towards a moving truck that the villain, who Michelle insisted on calling Vulture after you briefed her on what you were doing, just took over. Instead of joining the good fight in the truck, you decided to stay on top of the truck, waiting for a chance to ambush Vulture. You reach in you leg strap pocket and take out the tiny black metallic ball, a device you designed back when you stayed at the Stark compound. You press both sides of the sphere and it automatically unfolds into a tiny version of Ironman except this was painted black.

“Trail Spiderman. Connect AV comms.” You speak into your watch as the iron bot nods and flies to the entrance of the truck.

You sit there for hours when to your surprise, two green circular glowing eyes meet your own. It flies up into the air, taking you by the hands, and without you noticing it, he knocks one of the cubes he attached to the truck earlier, making the entryway into the truck completely disappear, and locking Peter inside.

You struggle to break free from his grasp, without your hands, you could create dark energy to escape your current predicament. As soon as you're dropped, you land head first into a tree branch and drop onto the floor beneath a tree, you stand up quickly, looking around you, you no longer have sight of the highway, instead you're surrounded by trees, and the waiting Vulture ready to attack.

You tread carefully, and then all at once, you fly your hands in his direction, covering his metallic wings. He chuckles before slowly reaching up to press a button near his covered mouth and high pitched sonic screams engulf your ear, making you lose focus and successfully releasing his wings. You cover your ears, and press as hard as you can, when you see him approaching your kneeling figure in the dirt.

You wince at the continuous high pitched screams, "What do you want?!" You shut your eyes tight.

He kneels down next to you on one knee, slowly pressing the button once again to make the noise stop; he grabs the back of his mask, pulling it free from his head and chuckles, "What do I want?" He looks up, scratching his chin, "I want you and your little Spider boyfriend to stop meddling in my business. You better hope to God I don't find out who you are unless you want me killing you right where you stand." He stands up, puts his helmet back on and starts to walk away, "Just know that the only reason I'm keeping you alive is so you relay this to that Spider freak." That's where he leaves you, grabbing the mulch filled dirt in pain.

You didn't have a choice, in your current state using your dark energy wasn't an option, so you started on your journey back to the hotel. You arrive just shy of five in the morning, you knock on the door quietly with your head, unable to conjure up the strength to even lift your hands.

Michelle opens the door, looking above your head, but looks down in horror when you collapse on her, "Oh my God! Y/N?! What happened to you?!" She pulls you inside.

"Jesus Christ, you're bleeding out on the bed." She sighs.

You blinding look around, everything turning blurry, "I-I don't know w-why I'm bleeding."

She grabs the closest ice pack and presses it to the side of your head, "Yeah? Well you are, your jaw is bruised too. You lip is cut open." She tilts your head to the side, "Your head is busted slightly, and it looks like you collided with something sharp looking at this gnarly scar stemming from wound." She sighs, "You look pretty fucking beat up Y/N."

You laugh hollowly, “Yeah, well I was pretty fucking beat.” You try to sit up, before she's pushing you back down, "I have to get to my computer-"

"God dammit Y/N, are you really willing to risk your own life for whatever phantom you're chasing with Peter? You've done your job! Now let the adults handle it!" She holds you down, and presses the ice pack harsher on your wound, making you wince, "You don’t need to do their job. He doesn't even know who you are under that mask."

You open your eyes, finally seeing her, "He...doesn't need to." You breathe out, "We need..." you gasp out in pain, "to save everybody." You lose consciousness.

By the time you wake up, it's around two in the afternoon. You look around before a wincing pain from the side of your head feels like it’s slapped you across the face, when you touch it, it starts to ache even more, but at least the blood's stopped. You look at Michelle’s bed; your decathlon jacket is placed on her bed. Upon realizing why you were here, you get up, and walk into the bathroom, looking at the mirror, "I look like shit." You sigh, before getting into the shower. You stretch your sore muscles upon coming out of the shower and you find MJ’s note, explaining where they were. You got dressed and you walked towards the Championship venue, which according to Michelle's note is directly across the Washington monument, you walk in slowly and Mr. Goldstein is the first to greet you.

"Y/N!" He grasps your shoulders, "I heard what happened with the stairs. Next time, make sure that the ice bucket isn't leaking melted water when going up the stairs alright?"

You nod slowly, "Yeah, sorry. That was on me." You look at the team, the MC announces that it's the final round, "Mr. Goldstein, could I may be participate?"

He smiles brightly, "O-of course! Hold on." He moves toward the stage, "Flash! Flash! Get off the stage! Y/N's taking your place!"

Flash gapes at him as Mr. Goldstein pushes you forward onto the stage where you take over Flash's seat after he storms off stage.

"Alright! This is the final question which will determine out winner!" He looks to the left and then to the right at your team, "This metal alloy is an extremely stable molecular structure which prevents it from being further molded even if the temperature is high enough to keep it in its liquefied form. In its solid form, it is described as a dark, shiny gray like high-grade steel or titanium, in this state, it is indestructible, and when molded to a sharp edge, it can penetrate lesser material with minimal force."

You ding the bell quickly, "Midtown Science!" The MC calls out.

You look at the MC, then to your teammates, which makes you realize, Peter wasn't here, "A-Adamantium."

A loud buzz breaks the tension in the room and balloons and confetti are being released, "And Midtown High takes the win with A-adamantium!" The MC copied your stuttering.

Cheers are surrounding you and hugs are thrown your way, you catch Flash taking the trophy straight out of the MC’s hands, but you remember; Peter isn’t here, he’s supposed to be here. He was supposed to be here way earlier than when you made it back, but he wasn’t.

A hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you out of the venue is what gets your attention; it was Michelle, “They want to go see the Washington Monument.” She sighs, “Besides, nobody’s here.” She points out, “Are you…?” She points to her head with a little twirling gesture, “Y’know, are you like fine up there? I mean you lost a lot of blood.”

You furrow your eyebrows and blink in quick successions, there was nobody around anymore, “Yeah, I’m fine, um right, sorry I was thinking-“

“About Peter?” She gives you a smug smile, “Don’t worry about him... He’s Spiderman.” She waves as you two continue to walk toward the monument having been left behind by the team.

You walk into the monument having watched the hilarious exchange between Mr. Goldberg, Michelle, and her resistance to “go inside a monument built by slaves”. You stop by the metal detectors and look over at the Midtown Decathlon team waiting for the elevator to take them up as you dump your bag onto the basket that would scan for any weapons, once you get to the other side a security guard approaches you.

“Hope you don’t mind waiting for more people.” He begins walking back to his post, “It’s been a pretty slow day for tourists.” You look at your watch, it was already past three.

“It’s fine.” You keep turning to look back just in case Peter comes running through the entrance, but he doesn’t.

Suddenly, you felt the floor shake and the walls vibrate with a violet light shining through the cracks of the closed elevator doors; you looked around as the ceiling begins to crumble. You frantically turn in every possible angle, trying to find an exit point but all you see is a child whose body is trapped under the fallen piecing of the ceiling crying out for his mom and a hysterical woman trying to push back the security guards and in a moment of impulsiveness, you run and use your powers to lift the large rubble and broken pieces off to help the kid and as you carry him to transport him to his mother, you hear the tiniest of thank you’s in your very ear. However, just as you hand him off to his mother you hear the screams for help from the elevator, it doesn’t take you too long to look over the still closed doors, but that was all it took before the ceiling of the lobby completely falls apart and blocks the entrance.

With nobody around left to see you use your powers, you run to the elevator doors and pull them open with a great deal of concentration which has your already injured head pounding against you skull. You gasp into your mouth when you hear the screams clearer, with slow steps, you find yourself inside the elevator shaft, right where it would stop and you look up, you see the elevator but it’s already ready far up with a large hole on the floor, you spot a couple of sparks coming from the sides as the elevator seems to move, they must be moving inside or at least trying to get out of it.

You look to the blocked entrance and back up at the elevator, it would be the easiest thing to just lift the rubble with what little energy you had left and all you had to do was step out of the elevator. It’s the easiest choice, and to someone that wants to survive, it should be the only choice, but it’s not what you needed to do, not what you wanted (indent) to do. This was your life, and just like you told Peter back at that lake, somebody had to save the day. You completely understood what you would be risking, but it seems that trying at all is all the more better than leaving these people to die. This was your responsibility, this was the responsibility you shared with all the heroes out in the world, with Ironman, Captain America, your sister, and Peter, and knowing that you didn’t even need to hesitate or second guess your decision made it all the more clearer that you’d willingly die for these people if it meant saving them.

You close your eyes and form a familiar hand position near your stomach, you think of your sister, and of your brother. You were not going to die with the same sacrifice of saving the world as him, but you were going to willingly sacrifice everything for these people, and you were fine with that. You think back on how your sister made larger energy projections from bunching it up in her hands before aiming it, so you imitate her hands as you push your hands and arms towards the now falling elevator. You scream out in pain as you feel the blood spurting out your nose, but you don’t look away from the elevator, you push back harder, until you realize the weight is slowly being lifted. You watch it move up, until it stops on what you guess would be the floor everybody else had evacuated to, and then it’s falling completely. You stare at it dumbfounded with a lingering pain in your head and muscles, you feel your heart pound in your chest as if it was treasuring your last moment alive, like your heart would willingly stop if you asked it to, but you push through, you look down at the ground and smile, looking back up and releasing dark energy extending from your fingertips, you scream when you catch it and start extending the energy matter to push it up from where it already nearly touched your head. You push it up high enough before you spot large pipes surrounding it. With the quickest motion, you move one hand in the direction of the leftmost pipe, moving it along so it runs along on the left side of the bottom of the elevator which has you gasping in pain; you move onto the other sides, it has you sighing when you succeed in stopping the elevator. You drop to your knees, and slump, but when you look up something tiny and metallic catches your eye, it looks like a tiny metallic spider.

You hear distant screaming, but you never feel him plop down on the ground next to you. You shut your eyes in anticipation for Spiderman himself hanging upside-down, with your arms feeling slightly numb, you muster up enough strength to bring the jacket over your nose and wipe it, and when you turn to look behind you, he’s there.

He gives you a tiny salute, “H-hello-Ehem.” He clears his throat in order to deepen his voice, “Hello Ma’am. Do you need help getting up?”

You look back at him with a tired smile which probably shocks him.

“Oh my God.” The white part of his eyes retracts, “Holy shit what happened to you?” He touches your face softly, tracing your jaw before letting it linger on the bruise; he turns your head slightly to look at the side of your head.

You twitch slightly from his grasp before removing your head completely from his touch, “I’m fine.” You stand up slowly, with wobbly feet, “Is everyone safe?”

He tilts his head, “Is everyone saf-?” His voice gets louder, “How about you?! Were you safe?! What if you died here?”

You smile a tired smile and say the one thing that shocks him, “What if everyone else died up there?” You look back at him and remember that he doesn’t even know you survived, “This black plasma thing helped me.” You look up at the still elevator, “Got that thing to stay up there and to be honest, the black energy didn’t look like something you could conjure up from mixing chemicals.”

He looks around, “Black energy?” He mumbles, “So she must have saved you…” He trails off.

He suddenly stops speaking, and then looks directly at you without moving, “This tiny voice in my suit says I should kiss you.” He points at his head and pulls his mask off up to the nose, “And for once in my damn life, I’m not going to think about the consequences.” He pulls you in to kiss him.

You break apart first, clearing your throat, “I-I can’t. I’m sorry.” You look down.

He chuckles to himself, “It’s alright, even if that was an option. Some crazy girl with powers is in love with me.” He sighs, “You just remind me of someone I really want to protect.” He pulls his mask back on just as the authorities manage to dig all the rubble out of the way, and find you, Spiderman already gone. You follow one of the medics who has placed and orange blanket around your shoulders, where she leads you to the nearby ambulance and properly treats your wounds.

“Y/N!” You hear the panic filled voice feet away before you’re being embraced by your best friend.

You close your eyes and laugh softly, “I can hear your heart MJ, and it’s beating so fast.”

She pulls away, crouching so you’re looking her in the eye, “That’s all thanks to you, you self-righteous, hero driven idiot!” She wipes her tears quickly, “What if you died in there?”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh God, you’re still an idiot.” She sobs.

You look for Spiderman, or Peter, given that he disappeared before the authorities found you and you realize the sun is no longer up which has you looking at your watch, showing you that it was already past six. Upon looking back up, you meet eyes with Peter who’s suddenly appeared, he’s looking at you, but with a face that looks as if he were contemplating something. He pulls his hoodie over his head and sticks his hands in his hoodie pockets and starts to approach you, which Michelle takes as a sign to leave.

He stops in front of you, “So Mr. Goldberg told me you fell down the stairs.”

You sigh and shrug, “I’m more interested in why you’re talking to me, Peter.” You look him squarely in the eye, “Last I remember, you pretty much broke my heart, so don’t take it personally if I tell you that you aren’t allowed to care about me.”

“But I do.” His answer is instant, he paces back and forth a few times before finally stopping, “Look, I’m sorry I told you that we couldn’t be toge-“

You jump up to stand directly in front of him, “Could you please not mention that bullshit again?” You cut him off, “I feel like that’s been ringing in my ears all this time, and I am so tired of it.”

He freezes which you take as an opportunity to continue, “We’re not perfect okay? We’re gonna keep secrets, everybody has them, and honestly whatever you’re keeping from me that has you thinking this way, I don’t care, Peter.” You grab his hands, “I have told myself time and time again that I shouldn’t even like you this much but even when I try, I feel myself loosening my grip. There are so many things I’m unsure of in this world, but I know that feeling this way isn’t one of them. So I don’t care if we can’t be together, Peter. I want to be, and I don’t know what bogus shit you were giving me with having to protect me, but I can put up a damn fight so you don’t have to protect me.” You pull him closer by the collar, “You’re all I want, Peter. No amount of “I can’t’s” can change that, and if you tell me you don’t feel the same then you’re a goddamn liar Peter Parker.” You kiss him, it takes a few seconds but he kisses back.

It’s only cut short by a slow clapping, which turns out the be Michelle, “About. Damn. Time you two.” She gives you a wink before going back to talk with Mr. Goldstein. You wanted to believe this would last, but you knew better, something was going to happen; you could feel it.

This time, Peter kisses you first.

#spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #peter x reader #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #mcu #spiderman homecoming #spidxysense #I was dying after details from the teaser of infinity war came out #seriously please dont hurt peter #pretty please

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beautifulhaus · 7 years

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Journal - 2017/06

I made a journal post with drawings and thoughts that happened last week.

Check it out if you want :)

I was staying up late and the sun started to come up...ha but it was so beautiful so I tried to capture it. This drawing happened and I thought this could be a cool layout for a short film. No plans to make it but maybe I will take it out again one day.

Ideas and Ego

I started to watch a lot of interviews of all different kinds of artists and I found there is an interesting pattern when great artists talk about their ideas.

'It's like this spooky universe picks the day and gives it to me.'

'My ideas are beyond me, they are not for or from me'

'Just sit down and either something great happens or not'

'We reinvented the wheel by accident'

Ideas as relevant universal gifts that have nothing to do with you as a ego but are just using your body as a door to the world. Have faith in some kid knocking on that door and be kind and not judgmental to that kid. You should listen carefully what she has to say and maybe you might even want to help her with her concern. But also note that you might not get visited for a long time. You might want to put out a nice new welcome matte tho or decorate a little ha.

I like that thought because it takes away the judgment you put over yourself. There are no bad no good ideas, they just are and it's your job to help them come to live and that is it. Help them as best as you can and once you did that, don't judge them. Let them be and wait for the next kid. And if that idea is to write a song about cheeseburgers even though you have never written a song and have no clue about it at all, do it because it is not about you, it is about that song trying to make it .

haha dang so dramatic

Louise Wilson

I discovered her through a Kanye Interview and just want to collect some things I kept from her. She was probably the most influential fashion professor of our decade – unfortunately passed away in 2014

She said something like 'Sometimes when I talk about the work of my students I would ask them 'Would you show that to Tom Ford?' and they would say 'Oh no, I would have to do that and that better'...

Well then why don't you do it?? 'BE YOUR OWN TOM FORD'

I love that mindset so much and I tried it. I watched some Disney making of videos and then pretended I would work for them and did some sketches...haha. That really opened my eyes on becoming better at something. It is not about the craft itself. It is not about practicing for 231786 years in the sense of exhausting hard work. It is all about you mindset. It is about how you prepare mentally before you put that pencil down and what you allow your body to perform! If you do that you also get a feeling of ultimate self confidence because you get into a state where it's not even questioned that you couldn't do something. And if something does not come out the way you wanted you just do it again.

And again. Again.

'Our students would go to Paris Fashion Week and see how many shows they could get into. They pretended to be the make-up artist. That was actually a class project!'

Just wow I have nothing to say to that. I start tearing up reading this what is wrong with me haha

About students starting her course

'And if Professor Wilson sees herself fighting a crusade, it's not against what students don't know, but what they do. "Their previous education has rendered them incapable. When they come here, it's like rehabilitating them. Because they've been in education since they were five. That's longer than if you'd been in prison for murder. And when you left prison, you'd been given a social worker to rehabilitate you.'

I feel like that is what is happening with me now. The school system is so so so deep embedded in me because I was all about doing great and reaching expectations. I got out when I was 18 and it took me 5 years to just get an idea of how I have to set my mind in order to survive in the ways my mind and body is supposed to perform.

Great Lady, just by reading and watching her interviews I felt really connected and got a good idea of her approach on life.

Sources

Kanye Interview https://youtu.be/4Rn0hDB6Z8k?t=25m24s

Louise Wilson https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2010/feb/07/central-saint-martins-louise-wilson https://www.theguardian.com/fashion/2014/may/19/louise-wilson-seven-insightful-fashion-quotes#img-1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Li1ty85B_vs

I noticed I keep telling myself the same things haha

People always talk about their passion and how it makes them do amazing things but what is that? Tell me about it because I dont knooow haha.

I do know that feeling of really wanting to do something and getting all these ideas for it but it would never stay for a long time and most importantly on the same thing to do... ha

Is it something we have to look for? Is it something that comes in the act of doing something? Is it something we choose? Is passion a choice? Idk I have always been all over the place with the things I enjoy and have an initial love for but it would eventually dim down and come back and down. Haven't I found the right thing yet or do I have to choose a path and commit to it even in times I don't have any love for it anymore? (Usually the next day ha) Here is something that comforts me in that regard tho.

To have faith in the unexpectedness of life.

We can predict, plan, prepare as much as we want but what is clear is that we don't have a clue of what's going to happen next and using that as a tangible fact that we can rely on brings me back to the present and to what can or has to be done now. So I end up not overthinking and just make random stuff. Like this post :>

I also had to think about my dad who used to spend the whole day in front of his monitor doing paintings in paint... Haha That's all he would do and eventually he printed the ones he liked the most and hang them in the house. What's that feeling? He enjoyed looking at images so he tried all day to make the ones that strike him the most by himself? He did what he wanted to see just for the enjoyment of looking at them? Because he didn't show his work, never talked about it. He just made them.

Fashion has always been something that I found interesting and having my own collection is a Kid that has been sitting in my brain for the longest time. While I thought about some concepts I found out about this fashion brand Comme de garcon and I felt connected to their vision in a weird way. I then got the idea to make concepts for them and send it to them. ‘Here take that and now hire me’ kinda like that haha

I feel very weird about showing it all so maybe I will after after they have ignored it for a few weeks. (Also in case I ever finish it)

Everyone can do something great, everyone has a gift. It's about finding the right mindset, the right vibe that let's your body flow and make all the amazing things it is able to make. What will keep you away from that state are 'wrong intentions'. Doing it for the money, doing it for the fame won't be a healthy engine for the long run.

Is that true tho?

Btw this is the way I tell myself things so even though it might be total bullshit, I just pretend it's true (for now).

Have faith in the unexpected. Have faith in something amazing happening at any given moment.

(All these ideas and thoughts are not my work, I kinda feel this 'body as a vessel' thing. All I am doing is pretty much watching and experiencing on what journey it is on.) I never did anything for my thoughts to come out, they just do. What that mindset leaves you with is a ultimate sense of validity in your existence and everything that is connected to it. (sadness, laughter, embarrassment, uninspiredness, excitement, 'failures' or things that just didn't go as expected/hoped.

Have faith in the unexpected. Don't force it, don't stress it.

I am feeling a very strange feeling of peace right now and I am absolutely cracking myself up inside because all I can think of now is this video where Beyonce is in awe because of everything but I totally feel it too right now aaahaha. Also why am I sounding all spiritual now what is happening?? wth. And do I think I am Beyonce or what? Am I just high on coffee or something???

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O63dea1U33g

Rereading this is the funniest thing, what was going on haha. (random older stuff)

Don't feel whatever was happening yesterday anymore ahaha but what's new.

Life is so extremely short. Everything that seems like the most important and eternal thing is only a blink of an eye, really. Soon we and everything that is our world won't mean anything anymore. There is no excuse to 'waste' time on things that don't feel important to you. Do the things you want gurrrlll

You already can do anything you want. You just have to have faith in your abilities and get rid of this sense of bad and good. Whatever you do just is, and that's it and that's good. (in the sense that good is all there is) The only thing that stands between 'everything I can do' and 'me at this given point of time' is me doing it.

So have that same sense of 'I can do everything' in all aspects of life.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXsQAXx_ao0

It's not about you, it's about the art getting it's chance to exist so get over yourself and let all the babies out. And you don't judge your children, you just let them be, maybe guide them.

(Rereading this makes me cringe hard ahahahaah I still mean it but at the same time I am thinking like 'Who are you and why does everything sound so spiritual motivated and dramatic ahaha. I wrote that stuff just days ago but it feels like I found an old journal of me as a kind trying to figure things out hahaha oh man anyway...)

I looked at what I wrote and I basically repeat myself again so nevermind haha.

But today I found out about Rupaul and how amazing he is so I watched a lot of interviews again.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kSchZdbdWYU

‘ We are an extension of the power that created the entire universe ‘

Again this sounds very spiritual which I am kinda uncomfortable with but it is so true at the same time. I don’t believe in free will. We can not want what we want. We just want things and we just think certain things and get certain ideas and these things are a result or part of the chainreaction of happenings after the bigbang if you will or the creation of the universe. So we are an extension of the power that created the universe. Maybe all this spiritual talk of this week really is just standing really really high on solid facts.

“In fact it was good for me to go back home because I got to recharge my battery and understand what it is I wanted to do in the first place”

Totally what happened to me in the last two weeks??? I was sick and got the chance to just recover and think which braught me to this crazy long post.

Also found out he has a podcast with over 100 Episodes so I know what I can listen to when I draw around now.

http://www.stitcher.com/podcast/rupaul-whats-the-tee-with-michelle-visage

So weird... I came across this songwriter called James Fauntleroy and he talks about how he wanted to become a comicbook artist, then he got sick which braught him to songwriting and now he is into animation.... That is literally me because I have been recording so many song sketches the past few days and really found a love for it and the drawing thing is given. I used to write songs and always wanted to make music but back then my mindset was all in this ‘this is bad, I am such a beginner, I dont know anything about this’ - mode which I am kinda over with now (not totally but we will get there) and now it’s just fun doing it.

https://youtu.be/EGY0rROcvRQ?t=11m5s

Ok so I was Beyonce, Rupaul and now this guy haha. I don’t know... so weird I really got a sense of ‘a bigger power’ this week though, which I have always heard people talk about but I never really understood or felt it the way I did this week.

Sunday is almost over now and I am thinking about this journal thing. I don’t like that it is packed with so much text, I am also not sure if it’s a good thing that I spend so much time into going back and recalling each day. Even though these texts are only days old it feels like they were written from this super old version of myself because I wrote them in a state of mind which was very specific to that moment I wrote them in. You know when you get sentimental and have all these thoughts you normally don’t have but the next day you wake up and feel totally different and just forget about it. Now I have that stuff written down and reading it 2 or 3 days later is like....This guy needs to chill. Also having to actually lock the things down that go through my mind like I am doing right now is weird because some things just don’t really matter like this stuff right here but since I am writing them down I have pay extra attention to what is going on in my brain haha maybe I should just cut in down extremely for the next time? Maybe only drawings? I don’t know, let’s see if I make another one next Sunday.

Have a good one :)))

#journal #Illustration #animation #june

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english-ext-2 · 7 years

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hello! just wondering about your thoughts on art degrees - are they really 'useless'? i can't think of any other way to study literature :( thank you!

I have many thoughts on this so it’s best to start with a disclaimer: I’m only speaking from my own experiences, am in no way representative of all Arts students, and definitely don’t represent employers’ perspectives (who might have very different opinions to mine).

Before I go anywhere, the following point is the most important: if you want to study literature, then study literature. There is nothing worse than picking a degree you think will be ‘employable’ only to realise you hate it (actually, what’s worse is becoming indifferent to it).

I’m clearly biased here, but Literature is good and not at all useless, and I would strongly encourage you to study it. I don’t want to say anymore else I’d go on forever, but that’s my position. The rest of my answer is under the cut because boy did it get long.

Arts in General

Firstly, arts encompasses a huge range of disciplines. In terms of diversity of knowledge, arts is far from useless. I’m at Usyd, where the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences is the largest by far. It’s divided into schools, then departments. A single school, e.g. School of Social and Political Science (SSPS), has several departments. My majors fall under SSPS, the Department of Government and International Relations and the Department of Sociology and Social Work. But you’ve got education, social work, philosophy, museum and heritage studies, archaeology, media and communications, linguistics, languages, a whole range of departments under other schools too. Are all these subjects ‘useless’? Nope.

In purely humanistic terms, people with arts degrees have contributed so much to society. Where would we be without novelists, film producers, directors, script writers? Monty Python was a troupe of over-educated nerds who put their Oxford and Cambridge educations to dictionary-altering satirical use (soz Terry Gilliam, I know you’re American), and we’re better for it. Our world would be poorer without artists of all stripes and the insights that sociologists, historians, anthropologists, philosophers, linguists, etc. have made. The ultimate strike: your teachers studied Education, i.e. Arts. Without them you wouldn’t be reading this, and I wouldn’t be writing it either. Even if arts degrees are semi-jokingly characterised as useless, they’re not. (Btw I aggressively do not enjoy the STEM v Humanities debate because it reduces both sides to shitty stereotypes and gives rise to godawful Discourse, has anyone heard of polymaths.)

Types of Arts Degrees

You also have to consider the type of arts degree. Once I finish this semester I’m going to graduate with the pass Bachelors of International and Global Studies (i.e. your standard three year degree). In terms of tertiary education, it’s the most basic. I chose not to do a combined degree with, say, Law; nor did I choose to do Honours, which would’ve added an entire year to my degree doing a thesis. Arguably, arts honours and combined arts degrees are less 'useless’ than your run-of-the-mill three-year arts degrees because you supposedly gain advanced research skills and the, well, non-arts part of your combined degree (lol). (I would recommend Honours only if you’re truly, honestly looking for an intellectual challenge and are fully prepared to commit, not just riding along for the perceived employability advantage. A thesis is hard work! I have a friend in Melbourne who can testify.) Incidentally, your three-year arts degree will be an infuriating obstacle if you’re thinking of applying for grad school in North America since most universities only consider candidates who have at least a four-year undergraduate degree. On another note, I actually once met a girl who was doing combined law/arts and took a cinema elective unit because she enjoyed cinema but knew it wouldn’t likely help her find a job.

Employability

But given the state of the job market these days, almost all undergraduate degrees by themselves are next to useless. A freshly-graduated 21-year-old with a single Bachelors and nothing else to their name, no matter the discipline, won’t be zipping up the salary ladder any time soon (would probably struggle to get an entry level job, never mind kickstarting their career). We’re a long way from the days when just having a degree was proof of your knowledge and thus qualification for the job. Higher education is more accessible, and employers’ expectations have changed. The substance of the degree matters less than the transferable, or 'soft’ skills you gain at university. I’m talking leadership, adaptability (a big one), teamwork, written and verbal communication skills, cross-cultural awareness, self-management, time management, problem solving. Your grades are no longer the sole determining factor in your hiring, and may even take a back seat to strong extra-curricular or sporting achievements, or your experience in various casual/part-time jobs. In some ways it’s a welcome change for employers to expressly state they value recruits as people with talents in fields other than academia, and it’s certainly more inclusive of socio-economically disadvantaged students who might not have done well in school but are nonetheless hard workers and have displayed merit in the 'real world’.

From certain other perspectives, the job market is still capitalism, and individuals are still in competition with each other. As soon as employers make it known they’re looking for “well-rounded indvidiuals”, the students with the most cultural capital and financial resources rush off to, say, intern at a law firm, a think tank, the state government, or travel overseas to teach English in a South-East Asian country, i.e. they grab opportunities to expand their set of transferable skills. Doesn’t matter if you’re an arts student; the wealthiest are more likely to have the means to seek out and actively pursue the experiences that’ll enrich their CVs and make them more appealing to recruiters. It takes money to travel, and you need to be from a certain social milieu to know of, if not apply for, valuable career-hopping opportunities (I kid you not, one guy applied to the organisation where I volunteer wanting legal experience because his parents were allegedly dentists and not in the Right Lawyer Circles to get him a paralegal position or clerkship). All of this is a long way of saying that doing arts is but one factor amongst many affecting your job prospects.

To bring the discussion back to more pleasant grounds, big corporations (read: banks, consultancy firms, your Comm Banks and KPMGs) are recognising the skills and talents that arts students can bring to their companies. The critical thinking skills you gain from analysing those long-ass readings and putting them into practice are highly sought after because they show you’re not just someone who follows instructions, but can analyse, evaluate and synthesise information appropriate to audience, which applies to literally anything in any workplace. Usyd even has a program called ArtSS Career Ready that offers summer/winter internships with various organisations to Arts and Humanities students only.

It’s implied in the above paragraphs but what it comes down to is that you’re very likely going to end up doing something that has only the faintest relation to your degree. A student who majored in sociology might end up in a consultancy firm; a history student at St George or Westpac. If you’re going to worry about what you’re studying, worry on the basis of whether you’ll enjoy it rather than whether it fits your projected career path.

Arts Degrees in Context

So far I’ve spoken about arts degrees in very general, abstract terms, disconnected from the institutions that offer them. Does it make a difference if you study English Literature at Usyd rather than UNSW? (Usyd’s English department consistently ranks well in the QS rankings, 18th this year and the highest Australian university if you were wondering, with UNSW at equal 49th.) Though whether an English major from Usyd is more employable than an English major from UNSW, well, Usyd is ranked 4th in terms of graduate employability in the QS rankings but that’s not necessarily reflective of Usyd’s English department. Anyhow, the 'usefulness’ of a degree will rely on its quality, and that quality is directly influenced by two things: the degree structure, and the people teaching your degree. Both will of course vary from uni to uni.

Degree Structure

What do I mean by degree structure? I’m talking mandatory units or majors, and even mandatory internships. Take my INGS degree. The features that differentiate it from your generic Usyd arts degree are:

four mandatory INGS units

three mandatory language units

a mandatory one-semester exchange

a mandatory major chosen from a list (double majoring is optional)

It sounds fancy but if you were a discerning arts student you could take multiple language units and go on exchange; the list of compulsory majors we choose from is not exclusive to INGS students. The real appeal lies in the INGS units, which are themselves an interdisciplinary mix but which in my experience don’t build graduate abilities any more effectively than any other arts unit. Exchange was good though, and certainly useful in the sense I picked up a range of transferable skills (if not applicable in professional contexts then at home; baking soda and vinegar are great cleaning agents.)

My degree structure wasn’t revolutionary and didn’t necessarily equip me with skills that might make me more attractive to recruiters. Enter mandatory internships. Some universities in their arts degrees make practical experience (internships, practicums, research projects, etc.) compulsory. If this opportunity is already built into your degree and/or discipline, e.g. you have practicums if you study education, then it’s a huge advantage as you don’t have to go looking for one yourself. Macquarie University makes PACE units (Professional and Community Engagement) a requirement of graduating with an arts degree. Students get practical experience in the community with a partner organisation and undertake an “experiential learning activity”. I mention this because I’ve met Macquarie (and UNSW) interns at my volunteer workplace who’ve contributed significantly to various projects - experience that makes them competitive when they graduate. And yes, there’s a PACE unit for English! (I’ll admit that to Usyd’s credit they have the above-mentioned ArtSS Career Ready program.)

tl;dr not all arts degrees are created equal, the better ones include mandatory practical experience.

The People

Secondly, the people teaching your degree. I have thoughts (Thoughts, I tell you) on education as a collaborative effort, which I’ll just boil down to this: your teachers matter. The people you learn alongside with matter. You don’t learn in a vacuum, and yes, while you’re responsible for your education and how much effort you put into readings, assignments, asking questions, and so on, your teachers and tutors play an essential role in how you absorb and understand the material. If you’ve got a lecturer who reads slides out at a catatonic audience, that’s… not helpful. If your course coordinator gives you one-sentence replies to lengthy, well-considered questions, that’s… also not helpful. But if a teacher can engage you with what you’re learning no matter the subject, you’re more likely to develop a genuine interest in it and to do well. Good lecturers and tutors crop up in unexpected places and often at random, and the best way to find them is through word of mouth. In employability terms, these teachers make for sterling referees. If you get to know them enough, they’ll happily vouch for you.

This answer has gotten ridiculously long but I hope it addressed and assuaged any doubts you may have had.

#asks #answered #university #hsc #i guess #for anyone else considering arts #in which i overthink things again #Anonymous

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capbucky-0506 · 7 years

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Formation (MCU GirlsxReader)

Hey Hey Hey! Here’s a oneshot I’ve been working on for a while! Sorry it took so long, my loves! (BTW, it’s kinda sorta long so...)

"Fury, someone has to go on this damn mission!"

"Nick, none of us are able to!" "What are we gonna do?" Right now, the team was in the briefing room, arguing about the upcoming mission. The mission was to go undercover at a party thrown by a Hydra agent and retrieve a drive containing sensitive information. All of the guys, however, had to go infiltrate a Hydra base the same night, so none of them were able to go. As they were arguing with Fury, you, Wanda, and Natasha sat back and said nothing, watching the fight carefully. "Fury, this is a mission for an entire team and most of the team can't go," Steve says. "We need a plan, fast!" "I understand that, Captain. But there is nobody else to go. This is a mission for the Avengers, not just any S.H.I.E.L.D. agents." "We don't have enough to go," Thor adds. "Not even I'm quick enough to make it to both," Pietro says. "Nat, Wanda, and I can go," you interrupt. All the guys look at you. "L/N, this a team mission," Fury states. "It's not just for three girls." "We can assemble our own team," Nat cuts in. "We've got some players." Steve clears his throat. "It's not a bad idea." "It's not enough muscle," Tony comments, rolling his eyes. You stand up walk towards him until you're face to face. "First of all, it's not even that kind of mission. It's at a classy party, not some abandoned wasteland. Secondly, we don't need a metal suit to have muscle. Unlike you." The room goes silent. You and Tony stay in that position, sending each other death stares. Fury breaks the silence. "Alright. Assemble your own team. This is your mission, girls. Call if you need backup." "That won't be necessary," you say as you walk to the door, Wanda and Nat behind you. "But thanks." ----------------------------------- "Hurry up, ladies! The cars are here!" You and the other girls could hear Tony shouting from the other room. All of you were leaving the compound at the same time, since the guys wanted to see who you assembled for your team. "We'll be right there!", you shout back, putting on your second earring. Your team was putting some finishing touches to their outfits. You all wore different-colored dresses that you bought the day before. Natasha wore black, Pepper wore silver, Jane wore purple, Laura chose emerald, Wanda chose red, Sharon decided on pink, Maria picked midnight blue, and you went with gold. Your goal was to recruit some of the strongest girls you knew, and some of those girls just so happened to be dating your fellow Avengers. "Alright, ladies," you say with a smirk. "Now, let's get in formation." Laughing, the eight of you grab your clutches and walked out to meet the guys, who were in full gear. When they saw your team, their jaws dropped. "Holy shit," Steve whispered. "Enchanting," Thor muttered. "DAYUM," Clint shouted. All the girls looked at him and laughed. Sharon stepped forward. "What's wrong, Rogers? Cat got your tongue?" "Jane, you look beautiful," Thor says, trying to regain his composure. "Thanks," she whispered, trying not to blush. "So you essentially recruited our girlfriends?", Tony questions. "Well, Maria's single, so, I didn't just recruit girlfriends," you answer. "I recruited the strongest women I knew." "Be careful," Steve says. "And you guys got this." "You too," you respond with a soft smile. "We have to go," Maria informs you all. "The party should be in full swing by now." You girls say your goodbyes and pile into the cars outside. You, Nat, Jane, and Pepper get into one car while Wanda, Laura, Maria, and Sharon get into the other. "What's the host's name?", Sharon asks. "Alexander Washington the third," you answer. "Ugh, he even sounds douchey," Pepper comments. "What's the plan?" "I'll be the one to distract him while the rest of you search the place. Try to mingle as much as you can. Don't put any attention on yourself. When you find the drive, tell the rest of us on comms." The girls nod. "Got it," Nat says as the car stops at the place. "It's nice," Pepper mutters. "Too flashy." "How is anything too flashy when you're dating Tony Stark?", Jane jokes. Pepper laughs. "True!" You and the girls get out of the cars and walk into the mansion. The party was in full swing. Everyone was dressed fancy, champagne glasses were everywhere, and you could even feel how stuffy the place was. You spot Alexander right away. "There he is," you whisper to the girls. "Split up, find the drive." They nod and go in different directions. You fix your hair and walk over to Alexander, who was sitting at the bar. "I'll have a champagne, please," you say to the bartender, arching your back to get Alexander's attention. The bartender gives you your drink and you shoot him a dazzling smile. "Thanks, doll." "What's a gorgeous girl like you doing at a bar by yourself?" You turn to see Alexander gazing over your body, licking his lips. Creep, you thought. You take a sip of your drink and inch closer to him. "Fella done me wrong. What's a guy like you doing at a bar with no arm candy?" He winks. "Waiting for you." You smile and sit in the seat right next to him. "I'm Victoria," you say, quickly thinking of a fake name. "Victoria Rose." "Ah, Rose. Roses are beautiful flowers, much like yourself." "We also have thorns," you say with a wink. He gives you a sly smile. "I can't wait to see them." That wasn't even smooth, you thought, plastering a smile on your face. "I'm Alexander," he continues. "Alexander Washington the third." "The host of this party." "Exactly. So, Miss Rose, care to keep me company for the rest of the night?" "I would love nothing more." A few drinks later, Alexander is drunk as hell while you're stone sober from pouring out every shot he ordered you. "Wanna take this somewhere else?", he slurs. "Let's go," you whisper. You hear the girls over comms immediately. "Don't go in the kitchen," Nat says. "That's where Laura and I are!" "Don't go in his bedroom," Pepper adds. "I'm searching in there." "Don't go in the upstairs bathroom," whispers Jane. "Or the downstairs one," Wanda adds. "Or the screening room," Maria adds as well. "Or the gaming room," Sharon says last. You guide Alexander to one of the spare bedrooms and shut the door behind you. "Let me go get ready," you purr. He nods and sits on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. You walk into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. "This asshole," you mutter, rummaging through your clutch. Finally, you pull out what you've been looking for: your lipstick. You swipe it on your lips and throw it back in your clutch. "Sweet dreams, sucker," you whisper. You walk back out and see Alexander in nothing but underwear on the bed. "You work fast," you comment, batting your eyelashes. He gets up and walks towards you. "Only for you, Miss Rose." He grabs you and crashes your lips to his. You can taste the alcohol on his lips. After a moment, he drops to the ground. The lipstick you wore was called "Sweet Dreams". It was given to you by Peggy Carter. It could knock out anyone with just a kiss. You wipe your lips as Sharon comes up on comms. "I got the drive! It was hidden INSIDE the pool table!" "Smarter than just taping it underneath the table," Nat comments. "Where are you now?" "Heading back to the party. Y/N, you done with Alex?" "He's out like a light," you respond. "Everyone head back. I don't see why this mission took an entire tea-" The door to the bedroom bursts open and two guards rush in. They take one look at Alex on the floor and aim their guns at you. "Never mind," you finish. "I'm compromised." "How many?", Laura asks. "Just two." "Give'em hell, honeybelle." You smile sweetly and saunter over to one of them. "Had a little mishap," you say simply. They look at each other, unconvinced. At that moment, you hike up your dress and kick the gun out of the guard's hand. Then you duck down as the other one shoots at you, missing completely. That's when you kick his legs out from under the guard in front of you and catch the gun as you stand back up. He falls and lands on the other guard. You knock them both out cold before they could get up. With the gun in your hand, you run out of the room. Jane comes up on comms. "Y/N, you good?" "I'm fine," you respond. "Any trouble for you guys?" You hear a series of grunts and kicks over comms. "Well, that answers my question." You walk out of the room. "Everyone meet back at the party. Laura, stay safe. Lila would kill me if you miss tea time." She laughs. "I know, she's a feisty one. I just knocked out a guard. Heading to the party now." You race down the hallway and end up in the middle of the crowd. You spot the other girls come toward you. "They know we're here," Nat whispers. "Sharon, the drive?" She pats her clutch. "Right here." "Good, now let's get the hell out of this place," Pepper says. "Agreed," Maria adds. You girls are five feet away from the door when two more guards block your exit. You whip around to find all the party-goers rushing out of the building. You all run to the center and are soon surrounded by guards. "Where you going, ladies?", one of them says. "You'll miss the party," another adds. Alex walks through the circle of guards, rubbing his head. "Hand over the drive, Vicky. Or should I say Y/N, member of the Avengers?" "Fuuuuck," you whisper. You clear your throat. "What drive, honey bunny?" "The one you stole, you bitch." You smirk. "I've been called worse, dumbass." "Okay, then." He grabs a gun from his jacket and points it at you. The other guards take out their guns as well and point it at your girls. "This is getting out of hand," you say with your hands up. "Hand it over," Alex responds. "Um, about that... WANDA NOW." With a flick of her wrist, Wanda makes all the guns fly out of everyone's hand. The guards look back to you all incredulously. "Alright ladies," you utter with a smile. "Now, let's get in formation." ----------------------------------- "Did you hear him cry?" "I started laughing!" "Weakest Hydra agent EVER." "And everyone thought he was some force to be reckoned with!" "Had to send in an entire team just to deal with someone who has less strength than Kermit the Frog!" The morning after the mission, you and the girls were gathered in the kitchen, reiterating the night's events. After the guards lost their guns, your squad kicked their asses. Alex turned out to be a big phony with a bank account to keep him safe. The "dangerous drive" everyone was so afraid of was just records of every crime he committed, including fraud, embezzlement, and affiliation with Hydra. He was knocked out with a single punch. You take another sip of your coffee. "That mission went well, ladies. I'm proud." "We should do this more often," Pepper suggests. "We make a pretty good team." "Fury happens to be very pleased with how we work," Maria points out. Sharon, Natasha, Wanda, Jane, and Laura agree. "Let's do it." "I'm in." "Not like the Avengers, though," Sharon adds. You shake your head. "No, Nat, Wanda, and I are still staying as Avengers. But when S.H.I.E.L.D. needs us-" "We'll be there," Natasha finishes. "Like a team of operatives." "Laura, do you want to do this?", you ask. "I mean, you have a family." "I'll be there whenever I can," she responds. "It'll be like a part-time thing." You smile. "Okay then. Hands in!" You all form a circle put your hands in the middle. "Squad on three?", Jane suggests. You all nod. "One." "Two." "Thr-" "I WANNA JOIN IN ON THE HUDDLE." Tony's voice booms as he walks into the kitchen, the rest of the team following. They all rush over to the circle and put their hands in. "How's the mission go?", Steve asks. "It went good," you respond. "How did yours go?" "Could've gone better. It was late, there was a lot of them, and I missed my girl." He kisses Sharon as soon as he says this. "Yea, I would've chosen a lavish party over some abandoned base," Tony adds. Pepper elbows him in the ribs and whispers something in his ear. "Ow! Okay, Okay! Y/N, I'm sorry for doubting you. Fury filled me in on how the mission went. You girls did good." "It's cool, Ton. But I wouldn't underestimate us next time." He chuckles. "Believe me, I won't. Now, AVENGERS ASSEMBLE ON THREE." "ONE." "TWO." "THREE." "AVENGERS A-"

#Avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers one shot #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff #sharon carter #maria hill #wanda maximoff #laura barton #jane foster #pepper potts #mcu #squad #squadgoals #avengers assemble #hydra #shield

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oceanotides · 8 years

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Sᴄɪɴᴛɪʟʟᴀ

Pʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ

« “Here we go, gametime.”, Yoongi whispered and you watched him adjust his AK 47 at the column he was hiding behind, giving you a thumbs up and a slight, barely noticeable smile.

“Kooks, you need some fresh air?”, you asked tensely, aiming at the doors your rival gang was supposed to come out of, testing what weapon you’d use, “’cause you’ll get a whole lot of it.”

“Y/N, cut it off. I swear to god, I’m going to kill you all if we get out of this alive.”, and again, quiet chuckling was audible through the comm – until the defeaning, irritating sound of the sirens boomed through the streets, shaking through your body as they drowned out everything else. »

ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ: yoongi x reader

ｇｅｎｒｅ：gang!au, thepurge!au, angst, fluff

ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ： mentions of blood and death, a LOT of statements inspired by movies and books, content may be confusing

ｉｎｓｐｉｒｅｄ　ｂｙ： @lets-go-north ‘s the purge vine, lover, fighter and meet me on the battlefield by svrcina, bts x the purge by saera kim, bts // the purge by polarisdreams & bts x monsta x by datjimilly

ｗｏｒｄ　ｃｏｕｎｔ： 8,532

ａ／ｎ： i really recommend watching all the videos and listening to the songs mentioned above - just so you get the vibe!

remember back in spring ‘16 where i had announced i’d write some thepurge!au? no? well, anyways, i’ve finally done it and here it is. be prepared because i didn’t take a second look at it, so there may be a few grammar mistakes. btw, i’m dead, i’ve written this on a single day and the way it ends is kind of awful, so let me know if you’d want me to write an alternative ending and, as always, what you think about the whole story. if anyone even reads that damn long oneshot, lol. anyways, here you go!

A fresh breeze whistled around your ears. The petrichor; the world’s smell caused by the sky crying its eyes out, lingered in the air. The soft rain dampened your face and your eyelashes tickled your eyelid crease as you rolled your eyes and laughed out loud at the joke Jin had just made which actually wasn’t funny at all. Life was more tolerable for a moment.

The small backyard you were sitting in had always seemed calming to you. The high and grey brickstone wall entrenched you and gave you the small amount of privacy you needed whenever you felt like being alone, spending your noons organising your thoughts – in case you found time to do so in between all the things on your to-do list.

The rusty lawn chair Taehyung was sitting in made a nerve-wrecking noise as he got up, walking towards the brick house the backyard belonged to and you thought about following him but thinking about what day it was made you stay in your place, messily scribbling things you thought of as essential for tonight down onto a piece of paper.

Clanking noises which sounded suspiciously like the beverage bottles existing in abundance at the headquarter’s kitchen came from inside, reminding you of how thirsty you actually were and of how you’d need to stay hydrated for the event nearing.

“Tae? Bring me a desperados, will you?”, you called.

It didn’t take long for him to answer with the ‘When will you finally learn that you veritably have your own legs’ that was ridiculously characteristic of the currently brown-haired guy you happened to call a best friend of yours. Consequently you weren’t exactly surprised as he crossed the threshold, entering the yard again with some bottles in his hands.

“I wasn’t exactly planning on getting drunk.”, you said, looking at the seven bottles he was putting down on the small table you, Jin, Jungkook and Namjoon were sitting at. The lemonade he had been holding under his arm in order not to go twice followed suit and he fell back into the black chair he had claimed as his.

“Correct”, Namjoon agreed, putting the files he had been reading onto the brown ebony. Some drops of sweat covered his forehead, barely noticeable, yet somehow sticking out to you. It was a unusual hot day and the sun was illuminating the firmament with its last rays – spring was nearing its end and summer was to follow.

“Yoongi, Hoseok and Jimin said they’ll be here soon,”, he opened his bottle, the label reading pepsi, took a huge sip and flipped his hair back, “at 6:30, to be exact.”

His eyes settled on you when you crossed your arms and leaned forward, furrowing your eyebrows in thought as you took a sip, too, then focusing on what you had written down till now.

Yoongi, Jimin and Hoseok were a weird trio: one of them was most sarcastic person you had ever met; the other one probably the cutest; yet most dangerous person in this town while the latter managed to be the most positive human being in spite of his job as an assassin. Yoongi was a year older than you and you had become friends in your junior year when the both you were paired for a chemistry project.

Min Yoongi, the most intimidating guy out of all the people in your grade – scratch that, in the whole school. He didn’t even bother to give a shit, neither about other’s opinions nor about his grades that had caused him to repeat the junior year. The only reason for him not getting kicked out was Mrs Peterson, and, to be completely honest, you hadn’t been able to unterstand her back then. Maybe it was his ultra sarcastic attitude she relished – but had that been reasonable?

No, not at all. You hadn’t known him that well and at that point, you didn’t really want to, either. Your brother was his age and consequently shared a few classes with him. From what he had told you, Yoongi was no guy who liked to make friends. “He doesn’t even like to meet people.”, your brother said on a Friday evening when the two of you had been eating dinner together, watching one of your favorite series. You had helped him finish an assignment earlier that day since your parents weren’t home, as usual. But let’s not talk about that.

However, being absent thinking about what you had used to think about Yoongi, you hadn’t noticed him, Jimin and Hoseok entering the backyard.

Only when he draped a black hoodie around your shoulders you blinked, recognizing the three boys. Jimin looked at you with an excited smile on his face which partially disgusted and partially amused you.

“So, what’s the plan?”

Today was different from all the other times the eight of you hung out together. The mood seemed chill but you knew better than that, being close with the boys for more than a year now. What seemed to be joyful actually was gloomy; what seemed to be carelessness was worry about what was going to happen today, about what was going to happen tonight – tonight defined as the period of time starting in less than a hour. Aᴘʀɪʟ 21sᴛ, 7:00ᴘᴍ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ Aᴘʀɪʟ 22ɴᴅ, 7:00ᴀᴍ. America’s 7thPurge was going take place tonight.

You looked at the dark brown haired boy you had grown to respect and like so much sitting across the table, unfolding a map on it. The dimples he caused to show up when he was smiling were a perfect cover for what, who he actually was.

At the age of twenty-one, he was ruling one of the most dangerous gangs in Los Angeles, and whole LA to be honest. Rumors had it that he had cameras installed around the whole city and knew what was happening everywhere before anyone else was even capable of doing something. Of course the whole camera-thing was not true – well, not completely at least. And moreover he was not nearly as hostile as everyone thought, but incredibly smart and powerful instead.

Powerful was his voice as he spoke up to tell you about tonight’s plans, taking a look at his watch attached to his wrist.

“It’s 6:37pm.”, he said, giving the three boys who had just sat down a stern glance, before continuing. “However, we’re left with 23 minutes to discuss and prepare for tonight which is not a lot of time at all so I’ll just wrap it up.

I won’t have to tell you guys that us being a gang of more or less criminals makes us an outsticking target. Adding to that, Taehyungie here has taken it upon himself to defy Dom..inic at school which makes it highly likely for his gang to aim their guns at us tonight.”, he smirked, adding “what I would’ve done, too, by the way.” before making the boys turn toward you who had just pulled everything you’d need onto the table.

Aᴘʀɪʟ 21sᴛ 6:48:34ᴘᴍ, 11 ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇs ᴀɴᴅ 26 sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅs ʟᴇғᴛ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ 7ᴛʜ ᴀɴɴᴜᴀʟ ᴘᴜʀɢᴇ

The car ride to the place Hoseok located Dom’s gang to be was as silent as the streets outside, the only sounds audible Jin and Namjoon going through the plan over and over again and Jungkook and Jimin chewing bubblegums while guiding Hoseok through the city.

It was rare to see all the downtown places that were usually busy all day and night deserted like this. There was not a single soul walking on the pavement or hiding in a dark alley. Normally you’d have enjoyed the view – you didn’t like crowded places, but knowing the reason for the emptiness was much less satisfying. Different from most of the people you were out tonight because you had to; and, on top of that, you’d never let any of your friends go out on their own, not tonight.

So there you were, leaning against somebody’s side, nervously playing with the ripped threads of your denim jacket, not caring about how it was just causing the holes to get bigger and bigger; you were just trying not to make up any horrible scenarios that could happen to any of the seven guys you were sitting in the black van with.

You couldn’t afford losing any of them.

“You scared?”, Yoongi’s voice finally broke the heavy silence, sliding into your thoughts as smooth as a feather.

You scoffed in an attempt to seem more relaxed, but there was no point in that, obviously not.

“To say the least. Of course I am.”

He shifted under you, a skinny arm wrapping around your shoulder.

“I am, too.”

There was a short moment of silence (again) before he spoke up again.

“But don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I promise.”

And to be honest, in any other situation you would have believed him, but right now you weren’t sure whether he was saying that to convince you or to convince himself. Yet though something, maybe it was the way he gave you the feeling of being protected by wrapping his arm around you, made you relax a bit.

You were squatting, taking cover in a small alley behind a trash dumpster. Visible in front of you was an abandoned warehouse downtown. The place looked totally rundown, but there were gleaming silver chains latched to the huge doors and you were pretty sure this is the place. You eyed the doors warily as you mumble “Where are we?” while holding your hand to your ear, speaking over the comm system attached to it.

It didn’t take a single second for Jimin to answer as he murmured “I don’t know, but whatever this is, I have a bad feeling about it.”

“Yeah well I’m good. It’s nothing”, Jins voice was dripping with sarcasm so obviously, you could literally hear the drops falling.

You identified the next voice speaking as Taehyung saying, “Oh honestly. Come on guys, it’s not that scary.”

The speakers attached to each and every of LA’s inersections made a somewhat creaking noise.

“Yo Y/N, you’re freaking out over there, ain’t you?”, Namjoon chuckled.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “No.”

“Yeah you are.”, Yoongi and Taehyung agreed simultaneously and you didn’t need to look at their positions on the opposite side of the street and on top of the old cinema to see that they were grinning.

“I said no.”

“Listen, man, it takes-“

“Woman.”, you corrected him.

“What?”

“I’m a woman.”

“Well whatever. However, it takes a grown man-“

“-woman!”

“…to embrace their feelings. If you want to cry, just go ahead and cry.”

Quiet laughter and chuckles were shared through the comm, and, once again, you felt a bit lighter.

“No but listen Y/N, as your friend you know I’m concerned about your well-being –“

“Oh listen can’t you just chill out, man?”, you imitated his habit of adding man to every sentence when Hoseok spoke up.

“Listen guys, I’ve seen some crazy shit but among all the things we’ve done, this is definitely an outcast so let’s just try to keep it as lowkey as possible. And always remember – oh my, honestly Tae? You’re playing crossy road right now?!”

There was a moment of silence and, indeed, the typical crossy road noise of the chicken bumping into a truck - boof! – was audible, making you shake your head as you actually smiled because oh my god, this kid.

“So obviously Tae’s not as tense as me right now, but would somebody mind to walk me through what we’re supposed to be doing?”, Jungkook snapped.

“Oh come on Kooks, this was your plan, you gotta embrace it.”, you said, now finally relaxing and preparing for what was going to come.

“No, jumping off a rooftop onto Domincs – emphasis on Dominic – was not my plan. Taehyung –“

His sentence was cut off by the booming, penentrating bass sound of the speakers you had grown to hate so much and from that moment on, all of your senses slowly returned to you and your heartbeat increased incredibly fast.

Blue light was illuminating the streets as the projection screen at the crossing lit up, displaying the oh-so-familiar text of the purge’s announcement. You unintentionally whispered the words yourself as the cold voice of the woman sounded through the alleys and streets down to venice beach.

“This is not a test.

This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of ᴛʜᴇ Aɴɴᴜᴀʟ Pᴜʀɢᴇ sanctioned by the U.S Government.

Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during ᴛʜᴇ Pᴜʀɢᴇ. All other weapons are restricted.

Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from ᴛʜᴇ Pᴜʀɢᴇ and shall not be harmed.

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

Police, fire and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7am when ᴛʜᴇ Pᴜʀɢᴇ concludes.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn.

May God be with you all.”

“Here we go, gametime.”, Yoongi whispered and you watched him adjusting his AK 47 at the column he was hiding behind, giving you a thumbs up and a slight, barely noticeable smile.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see all of them getting into position – Jungkook and Jimin on the warehouse’s rooftop, Tae on the first door in the parkade next to it, Hoseok and Jin adjusting their snipers and Namjoon putting the black mask you all wore on to cover his face. It had kind of become your special trademark, the soft fabric giving you the artificial feeling of personal privacy and anonymity. You knew it wouldn’t last for too long, the siren had sounded for the 4th time now, 2 times to go. In just a few seconds the streets would be filled with gunshots, screams and, most of all, blood. Even the smallest mistake; a wrong movement or a moment of negligence could be the cause for you to be buried tomorrow. You were aware of the fact that you were slightly exaggerating and just making your heart beat faster and faster, but you couldn’t help it.

The rush of adrenaline pumping through you made you feel invincible and as the siren boomed for the 6th and last time, the doors of the warehouse burst open.

Just to make things more clear, you thought you had been prepared for any and everything possible – fist fights, gun fights, a wild chase – but you definitely didn’t expect Dominic and the rest of his gang to drive a..how to describe it?

The thing they were driving out the doors with resembled a team bus but it was longer and higher and it’s tires were the ones of a truck but twice the size, at least. It’s license plate read 1-800-FUCK-OFF instead of any valid number and, to be honest, you thought of it as a little bit funny, but right now you had much more important things to care about, for example a man covered in black sticking his head out of one of the black mirrored windows, positioning a MG3 machine gun.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.”, you heard yourself saying as you ducked in order not to get shot, “Jungkook, where are you!?”, you screamed, firing your gun once, twice.

“What!? You want me to jump on a fucking killer truck!?”

You considered explaining the situation to him but, seeing how Jimin pushed Jungkook to the warehouse’s edge and then jumped down with him, it wasn’t necessary anymore. More importantly the truck with Jimin and Jungkook on it was threatening to speed away while Namjoon was giving orders. You need to do something, you told yourself before an idea popped up in your head and you cut Namjoon off.

“Namjoon, I’m sorry but we’re going to lose them if we continue hiding like this! I’m going in right now”, you shouted.

In the next second you were jumping over the dumpster, securely landing on the concrete of N Los Angeles St; your weapons safely tucked away in your backpack, the silenced sniper rifle’s material cold against your cheek as you tried your best to stand still and slow your breath.

“Fuck this.”, you sighed in defeat as you angrily threw a stone against the target you were supposed to hit with your bullets. 50 minutes had passed and the bost shot you’ve made had hit the target’s nonexistent hair. Great, even the stone didn’t miss it – but you, attempting to shoot it with a sniper rifle? Never. Never ever were you going to get this.

“Fuck what?”, Yoongi appeared next to you, crooked his head and cocked an eyebrow, waiting for you to answer.

You pointed at the 480 cheytac dangling off your shoulders, to the target and then to you, “all of this.”

“Well, as welcoming that invitation is, I’d rather not sleep with you in a…training center.”

You sneered, “very funny. It’s just that I can’t seem to get a good shot and I’ve been trying for about an hour and ugh.”

“Yeah, well, you have never used a sniper rifle before, either, not to mention a 480 cheytac which is fairly hard to handle.”

“Oh, wow. Yoongi, this is the literal first time you’ve been kind toward me.”, you said out loud. Realising what you had just confessed you quickly managed to continue speaking, “what about shooting that target over there –“, you pointed at one which was pretty far away, all the way on the other side of the gym,”and showing me how to do it?”

He chuckled, “sure.”, and took the rifle out of your hands, his right eye closed as he turned to the side. Despite his character, his looks were …wow, they were amazing. The sharp jawline of his, his pale skin in contrast to his pink lips – a silent swish stopped you from keeping to drool over him and you watched the silver bullet smoothly hitting the target’s brain as he turned to you, the satisfaction of his success prominent in his facial expression.

“Told you.”, he said mockingly; caused you to roll your eyes.

“See, all you have to do is hold it like this.”, he put the rifle down only to take your hands in his, wrapping them around the sniper, aiming at the fake body in front of you. His warm breath tickled the side of your neck as he explained, “control your breath and focus on nothing else but the target.”, he watched you do so. “A sniper is characterized by their few but precious and unerring shots. If you shoot, you have to strike whomever you want to kill or hurt, whatever. There’s no such thing as a second chance – it’s like this all or nothing shit. So stay concentrated.”

You nodded, correcting your aim while you kept your left eye shut. The target’s head was the only clear outline right now, everything else being blurry. The small target cross covered the target’s brain, “now shoot.”,

and with a last glance at whoever henchman of Dominics and Owens gang that was, you pulled the trigger.

It was as though someone had pressed the slow motion button on their IPhone when the tiny bullet hit the shooter’s left shoulder and he fell back into the truck-bus-something. Confidently you threw the 480 cheytac over your shoulder and inhaled. Hoseok’s voice saying “now that was a real shot.” popped up next to you and with a smile shared between the two of you, you started to run.

Turning left and right in order not to get attacked by someone else purging you felt the urge to vomit. Every corner and place your gaze wandered to was decorated with signs of cruelty. It took a while for you to realize that a slogan to your right reading ‘h e a r t b r e a k e r – l o v e f a k e r – n e v e r g o i n g t o w a k e h e r’ had been mistaken for spraypaint by you when it was actually written in the blood by the female body hanging next to it. You were sure the girl must have been beautiful before but now the long, blonde strands of hair covered her face, her once white dress now blood-stained.

Quickly looking to your left as your stomach turned, your gaze fell upon a couple being beaten up by four short men, their faces hidden behind suicide squad masks, their hands swinging baseball bats – wait, were those children?

It was weird; the downtown being this alive when it was basically dead just minutes ago – the silence had been replaced by gunshots and screams and crazy laughter, the streets wearing red.. it was disgusting.

You were about to continue letting your mind rant about everything the Purge did as you turned your head straight once again and, suddenly, the truck was gone. It was just gone. There was no sign of it having ever existed, even when you did a sharp u-turn – there was nothing but other people chasing each other and, out of all sudden, you felt tricked, standing in front of the dead end. You felt scared somehow.

You knew the truck had to be somewhere near you, but there was nothing, the doors of the buildings around you as locked as they had been before. And besides, the truck wouldn’t even fit through any of them.

“What the fuck..”, you murmured, not caring that you were interrupting the heated and breathless conversation that had been going on through the comm system.

You heard Yoongi trying to answer when another familiar voice filled the air with laughter. This time it wasn’t coming from the headset attached to your ear, it was louder and you figured it was coming from a speaker which soon proved itself to be true.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” (GUYYYYYS I’M SORRY I JUST HAD TO INTEGRATE THIS;; DOES ANYONE ELSE KNOW THAT VIDEO?? IN CASE YOU DON’T GO WATCH IT NOW)

By the time you looked up you found yourself surrounded by Hoseok and Yoongi and it took you not even a mere second to recognize the person standing on top of the two-story parkade straight ahead.

You were damned for him to show up here, tonight, and recall everything you had buried under dozens of happy memories and work and assignments and plans and college courses. The last months you hadn’t even wasted a single second thinking about him, you were sure you were over it and, to be honest, you hated admitting that you got emotional right now when it was the literal worst time to get sentimental or caught up in thoughts, just because you saw certain brown eyes boring into yours.

They caused all the memories to come to your mind again. You remembered all the late night sessions where you stayed up late to help him with several assignments and presentations, and on your worst days you did miss him, indeed. It hit you at the most random moments; when you walked out of the house in the morning or when you saw a jeep, or when the midnight air crept through your window and nipsped at your cheeks. Whenever you listened to Cole’s songs you remembered everything he had told you, each and every detail and you wanted to rip off your head. He had never meant anything to you and you haven’t to him, either, you’d tell yourself – and it was the truth. Even though you were hurting when you thought about it, you missed it, but it always ended with you realizing how easy it was for the both of you to throw it all away because in the end, you didn’t care about the other at all, you just didn’t want to be alone.

That was what life was like in high school and you accepted it, yet still, seeing him reopened a door to your past and you hated getting flashbacks from things you didn’t want to remember.

“I see you’ve brought your personal guards. Didn’t know I was so difficult to take down.”, you said in an attempt not to show him he had the upper hand, your head nodding at the people standing on the pavement after they had realized they didn’t have to hide anymore.

You felt Jungkook’s and Jin’s presence behind you and your mind started to fill with relief on the one hand, worry on the other hand.

Chris, or Tej, his name in the business, looked at his henchmen and shook his head, faking a chuckle while anger started to fill your body, “nah, I could take you without wasting a single bullet. These”, he pointed at the assassins positioned on several rooftops, “are for your oh-so-beloved gang leader and the members that actually pose a threat.”

You snickered. “You’re just playing. Are you going to fight or do you want to spend the whole night talking shit?”

Yoongi took a step closer. “Y/N, I’m not saying we’re in danger but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”, he murmured.

“I know,”, you replied, “but I have to do this.”

Gun shots echoed from the walls as Tej shot into the night once, twice; looked at you threateningly. Immediately you felt the pearl handle of your gun in your palm, several clicks of other guns cocking audible behind you. Still hidden behind your back, your fingers curled around the trigger.

Once again, everything else was blocked out by your ears. You knew as soon as the five of you’d lift your weapons to shoot down as many fiends you possibly could, they’d open the fire, too, and more than a few lifes’d be ending soon.

You weren’t exaclty sure who drew his weapon first, but in a matter of seconds you found yourself among a crowd fighting like it was a matter of living and death – quite ironical since it indeed was. Yoongi was standing his ground in front of you. Jungkook hit one of their heads and you quickly looked away, firing your gun here and there as you did your best in helping Hoseok and Jin to keep the steadily raising number of enemies at bay. Luckily, Namjoon and Taehyung soon joined the 5 of you fighting, Jimin appearing out of nowhere taking out men from the top of an empty car. You shot another one into the leg but his companies charged so quickly that you soon found yourselves preferring the methods of a fist fight. A text example of a street fight, your brothe would have said if he were to take part in it.

Eight on you-didn’t-know-how-may was definitely not favorable, you decided as you slammed your fist into someone’s stomach, then looked around in trying to find Tej’s head in the midst of the brutal brawl, immediately regretting it as you earned a punch straight to your previously-injured shoulder and cried out in pain. Little did you know the wound had reopened as you gritted your teeth and blocked your attacker’s view with your hand, easily causing him to fall backwards, afterwards battering him with the handle of your gun.

Oh how much you hated fistfights.

They were way too personal, no doubt, you’d choose a gun over your fist anytime. You were tempted to run and just join Jimin on the car’s rooftop in taking them down smoothly from afar, just so no one important to you was exposed to danger anymore but you knew fully well that, for the next hours, you’d be living dangerously.

Just when you were about to help Namjoon fight off his two attackers a certain green fabric flashed in front of you and without a second glance you recognized the guy dressed in a green bomber as Chris, but that wasn’t exactly what stopped you from fighting.

It was rather the wired box he had left standing on the concrete and the small, almost invisible device in his hand, better known as detonator. Apparently you weren’t the only one who had noticed the approaching danger ‘cause just as you uttered a loud Oh, shit! thin fingers wrapped around your wrist. They were pulling you around the corner and down to the ground, a body promptly guarding you by embracing you close to its chest.

It was then that the detonator was being pressed, the detonation present in a dazzling flash, illuminating the dead end in red, white and yellow; a loud Bang!; the unmistakable, abominable stench of burned flesh and you felt your gastric acid raising in your throat. You wanted to vomit, to cry out loud, break something to cleanse your nostrils from the bloody smell, your hands from the blood covering them; but there was obviously no time for that in view of the hands that pulled you up. You finally recognized your savior as Yoongi when he shouted at you to run since you weren’t out of danger yet but his voice sounded distant, reverberating in your brain. It felt like you had been thrown into a well or something; yet still you followed his instructions, jumped to your feet and ran.

Your body was moving on its own, you yourself completely unable to do anything about it. Looking down to the ground, your red platforms connected and disconnected with the ground, not coming to a halt until Yoongi, who had been holding your hand the whole time, pushed you into a inconspicuous side alley, sliding to the pavement right next to you.

For a minute or two neither of you spoke a word, the air filled with the sounds of two people catching their breath. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to speak, it was rather the fact that you were unable to, both due to shock and exhaustion. You wondered where you were, but there was no point in asking since you both had just ran and ran, without the slightest bit of a plan – which was fine with you, you had just needed to free your mind, yet you didn’t exactly feel lighter.

You let out a noise, a mixture of sighing, groaning and inhaling as you passed your hand over your forehead and turned to your right, opening your eyes to the sight of a battered Yoongi and you sat up straightaway, groaning with pain at the headache you were having.

“You look horrible.”, you managed to say, even though it was a rasping sound rather than a human sound. With shaky hands you reached up to cup his face, your hand tracing the outlines of several still bleeding scars and cuts on his cheeks.

“I could say the same.”, he whispered as he watched you reaching into your backpack for the first-aid-kit you had luckily taken with you, the backpack’s contents now displayed on the asphalt. He let you take care of his wounds and calmed down whenever your fingers touched his skin. The both of you were still panting and you did your best to ignore his hot breath against your collarbone as you reached behind him to adjust his jacket, afraid that he’d get sick given the fact that he was sweating and the air was not just a comfortable breeze.

Acting normal too, Yoongi let his gaze wander over the different items laying in front of him. A comparable huge amount of different ammo, spraypaint, a lighter, a knife, a map, a black hoodie, tissues…what caught his eye was a small, plain black journal, ‘YOUTH’ written on its cover with silver ink.

With you still patching him up he reached for it, palm brushing over the envelop previous to opening it, a small polaroid instantly falling out.

He turned it around, the caption reading oceans and without thinking about it, he confronted you. “Oceans?”, he asked.

You stopped in your action, letting go of his left wrist you had been wrapping up with band-aid. Your eyes fell upon the shiny, small image and you furiously shook your head, a little too fast.

“Rip it. Just – it’s nothing.”, you said, snatching the paper out of his hands and tore it apart.

The two of you were climbing over a fence, again. You had been strolling through alleys and streets and over railways for what seemed like ages, nothing relevant happening. Yes, there were a few not-so-pleasant encounters with people purging, however you were on the same page with not wanting to throw any more punches tonight, instead taking down each purger with one bullet, and one bullet only. You hadn’t talked much, pretty much due to the fact that neither of you felt like it. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy his company, though. You were relieved you weren’t out on your own and you were quite sure that he was the person you’d most likely choose as a companion tonight, just because…you couldn’t explain it, yet still you didn’t doubt your thought. So you both just walked next to each other in silence and you were fine with that, and, on top of that, you were partially doing it for the safety’s sake. Somewhere between two trains, one of them burning, and voices followed by gunshots you took his hand and never let go of it, not until he started to speak.

“What’s on your mind?”, he said, pushing branches out of his way.

“Huh?”, you murmured, snapping out of your trance to look around and see if he was talking to someone else until your realised that you were pretty much the only person he could’ve talked to, silently cursing you for your stupidity.

“I..”, you kicked a stone, “..don’t really know. Pretty much everything.”

He looked at you, an expectant facial expression prominent on his face, urging you to continue which you never did.

Sighing, he shook his head.

“Listen, I know I’m probably not the person you wanted to be with tonight –“

Oh, if only you knew, Min Yoongi.

“ - Don’t.”

He abruptly stopped walking when you cut him off. “What?”

You smiled, seeing as he was the stupid one now, copying his movements as you shook his head.

“I said don’t.”, you stopped breathing for a second, “’cause you weren’t telling the truth. I’m just worried about the others – you know, leaving them behind was not the right decision.”

You could literally see him rolling his eyes although you were looking to the ground.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that we would have died if we hadn’t done just that.”

“Yeah,”, you exhaled, “I know. But that doesn’t stop me from worrying about them.”

“They’ll be fine.”, he said, clearly avoiding eye contact.

“You’re saying that to convince yourself.”

“Partially.”

The dry branches made a crunching sound when you stepped over them, then you turned left to get to a street where you’d – hopefully – find some kind of a vehicle.

“I simply don’t like the fact that we left them behind with him.”

“So I was right? I knew you knew that fight-obsessed oh-i-am-so-powerful freak.”

You were biting back a smile at the names he called him, “Yes, congratulations. But you were right, indeed, I used to know him, we were..friends?” It was more of a question than a statement, you realised after finishing.

“Well, back then he wasn’t as much of an asshole as he’s now, I guess.”

“You guess? I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have befriended him if he was.”

“That’s a point.”, you nodded, then you fished the polaroid out of your pocket. You hadn’t thrown it away yet, you hadn’t had the heart to dispose it yet. Assembling the two shreds, you pulled out the old, rusty silver lighter Namjoon had gifted you at your accession to his gang.

“Funny how pictures never change but the people in them do.”, something in the back of your mind was telling you you had just quoted someone, but that didn’t matter right now, “But that’s just how it goes, you grow older and your best friend becomes your arch enemy.”

Yoongi let out an understanding sigh as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, checking the street before he led you through a hole in the fence that marked the end of the containment area you had been walking on in order not to come across some murderous purgers.

“That was quite poetic.”, he chuckled, “still, it’s the truth. People erase you from their lives because they’re too damn lazy to try and work things out.”

It was then that you both stopped walking and you turned around to face him, making eye contact. There was no real reason behind your actions, but something within you made you take your time to study his face, and, most of all, his eyes.

They were the first thing you had ever noticed about him. The ones he hid under his hair or behind his glasses; he called boring, brown. He always wanted any color, any other pair of eyes except her own. At first you had found it strange, it was a fair contrast to his i-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude; but you soon learned that he cared more about others and their opinions than he’d ever admit. However, you loved them. You loved how they lit up when his brain produced another brilliant idea. When he laughed his happiness wouldn’t be prominent in a smile or a grin, you’d notice it in the way his eyes started to sparkle and dance.

You had stared into them and he had stared right back into yours, like you should have kissed and made love and laughed and hurt together so many times that you didn’t even bother to count it anymore, but you had chosen to stay friends instead. Both yours and his eyes had been glistening back then, yours in tears and his in anger at himself.

And just the same, they’d dull and blur and lose their joyful aura when he was being bothered by something. They were the only thing left of his dark and ugly past, they were hiding something and you were eager to find out just what exactly it was that he was trying so hard to forget.

You were wondering what in hell he must have witnessed that made him the person he was now, you wanted to know what made him so desperate and hopeless that he became responsible for the ugly, knife-shaped scar extending from his artery to his collarbone he made sure to curtain with whatever top or hoodie he was wearing. You had only seen it once, but that was enough for the question persistently floating around in your head.

What happened to him?

It wasn’t the question that bothered and stressed you, it was you being aware of the fact that you’d never be to find the answer. He wasn’t going to open up to anyone, you knew it.

And now you were looking into these very eyes as you took a step forward, his fingers still intertwined with yours. His eyes were overflooding with emotions, mostly dark and sad ones, but so were yours as you both looked at each other with what if’s and could have’s and hearts and souls full of regret. For a moment your gaze travelled down to his red lips, sore as he had been biting them all the time, but then you got a grip on yourself and pulled away, your fingers no longer filling the gaps between his as you, once again, pulled out the lighter, flicked it and watched as the polaroid caught fire, whirling to the ground.

“Geez,”, you breathed, stomping onto the leftovers, “should’ve done that long ago.”

When you turned to Yoongi, his eyes were dull again, no emotion visible, his facial expression empty once again. He didn’t speak a word other than “let’s go” after you had thrown all the other polaroids displaying Chris to where the first one was still smoldering, a small fire developing.

You only shook your head, staring right into the flames illuminating the night, drowning out his words. Everything you remembered was Chris telling you that “beautiful, you’re playing with fire” and you took that quite literally. He was the fire and if you get too close to the fire you’ll get hurt, that’s just how it is.

The smoke was burning in your eyes and stinging in your nose and soon you attempted to turn away and go, but apparently Yoongi bet you to it.

You remembered hearing a “What the fuck are you waiting for?!” that sounded distant in your head and a gun being fired right after. Your head was snapping up and through the smoke you made out a quartet consisting of men, all of their heads covered with – you actually screamed at that – clown masks. Then, a small, silver object – a bullet – was just barely missing your left thigh with a hiss.

It took another gunshot, this time brushing your jacket, which was – thank god – oversized, for you to finally snap out of your stone-like state. You were firing your gun before you even realised that you were reaching for it but it was obvious that you couldn’t beat them since you’d have to reach into your backpack for ammo – in your foolishness you hadn’t grabbed the sniper that was still securely tucked away in your backpack and, with a glance to your right your suspicion about Yoongi, too, having grabbed his handgun instead of something more powerful was confirmed. In any other situation you would have rolled your eyes, but this was dead serious – literally.

So you quickly decided to do what you were best at; you grabbed his wrist and ran. The fact that they were looking like clowns scared the hell out of you and you completely forgot to look where you were going, leaving the route up to Yoongi who stumbled as a bullet brushed his upper arm. In your rush you didn’t waste a second thought on it, suddenly changing your mind as you took the lead again, turning left, right, running down a street before you took a sharp turn into a smaller, barely visible alleyway.

You were about to slump down when suddenly, you were pushed back, the cold brick wall of the building behind you touching your back. Your reflex was to slap whomever was touching you right there and make a run for it but, hell, this was Yoongi pinning you to the wall, one hand at your iliac bone, the other one at your shoulder, his eyes reflecting anger and frustration, but most of all something you could only decipher as worry.

“Do not”, he stopped due to his heavy panting, “do that ever”, now he was licking his lips and all you could think was oh hell, min yoongi, you’re going to be the death of me, “ever again.”, he finished.

You almost thought he was pulling away when he came back with full force. And then, he was slamming his lips into yours in a desperate attempt to convey all he never said because there were simply no words for it and, to be fully honest, he succeeded in that mission. Right now, in this small, hopeless alleyway, Min Yoongi was giving you all you had ever hoped for, you were letting out all the emotions you had bottled up and tried to keep hidden in this one, literally breathtaking, kiss.

And honestly, you could have kissed him all day. You could have swept back his mint, thin and loose strands of his hair from his eyes and spent the hours that were left just like that. Perhaps it was because there was so, so much sadness and pain in his heart, but he kissed like he needed to be kissed, like he was aching all over, and you knew he was. And you were willing to lend him some kind of comfort as you cupped his face with both hands, deepening the kiss as you traced the prominent cheekbones of his.

That you were, in fact, all lovey-dovey instead of hiding on the Purge’s night didn’t seem to get through to you and neither of you stopped until your palm brushed against his elbow and a thick, dark liquid started to cover it.

“Oh my god”, you breathed, panting from both running and the kiss, pulling away. His left sleeve was blood-stained and you didn’t even bother listening to him when he told you that “Y/N, it’s nothing”, instead pushing him down to the floor, all the way while rummaging through your bag, grabbing what you’d need to patch him up.

“The bullet..”, you murmured quietly, repeating it louder when he didn’t answer, “Yoongi, is the bullet still stuck?”

He shook his head with a “No, it was just a graze shot” and you let out a long, relieved sigh because oh, you would have killed him if you had had to take the bullet out. You had done that once and, to be real, it was kind of the most disgusting thing you had ever done. Raking around in the wound was a necessarity and goodness, there was no way in hell anyone’d ever like to do that.

“We’ll have to praise god for our damn luck tonight.”

A deep, silent chuckle rumbled through his chest you were leaning on in order to be in a better angle and you stole a glance at his dark orbs, enjoying the sight of the stars they were reflecting – or his eyes simply consisted of stars, you couldn’t tell.

“I’d love seeing you do that without even being religious.” You groaned, forcing back a grin. “Oh, watch me. You’ll see.”

You dampened a compress with antiseptic and scrunched your face at the acrid smell that started to fill the air with the action of removing the bottle’s cap.

“This is going to hurt.”, you said guiltily, but Yoongi just shook his head.

“Just get it done and over with. And, if the pain’s too much to bear, I’ve still got the gun. You know, just in case.”

He grinned as you hissed and dared him never to make jokes about such serious things ever again. You had almost had an heartattack when you recognised the damage the bullet had done; like he said, it had only been a graze, still, he was losing a lot of blood to the point where you started to wonder how in hell he was still able to crack jokes like that.

Perhaps it was because he had already been going through so much pain that a bullet was just an annoying pain in the ass – nothing more, nothing less. You didn’t know. Still, he grabbed your jacket and stuffed the hem of his shirt between his lips in order not to scream. After all, you didn’t want to be found.

When you pressed the compress to the wound, he silently hissed and you truly felt sorry when you saw the pain filled expression on his face. However, you continued since you knew it’d be best to finish to fix him up as fast as you possibly could, wrapping another bandage around his arm, careful not to put too much pressure onto it.

As you visibly exhaled and turned around to stuff the things you had taken out back into your backpack, he caught your wrist and stopped you.

“No. Just –“, he never finished his sentence, he just opened his arms and right then you couldn’t help but willingly give in, letting go of whatever you were holding and wrapping your arms around his torso. While you were still seated on the pavement he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, so tight that you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. You felt like some cliché girl in a cliché book the moment you breathed in and instead of inhaling air, you inhaled his scent. He wasn’t wearing his blackberry fragrance tonight, but still, despite the iron smell of his blood and the sweat there was something else that didn’t go unnoticed by you and, after a few moments, you became aware of the fact that what you were smelling right now was no cologne or perfume or shampoo, it was just him.

And godness, he smelled good. Like something wild and untamed yet angelic, like the ocean does when the waves crash onto the beach, but not those soft, gentle waves but the bigger ones. He smelled like rain on a hot summer night, like milk and honey when you couldn’t sleep at night, like a thunderstorm you were watching on a balcony. It didn’t made sense at all, but you couldn’t describe it any other way, so you just settled down with not trying to describe but enjoy it instead.

It was weird how his embrace made you feel like home, even though you had rarely hugged before. Your head fit into the crook of his neck better than it did into Chris’, your figures hugged each other more passionately, you were two magnets attracting each other.

His lips pressed against your scalp and you were feeling him smile as he did it, you were filled with a sudden warmth and triumph, for you knew then that he was yours. It was damn cheesy and you were cringing at your own self, but right now, that didn’t matter. And you loved him, and it was something that you had known somewhere within you all the way until now.

Why did you love him?

You didn’t have a set answer for that, but you guessed it was just how you felt around him, how he was never leaving your mind, the vibes he gave you and the laughs you got from talking to him. You loved that you knew him so well that you knew what he’d answer before he even said something, you loved his attitude, his looks, his eyes, freshly-added; you loved his scent, you loved the way he’d never fail to comment something sarcastic and you loved that beyond the cold guy, there was a guy caring for all the people he loved, but most of all, for you. And, as you sat there, a déjà vu from just hours earlier crossed your mind, where you had been sure that you’d never be to find out what he was hiding, that he’d never open up to you, but little did you know he was.

Tʜᴇ Eɴᴅ

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roseymoseyberry · 8 years

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meridianbarony replied to your post: It’s honestly embarrassing sometimes what will...

….. >.>…. do you have more on that au tho….

oh good lord i’ve definitely thought v much about it, and I have no intention of writing it as a fanfic because frankly I don’t know enough about metal or how investigations actually work, haha. BUT! here’s basically the whole Swerve/Ultra Magnus Forensic Investigators AU:

so I don’t remember if this was actually in the comics or if i just made this shit up my fucking self but like, metallurgy for cybertronians is kind of similar to dermatology, so it’s very much a medical specialization.

So from there i figure like, most of them would have jobs similar to dermatologists, i.e. helping bots that can afford it to have plating that is less blemished/isn’t as easily blemished or helping bots with legit issues with their plating and metals, etc. Some metallurgists go into more engineering stuff (so dealing with non-living metals) but it’s kind of the looked down upon side of metallurgy. Kind of like the blue collar side of it? It’s stereotyped at as where metallurgists who couldn’t manage to keep a job in a medicinal context end up. (which isn’t true, some metallurgists just prefer non-living metal work, but you know. stereotypesssss)

forensic metallurgy is definitely a thing, but it’s v different and skews more towards science than medicine, so it’s kind of like engineering metallurgy in terms of how it’s viewed. The main reason is because the VAST majority of the time, forensic metallurgists are dealing with non-living metal. Metal from weapons or from a crime scene, etc. Most of the living metal stuff -- aka corpses oops -- is handled by the medics who do autopsies and such. Forensic metallurgists would only ever be brought in if a specialist was needed, and a lot of the time the medics won’t bother because they’re “just” a metallurgist

Swerve goes into forensic metallurgy with huge aspirations. He has definitely glamorized it in his mind, and definitely expected to have a bigger impact on solving crimes. He genuinely wants to help! But instead, his work is dealing with evidence, and usually just in a routine way -- he hasn’t been able to actually discover any clues that breaks any case. Every year that goes by he sort of continues to drain him, because he knows he’s looked down on by the autopsy medics and his fellow metallurgists, and all he was trying to do was do some good in the world! To be a hero and find a criminal!

And then, one day, in walks Investigator Ultra Magnus

And of course Swerve already knows Ultra Magnus. He’s a big name around the... precinct?? This shit is why i could never write this as a fic, haha. But anyway, he’s famous in their circles. He’s the kind of bot who gets put on murder cases, who is so thorough and meticulous that he’s a pain in the ass, but damn if it doesn’t get results

And swerve just about robo-pees himself because Ultra Magnus is in his lab and asking Swerve if he received his request to help his investigation

Swerve says he’ll do it before he even has a chance to riffle through his paperwork to actually find the damn thing because he 100% did not see it

The case itself is basically that there’s a double murder. Each of the victims, either during or after the murder, were meticulously taken apart, piece by piece, down to their individual struts and circuit boards, and then the parts of both bots are thrown into and mixed up in a box and dumped.

One of the big problems is identification of the victims. Their plating was completely buffed and scrubbed of any paint and any identifying physical traits seem to have been ground away. As well, the processors and spark cases of the victims were not with the remains. So without any of that, identification was beyond what the autopsy medics could find.

The only reason that they know that it was two bots -- not just one bot, or just a mixture of multiple bots -- was because when all the pieces were separated and sort of pieced together with other parts that seemed to fit, there was just enough parts for one large bot and one minibot.

Ultra Magnus decided to bring the case to a metallurgist in hopes that with that specialization, they might be able to find anything to point to who the victims could be.

Swerve is very, very excited. Until he has the hundreds upon hundreds of body parts and pieces delivered to him and has to face the fact that there were actual living bots once.

Anyway.

Insert forensic procedural here where Swerve slowly goes through all the parts and Ultra Magnus shows up to his lab every. fucking. day. and it’s kind of intimidating and intense because swerve is just so star shocked! Ultra Magnus is the kind of guy he idolizes, someone who’s going out and getting shit done, and Swerve’s big mouth drops comments about how fucking cool Ultra Magnus is, like, constantly. Ultra Magnus sort of brushes it off at first, then sort of ignores it, and then after a while he kind of is like “ok but i’m not? That great at all?”

basically over time (and swerve eventually working up the courage to ask if ultra magnus wants to meet up for drinks after work and stuff like that) they get to know each other and it’s like? Swerve has always looked up to ultra magnus because he’s the big investigator who brings all the clues together and catches the bad guys, and mean while ultra magnus feels like he’s just constantly relying on other people, and doubting that he’s even necessary or important to the process, etc. and so forth. When swerve waffles and tries to be like “ok but you’re big and strong and can get shit done becuase of that!” ultra magnus reveals that he’s actually a minibot named minimus wearing a huge suit, shit like that

because i LOVE swerve and ultra magnus talking about their insecurities together.

Also there’s a second set of murders of a large bot and a minibot that happens somewhere in there and it amps up the pressure and drama because we’ve got a fucking serial murderer on our hands. and maybethere’s a letter left in the box that’s like “i’ve got an *literal optic pasted onto the letter* on you, hopefully i’ll see you soon” or something. there’s a definite fear that the murderer has a target and it could be someone who’s a part of the investigation

And swerve is like fUCK i gotta find??? something!!??? what if they already have their next victims lined up?!?! what if it’s someone on the investigation team?!???!??? aaaaaAAHHHHH?????????

Also though ultra magnus is like sWERVE IS A MINIBOT??? i gotta solve!! this case!!!!!!!!! because what if he’s in danger??????????

also swerve and ultra magnus are slowly sort of circling each other and developing feelings and are pretty sure the other one isn’t interested in them the same way

ANYWAY BACK TO THE EVIDENCE BECAUSE DID YOU THINK I FORGOT? Swerve found with the first set of bodies that there were some spots where there was rubbing away at the plating, which were all pointed out in the autopsy reports as being additional places that the murderer took a grinder too. However, Swerve finds through metallurgy that the scouring on the plating is different -- most of the spots are from a grinder, but some are from gradual rubbing of metal against metal that would have had to happen over time. Swerve can’t really tell if they’re at all significant though, since that’s not that uncommon when you’re body is made of metal.

It’s only when he’s looking at the second set of bodies--

(which btw the autopsy medics were definitely like keeping swerve out of the autopsy because it’s their territory or whatever, he could have them when they were finished, and the second ultra magnus was like “???? why haven’t you started on the new frames????” and swerve told him, ultra magnus got the fuck up in that autopsy room and made it explicitly and loudly clear that swerve was to be part of the autopsy so he could see the frames asap and if there were any problems with that, they could take it up with him, and swerve fucking sWOONED)

--swerve notices more of the weird marks. everyone else sort of slowly makes their way out because the work day is over, but swerve is so focused because what if they mean something! even when ultra magnus comes to escort him home -- because he’s been doing that lately since he’s worried swerve might be a target and he’s v worried!!! -- swerve is like nah, i’m gonna stay overnight, i’ll see you tomorrow. because maybe this would finally be the break in the case. Maybe he could impress ultra magnus! maybe--

It’s not much later that swerve realizes what he’s looking at. The gradual wearing marks are all at joints and corners, as if the minibot was wearing the larger bot, so their plating would rub against the inside of the larger armor plates.

There haven’t been four victims. there’s been two victims, and they were both minibots who wore larger armors.

And Swerve loses his god damn mind because it’s Ultra Magnus! He’s the next victim!

I hadn’t though this part out just as much yet but i’m sure there’s a very dramatic and cool sequence of events where swerve is trying to contact ultra magnus while he’s racing down the route to ultra magnus’s apartment, and it’s definitely raining because that’s cool, and it’s as ultra magnus answers that he gets attacked and so the comm goes dead and swerve is gO N E he’s so freaked out

and he probably stumbles upon the scene, ultra magnus just laying there because the suit has been disabled somehow and minimus is stuck inside, and the murder has got a murder weapon (maybe like... a laser knife or something? that would go through the larger armor and into the one on the inside), and swerve is so scared and so brave and tackles the murderer. It doesn’t go v good for swerve since he’s not a fighter and he’s a minibot, but he distracts long enough that while nobody is watching, minimus manages to drag himself out of the armor and BLAM! shoots the murderer right through the head when he was about to kill swerve

it’s all v cool with these two perfect minibots just staring at each other, both so so worried about the other one and just!!!! robot adrenaline and shock!!!!!

Anyway, the day is saved, and once the two have been taken from the scene and checked out to make sure they weren’t harmed, minimus and swerve probably babble at each other about how worried they were about each other and then kiss because they fell in love

and also solved a crime along the way

And that, ladies and gents and other esteemed guests, is all this fucker wrote.

#meridianbarony #should i tag for robot murder and stuff????#i guess #robot murder #robot gore #also this is 100% just word vomit that is unedited so you know #sorry i'm not sorry

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3one3 · 7 years

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I'm so so so confused right now. Let me get this straight, your crush now seems to be mutual? Like he's asking you out now?! How'd this all come about?!

No one is more confused than me. This has turned into an inexplicable situation. Get a cup of tea or a glass or water, and maybe a snack, and find a comfortable position because this is a long story.

I was over there yesterday for my usual Saturday morning chill time. The other guy who works there (we’ll call him The Babysitter), who I talk to all the time, came up to me about an hour after I got there and said “[the crush] (we’ll call him The Pacifier, because he’s basically a child) wants to know if you want to come with us to the casino tonight” and I was so taken aback that I just said “Why?” I also turned 12 shades of tomato and made skeptical faces. The Babysitter then called The Pacifier over and made him ask me himself. There were some other people there too. Other guys that work there, one of which is related to The Pacifier, and were presumably going on this outing as well. It was weird because it was like everyone was gathered to watch, and I really wished I had been spying on them in the moments beforehand because you know, body language. And so The Babysitter is like “She asked why, so tell her why,” but I got no explanation. Just details. I assume he was trying to get him to say explicitly that he wanted to hang out with me, but I dunno. The Pacifier asked if I wanted to go and said they were leaving at 11 because one of them was working until then, and I could tell he felt super awkward about it, but he always sounds super awkward when he talks to me. There was some back and forth between him and The Babysitter about it being so late. I said sure, I’ll go. Then everyone went about their business. I freaked out inside because lol how did this happen? And I was trying to stop being bright red, and trying not to hurry to grab my phone and tell the two people (plus you guys) who know about the crush situation. A little while later, The Pacifier brought me a new cappuccino for no apparent reason and took away the first one. I thought, aww. I hang out a while longer to watch the tennis and stuff, and when I left I told The Babysitter to text me about later, because he has my number.

Now, let me back up a tiny bit. I think The Babysitter has known for a while that I have a small thing for The Pacifier. A few weeks ago I asked him if my number was still in his phone and if he’d know it was from me if I texted him later. We hadn’t texted in like a year. And he got all excited because he’s always hitting on me and trying to get me to go out drinking with him and I’m always “lol never”. And I said to him “chill out, it has nothing to do with you”. Then I left. My intention was to maybe ask him a question about The Pacifier, but I didn’t even know what the question was going to be, and I pretty much decided against it soon anyway. The only reason I considered it was that it might get my interest on The Pacifier’s radar if I leaked it to The Babysitter.

A while later I went to the grocery store across the street and The Babysitter was standing outside the restaurant waiting for his ride when I was finished shopping. He shouted to me across the street. He’d been calling me for a few mins but I don’t have service in the store. I was like ugh great. Naturally he hurried over when I crossed the street and wanted to know what I was going to text him about. I said I was going to ask him a question about someone but never mind, forget it, it doesn’t matter, I can’t because you’d make fun of me forever. He texted me after a bunch of times trying to get me to ask the question. I said nope.

Then I went in for lunch on Tuesday because I was off for the holiday and had nothing to do. I knew only The Babysitter works that shift. He makes shitty cappuccinos lol so I had iced coffee. When I was getting ready to leave, he asked me if I wanted another iced coffee and I was like “No, I want a delicious cappuccino. I miss The Pacifier. What does he do when he’s not here?” and he said “I don’t know. Do you want his number? You can ask him”. And I obviously giggled and deflected and said “no, that would be weird”. Also I sensed maybe a hint of frustration from him. Oh also a few days before that I casually asked him how old The Pacifier is, but he was hardly paying attention anyway. And one time a while ago I said something like “Pfft, you think I come here for you? I come here for The Pacifier and his beautiful eyes and delicious cappuccinos”. The next time I was there he deliberately embarrassed me by telling The Pacifier I said it tastes better when I he makes it. Anyway.

Back to last night. I text The Babysitter around 8 30, “what’s the plan?” He writes back, “[The Pacifier] says next time, he’s too tired”. I had been legit reeling all day because reasons, so I was actually kind of like phew. And I told him “good lol I don’t want to get out of bed”. I’d been trying to nap because I would have died if we went out at 11. Then I realized that I didn’t want to play games and try to be too cool for school. So I added a clarification that that means “oh. 😔” in girl-speak. The Babysitter apologized and blamed The Pacifier. Hours later he starts texting me like where are you, what are you doing, do you want to go get beers, I want to be the mosquitos that are eating you, and a bunch of other ew. As usual, my response was “never happening”. And I asked him repeatedly if The Pacifier actually wanted to invite me out or if it was really just him who wanted me to go and he knew I would say no if he asked but I would probably say yes to The Pacifier. He acted like he didn’t understand the question. And he sounded drunk anyway. And his English isn’t 100%.

Fast forward to this morning. I head over after F1 to have my coffee and read shit on my phone and whatever. As soon as I sit down, The Babysitter greets me and I think straight away jumps in with excuses for The Pacifier, telling me what time he left work and everything. I was like whatever I don’t care. In reality I was a little disappointed but it was fine. I really didn’t want to spend money going out anyway, and the place is hard to get to/from, so I had been dreading the logistics. But I expected a casual apology from The Pacifier when he brings my coffee. He always makes it for me when I walk in. I don’t even have to ask. Today, The Babysitter had to tell him a bunch of times to make it, and eventually he makes my special coffee and then GIVES IT TO SOMEONE ELSE TO BRING TO ME, so I’m like ugh this is bad. He’s probably so embarrassed.

But then he went out of his way to pretend I wasn’t even there. He took detours to other parts of the restaurant and literally hid somewhere instead of hanging out behind the bar. When he had to walk behind me, he speed-walked. If my head was even slightly turned in the direction he was coming from, he looked the other way while he walked by. I WAS MORTIFIED. Did he never want me to go in the first place and now he’s like ugh god why is she here what do I do? Is he not even a decent enough person to apologize for canceling, regardless of the circumstances? He’s really young, and he really is shy, so I was like errr maybe he’s just terrified of me? I don’t know. People say I’m intimidating. And I legitimately never show him any sign that I have this raging crush on him. But I’m also kind of hurt. And mad. And confused.

I also didn’t sleep last night. At all. Sometimes I get this crazy level 9000 racing thoughts thing and it’s like torture and I cant sleep. So I was cranky and exhausted, which means melodrama inside. I was trying so hard not to outwardly emote the confusion, anger, hurt, etc. because come on, I’m not even supposed to care. I have a wonderful bf. The Pacifier is just weekend morning entertainment. The Babysitter even comes over and tells me not to be sad, and I’m like I’M NOT SAD I’M TIRED OK?

Then everything gets worse because I see this little dark silver haired lady with a cane walk by and it reminds me of my mom and I miss my mom every day and I’m like on the verge of tears because of my mom but I’m thinking about how everyone in the fucking place is going to think I’m crying over the stupid child who makes me coffee and stood me up for a group hang. I even texted my bff and explained the emergency situation and asked her to send me pics of cute ponies, STAT. She didn’t get the message right away. Instead, I watched this ESPN show about a little boy in london with a horrifying muscular disorder who found a best buddy in an Anatolian shepherd that was TIED TO GODDAMN TRAIN TRACKS AND HIT BY A TRAIN. He lost a hind leg and his tail. They’re best bros now. I got over myself.

And then out of nowhere, The Pacifier delivers to me a new cappuccino (the first one was way below his usual standard btw, like he was nervous when he made it or something, and I hadn’t even come close to finishing it) and smiles and says “here you go, Ashley” like everything is totally normal. When I saw him coming I was like oh crap how do I behave? Should I give him the cold shoulder? Laugh and ask him what happened last night? Make a joke about him ignoring me, or being too chicken to bring the first one? I didn’t have time to make a well thought out decision. I just smiled awkwardly and said thank you. I’m pretty sure I looked as mortified as I felt. But then I did feel slightly better I guess.

Time passes. The Babysitter comes over to refill my water and he said he liked my nails, and then asked if they’re called nails. I don’t know, man. His English isn’t THAT bad. Then he’s like, “Can I come home with you and you can teach me better English?” and I laugh and say “there is only one person there invited home with me and you know who it is”, and he straight up says back “yeah but he doesn’t want to, so why not give me a chance?” and I straight up wanted to die. I don’t even know if that was a throw away comment or if he was really saying The Pacifier has no interest whatsoever. If it’s the latter, what the hell was that whole thing about yesterday? I’M SO CONFUSED. I don’t get any of it. I texted The Babysitter after I left- “Why did you make him go through that whole charade yesterday?”- and he hasn’t responded. Usually he does. Usually he never misses an opportunity to send me gross messages back.

Theory #1: Did he realize I have a lame crush on The Pacifier and think it would make me happy if he invited me to hang out? If he did, what did he think was going to happen when it was clear that The Pacifier didn’t actually want to invite me or have anything to do with me????? How was that going to play out? Did he just assume I would have said no?

Theory #2: Did he realize I have a lame crush on The Pacifier and, knowing how shy he is, want to help him get some ass, and talked him into inviting me out? But The Pacifier didn’t really want to and didn’t want any help but gave in because peer pressure? Honestly I can’t imagine he truly struggles for female attention. He is physically attractive, polite, sweet, and perfectly charming to literally everyone but me.

Theory #3: The Babysitter wanted me to go and knew I would only say yes to The Pacifier. Honestly this seems unlikely because it makes no logistical sense. Even when The Pacifier was out of the plans, he could have suggested the rest of us go if that was his motivation all along.

Theory #4: It’s a little of everything and there is no consistent motivational pattern in anything The Babysitter did, and by seeing everything through his lens and looking at what he’s doing, I’m just confusing myself. Is he like Donald Trump and just has no consistent strategy? Did he want to help The Pacifier out, help me out, and then also let his own interest get involved at times during this saga? Was he just mis-communicating stuff because he’s an idiot?

I don’t know anything, and I want to know everything. Especially about the last part of today. I want to know if he said “he doesn’t want to” because A) The Pacifier actually said that, B) he assumes it’s true because The Pacifier didn’t follow through last night, C) he was just saying it to help himself, or D) he had no real reason to say it at all and it was totally a throwaway comment.

Auxiliary Theory: The Pacifier actually is interested and really is just super shy and really did just want to go home after work last night and really did feel bad and awkward today and chickened out for a while. Naturally I think this is the least likely scenario, but also the one I most want to be true. 😐 Would everything have been better/more clear if *I* had just not been a chicken, and opened my mouth, and asked The Pacifier what was up?

I don’t know, but I’m exhausted.

POST SCRIPT: I GOT MY ANSWER/S. Totally by accident.

My phone doesn’t work in my apartment. Anything wifi does obvi but I can’t take calls. No network coverage. So I wander around outside. I’d been wandering on a business call for over an hour, not paying attention to anything around me. As I walk by the front entrance to zee restaurant, chatting away, guess who walks out. Yep. It was The Pacifier. I didn’t notice until the point where it would have been awkward if I turned around and said heyyyy so I kept walking but sort of lingered not far away, and then I turned around to start wandering back, and caught his eye, and we waved cordially. I did more talking, but stayed beyond where he sat down to eat his takeaway and wait for his ride or something, so that I’d have reason to walk by him again. I finished my call and put on my figurative big girl pants and went right over to sit next to him and get my fucking answer. It went like this.

313: “Heyyyy”

TP: “Hey!” *he didn’t seem alarmed and I was thus reassured*

“What’s up?”

“How are you?”

“I’m good. So, I have to ask you an awkward question.” I maintained my friendliest smile, I hope. He maintained his uncomfortable awkward one.

“Okay.”

“Did [The Babysitter] make you invite me to go out yesterday?” I said it kind of knowingly, and smiling, and while maintaining eye contact. He started to say something, but then said…

“Wait, say it again?”

“Did [The Babysitter] make you ask me to go to the casino or whatever you were doing?”

“He’s always doing that. He always tries. You know, all the girls. He enjoys it.” *more laughing and discomfort* The point being that The Babysitter is always harassing The Pacifier to ask girls out. I should have asked how many times he’s actually listened to him and done it. Anyway.

“Yeah, I know. He’s a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah.” I think he kind of relaxed when he realized I wasn’t mad or about to cry or something.

“Okay, I’ll leave you be! Have a good night.”

“Good night!”

/scene

I feel much better now. Though I wish I had been like well if you ever DO *want* to hang out with me, I would like to hang out with you 😊 and I love casinos. Or something. Buuuut I didn’t. I also could have told him that he has beautiful eyes and a lovely smile and that I would like him to cast his beautiful eyes my way and be the reason he smiles, and make *him* coffee sometime. But I’m not Julia Roberts, or suicidal. Also, I have developed this burning desire to make him pancakes. I don’t even know if he likes pancakes. I should have asked him if he actually did want me to go out with them, but that woulda been weird, right? I also felt bad ambushing him on the sidewalk while he was eating.

From now on, NO MORE BABYSITTER.

#Anonymous

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theforgottengn · 7 years

Text

A Passionless Affair

Characters: Uniform, Unnamed Informant, India, Delta, Zulu

Word Count: 2,567 (not entirely sure if this is right btw)

Trigger Warning: Swearing. Mention of blood. Mention of sex.

Summary: First off here’s hoping that this posts this time around. If not I give up. Anyway. One-shot I’ve been wanting to do for a while just to get into Uniform's head space. Or to try to at least. Basically Uniform's narcissistic ideas finally come to life when an informant falls for him. Only problem with that is she thinks the two of them are getting married.

I awake at precisely 0300 hours like I always do. Being on a mission never changes my daily routine so no matter where I am I stick to my schedule. And one of the many benefits of a cell phone, besides the fact that having one makes it easier to blend in, is the alarm clock. Since it’s always set for the same time of day I always wake before the sun rises.

Today makes no difference.

Waking far earlier than the green-eyed, olive-skinned, brunette who still sleeps face down on the queen-sized bed in the hotel room. I don’t even look at her as I pull the covers off and quietly get out of the bed. I stretch for a minute or two before falling to the floor. That is when I begin my morning exercises with push-ups.

Counting aloud as I always do.

When the count hits 200 I turn into the sit-up position. At the same time I hear a quiet, mouse-like, groan. I can tell by the noise that the woman on the bed is waking but she isn’t important to me any longer. I don’t even remember her name not that it matters anymore. My job finally finished last night after three, long and arduous, months. I got what I needed and she was none the wiser.

I continue to ignore her and work through my routine.

“Good morning, handsome. You ready to talk now?” the woman coos in accented English as she moves to the edge of the bed. The creak of the cheaply made bed frames makes me grit my teeth in annoyance. I regret not putting in headphones and listening to music. Now I have no reason for ignoring the woman and her small talk but I continue to do so as I get up from the floor and begin lateral lunges.

“Hey,” she says as she throws a pillow at my face minutes later. I don’t even have to move to dodge her pathetic excuse for a throw. “Are you even listening to me?” she asks with a girlish pout.

No. I am not.

I turn to her with a confused look; “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because, you’re acting like you’re hiding something. I know everything about you, babe, don’t you think I can tell when you’re holding back?”

You do not know a thing about me, lady.

She sits on the edge of the bed and wraps her arms around my shoulders. Nuzzling her face into the side of neck she breathes in deep; inhaling my nasty after workout smell.

“We’ve known each other for such a long time it makes no sense to not talk about it. You can’t avoid marriage forever, and besides, don’t you love me?” she punctuates her question with a kiss of which I’m forced to return.

I face her and shrug; quickly flashing one of my million-dollar, heart-melting, smiles. “Sorry babe, but, I need to shower. Can we talk about this later?”

I don’t let the brunette answer before I enter the bathroom and lock the door. Once alone I shudder at all of this fake lovey-dovey bullshit. It means absolutely nothing to me. I turn the shower on full blast but don’t get in. Instead I put my comm. in my ear and make a call to India. As I wait for her to pick up I admire my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“Our intel was right,” I say once India answers on the other end.

“She confirmed our suspicions about the ambassador. He’s definitely going to make a move on the PM and it’s going to be very soon.”

She probably didn’t tell you how; they never do. Did she say when this was happening? Or where?

I curse under my breath when I realize I completely forgot to find out that information and hope India didn’t hear the obscenity I let slip. With everything else I’d been occupied with for the last three months it completely slipped my mind. I rub a hand over my face; utterly humiliated with myself.

“I don’t have that information, India.”

India sighs and I can imagine the face she’s making on the other end. A face I’ve seen about twenty total times in my life; counting right now. Each one for the very few times I messed up and she got mad. To be fair some of those times weren’t even my fault.

I deserve for India to be mad at me this time. This is all on me.

Just get it, and make a clean break with her, ok?

“Don’t I always?”

Before India can pull one of her classic moves and silently sign off I pull back. I have to tell her even if I don’t want to admit it.

“I can’t do it,” I confess.

What do you mean?

“Make a clean break. I can’t do it this time, Indy. There’s no way.”

Ok, you never call me Indy unless you’ve epically screwed up. Un? What did you do?

I run a hand through my hair and think of the best way to explain this. Realizing there is no best way I just blurt it out: “She’s in love with me!”

The informant? she snorts.

“No. My insanely hot, imaginary, biker girlfriend who goes to college and lives in Canada. What am I a pubescent teenage boy? Of course the informant!”

She’s in love with you?

“Didn’t I say that already?”

You? In love with you? I mean you say this almost all the time, about every person you’ve been with, Un. But this one’s real. She’s really in love with you? Like, for real?

“Yes! She’s in love with me, but, that’s not all. She wants us to get married.”

Now that’s a game changer.

“What do I do, Indy? Tell me what to do.” I say desperately.

But my plea is met with complete comm. silence from her end. I wait a few minutes but India doesn’t come back. Cursing myself I regret not calling Delta instead. I let out a frustrated scream and punch the mirror; breaking the glass and cutting my hand.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

A light knock on the bathroom door is followed by a call from the wannabe bride; “Everything okay in there?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Completely unsure of what to do I quickly grab a washcloth and hop into the shower. Holding cloth against my bleeding hand I stand under the water for a few short seconds then shut it off. Calmly, and as quickly as I can, I clean the glass from the cuts on my hand. Then I grab two more towels from the rack; another washcloth and a bath sheet. First I wrap the bath sheet around my waist. And then I wrap the washcloth around my hand; tightly. I take a deep breath, unlock the bathroom door, and open it.

“Oh my God!” she exclaims upon seeing my wrapped hand.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. ... I, uh, slipped in the shower,” I say as calmly as possible.

“We should get something to eat. I’m starving. You? I’ll just change real quick and then we can go to that coffee shop you’re always talking about. Sounds good? Great.”

I rapid-fire as I rush out of the bathroom, grab some clothes from the closet, and dash back into the bathroom.

“Baby! You don’t have to do that,” she calls. “We’re going to be married soon and besides I’ve already seen...”

I mentally block her out as I change; I need to figure out a plan of attack for breaking it off with her. There is no easy way to do this and besides this woman is as crazy as they come. She’s dead set on believing that we’re getting married even though I’ve agreed to nothing of the sort. I dont want her to do anything reckless and psychotic when I end this. Ending this as quickly as possible is the best thing for the both of us.

I never had any feelings for her but I will admit I will miss one thing. The intimacy.

Fully clothed I take a look at myself in the mirror; stunning as always. As I began to style my hair I call out and ask her if she’s ready. She says that she needs a few more minutes and then calls me some other stupid pet name girls call their boyfriends. Not that I am her boyfriend or ever was. I’m thankful for the extra time and use it to figure out how to tell her the truth. Well, the parts I can tell her.

How do you explain that to someone? Where do you even begin?

“Oh, by the way, I never had any feelings for you. None. Even the sex we had was meaningless. I just liked the way your body felt against mine.”

Unsure of what to do, I start to pace from the worry, when a sudden call comes through my ear comm. And sure enough it’s the one person I should’ve called from the beginning. The sound of her bright, soothing voice calms me down almost instantly. She rehashes the gist of what I told India then takes a slight pause.

So, Un, what can I do to help?

“I don’t know Delta. This informant, she's... well, bat-shit insane is putting it lightly. Most people go for dinner and a movie for their first date. My usual go-to is either a bar or a wine-tasting event. But neither was good enough for her. On our first date she forced me to go with her to spray graffiti all over her old boss’ house. Besides all that this woman has known a fake version of me for only three months and she’s ready to marry him.”

Delta sighs and I can imagine her twirling strands of her blonde hair on her finger like she always does when she’s thinking. I hear the sound of air intake as Delta tries to begin her bit of advice, but, she’s cut off by a very loud and annoyed sigh.

“Zulu?”

Of course. If you’re looking for advice, Un, you’ve come to right place.

“I did not ask you, Zulu. You eavesdropped on us and then squeezed in like you always do!”

I can see her shrug as she says: Just doing my job. But in all seriousness, Un, you remember what I love to call you?

“A glorified spy-whore?”

Exactly! So, do what you do best and, whore your hot little ass around for a couple days. You’ll break her heart; she’ll cry and break it off, probably be emotionally scarred for life and, never love anyone ever again. You know, what you normally do.

Zulu! Not helping! Delta exclaims; almost shouting my ear off.

Un, don’t listen to her, okay?

“Like I was going to.”

Do what you do best. Lie through your teeth.

I end the call and exit the bathroom. I don’t even look at the woman as I grab my coat and leave the room. Once outside I call for a taxi and continue to ignore her. She tries to make some small talk about something but it falls on deaf ears. The brunette angrily crosses her arms and loudly huffs. I know she’s doing it to get my attention so I say nothing. When the black taxi pulls up I climb inside first instead of holding the door open for her.

We spend the entire cab ride to the coffee shop in utter silence; much to the annoyance of our driver.

Upon arriving at the coffee shop I allow the, now very angry, brunette to exit the taxi before I do. I pay the fee and thank the driver in his native tongue for putting up with us. He laughs and replies with some snide comment about his own wife. I fake a laugh and thank the man again before exiting the taxi. When I exit the taxi I see the woman waiting impatiently at the door to the coffee shop.

I offer my arm but she does not take it.

We walk inside the coffee shop together and sit at a table nearest to the door. I stand as she sits down and scan the rest of the coffee shop. Lucky for us the place is pretty much empty which is great just in case this crazy woman decides to cause a scene.

I sit down and say nothing but I can feel the woman’s eyes on me as I look at the menu. I’m not even reading the menu but instead gauging her reaction to the cold shoulder I’ve been giving her. She’s obviously not pleased and seems to be verging on angry again. I don’t want that because who knows what she might do.

I reach across the table and grab her hand. She looks at our intertwined hands then up at me. Her bold green eyes meet mine.

“I thought about what you said, Natalie, and if you’re making an official proposal then I say yes.”

“Oh my God! Really? I... Wait. Who’s Natalie?”

The happiness in her eyes quickly changes to pure fury. She tosses my hand away and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Heather. I meant Heather.”

“Who. Is. Heather?”

I pretend to be confused and act like I didn’t say some other woman’s name. The green-eyed brunette across from me is not buying into my act. She thinks she sees right through me. Throwing her hand up in the air she begins to accuse me of not knowing her name; which is entirely true because I don’t know her name.

“Are you cheating on me, Richard Patrick Stephens?”

So that’s what my fake name was!

She barely ever called me by my fake name these past three months, mostly calling me baby and other pet names like that, so I had completely forgotten what it was. Taking the small moment to smile at my own stupidity of forgetting my fake identity I laughed. She thought I was laughing at her and she did not take that response well.

“You think this is funny?”

“I do, because you’re right. I am cheating on you. And I have been cheating on you ever since we started dating. But, I’m not cheating anymore. I love you.I promise I’ll never do it again. I swear on my mother’s grave I’m not that person anymore. You’ve changed me, Amanda.”

“My name’s Sofia, you fucking asshole!”

With that she tosses her glass of water in my face and storms out of the coffee shop. When she was fully out of sight I also left. As I walked down the street I called India on the comm. link to tell her the good news. Then I remembered I never got the rest of the information I needed since I was too distracted with the marriage proposal. I quickly ended the call before India could pick up.

Exhaling deeply I was far beyond relived I escaped a forced, and entirely loveless, marriage. Finally ridding myself of the psychotic woman I was forced to spend three months with was the greatest feeling in the world. And even though my stupidity might have cost us this mission I do not care at all.

Only thing left to do is cut her out of all the pictures of us.

#here's a thing #if it ever actually posts #the forgotten #story snippet #one-shot #india company #agent uniform #agent india #agent delta #agent zulu #induni #delform #zuni #that induni dialogue seems more fitting for zuni now that i re-read it #oh well #live and learn i guess

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