#if i had a time machine i'd go to a few weeks younger me who first started thinking huh i like masculine terms thats cool

[sumarmzthesadseal]

I want a new name smth that isn't attached to my irl name bc sumarmz is a deviation of a nickname of Sumayah and i like my name I just want another that I can choose for myself

[gnohomotho]

Run, If You Want to be Caught 「Pt. 1」♡☣♡

Pairing: Berlin x fem!reader Summary: What the fuck am I doing here-I am trying to honour the countless requests I got for Berlin! ˊᵕˋ ───♡───────────── The story builds slowly - you meet before the heist, you meet during it, and you get...close. He's incredibly good at pushing boundaries, and he enjoys you the more he gets to know you. Even if you don't know he's doing it half the time. You start as a hostage, and, well...you seem to have caught someone's interest. Someone who takes interest far, far too far. ───♡───────────── Other characters featured too. ───♡───────────── Your character is referred to as 'Manhattan', if you get the reason, you get a free fic of your choosing no questions asked. ―୨୧⋆ ˚ Warnings: This is part one, I intend to make it rather warm if not scolding, but MDNI 18+. Implied (ETHICAL, LEGAL, DOUBLE ETHICAL) age gap, mentions of death, guns, violence, bondage, touching, questionable consent. Physical contact. That "plan" of Berlin's includes zipties and gags, just saying ಇ. Control, stalking, threats, sexual themes and tension. Word count: 7.3k A/N: Lord have mercy on my doomed soul, this man, this man. ⚠︎♡ No, really, I put quite a bit into this but was really worried I'd mess up due to not having watched the series through, and I'm trying to keep the tension and the contact up while not being vulgar or cheap. Bit flooded right now, but I adore you readers so much - and had quite some fun with certain scenes. Hope you do too! ʚ♡ɞ ───♡───────────── No spoilers included and no spoilers, please, I am incredibly slow watching the series itself - if anyone is out of character please don't hesitate to shoot me. ───♡───────────── Also, Sartemy, here's a challenge - one fic without the f!reader being referred to by sweet diminutive nicknames out of a biology textbook. One. Lovely dividers by: @cafekitsune If you like my writing, requests, or just want to keep the blog afloat - I appreciate every like // reblog // follow // question // message! ♥ Masterlist ฅ^._.^ฅ

You were just supposed to fill in for a friend.

That was it.

As you punched card after card and heard the machine beep in reply, you thought you'd manage a few more hours of this.

After all, you were just filling in for a friend.

Your mind wandered to earlier this week when you were leaving the campus.

❥❥❥

You sat on a bench with a coffee and something to eat and noticed arguing in barely hushed breaths.

You didn't listen, only threw a few more bites at the little dark jackdaws fighting for each crumb.

"You're impossible."

"And you didn't have to threaten them! Christ, what is wrong with you?!"

"Less than is right with you, keep your voice down."

"Or what, you'll threaten me too?"

"I don't need to threaten things that consistently fuck up. Calm down."

You tried not to listen.

You really did.

You tried not to look up.

You could discern one voice was faster, younger, and more pointed.

The other...slower. Older. More level but still, volatile right underneath the surface.

The larger bird was hopping around the smaller one, pretending to be done with its meal. Blue eyes pinned on the bread.

The voices got closer.

"Oh, now you're going to run to the Professor, tail between your legs? Was the big nasty man too mean to you?"

"No, you're a hot-headed hole in the ship's hull and you'll sink the entire bloody thing!"

The small bird tried to enjoy its meal but the larger one took it from its beak the moment its head looked up at the commotion.

You didn't look up.

"Alright, then learn to fucking swim you---"

Just as the voices got loud enough for you to thoroughly study each feather before you for sheer will to not appear to be listening, they stopped.

For a moment nothing but the scuttle of little talons and pecks accompanied your heartbeat. The dark birds were joined by a pair of dark shoes that turned your way.

"We shouldn't argue here."

No, you shouldn't, you really shouldn't, Mr. Sugar-on-hot-coals-voice, you think.

The voice seemed to calm down and coat itself in honey to slow down. The jackdaws looked up and resumed pecking. You threw another piece at them trying to pretend your heart wasn't beginning to race.

"In fact," the older voice said, "why don't you go get yourself something nice, let the dust settle, and I'll apologise for the ruckus."

You heard the smile in the voice, but there was an edge. Impatience coated in a resolute firmness to keep things in line. You hear a sigh and a pair of steps leaving you. But not the shoes invading your field of vision.

Silence.

It made your heart leap. But no, not today. You brushed your skirt and inhaled, steadying your own voice.

"OK, little ones, I think I have a lecture I should be at, have a nice one."

You begin to lift but the shoes close the distance.

One by one.

You finally look up, gripping the edges if the bench just a tad too tight.

Up along the fitted trousers, the strong hands, the neat blue fabric reflecting the afternoon light.

Up.

Calm down, calm down, calm down...

It hits you right between the eyes.

The tanned face of a man with dark hair combed back, dark eyebrows, eyes like coal trailing his gaze across and into you. He catches your look and holds.

A small Cheshire grin, polite eyes, and a well-polished suit stand before you – harsh hands in front of him firmly clasped as if he were simply resting on the heels of his shining shoes with not a care in the world.

As if you were the last one to hand in the assignment and you were about to get absolutely...

Oh, there was something in those eyes. Something that spoke of carnage left after the fire had burnt straight through. Coated in a sweetness that you were pretty sure neither of you believed in.

The blank blue eyes of the birds looked more honest than his, still, you looked down again, apologetically. You began to mutter.

"I was talking to the birds, I'm sorry. I'm leaving now," you explain and try another covert situation avoidance.

But he doesn't move.

You feel trapped, even as people walk by, and try to think to be polite about simply leaving. It shouldn't be so hard. It shouldn't.

He doesn't move away, but his body doesn't seem to be able to stay still. You see it in the sway on his heels, in the way his knees are perpetually shifting their weight.

You look up again, his head cocks to the side and that self-satisfied smile shines through for just a second, before returning to something vaguely polite.

His eyes smile into a gentler expression.

"I'm so sorry miss, I feel the need to apologise for the intrusion." He doesn't move as he shifts his eyes to the two birds running around his shoes looking for the bread he walked over.

You smile inadvertently and he continues.

"And for disturbing your companions."

He seems ardent at catching your eyes, a silent demand of 'look at me when I'm speaking to you', but he doesn't voice it. He's expecting you to play along.

You don't.

"It's alright, just...could you stop walking over their meal? Please?" You gesture to the birds and don't meet his eyes; his gaze is piercing you through and through.

Somehow, you feel more naked than you ever felt talking to a fully suited person. And somehow, those eyes narrowing into what should be a calming expression just feels like a ruse.

"Oh," he whispers in sudden genuine surprise, stepping back from you and you exhale, not realising you played quite a good hand yourself here...his voice is still polite, but there is effort now. And something genuine you can't put your finger on.

"Once more – my apologies. You seem to care a great deal about the little ones."

You nod and finally look up again, now that there is some distance. What is it with suited people and shiny shoes that sends you so far off the cliff?

His eyes didn't change. They're pinned on you, studying you. Each time he discovers something seemingly new, you notice a small movement – not quite a tick, just a slight change of rhythm. His smile is smaller, still there. It slides into one corner of his mouth, as if biting back a particularly sharp jab. His hands are no longer clasped at his midsection, he's began fishing in his pocket.

You watch every move, trying not to look nervous as you tuck a strand of hair away from your eyes. It falls right back.

As he takes out a packet of cigarettes, sliding one into his mouth in a single motion and lighting it, never taking his eyes off you, you sense the same disquiet the smaller bird did as it hopped a distance away. The big one is nowhere to be seen.

The man pulls on the cigarette slowly and you avoid his eyes.

"Would you like to tell me your name, little one?"

You begin to stutter and gather your things to leave immediately, cheeks the colour of roses.

"Th--that's incredibly--"

The soft chuckle didn't escape your senses and you once more look up to tell him something not as polite.

"Oh, I'm so sorry miss, " he smiles into the smoke leaving his lips, fingers softly cradling the cigarette as he gazes down at you. He bends his knees, slowly closing the distance between you and finds your eyes. His voice is kind, soft, and almost patronising in its innocence now:

"I was talking to the bird."

Before you can answer and before the blush goes down, he simply leans on his heels and rests closer to the scene before him, taking another drag – careful not to cover your little companion in smoke.

"Look at you, pretty little thing, aren't you..." he rests his cheek in his free hand, head at the level of your knees, "such a sweet little dear unable to see what's right in front of you."

The bird cocked its head to the side, one blue eye watching the intrusion before it hopped between your ankles, either expecting bread or shelter, but the stranger didn't move.

Only smiled into his cigarette, a chuckle like honey off hot coals reverberating quietly. His eyes never leaving your feet.

"What a pretty little thing you are, running for refuge right into a larger beak."

You finally manage to speak.

"It's going to be alright, sir, just a bit shy. Jackdaws are terribly brave and equally as hot-headed. But not dumb. You're just scaring them a tad. The larger bird won't hurt it."

You smile the sweetest of smiles, not playing his tune, perhaps if you pretend to be dumb, he will lose interest and leave you alone. It worked for the birds.

But he leaves the birds and raises his eyebrows at you.

"Perhaps they're more clever than I thought, who wouldn't hide between..."

Suddenly, he gets up again in a quick, sharp movement as you hear steps coming closer. Steps and a voice from before.

"Please tell me you didn't."

Silence. The older man purses his lips and looks around nonchalantly.

"I didn't."

A young man with long brown hair and sharp features looks from him to you, and you must have looked a sight, because his voice is once more angry and his demeanour pointed.

"You apologised?" He extends an open-palmed hand at you, "you apologised and this happens?!"

"Rude," you mutter under your breath and get up to leave.

A hand in the air stops you without touching you.

"I did. We discussed birds. She's quite a lovely young lady who cares quite a bit. Top of her class, too. Or so I’ve heard. Hmm?"

Alright, who poured ice down your neck.

"No."

The young man looks at you again, then back to him.

"NO."

"I'm just saying, we could use a mediator..."

"We're leaving. I'm sorry miss. I'm so sorry." The young man turns on his heel, the older man left to gaze at his back.

He brushes his pockets and bends down to you.

"Lovely to meet you, miss Jackdaw. Sorry for the intrusion." He smiles, but there's no warmth to discern in there. He smiles at you like he knows you. Like he knows the next steps you will take, the next bird you'll feed, and the next time you will inadvertently meet.

"What's your name?" You ask, trying to level his eyes with yours, voice steady. You don't like the fact that he seems to either lie about knowing something about you or actually know a tad too much about you. You need ammunition.

The man widens his close-lipped smile.

"Call me Berlin."

"Really?"

"Mhhm. And what's your name, little miss Jackdaw?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. Oh. He knew what he was doing. He knew it the entire time.

You try to keep a polite smile, not letting him get an inch in just yet. But your brain is a scramble.

"Manhattan."

He chuckles to himself more than to you, and gets ready to leave.

As he's walking away from you, he stops, taking one more drag seemingly lost in thought.

He looks back at you, and finally, you see a person behind those eyes.

And you freeze and burn all at once, understanding the birds running for shelter immediately.

"Clever," he hums into the air and begins to walk away.

❥❥❥

You were just supposed to fill in for a friend.

And now you're blindfolded.

And terrified.

And God knows you're going to kill her if you get out alive. Double kill her if you don't.

Stuck right next to a person who won't shut the god damn hell up. And now there are heavy footsteps marching towards you.

No no no no no.

"Excuse me...?" You hear the shaky male voice next to you, and it takes everything in you not to elbow the presence in where you expect his ribs to be.

"Yes, my director friend?"

That voice...

Oh no.

Oh no no no, you're imagining this, you're imagining this, you're imagining thi--

The shoes stop right in front of you.

For a moment, all that you can hear is your heart in your ears and your breath until a deep voice breaks the silence.

"Oh my."

A quiet, deep laughter emanates before you.

"My oh my oh my."

You try not to flinch as you feel a hand, rough, but not harsh, grip your chin and force you to look up.

It studies you. Brushes your chin and jaw without making it feel rude nor beckoning. Simply for a better look. Function. With a hint of amusement.

Control, you note.

For a moment, there is only silence.

Silence and your beating heart.

Then the chuckle resumes but cuts off, just as the hand leaves your face in one sharp stroke away.

"My dear little Manhattan, how did you manage to fly all the way over here?"

"Err...what?!" The confused voice next to you mumbles, but the steps are already walking away. Getting faster and more pronounced as they dull into the distance.

"Fuck," you whisper, shaking in your shoes. Cheeks red and chest shaking, unable to take a deeper breath.

"You know him?" A shoulder bumps into you and you feel the hot breath positively dampening your neck.

"No!" You hush back, "I don't! Be quiet."

"Are you one of them?" He doesn't shut up.

"No!" You hiss back, "Christ, be quiet!"

"That’s enough!" A younger female voice echoes from above. And you rest on your heels and stay still. Still as the eye of a bird.

Heavy steps resume and you finally get divided into groups.

❥❥❥

As you are able to discern faces now, you think perhaps you imagined the whole thing. The larger gentleman won't stop looking at you. Eyes like that of a lizard. Always darting.

You try to talk to some girls around you, just to make sure you're not all alone here.

But none of you have a clue what's going on.

You don't know whether to keep to yourself or join group for protection, but the matter gets decided for you.

You get divided into further groups, blindfolds on once more as you're guided to your stations. Only, a bit late, you realise you're being separated and led upstairs. A door closes behind you and hands grip each of your shoulders, pushing you forward. No touch without objective. Simple mechanics. Different than the hands you remember, and hate yourself for the realisation.

His hands are now familiar to you.

You think to explain, bargain, barter, but keep your mouth firmly shut.

Your blindfold gets taken off slowly and you're left looking at a young man, the same young man you remember from the park. He looks stern, but apologetic, until you notice the gun on his shoulder in sharp contrast to his red jumpsuit.

"Err...thought we'd keep the continents together." He says, as if nothing was too out of the ordinary, "just be here and watch over some screens for me. I'll explain later. OK? I promise this wasn't planned but we did discuss a need for a mediating presence if things go belly up. Is that alright...? I mean, shit, I meant...look, just do your job and shout at me if something looks weird."

You don't quite know how to absorb any of this and only look at the screens around you. Cameras, rooms, people, all of it before you.

"Continents...together?" You hush out finally, looking directly into the sharp face with hair in a firm bun.

He tries to smile, but it gets stuck and he grips the gun.

"Denver. Manhattan. I think they're kinda close."

You begin to smile as you lean across a desk, gripping its edges, the smile growing into a desperate laugh.

"I'm such an idiot," you breathe, "why don't you just shoot me? Why have me of all people watch over other people? I couldn’t tell you a single in-group out-group factor if I tried. I nearly got kicked out of my last exam because I was trying to be nice to people! My supervisor said my voice puts people to sleep! I can’t help you!"

"Huh?"

His genuine confusion, the scene, the fact that it all seemed like a bad misunderstanding just a week ago...it broke something in you. Your smile breaks too.

"Sorry, I just can't seem to stop fucking up. There. The park. Now this." Your voice cracks into tears, finally able to fall for sheer blind hopelessness.

"Hey, you didn't fuck up, not yet...he did, and it wasn't planned, I promise. I should have pushed him into the pond when I had the chance." The hint of softness gets to you further.

"But now, just watch those screens and shout for me if anything seems weird. I'm right here or around the corner. Oh. And you're being watched. Don't try anything funny, ok?"

You only give him a tired look and nod. The camera above you, you notice, keeps steady. A red light blinks at you.

One thing you notice on the screens that makes you calmer is the fact that you can see him. You can see him, so he's not anywhere near you.

"Denver?" Your own voice feels foreign in your throat.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you being kind to me?"

The question seems to have stopped him in his large shoes and you see his face visibly try to gain a stoic, uncaring expression.

"Some of us were taught manners," he shrugs, voice level. "And I thought I'd undo some of the damage Berlin--"

You visibly wince before he continues,

"Some of the damage you've had on top of this whole thing."

"Thank you, Denver." You try to smile. "That's very kind."

❥❥❥

You weren't sure what the deal was, what was going on, and why you weren't with the others. It was explained to you, over the next few days, that you are to simply watch and document, notice, write down, evaluate, and discern – keep files, try to predict, note everything. Be on call if something goes awry.

But it felt odd. You weren't special, that much you knew. You weren't treated like one of either sides – just somehow something that's barely not not-in-the-way. You didn't even have a jumpsuit.

Which would have been very handy since you managed to spill tea on your sleeve and burn your hand the first morning here.

Another thing that kept you alert was the camera. Each time you walked around the room, left the station, or simply rummaged through draws; the camera moved. Perhaps you were imagining it, but every time you walked by a reflective surface, the screens slightly buzzed. Just a flicker of movement in a corner monitor.

Once, you were pacing the room, and you felt slight panic rising in your chest – panic of missed lectures, friends, worried loved ones – and you undid your shirt. Just enough for your throat to be visible, which you held instinctively to shield the beating vein and to feel you’re still alive. Still breathing.

The screen behind you went black for just a moment, but you could have imagined that. Surely. It made no sense otherwise.

But you tried to reason. To turn bad things into bearable.

You liked the static. It felt calm. You liked the dark. It felt safe. You preferred the ground, less cameras and more field of your vision should someone come in.

But you didn't like the little red light all night, you didn't like the fact that each time you looked at the screen, he was there. And if he were near the camera, he'd look into it. Then go back to talking to someone else or simply back to his duties. But sometimes, he’d linger closer to it. Look up. And your breath caught again. Looking like he knew. But he couldn't. He couldn't. You’re being paranoid.

Until...

It was dusk. Your intercom had been eerily silent the last couple of hours, so you slowly slid to the floor and your makeshift bed made of clothes and some couch cushions you found, and slid under the table for extra privacy. As you waited and got not reply nor discontent, you began to take off your shirt and skirt. Just as you were going to unhook your bra, a voice sounded through the intercom and froze you in your tracks. You peaked out just enough to remain decent and quickly checked every screen – still dark, no commotion.

No him.

Silence.

Then Berlin’s voice sounded through the crackle. Soft, as it was with the birds, trying not to startle yet...

“Little Jackdaw...” you hear him murmur in the crackle of static. “Are you still awake?”

You do not respond. Merely go back under the desk and rest your back against its confines. The silence stretches but is anything but empty.

“I was wrong about you,” he muses.

You don’t reply, but huddle your knees closer.

“...I was wrong about the birds. You didn’t find your way here and they did know what they were doing. Hiding from me. Running to you. You must have known exactly what you’re flying into and still did not...skitter away. Little Jackdaw, little Jackdaw...is it true you sleep with one eye open?”

You breathe into the silence, your own voice feeling like trespassing. But still, you speak into the darkness.

“I didn’t want to come here. It was all a mistake. All of it. Unless you have something pressing, leave me alone, please.” Softer, far softer, you add: “I didn’t want any of this to happen.”

His voice replies, faintly amused. But not bored.

“No one ever does.”

You exhale slowly, ever so slowly and feel...both more alone and oddly comforted – perhaps he wasn’t wearing a mask, perhaps he was being genuine. Perhaps he also had trouble sleeping. You immediately slapped the thought out of your head, knowing your mind is likely trying to grab onto anything to ground itself and find safety. But still, your voice is soft, your demeanour gentle.

“Berlin?”

Silence.

You half sleepily, half still caught in that calm oddness the conversation brought with the dusk, muse back at him.

“I feel like I’m playing a plywood violin each time you make yourself known.”

“Does feeling me threaten to break your strings, little one?”

You let the silence speak to his mistake.

"Or perhaps you wonder whether you'll bend or break for a tune that won't linger."

At least he didn't make the reference you thought he would at this hour and in what still counts as privacy.

But he does say one more thing that loops another little opening in your armour and stabs.

“One thing I have to give your critiques, Manhattan.”

The static chuckles with his quiet contentment.

“Your voice really does put me to sleep.”

You don’t know whether it’s a compliment or a very sharp jab, but you do not reply, and the intercom remains silent for the rest of the night. The realisation hit you in the morning – he’s listening even now.

And he’s...taking note.

❥❥❥

Another day, Denver was helping you learn the last of the ropes regarding your position. And you saw Berlin speak to someone off camera. Though you were listening, taking note, writing things down – your eyes strayed.

Just to make sure.

Just to be safe.

The angle, the lighting, it was too coincidental. And he turned slightly. Not looking at the camera, not looking at you. Just shifting, and his body language...it stilled.

“You really shouldn’t look at him like that,” you hear Denver behind you, “he’s not a big fan of being seen while not controlling the gaze.”

You inhale and apologise, only to yourself muttering that perhaps he shouldn’t have done what he did in the park – and then what he did while you were blindfolded – but you kept the night conversation to yourself.

“Perhaps he shouldn’t have stared like a wolf in a freshly cut suit, but I understand and won’t do it again. Sorry.”

As Denver was leaning next to you, half watching the screens and half watching your meticulous notes, he raised his brows in understanding and looked directly at you. No malice, not quite warmth. Just information and something you couldn’t quite understand just yet. Then he winced.

“He remembered you, Manhattan. That’s not a good thing. Berlin remembering someone is...kinda like corrosion deciding it wants your tools. Yours specifically.”

He said nothing more and you only flickered an eye to the screen, just to make sure he’s still in place.

Berlin smiled. Not at the person beside him.

At the camera.

❥❥❥

One of the female people in charge walked you down a hallway, guarded by each side, when a man walking in the opposite direction bumped into you.

You lost your balance momentarily and straightened, almost doing the exact same to the next person walking right behind him. You avoided the red suit only to look up and freeze even as you laid foot after foot.

"Clever girl."

The whisper echoed behind you, and you turned on instinct, never stopping. The man who bumped into you disappeared from your field of vision as he grabbed his shoulder and led him into a sharp turn.

You kept walking.

You found yourself in a room that looked far more intricate than your station. Maps, plans, all laid out.

They're either fine with killing you or they trust you, and you weren't sure you liked either option.

You tried to focus on the women present, and tried to find Denver, but he was talking to an older man. In another life, you’d find it quite endearing. They barely lifted their eyes as you got in, and the red-suited woman nudged you forward.

"Why isn't she in uniform?" The woman chewing gum asked, arms crossed, measuring you up and down. You wanted to wince. But didn’t. Only bowed your head slightly.

"Where the hell is Berlin? He called this whole thing." The younger man who you only just noticed huddled at a laptop asked no one in particular and went back to his screen.

"I'm sorry, I...didn't get a chance to change, no uniform, I didn't want to ask, sorry--"

"It's not on you, Manhattan," the woman chewing stopped and sighed. "Berlin said he'd take care of it. Where is he?"

Denver looked at the screen of the younger man and raised his eyebrows.

You don't react, but try to help: raising your arm everso slightly as if asking for permission to speak, you level your voice.

"I...saw him walking past us in the hallway and take a sharp turn right, if that's any use. He was leading someone else by the shoulder."

Denver exchanged a look with the older man, and the young woman who led you here gripped her gun and left without a word. Denver looks up at you, likely realising you're terrified.

"Manhattan, those folders of yours are proving useful."

More matter of factly, he adds: "We have a situation downstairs that's getting out of hand. Be ready. But so far, nine times out of ten, those evaluations and strategies seem to work at keeping people calm and covering our bases. Almost."

"Almost?" You speak up. The older man looks at you, studying you before speaking. Wary, but warm.

"Your notes on Group 3 were a bit shifty, half the reason for the situation. Name’s Moscow, by the way."

You smile and offer a handshake. The firmness of his calms you down a tad. But the softness is short lived, as the young man at the laptop shifts.

"What is she even doing here?" He gazes into the and monitor sighs, "she's not part of this, she's a hostage. What's she gonna do, fling some ink from the printers around and ask us to analyse a blot? Analyse how screwed up each of us are since we're all here?"

"Leave it alone, Rio," the man who introduced himself as ‘Moscow’ says, "it's alright."

He looks up at you and continues, slightly softer. "the man was unpredictable and pulled something again. Hard to expect. Feigned a situation, hurt another hostage, turns out it was a ruse. Well, the other two hostages pulled into it didn't know, and now they're not speaking or eating or reacting to anything but a gun in the face. Which we do not condone."

You look towards him, settling on remaining quiet but to the point.

"Which one was it, sir?"

You raise your brow, now intrigued and disappointed in yourself. You thought you had everyone covered. Every nook and cranny taken care of. Group 3 was volatile, but you thought they wouldn’t go through with it. Enough buffers to absorb the explosion. Obviously, you were wrong.

Before Moscow can answer, footsteps and a sharp push forward present the last two people missing. The young woman, who did the pushing. And Berlin, hair dishevelled and a blank look in his eyes to accompany a rather neutral frown.

As he notices you, he looks into your eyes and a smile lifts his cheeks, though he appears colder the harder he gazes, and looks away nonchalantly as if you weren't even there as soon as you register him back. You see him lift a hand to push through his hair and comb it back; you look straight back at your shoes.

"Finally, where the hell were---is that blood?" The woman with the cat eyes and gum stopped chewing, motioning at Berlin's arm. You follow her manicured fingers. She was right. His knuckles were blue and speckled with red, purple between the bones. He clenches and undoes his fist, as if theatrically studying it for the first time.

"Just a situation." He blinks at each face except yours. "All good."

“We talked about your ‘situations’, Berlin. You’re supposed to be in control. Isn’t that like your whole thing? I swear if you hurt another hostage...”

You never thought you’d hear a man growl, but that’s what came out of Berlin’s throat. Low, annoyed, clearly offended – but eerily level.

“I only taught someone some manners regarding what they can and cannot touch. Now, if we’re done with the schoolboy scolding, have you told her yet?”

The woman chewing gum shakes her head and looks away. Moscow sighs, Denver rubs his temples, the young man addressed as ‘Rio’ finally stops staring into the screen and leans back in his chair with a vaguely smug look, and the young woman behind Berlin looks directly at you with not an emotion in sight. Before she can speak, a self-satisfied chuckle tumbles out of Berlin’s throat.

He walks toward you slowly and begins to lift an arm to your shoulder, but you flinch in the direction of the older man and Denver. He doesn’t seem to notice at first, and if he did, he ignored it. This time. His dark eyes find yours and stare into you, head craning from one side to the other to leave no room for avoidance.

“Perfect. Then I'll do the honours. Well, Manhattan, we need you on the inside.”

“No one will trust me,” you unnoticeably shift away from him so his arm is resting on air more than you, and he notices. Oh, that small tick and tiny head motion from side to side, like a disappointed parent watching a child run into traffic. He rescinds his touch entirely, blinking slowly into the distance behind you with that small, ever-present smile in the corner of his mouth that looks like it feeds on tension and contentment all at once. Only now, it's turned into a rather disapproving mask.

“No one will trust me,” you repeat, “I don’t have a uniform, I haven’t been in any group, and I’m an outsider to them. There’s no way in hell they’ll say a word if I walk in.”

The cat-eyed woman purses her lips and nods, Denver keeps his hand on his chin, and Berlin somehow looks more smug than before. Moscow clears his throat.

“Yeah, about that. Nairobi, can you handle it? I need to speak with Berlin on some security matters.”

He looks directly at the man next to you.

“Outside.”

❥❥❥

“Please no. I understand, it’s a good idea, but please let me say this without any judgement.”

Nairobi sighs.

“Go on.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Look, lady, I get it. I really do. But there’s no other way right now and like it or not, he’s still in charge.” She looks to her side, arms crossed. “Emphasis on ‘not’.”

“I’m grateful for being treated the way I am, I understand it’s not easy---”

“Please save the holier-than-thou attitude, Manhattan, I’m not your client.”

She looks at you, judgement seeping from her posture before continuing:

“The others have assigned groups, Oslo and Helsinki need to be underground, Moscow wouldn’t be able to handle the commotion if more people turned up, Rio’s in charge of every electronic device in here, Denver – though I see you making eyes at him – doesn’t feel up to it alone either and doesn’t need any more violence today, thanks to you, and Tokyo and I need to be elsewhere and actually do our jobs.”

The gum pops in emphasis.

You stop and your mouth doesn’t utter another word, though you wish to protest at least three statements in that sentence.

Only a small bow and a ‘sorry’ as you nod in acceptance. She looks you over again and her shoulders visibly fall as she relaxes and sighs, leaning against the railing.

“No, I’m...look, he’s been acting weird. If you ask me, something’s bothering him and he’s like a child who can’t find the last puzzle piece that ruins everyone’s day until he does.” She leans into you, gaze still sharp, but not angry.

“Let him have his puzzle piece, his little plan, all works out, he leaves you alone. Boom. Jackpot.”

You’re not sure you agree with any of that, but feel you have no choice.

“Will the cameras be on at least?” You ask, weary. Nairobi nods and blows a bubble.

You feel the sound of it bursting coincide with your sense of hope.

❥❥❥

This was the most idiotic plan you could imagine.

But it made sense.

That was the worst part.

So far, you thought you'd enjoy the calm before the storm. You made more notes, added new information and rewrote Group 3. As you were writing down strategies to employ to help the two shocked hostages - one boy and one girl - the door clicked open.

"Denver?"

You didn't look up. Blind hope got you this far, you weren't letting anyone pry it out of your cold dead hands.

No reply, only steps closer.

A weight on the back of your chair which creaked in response.

You wince, exhale softly as if worried to disturb the air, and stop writing. You check the cameras one by one, darting, hoping you'd see Berlin in one of them. The sound of leather squeezed far too hard for comfort replied for you.

"Try again," the whisper to your right beckoned, and you turned sharply in the other direction.

"P...please excuse me. You. Scared me."

"Perhaps try not lying to me, Manhattan. Lie to yourself if you must. But not to me."

"I'm not...I'm not lying to you. Sir. I don't know what you're talking about." But your voice betrayed you more than your grip on the pen that shook your fingers.

And the hand suddenly everso slightly touching your hair was enough to make you gasp.

Berlin chuckled and pulled away.

"You've neglected yourself, little Jackdaw...let me help you get it out of your face."

"I'm good, Berlin, sir."

He chuckled again and rested his weight on the back of your chair. You must be imagining the faint whisper back, mostly to himself - tasting the word. Sir.

"Oh, I know you are. But you seem to have some trouble looking at me. Still blindfolded in that little head of yours?"

"I'm good. Berlin. Sorry. I. Didn't mean to be so..."

He almost sounded like he didn't hear you and the cold nonchalance in his voice sent shivers down your spine.

A single finger helped brush a strand of hair off your collarbone and onto your back, neatly, carefully, never straying.

"Tell me to stop."

He leans into you; you can feel his breath on your ear but still - he doesn't touch you directly. Your heart is in your throat.

"Do you know what I'd do if you asked me to stop?"

You hear him smile as the sentence concludes, and you squeeze your knuckles on thin air. Your heart is now pounding out of your chest, and you try desperately not to look at the screen in front of you because his reflection would drive you off a cliff.

But you don't reply. Only swallow hard.

"I'd stop," he states, pulling away as if he commented on the weather and nothing more.

"But I'd never forget that you wanted to say 'yes'."

As if mulling over the thought while you're left paralysed and shivering, not looking at him, not responding, the coolness returns to his voice. But there's a hint of enjoyment in it now. Like he managed to pry open a door just enough to get a finger in.

"Put it this way, Manhattan...if you don't turn around, I'll make sure you're suited up one way or another. Which will it be, little Jackdaw?"

You exhale and push the pen away.

And you do turn around. Slowly, in your chair. You turn around and your eyes get snatched by that stern, ever watchful face, fully controlled but for the smile constantly tugging at his mouth. Self-satisfied. Lethal. And so, so false.

A bob of the head and an expression that seems to say 'there, was it so hard?' to which you'd gladly reply positively.

He's bending above you, fully shielding, resting on the back of your chair with one hand gripping its leather, the other at his side holding a red bundle.

"Go on. Take a good look. You're allowed."

"I'm..."

"Good," he finishes the sentence for you and turns his eyes into momentary coinslots, almost mocking you.

"Though I'm starting to doubt that."

You look at the camera above you. Somehow, its red light is now the most reassuring presence in the room.

He follows your gaze.

"You talk in your sleep, Manhattan."

You don't reply.

"Quite the conversation. Do you know what you said when I responded?"

You shake your head and hypnotize your notes again, seeing the same letter for the fourth time.

"Yes, little Jackdaw. You said 'yes'."

"To what?" You can't bear the tension and almost snap. Berlin merely drops the bundle in your lap, still smiling to himself.

"Get dressed."

❥❥❥

At least he left the room for you to do so. Though you struggled with the zipper with your shaking fingers, the question plaguing your mind.

What had you agreed to in your sleep?

Could he see you, if he could hear you?

As you pulled it up and gathered your hair out of your collar, you gazed at the room again. And fear began to creep up on you, even as it should have been calming to be alone again.

What if the plan goes wrong? What if you...mess up? What if they do? What if you get hurt? He won't protect you...you're an asset, not cared for.

You're an asset.

Not cared for.

With resolution and coolness in your voice, you address the room.

"Clear."

You don't say "decent" because you don't want him to latch onto anything you're saying and use it as ammunition. Berlin seems too good at that.

The door clicks open, and Berlin walks back in, two strides to be right in front of you. Measuring you up and down.

"Good, Manhattan. You did good."

As if wondering whether to tease you or remain stoic, he brings up his arm again - the same gesture you avoided in the more crowded room. This time, you don't flinch. You won't give him the satisfaction. Only nod - giving permission.

Still in control.

His hand brushes your collar and softly tugs at the top of the jumpsuit.

"You look better this way, Manhattan. Out of uniform."

You see it in the way his face is more...animated now, and this time he isn't trying to catch your gaze. As if lost in thought. His finger gets a bit too close and his knuckle brushes that tender spot on your throat you were holding the last time you felt so paranoid.

You inhale sharply, but he doesn't pull away. The cheshire grin growing more serious seems to repeat his sentence:

Tell me to stop.

And you don't.

He caresses it, softly, up and down, as if worried he'll disturb the precious thing. His knuckle guides up to your chin and lifts your head up to his.

"I'm almost sorry for what I'll have to do to you, little Jackdaw."

His lips curl.

"Almost."

You exhale.

No, you're not.

You came up with this.

You're going to enjoy it.

And I hate you for it. And I hate myself for not wanting to say...stop.

But he seems to feed on that. On planning ahead, being in control, making people submit without knowing they did so - teetering on the edge and only noticing air grow fast around their face once they're about to hit the bottom.

It takes every muscle from your shoulders to your neck to keep calm, to not look into those eyes, to not give into your actual feelings that are spurred by fear and desperation and...need.

The jumpsuit feels suffocating.

Break for a tune that won't linger.

With sincere tenderness and genuine worry, you instead simply ask:

"Is Denver alright?"

And you might as well have slapped Berlin across his smooth face.

Without changing his expression, he mouths the sentence back to you, as if in disbelief that you'd ever even think of asking.

“Is…”

He steps into you, you step back.

“Denver…”

He forces his other leg into your space; your thigh hits the table.

“Alright��?”

You instinctively try to grab the edge, but he grabs your wrist first and pushes your hand down. Before you can retract it, he grabs your other wrist and pins it to the table.

And as he leans into you, to your side, lips almost touching your ear, you feel him.

His chest.

His leg.

His breath.

Even his heartbeat through his neck.

And they're all.

So.

Steady.

He's not losing control.

Now you've got a reason to be terrified.

"My little Jackdaw," he whispers to you, as if reading you a fairytale, "do you really think it wise to tease someone who is going to have you tied up at his mercy for the better part of the night, while knowing every little corner of this room that the cameras don't reach?"

Berlin pulls away and leans into you directly now, so close your foreheads could touch.

"Or was it on purpose, because that's what you want?"

He cranes his head to one side, exaggerating his words while his expressions remain frozen. You remember the same instinct that made you wince, that made you see what the birds did when they ran for shelter to you.

"To be broken, taken, bent and tried - so you don't have to witness your own carnage...To lose control. Silly, silly, silly Jackdaw."

He gazes at your neck, throat, quivering lips as if pondering to himself – and only smirks as he straightens your collar again, brushing a strand of hair away from your neck.

Berlin’s fingers twitch and make contact with your skin again.

"Because once you give it to me, I won't be able to stop."

❥❥❥

[thewrittingratt]

okay awesome, thank you so much! and i agree, there’s a serious lack of charles content on here ❤️ would i be able to request a charles boyle x younger fem!reader who starts out a a new detective at the 99 and charles really obviously has a crush on her. she makes some throwaway comments about wishing she could be a mom and start a family and find “the one” and charles is convinced it’s him. maybe he ends up manipulating reader or baby trapping her during a hook-up (with no smut of course) or he kidnaps her even? honestly you can change it however you’d like for your comfort levels! and i’m fine with anything, also. thank you so much and let me know if you would like help brainstorming:)

A/N: I'm gonna be honest took a little bit of thinking but I like how this turned out! Sorry this took a little while but the power company decided to work on the power lines today

Also reader has a sister

It all started on a Tuesday.

A Tuesday that Charles would never forget. The blinds and the door to Holt's office were closed, indicating that something was up. Charles had asked what was happening "There's someone new joining the precinct. Fresh out of the academy." Gina answered from her desk.

The door opened and to Charles it felt like time frozen when he saw you. You were an absolutely gorgeous young woman. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Y/N L/N. Our newest officer." Holt introduced you. Your smile would forever been burned into his mind.

It was like he knew he'd never want to see you unhappy. "Thank you Captain." you said as you looked at everyone. Then it happened. Your eyes met his. He thinks he stopped breathing before Jake hit his arm. "Dude, she said hi." Jake informed him. Charles let out a breathy "Hi" and you smiled even more(if it was possible)

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

It had been a few weeks since you joined the precinct. And it was obvious to everyone that Charles was completely head over heels for you. He'd stare at you from his desk, in meetings, on cases, hell even when you were interrogating a suspect.

But one day you didn't show up. He found it suspicious. You never missed a day so far. So he was worried. What happened? Was there an accident? We're you sick? He needed to know. So obviously he asked Gina.

"Hey Gina. Have you seen Y/N today?" Gina looked up from her phone "Oh yeah apparently her sister's having a baby." Charles only nodded. You had a sister and he didn't know? He though he knew everything about you. After all you were a very open and honest woman.

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

The next day you returned and Charles couldn't have been happier. I he could but not when he saw you showing Jake pictures of your sisters kids. "What are their names?" Charles asked from behind you, scaring you a bit since you didn't hear him walk behind you. "That one's Henry and that one's Seth." You said pointing to each of them when you said their names.

Later you were still talking about your nephews. "Geez. Why don't you just have a baby?" Gina spoke up, clearly annoyed. You looked at her "I wish I could have one-" you were interrupted "They why don't you Y/N?" Jake asked and you gave a shy smile "I guess I just haven't found 'The one' yet." You answered.

Charles lifted his head from his spot at the coffee machine. You haven't found 'The one' yet? Could he be that for you? Would you ever consider him? Even if you were younger than him? He thought about it most of the time.

It was the perfect daydream: You and him with one- no two kids, you cooking while he sets the table while the kids watch tv. He'd massage your feet when they got sore. He'd go to the store in the middle of the night for your cravings. You'd look so beautiful to him no matter what. He'd-

"Ow!" Charles yelled as he was burned by the coffee he was making. "Oh! Charles, are you ok?" your angelic voice asked "Yeah. I overfilled my cup." he explained as he watches you get some paper towels.

You helped him clean the mess as you spoke "I was wandering if you wanted to go to Shaw's after work? Me, Jake and a few of the others?" god your smile was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Uh- yeah, yeah sure." he stammered as he watched you head back to your desk. Could this be his chance? He sure hoped so.

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

Turns out it was in fact it was his chance. Everyone was so drunk and you just kept going on about wanting a baby in your drunken state. He didn't remember much from that night but he remembered leaving with you.

The next morning when he woke up he was holding somethin- no someone. To be specific, you. He was holding you. And when he went to move you woke up with a 'hmm?'. He frozen.

What was he supposed to do? Should he say something? He didn't know what to do so he just lay there until you did something. Which wasn't for another twelve minutes but he didn't mind as long as he could be this close to you forever.

A/N: I hope you liked this. I'm just running out of ideas rn. so I'll make a pt2 later! but I hope you like where it's going!

[knit-me-a-blanket]

WIP Wednesday

And we're back! It's almost obligatory that a first blog post should be a work-in-progress post. The most fun part about knitting is constantly being able to start something new and learn new things. Here you won't find any shame for casting on multiple projects at a time. You also won't find any shame for abandoning a project or frogging it. In fact, I'll be posting in the coming weeks about how important it is to know yourself and your limits. This is your hobby! You deserve to enjoy every second of it.

Before we jump into projects, there are a few things that I'd like to share about my knitting style and goals. I graduated from my Master's in 2023 and realized that I hadn't knit a single item in over two years. I now had the degree and the job, so it was time to throw myself back into what I loved. At the same time, I also wanted to show off what I could do. I dedicated 2024 to knitting socks and absolutely fell in love! From that moment on, I've always had a sock on the needles. In the coming weeks, I'm going to dive into the 52 Weeks of Socks books (Vol. 1 and Vol. 2).

In 2025, I realized just how large my stash had grown, having been a knitter for over twenty years. I'm also spending the time intentionally buying yarn to complement what I already own. As such, some of these projects contain yarn that I don't remember the type, colorway, or brand of. I'll do my best to find this information, but knowing my younger self, it's likely a full acrylic yarn or an acrylic blend, as I was scared of natural fibers for a long time.

Now let's get into these WIPs!

This week's sock! This sock is an easy pattern created by me with the sole purpose of keeping me entertained while commuting on the bus. It's a simple 6-stitch cable with four purls in between each one to separate them. I wasn't too pressed with the design of the cable as this sock is for myself. And as I'm sure you can see, the cable is not at all consistent. The yarn used for this project is the Lion Brand Collection Cotton Bamboo Linen Yarn. Cotton Bamboo Linen is a fine-weight yarn, leaning towards a sport weight, blending 40% cotton, 35% bamboo, and 25% linen. It's breathable and lightweight, which makes it great for a summer sock. And as a plus when it comes to socks, it is machine washable on a gentle cycle and tumble dry low.

I'm also working on a lace shawl this week. The shawl is the Ashton Shawlette by Dee O'Keefe and is available on Ravelry for free. This chart has a comprehensive tutorial that's perfect for beginners trying lace. I chose it because of its beauty and simplicity. The yarn I'm using is a fingering weight yarn called Ghosts and Ghouls by The Lemonade Shop. The yarn is a nylon wool blend. The Lemonade Shop is a family-owned business out of Connecticut. They release yarns seasonally, and as a result, they're a hot commodity! Unfortunately, I don't believe that this yarn can be purchased anymore.

And finally, I'm also working on a sweater! I'm knitting the Flax Sweater in its DK version. This pattern is available for free. I'm using Red Heart's Love collection in the color BlueBell. This yarn was purchased in 2013 because I had wanted to make a blanket for my then-partner. As the superstition goes, we are no longer together, but the yarn has stayed with me. This is one of the old acrylic yarns in my stash that I decided to go through, and luckily, it's still available for purchase because I needed more than I had on hand! This sweater is actually for a friend of mine who is moving to Minneapolis at the end of the summer.

And those are this week's projects! I'm excited to have a diverse group of things to be working on that allow me to practice multiple skills at once! What are you working on this week?

Thanks for stopping by—let’s knit something wonderful together! My ask box is always open! Feel free to drop a comment.

[oc-aita]

AITA for killing my mother?

Ok so I know how it sounds but my sister and my girlfriend are both saying I'm not TA for this despite the fact I murdered my mother so I need an outside opinion.

I (31F) have four other siblings. My older sister, SF (34), my younger brother, EM (30), my youngest brother, SM (29), and my youngest sister, EF (9). Our mother has never been.. conventional, but she loves loved us!

She's part of this group (CI) that worships our machine god and believes that humans can use these things called anomalies to become gods ourselves if we follow its directions. Me and EM are? were? part of CI and have been since we each turned 18 when Mom took us to meet our god and kept us there until we'd realised how great it was.

SF was meant to be the first of us to join but for some reason she rebelled and had to be locked in the basement for a while. We didn't actually know (it's soundproofed) and didn't learn until after we'd joined the CI and she tried to use it as proof to get us to leave mom. Something about how she 'almost starved to death' and 'was in there for weeks.' (It was only actually a few days, the basement just messes with your time perception. I've been put in there enough to know.)

Now she's part of another group that's in opposition to ours (SH) and stopped SM being taken to meet our god on his 18th by getting him noticed by the largest of these organizations (F) that could 'protect' him from us. He knows about anomalies now but not that we're part of one of his company's main rivals so to speak.

I also have a girlfriend, C (31F), who didn't know about the anomalous until very recently when this whole thing took place and thought I was just a boxer. It didn't explain all my scars (some from missions and some from Mother when she needed to punish me for failing) but she eventually stopped pushing about them.

Now I've been fully on board with the 'use anomalies to become gods' plan ever since I was introduced to it, but recently due to an incident I became an anomaly myself. I accepted immediately that I'd no longer be able to ascend but would have to help my family instead, but mother didn't believe me and asked me to prove my loyalty by bringing C into the CI.

It was all going well at first, she thought it was just some fancy remote date (even if she had to drive since mom never allowed me to learn) but when we actually got there and met our god she got scared and wanted to leave.

I tried to convince her to stay but then our god started trying to force control over her mind and I don't remember that happening to me at all?? So I have no idea why it would do it for her?? But it seemed really painful so I obviously started trying to get her away.

As we were trying to leave mother stopped me and started talking about the pain I'd go through for betraying them, which I understood, but when she started threatening C I kinda lost my cool and shot her.

Eventually agents from F came to get her (her brother works there with SM and has enough pull to send a team) and I managed to call SF to come get me.

It's been a few days and I'm still hung up about the whole thing, I can never go back to the CI despite that being my whole adult life, and I don't even have my mother to guide me anymore.

C has been very vocally supportive of the murder ever since SF gave her a brief (incredibly biased) overview of what's been going on, but I can't help but feel guilty about literally murdering the only parent I have left.

TLDR; I murdered my mother because she threatened my girlfriend and my sister says it's justified because she was a 'raving cultist' and an 'abusive old hag'

[casspurrjoybell-32]

*Warning Adult Content*

HE FEELS THE SAME - Chapter 5

Alek

I've been stuck in the peace river pack grounds for over a week now, Kaya, one of the housekeepers had suggested I ask around to find out if I could tag along on a hunting trip.

I've left the pack-house area a few times to check on the building project and each time I went there were more men, building materials and machines.     

'The humans wouldn't be done anytime soon.'

A sigh left my lips as I thought about it, as humans kept expanding in words on wildlife there was less and less ground to hide in.

I remember having to move up the mountain with my pack when I was younger because humans were becoming a regular sight at the mountain's foot.   

"Will you be having dinner with us?"

I stood up straight a bit taken aback by the voice of a lady speaking to me, my shoulders relaxed when I noted who she was.

She was one of the Omegas that had household duties... Kaya, Ahote's close friend.   

"Yes," I answered before looking away from her to stare back into the garden in front.

I was standing at the small balcony attached to the living room upstairs, a handful of people were in the garden and some of them were in their wolf forms helping to dig holes and move logs.

Ahote was squatting beside some plants in the distance, the young wolf that usually tagged along with him was squatting beside him and holding on to Ahote's kid as the child played with the wilting wildflower in his hands.

I couldn't help noticing how the teen's eyes gleamed as Ahote spoke to him, I looked away, feeling uncomfortable.     

"Len adores Ahote."

I frown, looking to my side to find the lady from before hadn't left, she smiled at me, grabbing on to the railings before looking down at the gardens as well.

"He keeps going on about asking Ahote to be with him."

The woman laughed, letting me catch a glimpse of her gap tooth.

"He's just sixteen he'll find a mate and forget everything about his crush," Kaya went on even though I didn't contribute to the conversation. 

'Ah.' I thought, looking back at Ahote and Len again.

'It makes sense,' I thought as I locked eyes with Len and he immediately frowned before looking away.

If Ahote meant that much to him, a confused mate-less wolf that was attracted to Ahote would annoy him, no doubt.     

"You too."

My brow went up in confusion and I turn my head to look at Kaya and she just smiled on at me, her short hair moving to the side as she cocked her head at me.     

"You adore him too," she said, making me nod and look away, I finally understood what she meant.

Yes, I did like Ahote, not that I could really explain why, I just knew I did.

I immediately gravitated towards him when I walked into a room.

I liked talking to him, though timid he knew when to put his foot down.

I saw this in his interactions with other wolves, high and low ranking alike. 

He has been avoiding me for a while and it was frustrating.

He had guessed Ahote was worried about his heat but that had passed a few days ago or maybe Ahote was just overwhelmed and shy.

He wasn't blind, if everyone else in the pack could tell I had my eyes set on Ahote, he could too.     

"Are you still going to join the hunters for their trip later this week?" Kaya asked me, making me look away from the group in the garden.

She kept reminding me that the hunting group was taking a trip into town across later in the week.

It didn't bother me and I did want to go, I'd need some things from the town across and it was a good thing to get familiar with other wolves in the pack.

It seems like I'd be staying here for a while, weeks, months, maybe even a whole year if the humans were slow about their business in the construction site.     

I nodded, watching as the lady smiled, saying something I couldn't catch under her breath before walking away, I smiled as I watched her leave before looking back at the garden when she was out of sight.   

Ahote was in a whole different area of the garden now, he was squatting beside a bush and clawing at it with his gloved hands and Len helped him place plants into the holes.

I wanted to be down there as well but I don't think Ahote wanted me there at all, it wasn't wise to corner him and make him uncomfortable.     

A sigh left my lips as I let go of the iron rails before stepping back and tucking my hands into the pocket of my jeans.

I looked out beyond the garden, into the middle of nowhere, I didn't have a passport or anything, I was traveling like an animal, sneaking into boats and walking for miles on end.

Even if I wanted to turn back now it wouldn't be an option, I've found something that's caught my interest.

My gaze moved back to Ahote and the rest before I looked away again and I started to wonder about his nameless mate.

I just knew he had one and said mate had rejected him although they had a child.   

For the past few days, I've had a lot of questions floating around in my head.

Like why was Lupa so high ranking and Ahote so low ranking?

Why was religion so important here?

Why did Ahote's mate vanish out of nowhere?

Kia, the omega that attended to me in my room was very talkative and I didn't have to ask her anything for her to talk about information she thought I would be interested in.

She had answered my first question in one of her rambling spells, telling me that Ahote was a recessive omega, that made sense, two omega genes equaled an omega.

One omega gene and one Kappa gene in Lupa's case equaled a Kappa, no matter how much Kia rambled on about every and anything she never really dived into the details of Ahote's mate.

I knew nothing about him, I didn't know his age his rank or what he was doing with his life now that he had cut connections with the pack. 

I left the balcony, retreating to my room with the questions running through my head.

Later in the evening, I was called out for dinner, the living room and kitchen were packed as usual, the same for the front porch and the picnic tables right outside.

It seemed everyone was eating in the main house today.   

"Is something going on?" I asked in a low tone when Kaya handed me a plate of food, she frowned a bit, probably not hearing me before her eyes went wide and she muttered a small 'oh.'     

"Ah, someone's back today," she said with a grin before walking away and leaving me to stare on at her in confusion.

When she disappeared out of sight I sighed as my shoulders sagged, I really didn't like how noisy the place was, especially since I was the odd one out, as always.

Making my way out of the kitchen and into the living room, I squinted, trying to see if I could find Ahote in the crowd, I couldn't, it was most mostly mid to high ranking wolves that occupied the area.

A frown formed on my face when I felt a little shiver run down my spine and it was then I noticed someone was staring at me, I turned, looking away immediately when I saw who it was, Ahote's brother.     

I tried my best to blend in but that didn't fool him, soon I had a strong painful grip on my shoulder as words were whispered against my ear. 

"Follow me." It wasn't a request, it was a demand, a command.

With some hesitance, I follow him out of the living room and out into the patio, I immediately sensed that everyone sitting outside was a hunter or watcher.

The laughter seemed to die when Lupa walked out with me, the sound of our feet on the wooden flooring resounded through the evening, competing with the sound of the crickets and croaking toads.

The air was chilly still, I could see my breath in the wind and I tried to look at anything but the other wolves, I heard footsteps in the background and soon they stopped.

"I heard you're following us into town later this week?" I heard Lupa's voice say.

I looked up, staring straight at him before I gave him a brief nod, he had his guard up like he was ready to pick a fight and it seemed like everyone sitting around the porch could tell too.     

The porch was silent again and I thought that was the end of it until Lupa spoke up again.

"Do you have any hunting experience?"' Lupa asked, his tone coming off a little condensing, I found myself clenching my jaw at his attitude, he was being a little bit overbearing.     

"Yes, I was the headhunter in my pack," I said, watching as the man's eyes seemed to dim.

It didn't look like he was expecting that, I was a rouge now but people could guess I was of some mid to high ranking from my stature and stench alone but often leaders weren't cast out, I hadn't been, I left on my own.     

"Well then," Lupa said with a fake smile plastered on his face. he'd made a shaky blow trying to probe me and he knew it.   

"What's your deal with my brother?" the question was blunt and so straight to the point that it took me off guard a bit.

"Well, what is it? Are you trying to sleep with him?"

"Lupa...." 

"Leave me alone," the man groaned, dismissing the call from one of the other men, he turned his attention back to me before walking over and stopping right in front of me.

Lupa was tall but not as tall as me, I have a feeling he was just noticing this because I saw the brief expression of worry before his eyes were fueled with suspicion again.   

"What do you think it is?" I asked and I seemed to only anger him more while surprising everyone else on the porch, it looked like he was going to pounce on me, but he backed away, cursing under his breath before he turned and stomped away.

He was calling out to his brother as he disappeared out of sight and that was the only thing that bothered me about the exchange, if I cared about what anyone thought, it was Ahote.     

For the rest of the night, I wandered about the house feeling tense and worried, I couldn't find Ahote anywhere and a part of me pushed me to stop looking for him.

When the dining room, living room and porch cleared out I retreated to my room, trying to think about the interaction I had with Lupa.

I sighed, resting my head against the pillow on my bed as I looked up at the wall, I had no idea why I did any of that.     

I sat up when I heard the door to my room open and frowned when I didn't see anyone at first but my eyes went wide when I noticed the child that wandered into my room.

Elan looked at me and I looked at him, the four-year-old looked like he was caught red-handed doing something that he shouldn't, I just had to figure out what.     

"Are you looking for something?" I asked and the child's lips parted before he closed his mouth and shook his head.

I rose a brow at him, watching as he stepped behind the door he had opened to hide behind it, he didn't leave though and I wondered if he thought I'd go to sleep or vanish into thin air if he waited a little bit longer.

"Elan..." the rate of heartbeat picked up, at the sound of that voice, Ahote's voice.

The man came into view as he pulled his child against him, he was frowning, I rarely saw him upset, this was new.

He knelt down, picking the child up before standing up again, it was when he was about to leave the room that he noticed I was there, just staring at them.

I caught his gaze with mine and he looked away quickly, standing there just like his son had just a few minutes ago, so still and quiet, like if he didn't say anything I would just disappear.     

"Your brother is really rude," I said, watching as the man looked over at me.

I bit down on my bottom lip, humming as I tried to compose myself, my mind was a house of madness, I haven't been this close to him in a while and it was driving me crazy.   

"Well, usually it's irritating but you..." he trailed, looking away from me to the floor.

His child just watched both of us, staying quiet as his father tried to find the words to say.     

"I what?" I asked, gripping on the bedsheet the covered the mattress I was sitting on.

I watched as Ahote chewed on his lip, probably trying to find the right words to say.   

"You scare me," he admitted and my heart sank butt I tried to force myself to smile but I was sure I looked ridiculous.

Ahote was now running a hand through his child's hair, he was half inside and half outside the room I had been aside and was probably wondering if there was a way he could leave without seeming rude.   

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to," I sighed, hugging myself as I looked over at Ahote and his kid.

"I can't help it," I added, watching as he nodded at me before looking down at the wooden floorboards again.

I pushed back strands of my blond hair, watching him fidget at my door.

He still had his hair down, his face covered with his hair that he had chosen to weave some beads into today, he looked great but I probably couldn't tell him that without coming off as creepy.   

"This is embarrassing," I muttered under my breath, examining my predicament, I was lusting after someone and everyone within two feet of me could tell from just observing me.

"You must have had this happen to you a lot of times. People finding you attractive, that is. I'm not excusing my behavior but just trying to explain..." I trailed off.

Ahote looked uncomfortable and a bit embarrassed, maybe I shouldn't have brought any of this up but it was too late.

"People must gawk for your attention a lot. Your Mate..."     

"No, not really," Ahote said, cutting me off, his words had been firm and they seemed finaI, I could catch that he didn't want to talk about this and if I pushed any further he'd have nothing to do with me again.     

"Sorry," I mumbled and the room went silent, seconds, then a minute passed and I wondered what the man was still doing at the door with his son, wasn't he desperate to leave?

He had the chance to do that now.     

"I'm sorry."

I looked him straight in the eye, frowning a bit as I wondered what he was apologizing for.

"I'm sorry about my brother, I'm sorry about Elan coming here to bother you and I'm sorry for being so cold to you lately. It's just... All this is very strange and overwhelming."

I listened to him, trying to understand what he meant, I licked my lips, cocking my head to the side as I observed it.     

"I'm not the only one feeling this way, am I?" I asked and he looked over at me before looking away again.

He didn't deny or confirm it but the red tint in his cheeks gave him away.   

"Maybe not," he whispered, looking at me with his deep brown eyes before stepping out of my room with his child and closing the door behind them.

Immediately after they left, I lay back on my bed, looking up at the ceiling as I tried to process what had just happened.     

'He feels the same way?' I asked myself, frowning as I tried to process it, did he?

Maybe mine was just more intense because it was the first time for me. 

'Is it possible that this isn't one-sided, that I'm not imagining things?'

Thoughts kept swimming in my head as my chest tightened and relaxed as my wolf stirred and moved.

The dream catcher at my room's window rattled with the wind and I spent the rest of my night arguing with myself in my head about whether this was a chance I should take or not.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Miss American Pie

Chapter Five: This Will Be The Day (Finale)

Warning: this series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader pairing.

Summary: Everyone has returned but the battle for humanity against Thanos wages on.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You wake in a coughing fit, the rubble surrounding you sears your lungs. “Natasha.” You call into the rocks and flickering lights. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Natasha!”

“Here, I’m here.” Her voice is rough, pained.

You push yourself toward the sound, through the dust you can make out her hair. “You ok?”

“Mostly.” She’s laying face up, a few scratches visible.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I can’t move.” She nods at the piece of collapsed cement. “My leg is broken, you should go.” Nat says, staring up at the sky.

“I should’ve never let you go to Vormir. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You try uselessly to budge the blockage over her leg.

“What is Vormir?” She asks.

“Doesn’t matter.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “How much do you remember?”

“The red room.”

“Do you remember getting out?”

“No one gets out.” She shakes her head.

“We did.” You inform her. “Yelena did.”

“Yelena?” Her gaze finds yours. “You know Yelena? Is she here?”

“Yes, I know her.” You press your lips together. “She’s not here though.”

“The rest of this building is coming down. If you were really trained in the red room you have to know that.” Natasha frowns. “You need to leave.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Don’t be a hero.” She whispers. “Let me go, it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not.” You argue. “I won’t do it again.”

“What about Yelena?” Natasha gives you a pointed look.

“She’ll understand.” This is what she would do.

“Hey,” Natasha pushes herself up on her elbows. “Would it be a good thing or a bad thing if a giant man in a metal suit carrying a smaller man and a raccoon appeared behind your head?”

You turn toward the man in question. Scott Lang. “It would be a good thing.”

———————————————————————

Natasha is taken somewhere safe. She can’t fight.

As the strange doctor and his disciples start opening portals you see that you’re not alone. Through one comes Alexei, Melina and Yelena.

Her white suit is pristine, dirty blonde hair held away from her face in ponytails.

On shaky legs you move toward her, taking your rightful place at her side. Facing what lies ahead together.

Yelena catches your hand, “this isn’t much of a welcome home.”

You can’t help but laugh, “pretty cool way to die though.”

“Very,” she agrees. “Natasha?”

“She is a little worse for wear.” You warn her, “but alive…and safe.”

Yelena gives you a watery smile, squeezing your fingers. “And you?”

“A tower fell on me.”

“Of course it did.”

Thanos’ army is nothing to scoff at. Giant airborne creatures hover over his troops. Larger monsters stand in their ranks, space ship overhead ready to destroy.

Steve is almost unrecognizable, covered in dirt, his shield battered and broken. But you know it is time when he gives the order. “Avengers, assemble.”

Fighting is easy, it’s what you know. What you were trained to do. Fight to stay alive, fight for what you believe in, fight with Yelena; for Yelena.

The two of you move together like a well oiled machine. Like riding a bike, even after all this time you could never forget.

“We’ve got company to the left.” Yelena says through gritted teeth, kicking at the alien creature beside her. Dropping an empty cartridge to the ground and reloading her gun seamlessly, firing several shots.

Despite everyone’s best efforts they just keep coming. “Do we have a plan here?”

“Getting there,” Steve replies. “Anybody have eyes on the gauntlet?”

“Yeah!” Clint rushes past you with the glove in hand. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Get it out of here!” Tony insists.

“What���s happening?” Alexei shouts over the chaos. “I still don’t have ear piece.”

“Just keep their army away from that guy in the tank top.” You grunt, falling backwards from the force of one of Thanos’ soldiers colliding with you.

“We have to get the stones back where they came from.” Rhodey reminds everyone.

“The time space tunnel is completely collapsed.” Tony points out.

“That isn’t our only time machine.” Lang cuts in.

“Does anyone see an ugly brown van out there?” Captain America’s voice hums through the ear bud.

“I do,” a female voice chimes in. “But you’re not going to like where it’s parked.”

After grappling for far too long, you manage to knock the creature from you. Using your knife to dismember it.

“Next time, we get the cool laser guns.” Yelena yells loud enough to be heard by everyone on the network, as she hauls you to your feet.

“Friday, please add laser guns for the ballerinas to my grocery list.” Stark gives his smart ass remark.

“What’s the word on the van?” Rhodey wonders.

“Working on it now.”

The ship at Thanos’ disposal begins raining fire, no regard for their own troops.

“We’ve got people going down!” Rocket hollers.

“Clint,” you call into the microphone. “How’s that gauntlet?”

“Moving down the field.” The archer replies, “I’m alright too, thanks for asking.”

“Good.” You bite back a smile.

Hell continues breaking loose around you. Glowing circular orbs unfold in the air above, providing coverage from the missiles. You’re not sure if this is winning or losing. It feels like a bit of both.

———————————————————————- Thanos and his army are dusted away. Leaving you surprised and still swinging as the shock wears off.

You won. You. Won.

And you lost.

You lost Tony Stark. The man you’d barely known, but offered you clarity that will stay with you forever.

You lost the Natasha you’d come to know over the five years that Yelena was gone. Some parts of the redhead stripped away for the price of the stone.

But she’s still here. Waiting in the wings to be greeted by Yelena and their little makeshift family. You share a look of understanding when your eyes meet over the blonde’s shoulder.

Others come, Banner refuses to leave her side. Despite the fact that Natasha doesn’t remember him.

Clint falls to the ground at her feet. Breaking down at the sight of his friend, his family alive and well. She doesn’t remember him either, but welcomes him into her arms somewhat awkwardly.

Her expressions flicker from happy to overwhelmed. Hesitant to open herself up to the possibility that she is wanted, needed and loved.

Too confusing for the girl who only remembers the red room. Adjusting to this life will take time.

Everyone begins clearing out, their jobs finished. Rushing home to reunite with their loved ones. Tomorrow will bring about new challenges. The world is in shambles, and so are you.

Steve decides that he should be the one to return the stones. His goodbye tells you that he has a bit more in mind. But this is his life. His choices, not yours.

“Well, I guess we should head out too.” You say after a while. Your car is gone, lost in the wreckage from the explosion.

The setting sun is eclipsed, causing all of you to turn your gaze upwards just in time to see the ship’s door open.

“Is that a raccoon?” Melina asks, pointing toward Rocket.

“Do you want a ride or not?” Rocket shoots back.

“Not the avenger’s super jet, but it will do huh?” Alexei smiles, this is his dream.

“This is better!” A man’s voice carries down from the interior.

“Well,” Yelena shrugs, “if you say so.” She leads the pack up the ramp and onto the ship.

“Fanny and the pigs will be expecting dinner soon.”

“How are they?” Melina asks, “have you been taking care of them.”

“That was me!” Alexei says proudly, bending at the waist to gather Natasha into his arms. “Aye honey,” he grunts, hoisting her up. “You are only little girl in my heart.”

Nat pushes against his chest in retaliation.

“Do you mind if I hitch a ride too?” Clint asks.

“The extra stop will cost you,” Nebula stares blankly at him from her seat.

“They always do.” He remarks, trotting up the ramp.

Bruce paces at the foot of the metal grate, watching the rest of you load up. “I gotta hang back, make sure Steve gets there in one piece.”

“After what happened with Scott the first time I’d say that’s probably the best bet.” You agree, standing near the entrance.

“Yeah,” he smiles, kindly. “Keep me posted on Nat, will ya?”

“I will,” you return the smile.

“I’ll see you around.”

You nod, “I’ll see you.”

The captain of the ship introduces himself as Star-lord, and after a moment without response, Quill.

“Any requests?” He asks, finger hovering over the control panel.

Alexei creeps over to the younger man, quietly relaying a message.

“Alright,” Quill nods. Stroking the keys until a familiar set of notes ring out.

“A long, long time ago-“ The singer croons.

You let out a chuckle.

“I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance. And maybe they'd be happy for a while.”

“We’re really doing this?” Yelena puts a hand to her head, the corners of her mouth turning upward.

“But February made me shiver, with every paper I'd deliver. Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn't take one more step.” The melody carries on.

“It’s your song.” Natasha turns to her sister.

“I can't remember if I cried. When I read about his widowed bride.” Melina’s eyes are far away, carried back to their years in Ohio. Before the world had been so cruel.

“Something touched me deep inside, the day the music-“

“Died.” Yelena joins in, lulling her head to the side to gage your reaction.

You sigh, all of this beyond surreal. But you allow yourself to live in this moment, because you might not get another. “So bye, bye Miss American Pie…”

“Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.” The roaring chorus of voices fills the silence you’ve grown used to. Fills the parts of you that were empty for so long. “And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye. Singin', “this’ll be the day that I die.”

“This’ll be the day that I die.” Yelena sings, her face alight with a childlike glee.

——————————————————————-

Melina, Natasha and Alexei stay with you for a while. A few weeks as Natasha heals and becomes acclimated to her life.

She claims to hate the attention, but deep down you know she’s full of it.

The Ohio house is bursting at the seams with five adults, nine pigs and one dog.

That isn’t enough to keep visitors at bay. Namely Clint, his wife Laura and their three children.

Things feel a bit off when everyone begins moving out. Alexei, Melina, and their pigs return to the farm outside of Saint Petersburg.

Natasha finds herself drawn to New York, with Bruce and the makeshift building he’s using as a lab.

You adjust to the steady thrum that is daily life, with Fanny and Yelena.

After dinner you load the dishwasher, drying your hands on the nearby tea towel before selecting a cycle.

“So how does it feel?” Yelena asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hmm?” You turn to face her.

“Being a hero.” She clarifies, a smile playing at her lips.

“I’m not-“

“Oh cut the crap, Y/N. You saved the world.” Yelena narrows her eyes at you.

“I did it for you.” You say simply, because it’s true.

Yelena closes the space between you, “why?”

“You know why.” You whisper as she cups your face in her hands, gently stroking her thumb over your cheek. “It’s ok if you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“I’d do more for you, and worse.” She assures you. “But do you really want to spend the rest of your life fumbling around feelings in the dark when you could have someone who-“

“I want you. I only ever want you.” You beckon her closer. “Anyway I can have you, that will be enough for me.”

Sometimes wires get crossed and you want things you never have before. And she provides them before you have a chance to ask. You give back to her tenfold, so that neither glass is ever empty. That is love. True love, the only way you’ve ever known it.

“I am yours…in every way a person can belong to another.” Yelena breathes, “and then some.”

Series taglist: @jeyramarie @freeshavocadoooo @ilovewinter101 @3and30aresoultwins @yelenabelovv @miphas-trident @1800-fight-me

If you loved this series as much as I did, you can check out the prequel here!

[castiel-left-his-mark-on-me]

Hi, Ary, very inactive ex-mutual(i think???) here. Good to see you thriving! ♥ It's been a while since I've dipped my head into cockles stuff. Could I perchance maybe ask uuuuum tf is going on??? lol I see Mish apparently confirmed he used to stay over at Jensen's in Van, and heard newbs were apparently freaking out about it and getting a bit messy, which I get that, business as usual. But I'm also seeing shit about spin-offs? And Jared getting in a twitter fight with Jensen, causing/resulting in stans to going feral and sending hate?? I know you're not as big a fan of Jar, but that's part of why I figured I'd ask you, you usually have a really level head about this kinda stuff. If you don't wanna answer publically, or at all, that's totally chill!

Hey, Rhi! We're still mutuals! Of course we're still mutuals! When I saw the notification of your ask, I was like "Hey! I haven't seen you in a while!" and my husband was like "???" and I said "Tumblr" and he said "Oh."

It was a wild time haha.

In any case, welcome back to the dumpster fire! We are obviously still a mess. So to catch you up, I guess I will start by summarizing both before and after the finale (not sure where you left off so this might be redundant for you) ... basically, it became obvious as the end of the show neared that Jensen was not on board with the plan for the finale; although Jared never stopped singing its praises.

We got confirmation of this during a zoom interview where Jensen said that he actually went into the writers room as well as called Kripke to basically voice how he didn't agree with the direction the final season was going, but he was shot down on all fronts. In another interview, he was asked "What would you tell your younger self going into this career?" And Jensen responded with: "I would tell myself to just keep your head down and do the work" meaning, "Don't try to change things because you can't." I also think that this whole situation is what he wrote "Let Me Be" about for his first Radio Company album, but that is just my own speculation. All of his reluctance, even though he always followed it up with "But I eventually saw the value in the script" or "I came around in the end" (which never sounded sincere, and I don't think he was really trying to sound sincere) made us all very nervous about what was to come for 15x20; and of course, when the last two episodes aired, we saw just how badly they fucked it up.

After the awful finale, the entire fandom became aware of the CW's heavy handed role in the thing, basically squeezing all the life out of SPN to shape it into a ramp from which Walker could launch itself. They not only erased all the love and joy and representation that Cas's love confession gave us, they also tore apart the things that made sense about the bond between Sam and Dean, making it really just about Sam-- and therefore Jared, which of course, Jared seemed to be fine with ... even though no one else was. Misha barely said anything during the finale, and a few of the other actors talked about the show ending in various posts, but Jared tweeted up a storm ... and Jensen? Jensen just sat in sexy-silent resentment of the whole thing. He didn't tweet, he didn't post, he didn't say a word once he no longer had to, and I think that's because he was already going full-steam-ahead on his plans for redemption.

Which brings us to Chaos Machine-- Jensen and Danneel's new production company that is being run by a queer creative director and has a mantra of inclusivity and representation woven throughout it's fabric; and apparently, the first story that Jensen wanted to tell through this new platform is the origin story of Sam and Dean's parents; so last week (?) he announced the upcoming production of "The Winchesters" -- the untold love story of John and Mary. Obviously, John is not the most likable character from the show, so the idea was met with a lot of resentment when it was first announced, but Jensen has gone on to say that he is excited to take on the task of telling the "true" story behind these characters-- the one that makes sense with the pre-established canon and doesn't reject it. So, given that, the idea is being mulled over with a bit more optimism from the fandom.

Who isn't being optimistic though?

Jared Padalecki.

When Jensen made this announcement on Twitter, many of his friends and coworkers congratulated him, but not Jared. Jared responded with a passive aggressive: "I'm happy for you, man, but I wish I didn't hear about it through Twitter." This of course, sent all the die-hard Jared fans into a tizzy and they immediately began asking him if he was serious (hoping it was just a joke-- we all hoped it was because there would be fallout no matter what one's opinion on Jared is). Instead of leaving it there though or just deleting that tweet, Jared went on to tweet some more, saying that he was being serious that he didn't know about the plans for the prequel, and that he was "gutted" that Sam apparenlty wouldn't be included (mind you, this a prequel to SPN... meaning BEFORE Sam and Dean were even born, so how could Sam be included? But Dean is apparently narrating this story so maybe Jared thought Sam should be helping to narrate it? I don't know). But Jared being Jared couldn't just leave that there, he then went on to tweet at Robbie Thompson who was announced as a writer for "The Winchesters" so then Jared went off on him too, calling him "Brutus" and a "coward" acting like Robbie betrayed him (speculation is-- Robbie refused to write for Walker, so Jared is pissed that he essentially chose Jensen over him). He did fairly quickly, remove that tweet attacking Robbie, but of course the damage was done at that point. And it truly only took his first tweet calling out Jensen for some people to be like "Jared-- that sucks if you didn't know but why are you saying any of this publicly?"

As you might know, Jared has had issues in the past with posting hurtful things on social media, and has even used it as a tool for attack before-- calling out customer service agents and public workers that he felt have wronged him, which is bad enough ... but for him to then do the same thing to his best friend of well over a decade? Many people who had once liked him or at least gave him the benefit of the doubt (I used to ...) stopped after this latest twitter tantrum.

However, some people have suspected for some time that J2 had a falling out either shortly before the finale or just after. Their public/social media interactions have seemed awkward, stilted or even non-existent in moments that they normally wouldn't be. In the past year, when Walker premiered, Jensen didn't say much about his friend's new venture other than a "Congrats. buddy" here and there. Later, we learned that Jensen refused to work on the show ... Jared said he make him do it, drag Jensen to the set "kicking and screaming" which made many fans quirk up an eyebrow because, why would Jensen put up a fight unless the two weren't as close as they used to be? And then Jensen moved his family to Colorado (either permanently or for an extended period at least) which is notable considering how he moved to Texas seemingly to be closer to Jared, even buying a house that was near his. All this was just speculation though; but it wasn't until Jared's tweet complaining about not knowing about the prequel that the theories behind them falling out, became less theory and more fact.

The day after his twitter tantrum, Jared tweeted again-- not retracting his statements or apologizing, but instead saying that he and Jensen "talked" and were "all good". Jensen then tweeted too, parroting this statement to some degree, which only made the whole thing even more sour in the mouths of the fans. The fact that Jared didn't apologize for his outburst and throwing his friend under the bus, and also the fact that Jensen-- Mr. Sexy Silence, Mr. Never Tweets, Mr. Tech-Ignorant-and-Proud, actually had to POST SOMETHING saying that he and Jared made up, it just screamed OPTICS. It was obviously the work of agents and PR firms and lots of people going "Look, if you two keep beefing, that will mean the death of both of your projects. Even more people will stop watching Walker, and this SPN prequel will never get picked up due to the scandal." So, the two "made nice" publicly to quell the chaos, but in my opinion, it's all too little too late. Jared started a storm that he can't contain now with a little tweet, and it seems like he knows that too because before he talked about him and Jensen making up, he asked that people "not send threats". He could have just as easily said that he shouldn't have made this a public issue and that he's sorry, but instead, he continued to play the victim and stoke the flames by alerting us all to the damage he's done.

Now, like I said before-- I used to give him the benefit of the doubt. I don't think he's an awful human or that he deserves to be attacked or anything, but he is an adult man with very poor judgment and an obvious selfish-streak a mile wide. He should know better, and he should have more respect for his so-called "friends" and "brothers" than to make them targets to public ridicule. I have a hard time believing that Jensen still sees Jared the way he used to, and I wouldn't blame him a bit for wanting to pull away-- especially when he's moving on to so many new and exciting things. Jared certainly deserves happiness just as much as anyone else, but he went on twitter and basically asked for a scandal, and he got one.

The question is now-- was there a motive behind it? Was just looking for a reason to bring his and Jensen's falling out to light-- while making himself looking like the victim in the process? Or did he genuinely not know about the prequel and just decided to go about "not knowing" in the most toxic and hurtful way he could manage?

In any case, that is the drama ... that is the J2 insanity in a rather lengthy nutshell ... that is the tea ... and I hope it all makes sense.

But the good news out of all of this is, Cockles is thriving-- they are happy and in love and Jensen calls Misha "Babe" and Misha misses waking up to see Jensen in the morning, and they are just as cute and wonderful as can be.

So, I will end that there. I am so glad to see you back, and I hope I answered all your questions in a way that made sense ... I tried anyway!

💖💖💖

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 8

Let me in

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n gets emotional

Warnings: swearing, feelings

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Life at the tower was...tiring, to say the least. During my free time I often found myself in the gym, lobbing knives at a target and trying my hardest not to biting one in Steve's chest every time he would correct my technique. When I wasn't trying to murder the avenger in cold blood, I was usually dragged into things by the other: briefings and debriefing for missions I'd never go on, my dad's parties, group training sessions and study periods with Bruce in his labs to name a few.

But for now, I was huddled in my rooms - fresh out of a hot shower after a brutal two hour training session and four mile run with Natasha - curled up on my bed and attempting to catch up on a few of the films I'd missed. But the exhaustion and drowsiness clouded my eyes, the noise from the TV merely in the background as I felt my eyes growing heavier by the second.

A sharp knock at the door snapped my out of my lowsey state, the people movie across the screen simple a blur of colour as my eyes darted past the tv and over to the door.

"Mr Stark is waiting at your door. Would you like me to let him in?" FRIDAY's evenly calm voice chimed, making me groan and mumble a 'no' into my pillows. The last person I wanted to see right now was my dad.

"Come on kid, let me in." My dad called from the other side of the door, and I could practically hear him roll his eyes and shake his head when I stayed silent. When he spoke again, it wasn't directed at me. "FRIDAY, override command and open the door."

"Wait! That's hardly fair!" I whined like a five year old, groaning again when the door swung open and my dad stood on the other side, quite clearly just as exhausted as I was.

"Get used to it, kiddo. Life isn't fair." Tony chided, walking over to my bed. I tried to shuffle away slightly when I felt the bed dip, my dad perching on the edge as his eyes scanned over the room. "I see you haven't decorated yet." He commented casually, as if nothing had ever happened between us.

"Yeah, well, I thought It'd be a shame to spend so much time on something when you're probably waiting to kick me out anyway." I mumbled, refusing to look at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, y/n? Ever since you got back you've been-"

"Acting different?" I cut in, and when Tony simply swallowed thickly I nodded. "Funny that, seeing as I was kidnapped and tortured for three years. Not to mention made to kill people for another year after that."

"Y/n I'm sorry..."

"But you're not! You can't be, otherwise you'd actually have tried to save me, rather than leaving me to rot!" My voice cracked, tears pricked at my eyes and I now sat up straight in my bed, facing my dad but not looking him in the eye. "And you can't change that, you can't go back in the past and fix your mistake. And trying to fix it now sure as hell won't work, so I suggest you leave before I'm tempted to use you as my target for my training session tomorrow." I raised my voice, eyes now keeping his captive as the tears rolled freely down my cheeks.

"Oh, kid, they broke you." Tony murmured, cupping my cheek with his hand, eyes swimming with sorrow. Sorrow that I didn't want.

"You can't fix me either, because I'm not broken!" I said harsher now, voice only getting louder. "I don't need to be fixed..." I trailed off, voice barely above a whisper Joe as my eyes broke the contact, averting to my lap as the tears dropped onto the bed sheets.

That's how I found myself in my fathers arms, face pressed against his shoulder as the sobs made my body shake, hiccups escaping me as I tried to speak.

"A-all I needed W-was my D-dad, and yo- you took him f-from me!" I wailed, hands clutching my dad's shirt and his arms wrapped protectively around my shoulder, hands rubbing circles over my back soothingly.

"I know, kiddo. I'm sorry."

...

"Who is that?" Clint frowned, staring at the pictures scattered over the table in front of Natasha and Steve as they studied them deeply,  brows creased in thought.

"Our newest pain in the ass." Tony answered for them, slapping a thick folder down in front of Clint as he said so. The marksman was quick to pick it up, flicking through the documents, news stories and information sheets greedily.

"The...winter soldier?" He asked, looking at the three superheroes in front of him as if they'd gone mad. "But he's a ghost story!"

"I've seen him. Been shot by him, actually." Nat said, an sadistically proud smirk forming on her lips with her last words, almost as if it were an achievement.

"We're trying to find out more about him, maybe that way we can beat him." Steve explained, sitting back in his chair with crossed arms as he huffed in defeat, sick to death with staring at the same five pictures all morning.

Y/n walked in, a skip in her step as she crossed the room to Tony.

"Morning, dad." She greeted, placing a quick kiss to his cheek and heading over to the cupboard to grab a mug. Clint and Natasha frowned in confusion, looking between the two as if they'd witnessed pigs fly.

Tony shrugged, y/n too preoccupied with making herself a coffee to notice the avengers' reactions. When her coffee was done, y/n swiped her mug from under the machine and sipped happily, letting out a content sigh before wandering over to stand behind Natasha.

"What are you working on?" She asked, peering over the spy's shoulder to get a glimpse of the pictures.

A loud smash crashed through the room, Tony's eyes widening in shock and Natasha jumping from her seat in order to not get covered in spilt coffee. Y/n stood paralysed, eyes never leaving the photo in front of her as she started at the Soldier. Steve frowned deeply, studying the girl as her eyes glossed over with with what seemed to be...sadness.

Clint was already at her side, a comforting hand on her shoulder as they all asked y/n what had happened and if she was alright. It was like a constant ringing in her ear interrupted their words before they reached her ears, and y/n suddenly felt nauseous as she starred at the bright red star on the soldier's arm, his long and messy dark hair shrouding his face and his leather clad, muscular body. Only his cerulean blue eyes could be seen, the rest of his face covered in a black mask she didn't usually see him in.

"I-I need some air." She stuttered, stumbling blindly out of the room and down the stairs, tipping over a few steps from the bottom and tumbling down the last few. She quickly pulled herself to her feet, hearing still ringing and vision offset, hazy, as she scrambled for the double glass doors. Luckily they already stood open, so she flew through them and out into the busy streets of New York.

Y/n found herself colliding will someone almost instantly, angry shouts of 'hey, watch it!' And 'look where the fuck you're going, kid!' Being called after her like a chorus as she pushed through the bustling people.

She finally stopped, dropping to her knees and simply staring straight ahead, no intended subject in her line of vision as she tried to comprehend the-the grief, at seeing the a soldier's face again.

It had only been two weeks, and yet two weeks without him, his touch, his scent - it felt like an eternity to y/n now. She hasn't registered what her feeling meant for him before, liking him beyond a source of comfort had just felt...wrong, after all he'd done, and yet y/n couldn't deny it.

She was in love with the Winter Soldier, and she didn't even know his name.

...

I wasn't aware of when someone had found me, nor of how they got me back to the tower or even how I was now stood staring blankly out of the window that stood next to my bed. I gazed longingly, almost as if I stared long enough, hard enough, he'd appear.

But of course he wouldn't, he was probably half way across the world, knowing HYDRA. A soft knock on my door and my head was turning, facing my visitor with a look of pure grief and want. Desperate, unhinged want that could eat you up from inside out and you'd still feel it.

"Hey, y/n. Can I talk to you for a moment?" Nat asked tentatively, clearing trying to to disturb my shaken up state. I nodded, offering a small smile which she returned as I now faced her. She walked up to me, talking my hands him hers and playing with the as she spoke, eyes kind and full of understanding.

"There's a mission, and we want you to go." She said calmly, almost as if the mere thought of it would send me into some kind of heart attack.

"Okay," I begun, eyes flitting down to the floor before back up again. "What is it? Aren't you scared that I'm still HYDRA and all I'd do is stab someone in the back?"

"Not exactly." Nat informed me with a smile, amusement glinting in her eyes at my assumption. "For starters, we all trust you, well maybe not steve - but everyone else does." Nat and I both laughed slightly. "And I think you wouldn't have it any other way it to go on the mission yourself." Nat finished.

"How come?" I asked, brow raised.

"There's been a lead..." she started. "On the winter soldier. We thought you might want to help check it out, possibly capture him. Your powers may be the best chance we have a detaining someone as strong as him." Nat spoke. "And if we can detain him.."

"We can save him." I finished.

"Exactly."

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

I'd send this as a message, but you wisely only accept messages from accounts you follow so I'm just going to leave this here. I hope that's okay! Feel free to respond to me publicly or privately--whatever feels right for you!

I'm glad to see you popping back in, but I also hope that it's not out of a sense of duty! When things get hard, hobbies can get hard. Or at least they do for me! I hope you're finding ways to have moments of peace in the chaos.

I may be wrong, but I think you had previously mentioned a bipolar diagnosis, and I wanted to share something. I've struggled with mental illness too for a long time. It's brutal. I'll put it this way: in 2019, I got Guillain Barre Syndrome and was paralyzed from the neck down for about a month. I've since recovered full function, but I can honestly say that relearning how to use a spoon and how to walk is SO MUCH easier than coping with depression and anxiety. Mental illness is real, and it is awful.

I've tried all sorts of therapy and have been on medication since I was seven (so a bit over twenty years), and it's hard to find something that works. I don't know if it's available to you, but there's a newer treatment called TMS (Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation), which has helped me a lot.

It uses the same sort of magnetic technology that is in MRIs to target the areas of the brain that are essentially malfunctioning and kind of forces them to so what they're supposed to do. My doctor compares it to physical therapy for your brain. It's a newer treatment, but most insurances do cover it. You have to go like five times a week and sit in a recliner with a machine pressed against the side of your head, but there are no side effects (other than maybe a headache).

I'm thinking of you, and over the past few weeks I have been rereading your fics. It may be a bit surprising, given that you write mostly Everlark and Everlark is my jam, but I think Graham and Savannah's story is probably my favorite. It just feels so real and honest to me. It's this beautiful love story about romance and partnership and parenthood, and to me it sort of fills a gap that I see in a lot of fic and in a lot of published books, too. I wish there were more stories that took on parenthood and marriage with that same level of realism and honesty. It makes the love feel so much sweeter.

I hope I'm not out of line with sharing my experience. I know that it can sometimes be really annoying yo have someone come straight out of nowhere with a random suggestion, and I hope I haven't caused any harm.

Anyways, sending you wishes for easier days ahead! ❤️❤️❤️

Hey there love. Yeah, I tightened up some of my settings two years ago when I was having issues with a follower. Let’s not dredge that up though, shall we?

Also, yes I’ve mentioned the bipolar but don’t talk about it a whole lot on here.

Mainly because my mental health in terms of an “official” diagnosis is all over the place. When I was younger, my dad was in the military. We moved a lot. Then I was in the military for awhile, and once I got out, my spouse was in the military for another ten years. We moved a lot. And even if we stayed in one place for awhile, there was no consistency in who I was seeing for healthcare. I’ve had more doctors than mailing addresses, and that’s saying something. You need a referral to the mental health clinic. You need an actual diagnosis to get therapy otherwise it’s not covered under your insurance. Oh there’s actually no therapy options available for you in this town because either a) there’s no way to get an official diagnosis we just don’t have the resources for that here b) we can get you the diagnosis if that’s what this is but those therapy options don’t exist in this area or b) there are qualified therapists but they are not covered providers with your insurance. ....

I’ve had doctors dismiss what I’ve tried telling them I am experiencing as everything from puberty, to post-partum (which okay I’ll buy that; post-partum was certainly a factor given that it was worse during the six months after my oldest was born and the circumstances with my spouse’s job certainly contributed to that particular low period, but it wasn’t the only instance), to the stress of constant moving. I’ve had doctors label me as having anxiety, depression, both of those at the same time, and bipolar, or decided it was all just a symptom of thyroid issues... that they could never really pinpoint either. The bipolar is just the most recent one and it came from the only doctor who I felt heard me when I spoke to her.

Unfortunately, she was a military doctor and moved herself before all of my referrals went through. They got caught up in red tape bullshit and then we were moving again...go figure. And after a few bad experiences with meds actually making it worse -- as in to the point my spouse was about to take me to the ER because he couldn’t think of anything else to do with me lying face down on the bed with the worst intrusive suicidal thoughts I’ve ever experienced and physically incapable of moving worse -- you can imagine why I’m not jumping to go back on them. Maybe some day when I mange to secure some kind of consistent care with a doctor who I don’t feel like braining by the end of the visit. ;) For now, I use whatever techniques the doctors along the way have given me that do seem to work. Sometimes it’s like throwing darts while blindfolded. Not the best method, I am aware, and I am certainly not advocating it if someone has the means to get better, professional help that they are comfortable with.

I do appreciate the information about this new treatment, though. I don’t know if I can swing that kind of in office time, but it’s in my brain now as an option when the doctors go “Antidepressants--” No. Can we try everything else first before you put me on drugs again?

As for Graham and Savannah... they’ve got a special place in my heart, and I think the reason they ring so true is because their life is very much rooted in personal experience. Mine and those of a lot of women I’ve talked to over the year. Military spouse, remember? Which means I’ve known more than my fair share of people who are trying to make a marriage work with months of long distance and one part of the couple having to be a single parent for months at a time. When I started writing their story, I didn’t have some grand overarching plot line or main conflict for them, not like I do for Everark (Katniss & Peeta). It was more just this series of things that happen and that’s just life. I’m not sure it would work as it’s own story without being an expansion of this other story over here. It’s more like writing a TV series than a movie, I guess. But while that maybe gives it a different feel, it’s not something most people would consider technically brilliant writing, lol.

Anyways, fun example of direct experience that I used as inspiration, and I don’t mind sharing, is the scene when Savannah is trying to get the groceries and baby through the door and Graham is calling her long distance and oop! Morning sickness hits. So she’s dry heaving and the baby is playing with her keys, making the car honk, drooling all over her phone...spouse is confused and shouting over the phone what is going on there? Yep. That happened to me. Only I already knew I was pregnant with child #2, that wasn’t how I figured it out. And it was the middle of summer. In Texas. So I was also racing against things like ice cream melting in the back of my car....and my spouse had literally five minutes to talk before flying into a combat zone and the connection was already crappy so he couldn’t understand me shouting back with the baby squealing and banging the phone on the floor and the car honking and me dry heaving between words... fun times. Fun times.

[shelby-love]

JAY HALSTEAD

Mourning

Requested: yes

Prompts:  “I let you down. How am I supposed to forgive myself for that?” ; "We have to tell him. He deserves to know." ; "He won't be able to handle it. He'll self-destruct." ; "You are always the 1st priority to me.”

Warnings: heavy angst (mentions of blood, stab injury, detailed hospital arrival, miscarriage, death), sad

Authors note: This made me shed a tear. The ending is sad but hopefully positive. Good luck!

~

You happily skip to work. Turns out your morning sickness is the first sign of your early pregnancy. You hold your still not visible belly and greet everyone in the district with a cheery voice.

Sargent Platt looks at you weirdly but decides not to press it as you lean against her reception desk. "Hello."

"What happened to you? You're glowing," She scans you top to bottom over the desk. You don't give her anything to make her suspect. With a bright smile and a wink you start waking up the stairs. You make the best of your current emotions because you know the moment you throw up again you'll have your day ruined.

You experienced the sickness quite early, but you went to the doctor after a full two weeks. You just didn't think anything of it. A yesterday it got so bad that you ditched Jay and drive yourself to the doctor's office. You're 7 weeks along.

You didn't mind. You knew Jay would be happy about this baby. A few months ago you brought up the subject and you two said that when you get pregnant, at whatever time or point in life, both of you will be happy whether or not the baby was planned.

"Good morning sunshine," Your boyfriend's voice startles you. He stands by the coffee machine with a cup of hot steamy coffee in his hands. He raises the cup, "You want some babe?"

"Nah I'm good," You approach him with the same glow and give him a kiss.

"Someone's happy," He notes and sits next to you at the table. You decided that, since today is Friday and you both don't have work tommorow you'd suprise him with the big news on a sunny Saturday.

Different ideas of how you'd tell him start blowing up in your head. One better than the other. He is going to be so happy.

You shrug innocently.

"Halstead, Y/LN. Noise complaint at abandoned building, thought you two might want to check out." Your Sargeant, Hank Voight announces. Since today started off calmly you just shrug and stand up. Those calls aren't that bad. "I'll have patrols near you two just in case."

"Don't worry we got this," Jay says and grabs you your jacket. You stand in front of him as he helps you put it on. An image flashes in your mind briefly. You with a big belly standing in front of Jay as he helps you put your jacket on. You smile.

"Alright. Let's go," You say and follow your boyfriend outside.

***

You hold the flashlight above your gun. You can see Jay's light behind you and that incourages you to step in further. Both of you swore that you heard a woman scream. It was loud and clear. But even if your hearing was messing with you (it didn't because you both heard the same thing), in places like this one, unexpectedly, you can find a lot of dope. Different types of drugs all gathered up at one place. It was worth looking into for sure.

You and Jay decide to separate from each other just for a little bit. When your whole unit is together in situations like this one, Jay and you never separate. But you needed to cover as much ground as you could.

You turn several different corners and find no thing and no one. You move your hand to grab your radio. At that small moment, with calculated movements a masked person jumped at you with what looked like a knife. The look in his eyes gave you creeps and you didn't have time to react before he stabbed you.

Not once. Not twice.

Three, four, five, six times.

After that you could barely stay conscious. Blood was pouring out of you like Niagara falls. And so were your tears. They traveled down your face in messy streaks. My baby.

Then you hear a gun shot. The masked man fell right down next to you. You didn't know where to look. You clutched your stomach. He hurt my baby.

"Y/N babe look at me. Hey stay with me!" Jay's rough hand cupped the side of your face and clutched your bleeding stomach. Instead of holding his hand over yours because he wanted to feel the baby, he held it close because he didn't want you to bleed to death.

"We have an officer down, critical condition, stabbed by the offender! The offender is down dead shot fired by the police. I need an ambulance here immediately!!" Jay was barking orders into his radio like a crazy maniac. He didn't want to loose you.

"Baby please stay awake. Talk to me Y/N please!" Your head is lies in his lap. His shirt is now gone completely, it's nested at your bleeding belly already soaked completely. You're barely holding on, you keep gaging and vomiting blood. And just this morning you couldn't be happier for vomiting.

"I-I'm sorry Jay."

***

"Doctor Rhodes! Stab victim, you're going to Baghdad!" Maggie instructed and Connor immediately fled towards the incoming patient.

"Y/N Y/LN, 22-year-old female. Heart rate 100, BP 50/30. Found diaphoretic, in respiratory distress, and covered in blood. 6 stab wounds to her abdomen. We performed intubation on the scene." Silvie Brett recited your dangerous condition as you were rolled into the Gaffney emergency department. Connor Rhodes was schocked to see you. "Page Will. Now."

Your vitals were jumping at dangerous heights. "Alright let's transfer on my count. One, two, three!"

"Jesus Christ... Y/N?" Will couldn't believe his eyes. Jay was just outside shaking because of your condition. Will read your stats on the monitor and came to assist Connor. Will pressed his stethoscope over your chest and listened carefully, "There's diminished breath sounds on the left side."

"Blood is gathering around her left lung. Alright, April give me the kit we need to do a tube thoracostomy." April did as Connor said and preped his request. He cut a small line with the scalpel and inserted the tube. Blood spilled everywhere.

"Give me the ultrasound." Will instructed and April handed him the transducer on which she put one some gel. Will glided the transducer across your belly to look for any more internal bleeding. "Her major organs seem to be fine..." then he moved it downwards and was shocked to see a small baby inside. "She was pregnant."

He looked outside towards Jay and immediately knew you didn't tell him. Hell, he didn't even know if you knew. The baby was still so small, but it did have a heartbeat before the stab wounds. Will cursed.

Your vitals dropped rapidly at that moment. "She's in V Fib!" Connor yelled.

"On it." Will immediately hopped onto the bed and started doing compressions. He kept repeating, c'mon Y/N c'mon. Jay who stood outside lost it completely when he saw what was happening. Security and Dr. Ethan Choi had to hold him down.

"Charge to 200," Connor said as he grabbed the the padels. "Everyone clear."

Will pulled away and Connor shocked you. Nothing. "Do it again."

After three more tried Connor wanted to announce asistoly. "No, no, no Y/N c'mon. Connor one more time."

"Will she's gone."

"No Connor one more damn time please!" Will was on the verge of crying. Connor nodded and charged them again. "Clear."

You were brought back to life. "Okay let's get her to the OR immediately! She needs a diagnostic laparotomy and a D&C."

You were rushed out. Will stood in the middle of the trauma room surrounded by blood. "How is she?" Jay had tears around his eyes, he was tense and uncontrollably shaking.

"I don't know Jay... I don't."

For a second it looked like Jay was going to punch him square in the face but instead Jay leaned against his brother's shoulder and cried like never before. "I was supposed to ask her to marry me tommorow."

Will's heart broke at his words.

But what broke him even more was the fact that his younger brother lost a baby he didn't even know he'd have.

***

"She just went through a major surgery, I'd like to monitor her before we go any further." Connor told Jay. The whole Intelligence unit was there. Everyone was deeply concerned about you.

"What are we going to do Will?" Connor and he stood by your bed and watched your sleeping form.

"She knew about it I'm sure of it," Will said. "Let's talk to her when she wakes up. Page me when she does."

Will went to attend his other patients and after a few hours you woke up. "Hey Y/N how you doing?"

You tried to get used to the bright lights but with no avail. Everything seems foreign to you. Dark spots blurry your vision but you blink them away. My baby.

Tears spill down your cheeks uncontrollably. "M-my...baby."

Connor and Will share a look. "Y/N does Jay know?" Will asks you before he sits down next to you.

You shake your head. "I...I was only 7 weeks along." There's pressure in your throat which makes you cough, "I wanted to tell him tommorow." Your heart broke at your words. You blamed yourself for your recklessness.

Will sighed, "We have to tell him. He deserves to know."

You shake your head rapidly at that proposal, "He won't be able to handle it. He'll self-destruct." You know Jay. Maybe even better than Will. He would be heartbroken.

"Y/N as your doctors we have to tell him," Will fought back.

"As my doctors you have to keep my charts a secret." You tried to blink the tears away but they wouldn't go away. You were fighting a battle within yourself. You wanted to tell Jay but he's been through enough. "I lost my baby today. I found out that I was pregnant today."

"Y/N but Jay was the father of your baby. He has every right to know that he lost his child whether he knew about it or not." You understood where Will was coming from. The truth in his words hit you like a truck. He was right.

"Then...let me tell him Will," You squeeze his hand. "Let me."

"I'll go get Jay," Will announces and rushes out of your ICU room to get his brother. To get the love of your life.

"You're doing the right thing, Y/N. I'm so sorry for your loss." Connor says softly. You just nod weakly and turn your head away from him. Connor leaves not long after and you sob. Just this morning you were skipping to work, delighted about the news of your unborn baby. You did a stupid thing by going to work today. You put your weak hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs.

Drained you once again slip into unconsciousness.

"Hey Y/N take it easy..." Jay. He's helping you sit up on the bed a little. His eyes are red rimmed from crying and he looks like he didn't sleep for weeks. He's still in his grey shirt, it's covered in your blood. He didn't change because he never left your side. "God I was so worried."

You hold his hands in your lap and bring them to your lips. You press a small delicate kiss on both of his knuckles. "I'm so sorry baby."

You shake your head, "This isn't your fault Jay."

"Yes it is. I was supposed to protect you. I let you down. How am I supposed to forgive myself for that?" Tears gather around his eyes once more.

"Jay..." You try to pick your next words carefully. "Can you give me my bag?"

He turns his head and stands up. Your bag sits on one of the chairs in the corner. He grabs it and sits back next to you. "Open it. It's in one of the pockets."

The best way to tell him about it is to show him. You stop breathing as you watch him pull out the ultrasound from this morning. The shock on his face is enough for you to break down is cries. "I'm so sorry."

He holds your hand in his as he looks at it. At first, a smile broke out on his face but then it was replaced by devastation. He realized you lost your baby because of today. That fact that your baby died from stab wounds broke his heart. You almost died from those stab wounds.

His silence killed you. You wanted him to yell at you. Anything. Just not silence.

Jay Halstead is a strong man. But when it comes to you all of his guards come down and he shows you his heart. He was hurting now. He lost his child but he was in no way angry at you.

The two of you cried together. You mourned the loss of your unborn child.

You blamed yourself and he kept reassuring you. He didn't have the heart to tell you that turns out, there's a lot more to the abandoned building noise complaint and to the man who he shot dead. And he was going to find them all.

"You are always the 1st priority to me." He cupped your face and kissed the free spirited tears away. "We're going to get through this. I love you Y/N Y/LN."

He loved you more than the world. You smiled weekly and kissed him. You poured all your emotion into the kiss. You were scared and sad but you will get through this. With Jay by your side and one day, you will have a family.

[sortavibing]

Hii could I request a matchup please?

My name is Eva, i'm 17 and any pronouns work for me.

I'm asexual but for a romantic relationship i usually prefer boys.

I'm 5'2 and i have grayish blue hair at the moment. I don't stick to any specific clothing style, I usually just wear what I like tho. I have pretty big eyes ( I used to be called an alien bc of them when i was little) and I am half russian.

I am a libra sun, leo moon, sag rising and an ESTP 8w7. I was told that i am pretty intimidating when you first meet me, but after you get thru this facade i am usually a really hyper person. I joke around all the time and sometimes i can be pretty mean but nothing too bad. I love anything that gives me an adrenaline rush (i'd risk anything most of the time just to have fun). I really like having late night talks and laughing with my friends. I dislike when i'm told what to do and when people pry into my life. I usually like to keep things light hearted in my relationships. My favourite color is blue (many of my friends have told me that they associate me with it bc my ig account is blue themed and i've had blue hair for almost 2 years now). I am really interested in the spiritual side of life.

My top kin is Ryo from devilman crybaby, and from haikyuu i kin Tendo and Oikawa

In a relationship I look for a partner that will keep things exciting between us and is able to make me laugh a lot.

(thank you in advance for this♡)

hi eva! thank you for requesting! ack i tried to dye my hair grayish blue, but i didn’t tone my hair or bleach it enough, so now it’s a really dark greenish color and i am suffering😐 anyways here’s your matchup!

generating matchup...

matchup: complete

i match you up with tendou!

what first drew him to you was how you shared a lot of the same traits as you did, so he was really excited that he found someone who is able to be as chaotic and spontaneous as he is. he immediately wanted to get to know you better. he wasn’t really phased that you first came off as intimidating, and you guys quickly became really close with each other.

tendou will ask you to dye his hair, and tell you to surprise him with any style or color that you think would look good. so far, he has had nearly every color of the rainbow, different clumps of hair dyed different colors, and that greyish blue you have so he could match with you. his favorite color so far was hot pink, and he has done it at least 3 times.

he loves to listen to you rant about whatever comes to mind, and he will be sure to chime in and agree or disagree with whatever you are saying. you guys have gotten into playful arguments about the stupidest things like if a frog worked at mcdonalds would they get paid the same amount as a human. you guys do get deep sometimes, but most of your conversations are on crack and it’s god tier comedy.

tendou will call you at like 3am and just bother you until you sneak out of your house, and for the rest of the morning you guys will just go insane, like mixing different energy drinks, climbing statues, and vandalizing cars (with washable chalk spray paint :)). tendou’s snapchat story is full of blurry pics and videos of you guys doing this shit, and at this point, people are so used to it that they don’t even question what you and tendou are doing.

he thinks your eyes are really pretty, and he will never stop telling you just how beautiful they are. he has experienced people calling him mean names in his childhood as well, so he just wants you to know that everyone who was mean to you was full of shit and they were all lying through their teeth.

tendou loves when you surprise him by going to his games. he definitely plays better when you are watching him, and whenever he successuflly shuts down a block, he will scream “DID YOU SEE THAT EVA!” and point at you. after the game, he will show you his teammates, and he will keep on talking about how lucky he is to have you, and you are his good luck charm.

one of your first dates with him was at a boardwalk amusement park, where you guys just went crazy and went on all of the highest, scariest rides with like no breaks in between, and it was just one adrenaline rush after another. after you guys finished every ride you wanted to go on, you and tendou got some ice cream and walked down the shore to calm both of your nerves down, and tendou chases the seagulls while you laughed and took videos.

every few weeks, you guys have late night karaoke sessions in the comfort of your room, and you and tendou just sing (pretty badly) all those loud, fork in a blender type beat kinds of songs (money machine, NEVER MET!, molly, etc.) while jumping on the bed and just enjoying each others company.

he loves to give you his hoodie, or let you wear one of his jerseys because it shows everyone that you are with him, and you aren’t afraid to tell people that you are his s/o. since most people didn’t want anything to do with him when he was younger, you not being ashamed to say that you are his s/o makes him feel much more accepted and happy with himself.

overall, you guys are such a chaotic couple, and whenever you guys are together, it’s just a constant loop of “what crazy shit will we do next”, and it’s honestly the best thing ever. you guys care about each other very much, and tendou just wants you to know how beautiful and funny you are, so he will tell you at every chance he gets.

i hope you enjoyed! i’m trying out this sort of new layout, and i think it’s nice so imma do this from now on :)

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of Marvel: Week of April 10th, 2019

Best of this Week: Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #5 - Tom Taylor, Yildiray Cinar, Nolan Woodard and Travis Lanham

Spider-Man has always been a hero ruled by his emotions. From becoming a hero after failing to save his Uncle Ben, to giving up his costume out of frustration, to feeling so much sorrow that he gives up his marriage to save someone else's life.

Right now is another one of those pivotal moments as Peter and Aunt May sit across from each other, her having broke the news that she’ll need to go through chemotherapy. Cinar absolutely nails the scene, showing the utter sadness in Peter’s face and the ever present look of hopefulness of Aunt May, knowing that she can beat the cancer.

Peter of course, tells her that he can’t make it to her first chemotherapy appointment and proceeds to run away from his problems, though he says otherwise. In his grief, he runs to clear his head and hears police sirens, alerting him to a chase in progress. He stops the chase and in anger, breaks the assailants wrist before recognizing him as a homeless kid that hangs nearby. The kid tells him that the only reason he stole the car was to get away from his mother’s abusive boyfriend.

So Peter, relating to kid’s need to get away, starts the car and proceeds to help him evade the cops. Tom Taylor really sells the idea that Spider-Man helps out those in his neighborhood. He didn’t have to help this kid and there are always bigger threats to handle, but he cares about his city. Spider-Man can swing across the city and even lift cars, but in a cool - COOL move, uses his webs to fling the car into the sky, making the cops think it disappeared. He doesn’t want to see this kid get hurt and knowing that he broke his wrist only makes him feel worse and he seeks the help of Doctor Strange.

Strange makes the homeless kid a cast and has a little talk with Spider-Man, noting his unusual recklessness. Peter unloads what he has on his mind and thinks about asking Strange to help her, but the good Doctor jokes about making deals with demons and says that sometimes things just have to run their natural course. The conversation does feel a little bit limp, especially after the emotional roller coasters that we’ve had to go through in Hunted, but also appropriate for the feel of the book especially as Peter shows up to support Aunt May with coffee and trash magazines.

These final pages hit me with how much Peter loves and supports his Aunt for all of the love and support she's given him. He knows it would have broken her heart just a little if he had missed it and her smile upon seeing him almost made me cry.

There’s something even further I want to dive into in regards to Aunt May and either direction this story can go. Do we need more of her? She’s been around for almost 60 years acting as Peter’s moral guide, support system and one of Marvel’s most powerful characters since her creation. She’s had many amazing storylines about her, around her and there are definitely many more that can be told. At the same time, because of One More Day, I’ve questioned why she’s lived this long.

One More Day is one of the more ludicrous, craptastic ways to prolong Peter’s “youthfulness” by having him give up his marriage to Mary Jane in a deal with Mephisto to save a dying Aunt May. Being married made the Peter seem more adult, more able to take care of himself, gave him a confidence that could have been better expanded on, but noooooooo. He had to get in his feelings and make a literal deal with the Devil to save a character that had already served her purpose in raising that boy.

I also think back to the emotional, powerful last moments of Spider-Man PS4, when Aunt May sacrificed herself so that New York could have the cure to Mr. Negative’s plague. Not only did it give Peter another bar to reach, it gave closure to an absolutely wonderful character. It allows for new stories to be told about Peter or new people being able to take her place as Peter’s guide with new, different perspectives.

I do think it’s time to let Aunt May rest and be with Uncle Ben. Maybe let Peter have a little bit of closure with one less person to worry about as she goes peacefully. She’s lost her husband, her charity foundation and now she’s losing her health and it’s time to stop hurting Aunt May. High recommend.

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

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Runner Up: Dead Man Logan #6 - Ed Brisson, Mike Henderson, Nolan Woodard and Cory Petit

Since 2015, a year after Logan 616’s death, we've had a multitude of Wolverines. X-23 took up the mantle for a few years, Jimmy Hudson made his way from the Ultimate Universe in X-Men Blue, heck, even Sabretooth filled in the role of Wolverine as the badass good guy who occasionally killed people for a while, but none have been as great as the Old Man Logan from Battleworld.

During Secret Wars, Old Man Logan was reintroduced as part of the Wasteland on Battleworld and fought his way out, eventually landing in the repaired 616 Universe. His initial arc focused on him trying to stop his future from happening, but between an Amadeus Cho Hulk and his own apparent death, he realized that things were different and he adjusted accordingly.

After many adventures involving saving his resurrected wife, Mariko, to joining a new Weapon X team alongside Sabretooth to defeating a POWERFUL Maestro twice, Old Man Logan has more than justified his existence in the world. However, with his failing healing factor and his longing to return to his world, Logan's been searching for a way back home and thanks to Maestro and some fixing from Forge, there's a time machine waiting for him.

This issue was just a bunch of goodbyes. He apologizes and says goodbye to one of the best men he knows in Steve Rogers, saying that he was blinded by his past with Mysterio when he attacked the Avengers a few issues ago, thinking they were villains. Steve forgives him and wishes him well. He says a final goodbye to Mariko, asking her to take care of the young kid that would be his wife some fifty years later.

The best one… THE BEST GOODBYE, is the one he makes to himself. I'd wondered when or if it would actually happen, but Old Man Logan finally meets his younger, also resurrected self and they have a beer. In a heartfelt scene, Old Man Logan wonders if he should tell his younger self anything about the future. Logan surmises that it does, in fact, go terribly and Old Man Logan just tells him, “Never stop fighting. Because the moment you put those claws away for good, that's when you lose everything that matters.” a bar fight breaks out and the two decide to have a little fun, resulting in a BEAUTIFUL shot by Mike Henderson of both Wolverines with their claws popped.

The final goodbye is to the X-Men, of course. Jubilee, Glob and Forge and I think a few others and at this point I almost want to stop reading.

It's been a roller coaster of a ride with this character and there have been a thousand teases of him returning, but now it's real. Back to the hell of the Wasteland after what I can assume in Marvel Time has only been weeks or months for him. A world where Thor's hammer serves as a grim reminder that there's no hope as people futilely try to lift it, a world where people like Doctor Doom still live and force people to fight monsters in gladiator arenas, a world where, according to Old Man Quill, has a religion of nihilists ready to annihilate planets on a whim.

Welcome back to The Wasteland, Logan. Welcome back to hell.

[back-and-totheleft]

"No way of doing it without tackling Black-white relations"

"You don't make a movie out of some intellectual idea, you've got to have it in your gut. I've always been an avid football fan, and the players have long been my heroes. But I see them as realistic heroes in the same way as the men that I have made other movies about, like Ron Kovic, Jim Garrison, and Richard Nixon -- all were people who went into the public arena, accomplished something but paid a heavy price. Players are tough, they can take it, but they're also destroying their bodies and then they're thrown away like old cars or washing machines. They take amphetamines or steroids or use dope, they have divorce problems, they hit their wives. With the Players' Union, they're more aware of being exploited, but very few people get out alive. The NFL covers all of that up.

Football is mesmerizing because it's a figurative war -- you go in one direction till you get there, but you get there as a team, not as an individual. Players bond together, whether they're black or white, much as soldiers do, and in fact individuals don't excite me the way a team does. But the game changed radically in the '80s and '90s, and I wanted this football story to show that as well. When Jim Brown was playing, it was 60 minutes on the clock. Television ruined that -- now it's a three-hour game, determined by commercials, and it's all about product-placement. Combine the commercialism with salary cap restrictions and all the rest, there's little team loyalty any more, and this movie had to reflect that, too.

I also knew that the story had to center on the conflict between generations, the tension between younger players and older players, between younger players and a veteran coach, the role played by Al [Pacino] -- a man who's scared of change. Part of me identified with that character. There's something in our biological clocks when we get older -- we never forget, it's like the reptile brain -- and this concept of dying comes on us. Call it a middle-age crisis, but when you're in your 50's you have a real atonement to pay, and there is a re-examination of whether expansion is the proper activity for your character -- as opposed to focus and/or retreat, disappearance or suicide.

All of this was at work for me, but most of all I realized there was no way of doing football without digging deeper into black-white relations. That's the reality of football today since NFL teams are now 70% black, but this was also personally motivated. I was returning to what happened to me in Vietnam. I can't talk too much about drugs in Vietnam because of my parole [Stone was arrested on two misdemeanor counts of D.U.I. and hashish possession in Los Angeles last June] -- I'm going to obey the law, I may not agree with it but I intend to obey it -- but if it hadn't been for marijuana and my black brothers in Vietnam, I don't think I'd be the same person, I don't think I'd be alive.

It was during my fourth assignment that I met these guys, which was really my first experience with black people. I had already been wounded twice. The first time was just three weeks after I arrived, and then, again, two months later, during a night attack when you couldn't see the enemy but knew they were there, 10-15 meters away in the darkness. Men were being blown into the air, literally vaporized; one guy, all that was later found of him was a blood trail. Me, I tripped a satchel charge and was hit by shrapnel in my legs and ass. It's like what I said when I made Platoon, war on film cannot approximate the horror.

Then I met these six or seven black guys after my R & R, when I was sent to their infantry unit. They were very, very cool, and after a while they asked me, along with maybe one or two other white guys, into their bunker to party with them. It meant turning my back on the white guys, but they were with me all the way. And then they just blew me away with their music. It wasn't just Jim Morrison, that was a white trip, it was Soul. The Temptations, Smokey Robinson's "The Tracks of My Tears," Gladys Knight, Sam Cook, Jackie Wilson. I'd never listened to that stuff before, and it brought me humanity, it allowed me to relax.

What I realized was that these guys who were doing dope, who danced together, who allowed the feminine to come out, were the more humane, like they left the villagers, the women and children, alone. The guys who were into booze were usually the angry ones. The music, the dancing, the feminization, was liberating. If you danced with another man, it wasn't anything like sexual attraction as much as it was "synch-ing" -- in the music sense, you were in-synch with someone. That's why I did the bunker scene in Platoon, the bit with Elias and the shotgun reefer. Vietnamese grass is one of the most powerful, transforming herbs in the world. When I got high on that stuff listening to Smokey, that's when I began to understand that life is sacred, that life has great vibrancy, which, in my case, was a perception I couldn't get out of. Also, those guys wore bandannas and lots of beads, bands, bracelets, big rings and stuff, which I started wearing, too. In fact, I came home talking black. Every other word out of my mouth was, "Man!," "Hey, shit!", and my father, who was a Wall Street broker, a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army and a Republican, was so upset that I gave him acid during a weekend visit to one of his rich friends in Southhampton.

The point is that in Vietnam I went to the other side of the coin. I'd always been the conformist, holding in a lot. I'd grown up lonely with divorced parents, then dropped out of Yale and gone into the Army to face myself. During my last six or seven months, I was with the black guys, and that changed my life. It allowed me to have faith in myself, to start writing a novel, to start using a camera, to become Oliver Stone.

All this had to have come from their generosity, being generous in the sense of being non-judgmental -- 'Just be who you are, no strings attached.' I needed the directness of that. It was a revelation for me that you could talk about your pain without being embarrassed! And these guys were like family. They were good tough soldiers, strong men, and yet, emotionally, they were there for me. I was their 'brother' -- that was the word back then, remember?"

-Oliver Stone interviewed by Peter Manso in Konch magazine [x]

[scuttle-buttle]

Mi querida Bee:

Yesterday I spent more hours than I wanted at the airport trying to solve the problem with my ticket, but at least that crisis was resolved so I'm writing to you before having to board to return home.

One of my aunts came to dinner all of the sudden last night while i was cooking and I don't know about you but I don't want an Italian woman who has prepared more family meals than years accumulated between you and me to judge my food so I might have panicked over that 😅 though everything It went well and the ultimate validation was that she asked me for my garlic bread recipe and now I know I can die in peace lol

At night it was my older sister's turn to choose the movie, who of course chose p&p only to get revenge on me because I didn't want to see it together that time I got sick 🙄

This morning I got up early and went to the boardwalk with my younger sister, we made ourselves cinnamon tea and we walked the two blocks there with our mugs in hand 😂 my other sister joined us later and then my mom who was coming back from her boyfriend's house saw us from the car and stayed there with us, old memories came back, my sister brought back the one of "Do you remember that here is where you drowned? And I was like: why do you think I never learned to swim? 🤦🏻‍♂️

We did not do much more than take a last walk around the city, we were dragged towards the church of the saint for which they gave me my name (the whole thing was weird but we were like okay mom wewilldothisforyou 😶) and during the afternoon we spent time together we tried not to succumb to the obvious sadness that caused us all to say goodbye again but some things are impossible to avoid (in short, yes everyone cried again lol) but oh well...

I am slightly (and by slightly I mean a lot) consumed by nostalgia, looking forward to the next few days to resolve my mixed feelings. I guess the bright side of going home is seeing my dog ​​again 😢🐕

write me if you can, something to read when i come home

Escríbeme, con tinta de violetas en un papel de amor, color ausencia. Escríbeme poniendo en cada trazo, la fiebre de tu pulso. Que se me vuelve abrazo y es un abrazo tuyo.

but also no pressure 😅

🔥-N

Cara mia Bee 💞 see you soon, hopefully this time only two hours apart

I dont have any relatives that cook well enough for me to be in that situation. If anything I'm one of the better cooks, I'm just lazy and don't like people. But I'm glad your aunt enjoyed the garlic bread. I'm a slut for it myself and had some the other day.

I don't come from a sentimental family. When I was home my dad was getting nostalgic and upset about things towards me and his past and success as a parent and I just got really uncomfortable about it all... but I have issues and my father and I don't have the best relationship so it is what it is. Anyway.

The year I developed my coffee addiction in university was during a semester that I had 2 morning classes with the same professor but with only 45 minutes between the two sessions. Not long enough to do anything substantial so I'd find myself spending money on coffee. I started using my own coffee machine to save money and would literally carry a mug of coffee across campus to class with me. It was a purple cup with a cat and it said "frankly my dear I don't give a damn". I thought I was some cool kid. I was not. But, as the mug said, I couldn't give a damn 🤷🏼‍♀️

I've also been sick the last two days because of the medication they put me on this week. Had to leave work early on Wednesday and took off today. It's annoying but I'm maybe starting to feel a bit better. I'm a mess. It's fine. Sadly I don't think my letter is written on paper of violet; it's more an unforgiving and dull grey.

My attempt to fight your poetry with more poetry ^

[childofsolace-write-ups]

Arc 01: REUNION

::THOMAS::

"What do you think sunlight feels like?"

I look up and see Nina coming through the right hand tunnel entrance, not even saying hello first. That usually means she was deep in thought on her way here again.

"I really don't remember." I tell her, setting down the book I'd been pretending to read.

It was something about the new things they expected to be able to do with machines. I didn't really have a reason to be fond of those stupid things. It's not exactly a picnic, depending on the machines for everyday living. It'd be awfully hard to breathe underground without them, for one thing. And—insert sarcastic tone here—how on earth would ordinary people survive without fucking reading lights. Seriously, with the number of issues that needs addressing, they give us extra lighting in bunkers, of all things?

Personally, I'd rather take my chances with whatever's up there on ground level. If Trey, Kytes, and the others survived...

That's kinda the thing, though. After all these years, I have no way of knowing if they DID survive or WHAT they survived as. The atmosphere was said to do awfully strange things to ordinary people. I miss my little brother, though. And I hope Trey was doing okay, too. He was my best friend growing up after all.

"Do you?"

Nina clicks on the kitchen lamp. It's pretty cramped up in our compartment bunker, so she'd probably do fine with the little reading light I'm using but she looks at it for a moment and sighed. "It's been too long," she says. "I wonder if they even still have sunlight up there. You know, considering all that's happened."

"Oh, they probably do."

I click off the reading light. No need to be careless with the energy we had. No matter how much they wanted us to believe the machines supplied boundless electricity. I couldn't, not with the reason they sent away Kytes and Trey with a whole bunch of other orphans being the worry for lack of resources. Not with Nina working there everyday. We depended on qualified individuals now for our energy supply. As in, people. Humans, to produce energy, if that makes sense as if they were hamsters running repeatedly in wheels for a Science project. It makes me feel queasy just thinking about it. I don't know how Nina can let them. She's a lot braver than I could be, that's for sure. Maybe a lot more reckless, too. Well, Trey was her brother.

He rubbed off on her...

Then again, I haven't even seen the guy the last eight years, so how would I know that? Nina was all I really had left in memory of him and my own brother. You died younger down here than you would when people lived above when it was still up there. Both Nina's parents are gone, mine died in a fire accident years before the radiation up there first hit. My Uncle, who made it possible for me and my brother to still live here whenever they had to send out orphans, died a year after I turned thirteen. Then, in one Release before I turned thirteen, my brother opted to take Nina's place instead because she's been sick that time and she wouldn't have lasted an hour up there even with Trey's help, who had just been ten then. But I never held it against Trey or resent Nina. We knew each other even before all this, Trey was my best friend just as long as Nina was Kytes's. And I would've done the same if it had been Trey.

Although, I laugh at the idea of Kytes staying down here with him. It might be him who had to watch over the damn lummox.

Now with Nina's parents gone and my Uncle passing away, I was old enough to stand as her guardian until she turned thirteen herself next week. Not that it mattered cause she won't be moving out and I'm not kicking her out either. But on the event I died after her birthday, she wouldn't have to be sent away. So now we shared a cramped compartment on a fairly low level, which was good. The lower you are, the farther you are from the dangers of Ground level.

Level 01 had some data gathering stations for researches and old residence cells. They were Orphanages every now and then, until those who weren't adopted were sent out anyway, the cells were used for residence bunkers to the Poor class.

Level 02 to 30 had the residence cells according to social status of the Middle-class. Point blunt.

Level 31 to 35 had the commerce centers, radio stations and whatever establishments that had existed back and is possible to continue down here. There are movie halls, too, but obviously no one makes movies anymore. We watched the films that was brought down here with us during the evacuation. Before I thought it was pretty cool, now I think of how stupid it is. Of all the other important things they could have brought down, they settled for movies. Anyway, those levels are what you can consider the central city, if you can call it that since there are hardly any Skyscrapers anymore. Not that they would've fit down here, anyway.

Level 35 to 49 have residence cells for Elites and Government officials, the Councillors and the Techs with their family, if any. Since Nina is a Machine tech, we are privileged to be in Level 35.

The better people, the Councillors, get Level 37 to 49 according to importance of Office.

I don't really know what Level 50 holds, which is the lowest of the low. But some rumors I heard assumes it's a laboratory of sorts. Still, while we have it good as much as we could down here, I wonder about life in the surface.

"What makes you think so?" Nina snaps me back to reality. That perceptive brown-eyed gaze on me, a startling sense of knowing. "For all we know, it's getting worse up there. There's no way of knowing."

I snort. "No one bothers to check. Even if they did, there's no report. For all we know," I mimick her tone. "everything's back to normal, like in the Disney movie with the Garbage Robot going to outer space. We'd never know it, down here. They think we've got everything but it's all stupid..."

"Thomas," she studies me for a moment. "Are you still planning to go up there?"

"Soon."

I say the same thing everyday, but when have I ever acted on my words? I'm caught in a cycle just like every other moron in this stupid Underground settlement. And I know I'm still afraid to see how much things changed up there even as I'm dying to know at the same time.

"I want to see my brother," I continue. "How he and Trey are doing... If they're still alive, that is."

"Do you think they're still alive?" Nina asks, as if we don't talk about this everyday. Like she expects a different answer or something. It's been years and she still asks. "Well, do you?"

I can't give it to her though, "I don't know, maybe." The first few times she cried. Now, she simply nods.

"When are we going?"

I sigh at her persistence. It's not like it was easy, we can't just walk straight to the guards by the exit of the city and say, Hey we're leaving this dump so later losers! Without being questioned.

"Whenever it seems like a good time."

Naturally, I say this every time she asks. I think she's starting to think that it will never be a good time. I've begun to wonder about that myself. Actually, I want to go and see my brother. I want to go and see Nina's brother. It's tough finding a friend like him. Only Trey's been able to break down the walls I built ever since mom and dad died. He made me play soccer, even when I was never into sports. We'd go wild in the service tunnels, I break a lady's vase and we're both in trouble. Him at the Orphanage and me with my Uncle. But those were the good old days. I want to get back living above the ground, breathing for myself, instead of relying on machines to help me do it and rotting away in a metal cave some thirty feet or so below it. But thinking about something and actually doing it are two different matters.

Nina tilts her head then surprises me a bit by breaking our odd little mantra. Instead of agreeing and starting lunch, she asks a new question. "Thomas, do you think we could leave before the week is up?"

I stare at her in wonder. "Well, sure thing!" I mock-enthuse, "Let me call the guys at the Radio station to reschedule my shift this week. Oh. And have someone replace me as Head Chef for the Wedding Catering next month."

"Thomas," Nina pouts. "I'm being serious."

I'm still surprised but now also curious. "Why the sudden eagerness?"

"I met this girl in work today. Her name was Lindsay Caghan. Do you know her?"

I shake my head. I've never heard the name. But then, that doesn't mean a thing. I use my name when Live on air during Radio broadcasts so there could be a bunch of people who know me without me returning the favor.

"Well, she knows you. She knows you work at the station three days a week and as a chef during the Weekends." Now that's something. I usually stay at the kitchen so no one would guess I'm a Chef but my co-workers. I don't even have lots of friends anymore to be told about to others. Nina sinks slowly into the couch beside me. It was also my bed since I've offered the real bed to her. "I didn't say a word, Thomas. I don't know how she knows, but she does. And that's not the half of it. She knows our desire to leave."

Well, I wouldn't really call it a desire. "So?" I raise a brow. "What can she do? It's not like they'd actually care if we left. They'd be glad for the extra space."

"She doesn't want to stop us, Thomas." Nina explains, halting my instinctive string of defensive cynical arguments. "Far from it actually."

"Then what does she want?"

"You won't like it."

Oh jeez, I had to laugh at that. "There's a lot of things I don't like," I remind her. "I don't like these metal cages they call homes, I don't like those machines that use people as energy sources. And I definitely don't like how they sent our brothers and a whole group of other orphans yearly to the surface as a solution to minimizing shortages and leaving them to deal with whatever dangers the surface has to offer." I threw my arm behind her, mostly to stretch than anything else. "Now tell me, what else am I adding to this very long list?"

"All right," Nina smiles a little. "Lindsay brought up the subject in private. And she had a request for you. There's someone she wants us to take up to the surface when we go."

I stare at her for a second, wondering if she was joking. The expression on her face tells me she's not. "No way, nope. No." I say. I haven't even fully decided whether I, myself, wanted to go. I'm not all for including others. Before long, we'd have a whole army with us. "I do not like that one bit."

Nina rolls her eyes. "I expected as much." She sighs. "I'm not certain who she wants to send with us, but she seemed fairly urgent about it." She tells me, a strange look on her face. She looks like that whenever she's truly serious about something. That can't be good for me. Then there will be no refusing her.

"Urgent how?"

"Well," She hesitates. "she seemed nervous. As if what she's planning is something that could get her in trouble. I think we should at least hear her out."

"Nina," I rub my forehead. "you don't think that the person she wants us to take is herself, do you? If she's run into some kind of trouble with the law..." I don't finish that. I'm not a huge fan of the Councillors, but even I'm not cynical enough to get on their bad side so boldly enough to break the law. "you know I'd rather this doesn't turn into an escape propaganda."

Nina shakes her head, looking thoughtful. "No, I think it's bigger than that. I don't think she's doing this for her own safety. I think she's risking her safety and it's making her scared. But she really seems desperate to have us agree."

"I don't know Nina, it doesn't seem like a very good idea, including others." I hope I can make her see where I'm coming from. She's a teenager now, and I know I am too, but I expect the moodiness of a teenage girl to be something too much to handle. And if I give her a no... Well, just because Nina's never thrown a tantrum doesn't mean she couldn't start now. "we could end up with a lot of company and not all of them welcome."

"I don't think so, Thomas. The way she acted, I think this is a private problem. It was like she didn't want anyone else to know. But she seems pretty concerned. If it's illegal, it's illegal in a good way." she looks at me with bright eyes. "Know what I mean?"

I sigh. No, I really don't but what I do know is that there was no talking her out of this. "You mean some kind of Noble act? Like a Holy crusade or..."

"No, but it'd be something humane. Or she wouldn't bother," Nina retorts. "I think we should listen to her. It's probably important."

I groan, holding my hands up in surrender. "All right," I exhale, giving in, because who can function in the face of that kind of persistence?

Women complicated things. Uncle would always say. And he's right.

Nina had already made up her mind and it's futile to get her to give up. She's Trey's sister all right. "Fine. We'll talk to her. Why don't you try and get her to tell you exactly what she wants from us? I'm not making any promises until I know what we're getting into."

"Thank you, Thomas." Nina gives me a soft smile, the kind that gets just about anyone to do whatever she wants. I'm a victim of that countless of times. "I have a feeling that this is the right thing to do."

But not necessarily the smartest, I think to myself. "Great."

Nina shrugs and smothers a yawn. She's tired. But then again, she's always tired now. Working with machines is a strain. I pretend not to see the dark circles under her eyes, but I think it's wearing on her. That's just one more reason to take her away from this place. I know she's strong enough to handle it but I don't want her to have to.

"Make sure you ask the right questions." I remind her. "I don't want this Lindy girl tricking us to agreeing to more than we want. Be careful."

"It's Lindsay." Nina corrects before smiling. "And I have a better idea than that, Thomas." she says. "how would you like it if I arranged it so that you could meet her?"

"... No."

We argue again, even though I know Nina will eventually get her way nevertheless.