#john's reaction also to ''you really think you could change me the way ive changed you?'' ''i already have:)''

[love-songs-for-emma]

🗡️👨🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 🦌🫀

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.

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so. john has finally seen mizumono & now receives msgs like this when even mildly prompted

[12gaugefalls]

The Villain

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A/N: Now everyone listen to me when I say this, this isn't really a pairing, just certain Markiplier egos coming to a realization. It's gonna agnsty as hell and barely any comfort. This is also a song fic, the song being "The Villain" by John Michael Howell. It's a really good song, you should check it out.

Anyways let's get this party started!

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I always seemed to be

My own hero

Justified inside my mind

When you're the one in grieve

While I got zero

Pain on my side

I know it ain't right

It hadn't occurred to either of them when it all happened. Mark hadn't expected the lengths Celine would go to keep everything together or the fact Damien would follow her. In hindsight it seemed much clearer, but he can't change it now. Now Dark had lost quite a lot during that night at the manor, but this isn't what he thought would happen.

As Dark and Mark stood in front of a shattered reflection of DA and Wilford it seemed to make a lot more sense. DA's empty eyes screamed rejection to the two men in front of them. Wilford stood stagnant staring at his hands as he slowly realized what transpired that night, his face transforming from confusion to rage.

"I spent so long believing it was me who killed everyone.." Wilford's voice was dripping with venom as here looked up at the men. "But it wasn't! I spent so long believing I was The Villain! I was a victim. And so were they!" He points towards DA as tears stream down his face. "You left them to suffer alone in that God forsaken mirror and you.." Wilford's voice turned dark as he turned his attention to Mark. "You made them live so many lives and deal with so much death.." DA's reflection changed to one of them sobbing, and while neither Mark or Dark could hear them, it still hurt to watch.

"I'm sorry." Dark and Mark replied in sync. But the reaction they got from the DA wasn't one they expected, "You're sorry?! You should be sorry!! I died and when I was told I could come back by my best friends, I was left behind like some broken toy! And when I finally found another way out I was thrown from universe to universe and timeline to timeline just so someone could make something of themselves! I was used over and over! I trusted you!" The DA's voice sounded like multiple people talking at once, each one more angry than the last. "The only reprieve I got was when Wilford pulled me away from those stupid fucking loops! He was the only one who showed any mercy to me!" Their voice seemed to amplify as they screeched their last sentence at the men. "I LOST EVERYTHING!!"

The DA slowly delved into sobs and Wilford pulled them into a hug while gently rubbing circles into their back. "Gentlemen, I think it's finally time to part ways. I don't think either of us will want to see you anymore." Wilford's voice was soft and sounding more sane than Mark or Dark had heard in years. Wilford gently escorted DA anyway from the two, leaving behind broken and saddened men.

It seems Dark and Mark finally realized who the villains of these stories were.

Too bad it had to be them.

The only villain here

Is me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I'm so sorry it's so short but Tumblr threw most of it into the void. So I had to rewrite but ive been awake since 1:30 am so.. I'm tired. Also I'm sorry for the angst it wasn't very nice of me 🤭 but I hope it's still good! I hope you all have a wonderful day/night and drink plenty of water please and thank you! Byeee!

Taglist: @ninakuli @adalwolfgang @waxxl0ver @my-sanity-is-long-gone @number1120

[pwblogarchive]

December 2004

December 2, 2004

“I Cant Sleep Easy Knowing Theres Someone Out There Thinking Or Not Thinking About Me” plane.pillstosleep.dream.drinkstowakeup.amilyingtomyself.isitgettingsomuchbetterorsomuchworse.imsofullofmyselfithinkimightspilloverbutatthesametimeicantstandwalkingpastmirrors.

come here and see how it really goes:

http://www.mtvu.com/contests/fall_out_boy/

p

December 5, 2004

“you are a stone fox.”

for serious. its been since like always.

its like something bigger than cool the way i can think for hours about the space between your ankle and your knee. how its just carbon molocules but how come they come together just like that.

its so simple. it slows me down. when my eyes roll underneath the lids it feels like they are running you over carbon paper so they won't forget. at the same time it just gets me going. like the way my heart beats so hard that i'm pretty sure it makes you laugh that you can get me that on edge.

it even hits me in the back of my legs.

and keeps me up at night.

ive been recording bass tracks, the record is starting to really come together- some song names: "the hand of god (worldcup 1986), i've got a dark alley and a bad idea that says you should shut your fucking mouth" and some others- the guys from finch stopped by- we never met them but they seemed pretty rad. i would recommend checking out there new record.

if you're in california, i will be at the chain reaction on december 7 watching gym class heroes tear it up. come by and hang out with me.

i really like these guys

fall asleep to the song: somewhatlikeawayout.

it will make you feel better.

i couldn't be more content. we'll be hanging around southern california- maybe we could even meet up and exchange compliments and high-fives!

peter

oh yeah alot of you have been asking about "the boy"-- and i guess that was just kind of an introduction to these nightmares i used to have in my head. i have about 70 more pages written that fill in the gaps and all, i'm not sure if it will ever be released maybe in another book or just on the internet- only if i can have the same art drawn for it. either way that was only the beginning of the story.

December 9, 2004

“You Know The Type, Loud As A Motorbike.”

good spirits everywhere. i woke up smiling this morning. andy flew home and is doing whatever people do in wisconsin. joe order dominos hot wings multiple times a day and wears a green john deer hat- i think his new best friend is knights of the old republic. patrick downloads music that makes me laugh, me and him are the ultimate odd couple- (see also: me waking him up at 3 in the morning to ask him not to think of white elephants). korean tom cruise gets paid to sit on the internet and croquet tech me and hot wing tech joe. i am currently the worlds worst roomate, worlds best croquet player, and dying for the lemony snickett movie to come out. and your best kept secret.

if you like contests or Sno-quet: whoomp there it is [link to http://www.fueledbyramen.com/clan.php ] 

r.i.p. dimebag

December 10, 2004

los angeles is funny but not like laughing, more like lonely.

we crashed some hilarious spin magazine party with the all american rejects.

it was full of bad hair cuts and worse tattoos. it made me glad to be from a small town but at the same time intrigued enough to watch it all go down.

me and lindsay lohan are sick of the gossip and scandals.

- petey

December 12, 2004

urgent update: life aquatic is the best movie of the year.

watch it. change the way you think.

- petey

December 14, 2004

my parents just left. its weird. i was homesick and then home came to me. but now i think i'm gonna feel worse with them being gone. i feel like i'd be so lost without them. it kind of makes my lungs feel too small when i think about life without them. i've been thinking alot about life lately and just all of the mistakes i've collected over the years. just how i'm so sick of falling back on them. i dropped my flaws in the mail with no return address. go easy. i'm gonna try and do it right this time. i think i like this music for real: www.christopherstrange.com -

okay so ive read some pretty hilarious things on the internet about us- actually made me fall out of my seat laughing. so i want to play a game with you. if you read this and have ever wondered anything about fall out boy or any of us, post it on our messageboard under a post called: twenty questions. and i will get them answered for you. no mean or stupid ones are getting answered (ie, why is pete so gay or how come patricks voice is so good), anything else is game. when it hits twenty good ones i will answer them in here.

- petey

12/14/04 Q&A

If you were handed a camera and were allowed to take only four pictures. What are the four pictures that you would take?

Patrick, joe, andy, and Korean tomcruise. Who am I kidding I couldn’t resist taking a hilarious pic of someones ass or dick. Probably my family, dogs, band, and maybe my room so I don’t forget anything ever. Good question.

1.5. What’s the best and worst thing about touring and being on the road?

summer. I want to answer this one cause you’re my buddy. But Patrick reminded me we answer it in interviews too much. So, im just saying hi instead. Haha.

Ive always wanted to know… what band changed/saved your life and how?

Minor threat first saved my life in the summer after my freshman year in highscool. All my friends were trashed all the time and that band let me know it was okay to not be like that. The next band to do that was unbroken- check out the record “life, love, regret” it got me through some of the worst nights I have ever had and introduced me to Morrissey. The last band to make me feel like that was saves the day- through being cool was like an anthem I would blast in my ears and hope everyone would just leave me alone. Ultimately it is fall out boy that saved my life. Doing this thing makes me feel alive in a way that I could never explain.

Oh n this is dumb but how would you guys feel if a fan had killed themselves to your music?… I know its not “depressing” or anything but these things could happen.

I would feel badly if anyone killed themselves to any music- because I know what its like to feel that alone and it is probably one of the worst feelings in the world. We have a line in a new song- “im sick of only writing songs for you to slit your wrists to”. We need to try and see another side of life.

how do you pronounce the word “alley” (spell phonetically)?

I don’t know how to write it phonetically. I say it like an asshole from the Midwest.

what have you been reading recently?

I just read this weird version of a bunch of poe stuff. Ive been reading a lot of Camus, I just finished the stranger, which is an amazing book. If I had to recommend a book it would still be “the heart is deceitful above all other things” by jt Leroy.

What in your life gives you the strength to keep following your dreams? (Especially when you were starting out and you had to deal with the people who were telling you it couldn’t be done.)

I don’t have anything else going for me. I don’t really ever think about what other people have to say about me- cause its usually either really good or really bad for all of the wrong reasons. It can blow up your head or sink your ego like a stone if you pay too much attention to it.

If you were stuck on a deserted island and could have only 1 book, 1 photograph, and 1 CD, what would they be and why?

Id take a blank notebook as my book to write in, a photograph of my family from way back before I was this weird, and Morrissey “viva hate”

Do you ever sick sick of waking up knowing that you have to be in the public eye? Is it weird to think that you have such a high influence on so many kids?

Yes. Its scary sometimes- I just think about the way things get picked apart and if im having a bad day I can come off as one of the worst people. I don’t really want to ruin someone else’s life, im having too much fun ruining my own (note that sarcasm doesn’t come through on the internet) but yes it’s very weird to go from noone caring who you are to people wanting to know your every move.

Do you like being from a small town?and Why?

I love it. It gives me perspective- I think if we weren’t from a small town we wouldn’t have wanted “this” so badly. We wanted to break out so badly, to not marry the head cheerleader and mow our 15x 25 plots of grass- like so many kids from my highschool turned out.

With all of the people who feel like they know you, through your music, your journals, and meeting you, do you ever feel exposed or like not much of your life is exclusively yours?

Yes. But I also feel an obligation to be honest with people that are friends and fans. I want to show everyone what this process is like- so that’s a sacrifice I am willing to make.

if you could bring someone back from the dead for a day, who would it be, why, and what would you do all day?

My aunt. So she and my mom could hang out all day.

Why does your ‘mom’ think you are over stimulated?

Haha. Because she thinks im weird and jumpy.

12.5 favourite porn film? and does it contain goat sex?

Favorite, come on be awesome like us yanks.

Do you preheat the oven? (Although this seems like a stupid question, it isn’t.. or maybe it is. It doesn’t matter.)

Is this question about sex?

You guys will be huge one day, and most likely get tons of play on MTV. How will you (or do you) prepare yourself for such stardom? And how will you react when you find out that kids are going around pulling grass out of your parent’s yard exclaiming “OMG! Pete totally mowed this yard when he was younger! He so walked on this sidewalk!! Oh my god, I think I’m gonna die!”

I never mowed the lawn, who told you that dirty lie.

What inspired the best song you ever wrote?

The biggest liar I have ever met.

What is the single most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed in your life?

One time a long time ago I woke up next to this girl and she was breathing perfect and her hair fell over her eyes just right- and then a second later she was just a girl again. Its kind of weird how we can all have these beautiful moments.

16.5 Pete, ask Patrick if I can pump his gas.

Hahaha.

If my cat is pregnant again, do you want a kitten?

I gotta say im a dog person. Also, I cant even take care of a plant- I hate to see how bad I was at taking care of an animal.

If you could walk a mile in someone else’s shoes, who would it be and why?

Walking is for suckers.

what was the best christmas gift you ever received

one time my friend made a quilt for me out of all my old hardcore shirts. Its pretty awesome.

best gift you ever got for someone else?

One time I tricked a doctor into giving me an MRI and then I framed it and gave it to my friend, so they could have my insides.

Why shouldn’t Patrick think of white elephants?

Psychologists use this to study people. If you tell someone not to think of a white elephant, usually that’s all they can think of- now that you know the trick it wont work.

What do you think of the FOB board/boardies?

The ones I have met I like.

In The Boy With the Thorn in his Side, does the boy represent you?

I think it would be stupid to say that I didn’t write from somewhere inside me. I think he has pretty good intentions but is a pretty messed up guy- so I like to think he is inside a bunch of us.

Do you read the board on a daily basis? on that note If a boardie were to come up to you and say “hey i’m so and so from the board” would be able to recognize the sn?

Possibly. Its happened before. I definitely remember faces better than names.

What is your greatest accomplishment other than “Fall Out Boy”?

Being an allstate soccer player. Making it to age 25 and not be dead or in jail.

25.5 When are you going to write a Hanukkah song? I mean, we all love “Yule Shoot Your Eye Out”, but what about all the snazzy Jews out there? They need a holiday song, too.

Jews are snazzy, 4 out of 5 joes agree.

Do you prefer corn or green beans?

Are you kidding me. Corn.

when you were writing “nobody puts baby in the corner” what were you thinking about at the time? as a whole band how did everyone re-act to the lyrics?

I was thinking that I thought I had kind of come to terms with how I felt about someone and resolved my feelings when we wrote take this to your grave. But they just wouldn’t go away inside my head. And at the same time I guess, just how the people who hurt us are often just so irresistible that we keep going back. The line “can I lay in your bed all day and be your best kept secret and your worst mistake”- was actually something I said to someone and then wrote down as I lay in their bed and waited for them to come home. The band kind of lets me go wild with lyrics, on this song they could tell it was pretty angry- I guess. We get asked a lot if we are mysognists because of this song I think, but I want to put it on the table: you’re getting it wrong, we don’t hate girls, we hate everyone.

What are some of your favourite authors and books written by them?

Chuck palahnuik, jt Leroy, Sharon olds, rohl dahl, albert camus, sorry for the misspellings and the lack of titles. I promise I will get back to this one, I think its important.

Are you going to play “Yule Shoot Your Eye Out” at the Christmas shows? I’ll bring you cookies if you do!

Yes.

Who makes you want to “la la”?

Haha there are definitely a couple of people. Ashlee in the parking lot in the video definitely makes me want to lala- quinn from the used makes me want to lala- wait that’s a dude. Shoot.

What is the biggest misconception people have of Fall Out Boy?

I wish people could follow us around and see how it really goes. I don’t sleep with every single girl I talk to, we don’t talk shit on bands, we just have weird senses of humor, sean o’keefe didn’t write our last record, we don’t always get to pick where we tour or who we tour with, yes, patricks voice is really that good naturally, we’re not as big assholes as you read online- we’re pretty nice for the most part, if not alittle bit shy. Mostly we like to goof around with people.

Would you rather, stay at the level you are now…or become as huge as Blink182 or Good Charlotte?

I think you can do both like the cure did. I want as many people as possible to hear our music at the same time we will never compromise what we believe in or what we say.

If you could have on animal constructed out of duct tape, what would it be…and why?

Ah a sea lion.

Whos your favorite story book character?

Ferdinand the gentle bull, or max from where the wild things are, willy wonka.

Does it bother you how people act like they really know you just because they’ve met you one time? Or that tons of prepubescent girls/boys want to trap you in a dark alley and molest you?

Yes and no. I love meeting new people and have definitely been on that end of things where I wanted to know everything about someone and feel like I knew them. I feel like you can get to know us through our songs and seeing us at shows. And I think that we have met many people that I consider friends in our travels. At the same time it bothers me when people use it like “I know pete, blah are I the coolest”- trust me none of those people really know anyone. They are scared. Call their bluff. dark alley- very funny.

December 28, 2004

“A.W.S.E.M.E.-O”

Drove on christmas day. The shows have been lovely so far. I got my hair dyed my hair its red and black. You maybe hate it. But I’m weird so it doesn’t matter. I love playing shows again. This means so much to us.

I won’t bore you with anymore… But if you come early to the shows please dress warmly and bring blankets and mittens. I don’t want anyone getting sick or feeling miserable.

P

December 31, 2004

so to whoever egged our van last week. my dog marley ate all the eggs on the front lawn and got salmonella poisoning.

congratulations.

you fucking rule.

if my dog dies i'm going to punch you in the face.

- petey

December 31, 2004

“Happy New Year.”

dear everyone: thanks for an amazing 5 days. the party that ended it was too sickfor words. flava flav showed up and sang “911 is a joke”. i’d spill it all. but thats just not my style.

xxoo. find some lips for midnight and get some.

or not.

peter

[elphiej]

Be My Light - Chapter 4:   The Mad Leader

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: References to violence, minor assault, 

Author’s note: First off, I’d like to send a special Thank You to someone who was a huge inspiration to me and to this story. This is the chapter that really started it all and I was inspired by @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng  ‘s mafia reaction series. She is a fantastic person and was one of the first people I showed this Be My Light to when I was too scared to post it. She is a beautiful soul and wonderful writer. Thank you for the push. 

Another Big thanks to my editor for sticking with me all this time and into the future. And, of course, to all the people who are reading, commenting, and reblogging this. I can’t tell you all how much is means to me. Thank you all and I hope you enjoy this next installment of Be My Light. (P.S. I have a thing for RM in a long trench coat.)

Tag list:  @lolalalooo @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine , @mrsfortune1306 , @lovesick-heart0 , @iamnamjoonsbxtch , @deathkat657 , @deeepvibes , @sugamonster22 , @weiinihao, @hemmofluke , @rainbow-zebra-unicorns , @joyfullyobsessed , @elvencantation , 

                                   Chapter 4: The Mad Leader

              You stared at the cell phone clutched in your hand, your mind spinning with so many questions. Who were those people? Why did talking to this ‘RM’ make you feel like something bad was coming? With that deep, serious tone, were they just as dangerous as the man with the cane? And what kind of normal person calls themselves ‘RM’? Agust was already on the edge of interesting and odd as it was. Scanning over the still lit screen, you wondered what other names were in the contact list. Other than ‘God of Destruction’, the last few calls you could see without going through the device belonged to ‘Mochi’, ‘My Favorite’, and ‘Worldwide Pain in my Ass’. Based on those names, you couldn’t begin to imagine who was gonna match those names.

               It was safe to assume that this RM guy was concerned about the man in the suit trying to finish the job. The hospital had a good security team but you thought it best to talk to Doctor- Henry- to see if more could be done. Your hand paused as it went to put the cell phone back with Agust’s things; if RM or any of the odd named voices tried to contact you for an update, they would most likely call that, instead of trying to navigate the hospital switch board. Figuring it was the best option, you placed the phone safely in your scrub’s pocket as you moved to the bedside for one last check on the patient. Agust hadn’t moved again since right before the phone call and was still as could be. The monitors were all reading normally. There was a blood transfusion line in his arm to help replace what he had lost, along with another IV pushing fluids and medication. You adjusted his arm to make it more comfortable for him once he woke up.

               “I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can,” you said as you fixed his blankets. “Please, try not to do anything until I get back.”

               You slipped out of the room and pulled the door shut behind you. There was an anxious feeling that crept back into your gut, the same one you felt when you had first heard the gun shots ring out from the silence of the construction site. Your mind had so many thoughts and scenarios running through it that you felt overwhelmed. Things like, ‘what if the man with the cane and rough voice came here? Would he shoot his way through the floors until he found Agust? Were you really as safe as you hoped?’ The hospital had been under a few threats but nothing had ever come from those except words. It would be best to stay as cautious as possible. You had too many friends and patients to not take your feelings seriously.

               As you made your way towards your station, you were surprised to see that Henry was already there leaning over the desk with the phone pressed up against his ear. He pulled a pad of paper from the other side of the desk and started scribbling something down as he nodded and spoke in a low tone to whomever was on the other end. That saves me from having to page him, you mused. Henry did a double take towards you when he noticed you out of the corner of his eye. He beaconed you over with an urgent wave of his hand. The calm yet awkward demeanor from earlier had been replaced with a more serious one. Once you were within an arm’s reach of him, he reassured whomever he was talking to that ‘everything will be taken care of’ and hung up.

               “Good,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I need you to help me.”

               “Henry, about that John Doe patient. I was able to talk to someone close to him. I think we may need to alert the security team about- “

               “I’ve already talked to them. The hospital is going on alert for any suspicious activity entering the hospital. And we are actually moving the patient to one of the private units upstairs. I just got off the phone with the director and we’ve got everything worked out for you so you’ll be safe,” he said over his shoulder as he started walking down the hall.

               “Wait, what does that mean? What do you mean by worked everything out?” You took extra long steps to keep up with his brisk pace.

               “The same person who demanded higher security for that patient requested that you be kept with him as his private staff until otherwise. Which means you’ll be in the secure ward with him in case anything happens. It’s gonna be for the best. You were the first one with him and it’s gonna be more comfortable if he doesn’t have to get acclimated to someone else after all this. Don’t worry, we’ve got it worked out with Jax already.”

               Henry led you back into Agust’s room and made fast work of disconnecting him from the machines that surrounded him. He pulled the IV bags down and placed them on the bed by the still form. Meanwhile, you were frozen at the end of the bed, feeling dizzy from how fast he seemed to expect you to understand what was happening. This wasn’t the first gang related case you had been assigned to since starting at Mercy, nor was it the first gunshot case; why did this sudden change to the routine make you feel ever more nervous? Never had you moved a patient into a secure wing designed from more severe or quarantined patients before just because someone had requested it. Henry called your name to shake you from your thoughts and motioned you to move to the side of the bed as he unlocked the wheels of the gurney and pushed the bed from the wall. As you helped guide it from the room, you couldn’t help but feel the tension grow.

               “So, I am just supposed to stay locked up in some room like a prisoner? And be someone’s private nurse? What about the rest of my patients here? I can’t just leave Amber to tend to them all alone. We are short staffed as it is,” you mentioned as you navigated everyone into the elevator at the end of the hall.

               Henry hit a button and the elevator started to move. He leaned close to look you in the face, his eyes filled with seriousness. “Listen, Y/N, I know this is strange but you just have to trust me. I don’t know all the details but someone particularly important has to be involved to make the director so quick to comply with whatever they asked. But no matter what, your safety is my priority, maybe a bit more than my patients. I’m sure the director thinks that too. Whoever it is must just want to make sure this guy has the best care possible. And when he gets here, he’ll probably want to hear from you what happened. And if whatever gang did this does try anything, I don’t want you to worry because no one is going to get to him or you. Only the director, you, and I will have access to this room or know where he is. Apparently, the man the director talked to said he would have a way to get a hold of you and prove his identity to gain access. I know how you are, Y/N, you are a great person. That’s why you’re so good at what you do. But don’t think that you are inconveniencing anyone; Jax has already rearranged everything and made some calls. I really need you to think about yourself now. And what is best is for you is to do what I am asking and not over think this right now.”

               Henry was being so sincere that you couldn’t find the voice to make any arguments. You gave him a weak nod and tried to take what he said to heart. As Amber had pointed out before, one of your qualities was that you put others well before yourself. Hence, why you were in this predicament. As the doors opened onto the new floor, you promised him that you would try.

               The door opened onto a floor where the more severe, long term patients were kept. This floor could, also, be used for quarantining or the more delicate of patients. At the moment, you knew it had only a few occupants: a coma patient, a patient suffering from extreme burns, and someone from the psych ward that needed more focused attention. To enter this ward, you needed a key card, making this more isolated than your full and frantic floor. Henry commented there was no record that Agust had been moved in any of the files. And if anyone tried to look him up, it would be like he never existed. The person who had called to make all this happen had said he’d contact you and that he and his colleagues were to say they were here to perform community service if asked by anyone else. Apparently, they deemed it as security protection. Henry had you swipe your ID to gain access to the floor and you made your way down the silent hall to the vacant room Henry had staked out for you to stay in. The room was bigger than the one you were used to on your floor. There was a small couch across from where the bed was to go, a private bath off near the entrance, and even a TV in the corner. There was, also, a small recliner near where the head of the gurney was to rest. You imagined you’d be there most of the time. Henry helped you set everything back up in the room and did a quick check on the patient after he was secured in his new residence.

               “Hopefully, he’s gonna wake up a bit soon. He’s reacting well to what I’m doing,” Henry commented as he checked Agust’s pupils constrict as he shined his pen light in them. He gave some instructions about his IV and transfusion processes. He gave you a quick run down of the floor in case you needed anything. “Until he wakes up, I guess feel free to do whatever in here. It can be like a mini vacation. You know, if you ignore all the weird stuff happening. You can watch some TV or order some food. The mysterious man said to spare no expense when it came to our patient or you. I promise by Friday this will be all over and we can go out and talk about nicer things. Okay?”

               Before you could stop yourself, you felt your cheeks get hot and you turned your eyes to the floor. This was not the best place for this, but you knew Henry did it to only ease the anxiety you were feeling. He was almost too perfect. Henry promised to check in once he had finished his rounds as he left from the room and pulled the door shut behind him. You heard the security lock click into place, knowing it would only open from the inside or if you had an ID card. You allowed yourself to drop into the recliner, allowing everything to wash over you. Paranoia was thick in the air as you tried to make sense of everything. Henry was right; whoever these people were they must just want to talk to you and this was easier than scouting the halls. But the thought did very little to chase the nervousness away. Your hands started to rub together out of tension, squeezing your fingers, cracking your knuckles one by one with your thumbs. You took a few deep breaths as you tried to force yourself out of the impending panic. Your eyes looked over at the bed. You tried to remind yourself that you needed to keep it together and be strong for him. Then your eyes landed on his hand. You remembered when you were hiding behind the counter when the man with the cane was getting closer and closer. And when Agust had reached over and squeezed your hand. In that moment, he gave you reassurance with such a small gesture, not thinking of himself. You remembered how genuine it felt. It’d be nice if you could do that now, you thought with a weak smile.

               Instead, you settled for forcing yourself to think of something else. You read through his charts, tapped through some news on your phone, and tried to people watch out the window behind the couch. The afternoon sun had started making its way towards the horizon; how quickly the day had ended up flying by. You had decided against turning on the television for now, thinking how awkward it would be for him to wake up to you watching some trash TV show. You tried walking around the room to get a sense of where you’d be staying for the foreseeable future. But all of that only killed twenty minutes and you were still stir-crazy. There wasn’t much you could do for Agust at the moment, except allow him to rest without you trying to hold his hand or anything else.

               Suddenly, there was a buzzing in your pocket; it was Agust’s phone. You were a bit ashamed at how quickly you reached for it. There was a new text message. It was from a new named contact: Sunshine. The preview of the message said, ‘To Miss Nurse’, making your assumption that the people on the other end would have expected you to keep the phone on you correct. And since it was addressed to you, you didn’t feel too bad about opening the phone again. You swiped open the text and tried not to scroll anywhere higher into their previous chats.

-          Sunshine: To Miss Nurse. if you see this, please take good care of our Hyung. And if he gives you any trouble, tell him I said to behave. RM should be almost there. He tends to speed.  

               There were a couple silly emojis next to it that made you smile. Surely, they can’t be bad people if this is how they communicate. They must be close friends. Though, you still wondered how they had gotten the director to do all this. Maybe there was someone else doing all of this? You shook your head and typed a quick message back, so not to have them worry.

-          I’ll take good care of him. That’s my job.

You really hoped Agust didn’t mind you messing with his phone. Though, you figured it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission in this scenario. There was no response which made you think that it was all he needed at the time. Gazing at the clock on the phone, you had wasted thirty minutes in the room so far. You thought of your backpack in the locker room a few floors down and some of your things at your stations that you could pass the time with. Since Agust was secure here, you thought it may be a good idea to gather some things to help you waste time until this RM shows up. It was unlikely that Agust was going to wake up yet, and you could be fast so he wouldn’t be alone for long. You slipped the phone back into your pocket and rose from the chair, heading for the door. You cast one more look at the still figure in the bed before dimming the lights and pulled the door shut behind you.

               You set off at a brisk pace for the elevator and took it down a few levels to where the staff locker room was kept. You raced in, pulled your bag from your locker, and left before anyone noticed you. You were sure since the director had put the whole hospital on alert that everyone was making rounds to keep eyes everywhere. You hoped grabbing your stuff from your station was just as easy; you weren’t sure about how to explain why you had suddenly deserted your station. Amber wasn’t there but you could hear her and Jax talking loudly from a back room. You wanted to talk to your best friend, to help ease some nerves and have her tell you exactly what you needed to hear. But you didn’t want to wait around or take her away from her new workload. You pulled open the drawer where you kept some personal items, incase of slower work days, and shoved them into your bag. You froze when your fingers hit against something that you knew, instantly, should not be in your bag. Peering into the opening, your eyes locked onto a metallic, black, studded object that you had seen earlier that morning.  

              The gun Agust had placed in your hand.

             How did that get in there? You didn’t remember grabbing it unless it had happened in the chaos of the EMTs and police rushing to assess the situation. Well, if you weren’t already anxious, this just made it worse. Let’s just add this to the ever-growing list of stupid things I’ve done today, you berated yourself. You brought a potentially loaded gun into a hospital. You needed to get back up to the room and get this out of your possession. Maybe when this RM got there, he could take it from you. You pulled the bag shut and slugged it over your shoulder, trying hard not to think about it.

            You moved away from the desk and down the hall towards the elevator. But as you stepped into the silent hall with all the doors closed, one was not closed as it had been when you left; the room where Agust had been. And there was someone looking inside. There was a man, tall and stocky, and dressed in a simple navy uniform. He wasn’t a part of the hospital staff and you didn’t think he was there to clean the room with the lights still off. Trying to stay as unnoticed as you could, you took longer strides towards the end. As you passed behind him, you peered beyond him into the pitch blackness of the room to just make out another figure lurking there. He wasn’t dressed in the same way as the man in the door. He was in darker colors that you couldn’t make out and wore what looked like a fedora on his head. What caught your attention as you passed, was the small peek of icy, blue hairs that were just visible on the side. A deep grumble that sounded from the room made your breath catch in your throat, and made you stop in your tracks. It sounded so familiar to the sadistic voice from this morning. The man with the cane had gotten into the hospital?! How, they upped security measures, hadn’t they? Maybe it was your imagination playing with you with all the stress. Not wanting to stick around to figure out if you were right, you tried to get away before they had noticed you.

            But, sadly, you weren’t that lucky.

           “Excuse me, nurse. Perhaps you can help me.”

           You felt your whole body stiffen as the voice was all to clearly the one that had stalked you from beyond the counter. The voice that dripped with crazed malice and venom as he called out for Agust, that had taunted and tried to lure him out. The voice that you were sure would haunt your dreams. It was the man with the cane, though he didn’t have it now. As you turned, he looked nothing like the half-crazed man yelling and destroying things around him. He looked almost normal, save for the fake smile he had plastered across his lips. He was no longer dressed in the light blue suit and fur coat you had caught a glimpse behind the counter, but in a simple dark blazer and trousers. The man who lingered in the doorway had come to stand next to him as they walked up to you, dressed in a police uniform. His uniform cap was pulled low to obscure his face, though you could see bruising and swelling through the shadows. Both of them gave a slight bow to you.

           “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Inspector Taop, this is officer Chen. We are here following up on a patient that was supposed to be brought here. I’ve been looking everywhere, but no one has an answer for me whether he is here or not. And I haven’t seen a single worker on this floor.”

           He had never seen you at the scene so you knew he didn’t recognize you, or could see that you didn’t believe anything that was coming out of his mouth. That would help you, you decided. You took a deep breath and tried to hide the fear and nervousness. Just act normal. Try to stall until someone comes around.

           “Sorry, officer, we’re a bit understaffed as it is. What can I help you with?”

           “I’m looking for a patient that was brought here. Gunshot victim, a young man, brought in this morning?”

           “Can you be a bit more specific? We are a hospital. Do you know how many young men we have come in here with some kind of bullet wound? I had six this month.”

           You saw the smile slip and irritation rise in those cold eyes. He cleared his throat, trying to hold on to his polite composure. “This one would have come in this morning. There was a shooting downtown. He would have had multiple gunshot wounds. One nurse said he was brought in by ambulance this morning, but then another said that they found no record of him. And the last person I talked to sent me here. Please, this is very important.”

           “Can I see your badge, sir?” He looked completely off guard by the question. You, also, seemed confused. It had just jumped out of your mouth before you realized it. But it seemed like the right thing to ask. You continued, “There’s been a threat made to the hospital, you see, and I need to make sure that everything is in order. I would get in trouble if I gave such information about any patient to an imposter.”

           You could see the wheels in his head turning. But you didn’t expect him to nod his head, understandingly, and reach into his pocket to hand you a leather, bifold wallet. Was this psycho really a police officer? How could someone so vile be in law enforcement? You thought back to what little memories of your father that you had lingering in the back of your mind and couldn’t begin to imagine him doing anything like what this man had done, no matter how bad of a criminal they were. Before you could think, your body seemed to act on it’s own again and opened the wallet and your eyes started to dance across the metal shield. You weren’t entirely sure what you were looking for at first. Until your eyes caught it and something clicked in your mind. It was a fake, but an exceptionally good fake. Anyone else would have just taken it at face value but something in your mind flashed and screamed that this was a fake like the smile still on the ‘inspector’s’ face. In the reaches of your memory, you remembered running your fingers over your father’s badge, memorizing every detail. And you still did that when you were stressed out; you still had his badge and it was currently in the front pocket of your bag. And you seemed to recall your father teaching you how to identify a real badge from others.

           A sudden anger took hold of you that seemed to spur on some brave part of you. You closed the wallet and handed it back to him, keeping your face neutral to hide that you were even more sure of his act. Maybe it was the dishonor to officers like your father, or that he was trying to get to the boy you had risked a lot to save. And your hard work was not going to waste. “I’m sorry officer. But like I said, we have a few patients that could fit your description. None on this floor at all. And if the other nurses said they have no record of him, I’m not sure what I can do for you. Besides that, if we did have a patient come in with multiple gunshot wounds, I imagine that they’d need extensive surgery and wouldn’t be conscious to answer any questions you could have. And with no guardian to act in their place until they are awake to consent to a line of questioning about a traumatic experience, I can’t let you go any further. You should know that, Officer.”

           The smile was wiped from the man’s face. The uniformed man’s eyes got wide at your declaration and they shifted towards his leader in panic. Taop, or whatever his real name was, straightened up and took a step towards you. He towered over you and the energy radiating from him would have intimidated you into submission. Just like with your ex. But you needed to protect Agust. In any case, all you needed to do was scream and someone would be alerted. There wasn’t much this asshole could accomplish without being found out. But he continued to advance until he backed you up against the wall. Even still, you never broke eye contact with him.

           “I don’t think you understand the situation of this, little girl,” he said, rage tittering on the edge of his voice. “There are some really dangerous people and it would be a shame if you got caught in the crossfires. It’s in your best interest to answer my questions and tell me what I need to know.”

           “Then bring a warrant,” you challenged.

           His hand collided with the wall next to your head, making you jump. His face was so close to yours now, and there was the crazed man you remembered from this morning. Your heart was in your ears. He, suddenly, took a deep inhale then another before tilting his head to the side. “What a brave little girl. Tell me, where were you this morning? Something tells me you may be exactly who I need to talk to.”

           “Hey, back off her!”

           Both you and the man turned to look down the hall towards the elevator towards the source of the deep voice that had interrupted the line of questioning. The doors of the elevator were opened and from them stepped a young man with platinum white hair. His eyes were haunting and strong, like a dragon woken from his peace. He was exceptionally tall, taking long strides towards the scene. You couldn’t help but let your eyes take in the man who was coming to your rescue. Dressed in a dark trouser and a white buttoned up shirt gave him a classic handsomeness, and a long black coat with a hood drawn up that accentuated his height. As he approached, he slid the hood down and swiped his hand up to push the stray white hairs from his face. If you weren’t terrified, you would have appreciated how handsome he was. You glanced back at the man caging you; his body tensed as the newcomer walked up but his face never showed.

           He let out a sigh and a small smile reappeared, but it was not the same he had tried to charm you with. It was one of arrogance.  “Ah, Mr. Kim,” the inspector said, not moving from his position, “how nice of you to drop in.”

          “You’ve got some nerve,” the handsome newcomer said, his tone low and smooth. 

          “What for? Being too formal? Do you not like me using your surname? I’m not sure which name you prefer now; you change names so often, it’s hard to keep up after all this time.”

          “You’re one to talk. What name are you going by now, officer? Here to investigate a fraud? Or are you here to put yourself into more trouble?”

          “Such a negative attitude. Officer Chen and I are here on official business,” the detective flashed his badge at the so named Mr. Kim. “And this nice young lady was willing to help me out with some information. Isn’t that right, Little Girl?”

          “It sure doesn’t look that way coming from the elevator. I think you need to take a step back,” Mr. Kim ordered with a strong but suggestive tone that made you question what kind of power someone as young looking as him could possess.

          The fake detective made no sign that he was planning on heeding the newcomer’s words to move from your personal space. His eyes shifted from Mr. Kim back to you. His stare bore into you sharper than claws and made your breath catch. You weren’t sure if he was trying to scare you into agreeing with him or just threaten you. But Mr. Kim was having none of that; he gave the older man’s shoulder a hard shove and wedged himself in the space between you to keep you away from the other man. Mr. Kim reached a hand behind him and placed it on your arm, to keep you secure behind him and to give you some reassurance that he was not going to hurt you. You couldn’t help yourself, as you fisted your hands into the back of his coat and peered around his massive frame.

          “You always have to play savior, don’t you Rapmon?” The way he had said the name made it seem like he was trying to strike a nerve in Mr. Kim. But the other man gave no sign that he was bothered. “You make it seem like I was doing something unseemly to her. You and your broken boy scouts always turn things difficult. Speaking of, where are the others? Maybe they could answer some questions for me. There’s one in particular I’m interested in seeing. I’m checking up on a victim from a shooting downtown. Just making sure he’s doing alright.”

          “You’re really committed to this bit, aren’t you Choi? Oh, sorry- what name are you going by today? It’s so hard to keep track, isn’t that what you said?” Mr. Kim tilted his head to the side, eyes twinkling with a mischievous shine.

          “What a nuisance you are. I’m just trying to get information to make sure things go well. Though come to think of it, your boys may not know much. Word was that the victim was all alone. Left all by themselves, bleeding and hurt in such a dangerous situation. What kind of friends would let someone knowingly go into that situation alone? Now, I’d really like to finish my conversation with the little lady, Rapmon.” When Choi, as you figured his name actually was, took a step towards you, Mr. Kim moved the both of you to keep you behind him and further away from the other. “Well, since you seem hellbent on keeping me from doing something so simple, I could always ask you. Though to be honest, your being here may have answered my questions.”

          “My being here answers nothing,” Mr. Kim challenged. “Unlike you, I am here to do good for the community. And it’s a good thing I came by when I did. You’re already on thin ice after all the trouble you’ve caused. Imagine what would happen if you caused any problems while on Hallowed Ground. If you were to hurt anyone staying or working here, you would have more than my family looking for you. The rest of the Families would be looking to teach you a lesson. Imagine what most of them will think when they hear about the deceit you pulled this morning. After what I witnessed, you can be sure I’ll have eyes monitoring this place. You will not go against the Accords.”

          “Don’t you lecture me about the Accords, you psycho. I’ve been around just as long as they have and lived them. I taught them to you.”

          “And yet, you only follow them when they suit you. Just like your leader and his before him. But things are different now. They are gone, and your hold is slipping. I have enough pull now to ensure Accords are followed. And if you want to make a further spectacle of yourself, I’ll gladly show you I’m not that kid anymore that you ordered around. You saw what my boys can do when pushed. Try me.”

          Choi started to laugh, eyes shining in disbelief at the younger bossing him around. As you peered around Mr. Kim’s frame, you saw him go to say something to officer Chen, but couldn’t form the word. He raised his hand towards the white-haired man, but let it drop with a growl. Whatever look was set upon the elder made him rethink his next move. He settled for raising his hands in a surrender and jerking his head towards his companion to tell him they were leaving. It surprised you that he was giving up so easily after how he had acted towards you. You weren’t sure what Mr. Kim meant by accords and families, but it was more than obvious that it meant something to them. Glancing up at your protector, his face remained locked in the same stern and serious mask he had when he had appeared. His eyes, perfectly lined and accentuated with makeup that only made him more intriguing, followed the pair as they turned down the hall.

          But before they could get too far, Choi stopped. He turned enough to gaze at the two of you over his shoulder, the dark and manic gleam from that morning flashing like a warning sign. He chuckled before his teasing and taunting voice that had called out to Agust filled the hall like glass shattering. “Look at how far our little maniac has come. Really living up to the title of Mad Leader, aren’t you? He thinks he’s so big and strong that he can just order me around and act like a knight in shining armor to the weak. The Mad Leader’s trying so hard to put up a front, to hide who he is, to hide the other side of the looking glass. But lest he forget, I know things he wouldn’t want others to know. And I seem to recall,” Choi turned fully around and took a full stride back towards Mr. Kim, “you had an issue with places like this. You don’t enjoy being here. Are you falling down the rabbit hole? You even have an Alice this time it would seem. So tell me, Mad Leader, are the walls closing in on you yet? Are you feeling anxious?”

          You could feel Mr. Kim tense up at the name ‘Mad Leader’ each time Choi said it. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. He gave you a polite push away from him before fixing Choi with a glare that made officer Chen startle. You could almost feel the air change as he stepped up to be nose to nose with the thug.

          “Since you can’t seem to remember my name, asshole, let me spell it out for you. It’s RM, R to the M. And I’m a motherfucking monster. Keep pushing me. I dare you. You hurt one of my boys. You better pray that he makes it out of all this ok. Or you’ll see just how ‘mad’ I can get.”

          Chen seemed to realize that something bad was building as he took hold of his superior and pulled him away from RM, newly identified. Choi kept the taunting smile spread across his lips as he allowed Chen to lead him away. Before he got too far, he looked over at you and gave a nod, “We’ll be in touch, Little Girl.” And then he disappeared from the floor, leaving you in the presence of RM. You can’t say you had expected this person to belong to the voice on the other end of the phone, but it would seem like that was the theme of the day. The tall man took a few deep breaths and ran his hand through his white hair before turning back to you. The serious mask he had worn had slipped away and was more approachable. He straightened his clothes before returning to your side.

          “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, “But he shouldn’t be back. He talks a good game but he knows when he’s out done. Did he hurt you?”

          You shook your head. “I can’t believe he got in. The hospital is on lock down.”

          “Well, he’s been around a while. He has his ways. Now that he’s gone, I was hoping you could help me. I’m looking for a nurse called Y/N.” You locked eyes with him and gave him a nod of affirmation. He gave you a smile, showing off a pair of dimples in his cheeks that made him much more innocent and sweeter than the man who had gone nose to nose with the monstrous thug. “That’s a coincidence. Nice to meet you. Can you show me where to go?”

          “Prove that you’re who you say you are,” you said, taking a step away from him. Despite that you were sure he was the one you had talked to, it seemed like nothing was safe. He looked at you for a moment, before coming to a conclusion. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone before letting his finger glide across the screen. A moment later, Agust phone sounded off in your pocket. He glanced over at you with a bemused look as you pulled the phone out and saw the screen lit up with a notification.

-          God of Destruction: It’s me.

          “Sorry,” you said, feeling embarrassed by your sudden suspicion, “but after that guy flashed a fake police badge at me, I just wanted to be sure. Thank you for coming and for helping me. Are you Agust’s brother or a friend?”

          RM’s eyes narrowed when he heard you say Agust and gave you a strange look. His eyes seemed to dance about you, as if he was trying to figure something out. But as quickly as it appeared, the look disappeared and he smiled again. “We usually call him Suga. Only people who don’t like him call him Agust. I don’t think he’d want you calling him that. Can we go see him now? We’ve been worried about him.” You nodded and motioned him to follow you back to the elevator. As you waited for the doors to reopen, he leaned over and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Hyung you had his phone.”

          “What? Does he have some embarrassing things on here,” you joked.

          “Maybe,” came the reply and heard RM chuckle as he allowed you to step into the elevator.

          You hit the button for the floor that they moved Agu- Suga to, the doors slid shut, and the lift jolted to a start. As the sound of the mechanisms filled the space, you caught a glimpse of the tall man flinch. It seemed odd, seeing as he had just faced off against the most frightening person you had ever seen. The taunting words he had said to RM before leaving came to mind, about not liking it in a hospital. It wasn’t uncommon for people to have bad experiences related to hospitals, so you tried to brush it off. Once you had made it to the secure floor, you led him down the hall. You explained that the floor was only accessible to a few people and how they had followed the directions as specified to the director. The entire time, RM listened very intently, eyes never leaving you. He was the picture of professionalism and sincerity. You swiped the two of you into the ward, and he held the door open for you as you led him down the hall to the room. As you neared the room, you wondered if you were going to survive the present of two very handsome men. Hopefully, the rest of his friends that you heard over the phone were somewhat average.

          As you both entered the room, RM came to a stop in the threshold of the door, his eyes staring at the bed. You could see the worry and panic that you had heard over the phone slip across his face. You reached out and touched his arm. He looked at you with an almost innocent gaze, like he was questioning if it was alright to get closer. You gave him a nod and he was beside his friend in a flash. He looked as if he was debating to reach out to Suga, as if he were made of glass, but settled for taking hold of his hand. RM let out a breath and looked relieved to have finally seen his friend. From your place at the edge of the room, you could see how much one meant to the other and all worries about them being as bad as Choi disappeared.

          “Is he going to be ok? What did they do to him,” RM asked, never taking his eyes off his companion.

          “Dr. Na took good care of him,” you said, reaching for the file at the end of the bed. “He was shot twice, once in the shoulder and on his left side. The gunshot wound on his side appeared to be at close range and the bullet went through. Thankfully, there wasn’t much damage done. The bullet was lodged in his shoulder, but Dr. Na was able to remove it and mend up some of the damage. We’ll know more when he wakes up, but he should have full range of motion after some rest. He, also, has some bruised ribs and a slight concussion. Along with bruising and defensive wounds pretty much everywhere. He, also, lost a lot of blood. He’s in the middle of a transfusion now. But he is responding well to everything and we believe he should be waking up soon. With enough care, patience, and support, he should make a full recovery in no time. Which is amazing; when I found him, I was worried with how much blood he had lost that he may have had a harder road to recovery.”

          RM flicked his eyes over to you. “You found him?”

          “They must not have told you. I was on my way to work when I heard the gunshots. I was the first to find him and get him to safety.”

          RM looked like he wanted to ask more questions, when a soft groan came from the bed and drew the attention. Suga took in a deep breath and his body shifted as if fighting to wake and identify the voices. After a tense moment, his body relaxed and his eyes opened slightly. From the edge of the bed, you could see the glazed and shiny effects of the medication still trying to hold him in the state of unconsciousness, and realized he may not fully be aware of what is happening. But you were sure the presence of RM had drawn him out enough to give them a sign that he was okay. RM called out to his hyung softly, drawing Suga’s attention as he gazed about the room.

          “Hyung, hey, can you hear me?”

          Suga’s eyes fully landed on RM. It seemed as if he was fighting his way to recognition before he gave a small, drugged smile back. “Joon,” his voice sounded exhausted and stained.

          RM laughed. “Yeah, Hyung, it’s me. You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe.”

          “Joonie, I think I’m dead. I saw an angel.”

          The whitehaired man reached out and ran his fingers, gently, through his friend’s hair. “No, Hyung, you’re only tired. That bastard messed you up but you’re gonna be alright now. Why don’t you go back to sleep? The boys and I will be here when you wake up.”

          “Oh,” Suga said, almost sounding disappointed as the drugs started to drag him back to oblivion, “too bad. It was a pretty angel. Prettier than Jiminie and Hyungie combined. But don’t tell them I said that.” And just as fast as he woke, Suga went silent and still again.

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [53]

viii. god complex

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: blood mentions, death by radiation, sketchy doctor experimentation, violence, anxiety, nausea. 

Summary: with the death wave rapidly approaching, the question on everyone’s mind is: how far are you willing to go to save the human race?

a/n: the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

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March 21st, 2150; Becca’s Lab

Your radio call with Bellamy leaves you in a good mood for a few hours, but that it quickly vanishes with the arrival of the black rain and the questionable experimentation on Baylis. During your call with Bellamy, your mom gave Baylis a dose of Nightblood, and you all wait around a few hours to make sure it has time to integrate with his system. Once it does, everyone is called to the lab to watch the testing that may save the human race, as horrifying as it may be.

Which is where you are now, standing beside Clarke near the radiation tube. Everyone else is scattered around the lab but also watching closely. Baylis is strapped inside, hooked up to monitors, tubes and wires connected to his body in various locations. Jackson checks over Baylis one last time as your mom monitors the screens in front of her. “Vital signs are strong. Jackson, seal the chamber.”

Jackson seals the chamber, his face blank of any emotion. “He’s ready.”

“Yeah, but are we?” You look over at Raven as she asks, her body rigid. Luna is near her, looking similarly upset. The air in the room is tense, nearly everyone opposed to what you’re about to do. Some of you can forgive the questionable tactics if it means saving your people, and the human race, but some of you can't. You’re conflicted, because as awful as Baylis seems to be, sticking someone into a tube and pumping radiation inside is an awful way to potentially die. 

Emori, who seems okay with the decision, given what he did to her and her brother remind you all, “The guy's a monster.”

Clarke, tired of the arguing, looks around the room at each of you. “We've been over this. None of us wants to do this, but the death wave will be here in 10 days. Luna's stem cells grafted successfully, and Baylis is making nightblood on his own. This really is our only hope.”

Murphy backs up both Clarke and Emori. “We really still talking about this? Black rain is already here, and 18 people died in it yesterday at Arkadia. If Nightblood can let us walk around in it, I, for one, want to know about that.”

There’s another moment of hesitation, before your mom speaks up. “Okay. Jackson, proceed.”

“Copy that.” He reaches for the controls for the chamber, slowly spinning a dial. “Initiating...500 REM.”

All of you watch Baylis closely, and other than the changing lights in the chamber, his eyes are still closed, blissfully unaware of the radiation around him. Jackson moves the dial again, increasing the radiation. “850. This is where we'd see symptoms in a non-Nightblood.”

You and Clarke move closer to the chamber, getting a better look, searching for any signs of redness or lesions as your mother calls out, “Blood pressure is 100 over 50. Body temp is 98.7. Resting comfortably.”

And still, Baylis is unmoving, appearing exactly the same as when he was put inside the chamber. You tell your mom, “No visible effects.”

Jackson turns the dial again, increasing it even higher. “1,000 REM….1,500.”

“All good here.”

“2,000 REM, the level of the black rain.”

Clarke smiles from her place beside you, “Still nothing, it's working.”

You see Roan on the other side of the chamber also smiling, as Jackson increases the radiation once more. “2,500.”

The reaction is instantaneous. The machine in front of your mother starts to beep loudly, signaling a spike in Baylis’ heartbeat. And as you and Clarke watch the man, red spots start to appear on his body, burns caused by the radiation. They spread over him quickly, some of them turning to lesions and Clarke yells, “Turn it off!”

But it’s too late. Baylis wakes from whatever medication your mother was giving him, screaming out in pain, “It stings! It stings!”

Your mom rushes towards the chamber, ready to pull it open, “Get him out of there!” But Jackson grabs her and holds her back, “Wait! It's not safe yet!”

As you wait for the radiation to get sucked out of the chamber, you all watch in horror as Baylis continues to scream. His screams turn to coughing up blood, thick and black, all over the glass around him, until he grows still, head slumped to the side. The computer behind you flatlines, indicating that Baylis is dead, killed by radiation, and soon, so will the rest of you. 

Your mother's voice is a horrified whisper as she stares at the dead man in the chamber. “What have I done?”

-

It takes a few more minutes for the chamber to clear up, but as soon as it does, your mother pulls it open, and her and Jackson transfer Baylis from the chamber onto a gurney. She takes a final blood sample from him before covering his body, ready to bury him as soon as the black rain stops. You stare at the blood soaked chamber in front of you, and the sight of it makes you sick, reminding you what you've done in order to survive. Another death that you could have prevented, another kill that you had a hand in. Maybe you deserve the Wanlida title, maybe you deserve to be called a monster. You walk off in search of some rags and cleaner, and when you return, Raven has a video feed pulled up for the death wave heading your way. Though it’s still 10 days out, it gets closer and closer with every passing second, reminding all of you of your impending deaths, especially now that Nightblood has failed. 

You head straight back to the chamber and start to clean the blood from it, and seconds later someone appears at your side, jumping in to help. You look over and see Luna, who still looks bothered by the whole situation, but you nod at her in appreciation. You sit side by side and clean the chambers, as Jackson, your mom, and Clarke all pour over the blood analysis from Baylis. “Abby, take a look at this.”

Luna turns to you, a stone bracelet in her hand, found at the end of the chamber. “The stones of his ancestors.”

She hands them to you and you look them over, as Clarke questions what’s on the screen behind her. “What is it?”

“Sodium polyethanol sulfonate. It's an additive used to prevent clotting. Looks like the radiation broke it down and caused a chain reaction.”

You pass the stones back to Luna, your attention now on the conversation behind you, not sure you like where this is going. Clarke looks between Jackson and your mother. “What happens if we remove it?”

“We could save everyone.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see the others perk up and come closer, listening in on the conversation between the medical staff. Murphy is the first to butt in. “You could? So, you're saying this can still work.”

“Not without testing.”

Raven turns towards your mother, angry and incredulous. “The last guy just died, screaming in agony, and you wanna try it again?”

Clarke turns towards her, already in defense of your mother, and this experimentation. “Give us a better idea, Raven. Please.”

Murphy shrugs and gestures to the exit of the lab, “So what? We just go out there, hunt for someone else?”

Miller, whose head was down, leaning against the metal stairs listening to the chaos, lifts his head. “No one's going anywhere in this storm.”

“Then we wait for it to pass.”

Roan looks over at Murphy, refuting his argument. “When it does, there may not be anyone else to hunt for.”

“Hunting for someone else to kill.” Luna scoffs, looking everyone over. “What's the matter with you people? Even Baylis honored the dead, he wore the stones of his Rock Line ancestors. Who will honor him?”

Rock Line? You turn to her, looking confused. “Wait, Baylis was Sangedakru.”

Emori steps forward, speaking for the first time. “He was, he was also a thief. He probably stole those stones.”

Roan, now also suspicious, looks at Emori as if he doesn't believe a word she's saying. “A thief who didn't bear the mark of Sangedakru.”

Clarke looks over at you, and you can see the wheels turning in her head, before she reaches a conclusion, and turns to Emori. “That wasn't Baylis, was it?”

“Come on Clarke, that's crazy. Of course-”

She cuts Murphy off, “Who did we just kill?”

You all turn to look at the couple in shock, waiting for their answer. Instead, Emori takes off running, grabbing an IV pole and lifting it over her head, intending to smash the radiation chamber. Roan grabs her and lifts a knife to her throat, and she yells, “John, take out the machine!”

Murphy immediately tries to smash the machine, but Miller is faster than he is and pulls out his gun, pointing it at Murphy. “Don't do anything stupid, Murphy.”

Roan looks between the couple and muses, “Looks like we know who's next.”

You look at him in shock, and Clarke walks off to get two sets of flexicuffs for the couple. A few minutes later, they open the doors to the rocket and handcuff them to the stairs that lead up to the rocket door, securing them in place, while the rest of you watch on in horror. As everyone walks out of the room and the doors are closed behind you, Murphy yells, “Now you're gonna lock us up!? She was just trying to save her own life. We're not gonna touch your stupid machine, all right? Please, Clarke! You can't do this to us! You can't let them do this to us!”

As the doors securely slide shut, Raven walks over to your mother and Clarke, who are standing nearby, looking at blood samples. “Please tell me you're not actually considering putting Emori in that chamber.”

Clarke, at the very least, does look conflicted as she turns to your mom. “Mom, I don't know what else to do.”

Roan answers before she can reassure your twin, giving her a serious look. “There is nothing else to do. We all know it.”

“Abby, there has to be something that doesn't make us murderers.”

Your mom looks at Raven, who refuses to back down and allow this to go on. “Jackson and I examined every possibility, and the only thing that we know for sure, is that if we do nothing, we die.”

She lets her words sink in, and then she glances over at Luna, who is nearby, leaning against a table. As you follow her eyes over to the Nightblood, you get your first good look at her in a while. There are large, dark rings around her eyes, indicating how tired she is and how much blood has been taken from her. She’s leaning against the table because her hip, the site of the bone marrow, is hurting, leaving her in pain. Her skin is pale, and she looks terrible, clearly unable to handle much more of this. Your mom, however, doesn't seem to notice. “Jackson, prep Luna for the next extraction.”

“No.” Everyone turns to Luna in shock, not expecting the words from her. “You've taken enough.”

“Luna, it's okay, we'll sedate you.”

“I said no. I won't allow my blood to kill any more innocent people.”

Without her blood, the human race will die, killing much more innocent people in the process. But something about this situation, about torturing Emori and potentially killing her just because she lied to save herself, seems worse than condemning the human race to extinction. The moral dilemma is not lost on you, you can see how complicated the situation is, but despite barely knowing Emori, you still don't want to watch her die. 

“My blood is a curse. It will, however, keep you from following me into the rain.”

Luna starts to head towards the stairs, dragging her injured leg behind her. Roan steps into her path, right at the base of the stairs, radiating power and authority. “We can't let you leave.”

Clarke echoes his sentiment, as she watches Luna with pleading eyes. “We need you, Luna.”

Luna ignores both of them, heading towards the stairs again, but Roan stops her again. “You're wounded, and I don't wanna fight you.”

“You have no choice. Remember?”

She spins and lands a kick on his chest with her good leg, sending Roan flying into a cart of medical supplies behind him. The kick hurts Luna just as much as it hurts Roan, her body struggling to hold up her weight. Roan pulls himself to his feet and stalks towards her, swinging a kick to her back that knocks her onto the ground with a loud cry of pain. He grabs her in a chokehold, putting pressure on her neck until she falls unconscious, as you all watch on in shock. Once she's knocked out, Roan lifts her into his arms and lays her onto one of the beds nearby, looking at your mom as if to say, “Here you go.”

You and Raven, the only two besides Murphy and Emori who seem to despise this, share a look with each other, equal parts shock and horror. She turns to your mom, her voice a horrified whisper, “So you're gonna strap her down and take her bone marrow? Welcome to Mount Weather.”

You feel a roll of nausea, a flash of memories coming at you. Hiding in the vent system, watching Dr. Tsing drill into one of the delinquents as he clings to his last thread of life. Bellamy hanging upside down, unwillingly healing one of the men that killed your people. Fox, bloodied and bruised, dumped into a minecart like trash, dead. Your mom strapped down, drilled into while you, Bellamy, and Clarke are faced with an impossible decision.

You shake your head, unable to stand this room for another second. Emotion pricks at your eyes and anxiety washes over you, feeling panicky at the thought of standing in this room and watching someone else die just so the rest of you can live. A decision you’ve been faced with before, but something about this is so much different. Your feet carry you out of the room, up the stairs, and to the office. You don’t realize what you're doing until your hand is reaching for the radio, already switching the channel to 4, the one you and Bellamy agreed to talk on. “Bellamy, do you read me?”

You wait for an answer, but you're met with silence. Emotion rises in you again, choking you, making your voice sound thick. “Bellamy, please tell me you’re there, I need to talk to you.”

You’re met with a long moment of silence, and you put your head down in your hands, ready to cry your eyes out. Just as the tears start to fall, Bellamy’s voice comes through the radio, sounding worried, “My natshana, are you okay?”

“No.”

A sob breaks free from you, and you let the button go, not wanting Bellamy to hear you cry. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

Tears spill down your cheeks, the emotion tight in your throat, leaving you unable to speak. You sit listening to the sound of his voice, tears falling down your face as he worries. “Talk to me, please.”

“We killed someone today when we tried to test Nightblood. Bellamy, it was awful. He was coughing up blood, burns and lesions appearing all over his body as he screamed in pain. He died in complete agony, and the test didn't even work. We failed. But now…”

You trail off, thinking of watching Emori die in the same way. Then Murphy, if that doesn't work. And once they’re dead, who’s next? Who will death bring to the table next, Wanlida? 

“But now what?”

“Now they think they know what went wrong, and they want to test it again.”

“On another Grounder?”

“Something like that. Emori, one of us. It’s complicated because she lied to us, and I think people are using that as a reason to justify this being okay, but Bellamy I can't do that. I can't rationalize in my head that she deserves to die just because she was trying to save her life in the first place. If this is the price of survival, it’s too high, too much. And maybe we don’t deserve it.”

He’s quiet, taking everything in, before he whispers, “Do you remember what I told you when Pike offered you that leadership position?”

“That he was right to trust me, because I don't back down when things get hard.”

“That’s right. And I always thought that I did what was right for our people, but sometimes what I thought was right, wasn't. But you, you have always done what’s right for us. Even when things are hard, you don't back down. You make the tough decisions, the right decisions, because others can’t. It sounds like this is one of those decisions.”

You think on his words, mull them over, a plan already forming in your mind. A smile spreads on your face, because Bellamy always knows exactly what to say to you. “Thank you, Bellamy.”

You hear a knock on the glass, and you look up, meeting Clarke’s eyes. She pushes the door open and tips her head down to the lab. “We’re about to start.”

“Okay.” You lift the radio, “Bellamy, I have to go.”

You hear a door slam in the background when he answers, “Looks like I do too.”

“Wait, where are you?”

He sighs, “I’ll explain later. Radio as soon as you can, same channel.”

“Copy that. I love you.”

“I love you more than the stars.”

You smile and set the radio down, pushing the chair back and standing, looking up at your twin as you do. The conflict of this decision seems to be wearing on her just as heavily, the sag in her shoulders worse that normal, a frown permanently etched onto her face. You hate to do it, but you know you need to feed into her conflict, make her doubt the plan, because if you can turn Clarke onto your side, most of the others will follow suit. You walk towards the door, squeezing her arm as you walk past, whispering, “What would dad think about all this?”

You don’t wait for her response, you just keep walking towards the stairs, shuffling down them and coming to stand at the bottom. Clarke joins you a second later, and you can see the conflict in her still, growing deeper with every passing second. Still, she presses the button to the door for the rocket and walks into the room, Miller and Roan right at her side. “It’s time.”

Murphy looks at her in a panic, “Guys, just wait, okay? Hear me out.”

Clarke nods, trying to convince him, and herself. “It'll work this time.”

Tears spring up in Emori’s eyes, and her voice is thick with tears as she insists, “Then how about we just go with that and forget the test?”

Clarke turns to Miller and nods, and the man steps forward and injects Emori with a sedative, knocking her out instantly. Murphy starts to fight, yelling with rage and emotion, “Miller! Miller, I swear to God, I'll kill y-”

Roan cuts him off by putting a knife to his throat, but he ignores it as his threats turn to begging, watching as Miller takes his love away. “Miller, please. Just look at me, man. You don't need to do this!”

“I wish that were true.”

Miller backs out of the room with Emori over his shoulder, and Roan steps away from Murphy to follow him, leaving you, Clarke, and Murphy alone. He turns on Clarke, pissed. “You don't have to do this! Who the hell do you think you are, huh?”

Her jaw is clenched tight, Murphy only aiding in her conflict. “I'm trying to save us.”

“Save us? Ah, right. Wanheda, savior of us all! But maybe you're forgetting the last time you saved us, I was saving you!”

“I'm not forgetting.”

He tries to throw his hands up in frustration, and you get a look at the blood running over them, covering the bruises that are starting to bloom on his wrists from his struggles with the cuffs. “You haven't forgotten? Then, please, you don't need to do this. Don't do it.”

Hearing Murphy beg is foreign to you, and only aids in the nausea already starting to roll through you again. You glance back and see Emori laid out in a bed, awaiting her injections. Murphy switches to anger, his emotions high and running all over the place. “You know, it's too bad that you weren't a real Nightblood, because then you could have been Commander. Imagine how many people you could've killed then. Tell me something, after you murder Emori, am I next?”

Clarke says nothing, just turns her head away from him, and you start to think that maybe he is next. Murphy may be a scumbag cockroach, but even he has his redeeming qualities, and you’re not eager to see him killed. He continues his emotional campaign with desperation, the sound of it absolutely breaking your heart. “I'm begging you, please. I love her! Don't do this!”

Clarke’s jaw shifts, trying to keep her emotions in check. “Emori will be fine.”

She turns away, already heading towards the door, walking past you on the way. The movement must have reminded Murphy of your presence because he yells at her retreating figure, “Look at me! If Emori dies...your twin dies!”

Clarke stills in place for a fraction of a second, and you look at Murphy, knowing he means it. But then she continues out the door, and Murphy turns to you, voice low and pleading. “You have to help her, I love her! I love her the way you love Bellamy, please! You can't let them kill her!”

You close the space between you, voice low and quiet. “I won't.”

And then you turn and walk out of the room, the door closing behind you. Once you step back into the lab, your eyes start cataloguing things, forming a plan. Miller and Roan are by the stairs, Raven is hovering nearby. Jackson is near the computers, your mom and Clarke are near Emori’s sleeping form. There’s a table beside her, a tray on its surface, two vials of Nightblood on the tray. 

When you reach them, and everyone is accounted for, your mom reaches for the Nightblood vial, ready to inject Emori. But as soon as it's in her hand, moving towards the patient’s arm, she freezes, unable to do it. Clarke leans towards her and whispers, “Mom, we have to do this.”

“I can't.”

She turns and puts the vial back on the tray, stepping away and turning her back to Emori, unable to look at her. Clarke walks over her to comfort her, and you eye the Nightblood vials, forgotten on the tray. You glance at Jackson, who’s not paying attention, and Roan and Miller are behind you, unable to see around you. You grab the vial, hold it in your hand, and start to move towards your arm when a hand lands over your own, stopping you. You look up in surprise, meeting Clarke’s eyes, who lifts her other hand, revealing the other vial of Nightblood. She whispers, “Stronger together.”

You nod your head, and at the same time, you push the vials of Nightblood into your arm, injecting yourselves instead of Emori. Jackson says both of your names in shock, the only one to witness what you’ve done, and your mom turns around, eyes landing on the needles coming out of your arm in horror. She rushes towards both of you, but it’s too late. Each vial of Nightblood is empty, now injected into the Griffin Twins, starting the process of becoming Nightbloods.

The black blood traces a path through your veins, and you watch it track its way up your arm until it disappears beneath your sleeve. Your mother starts to cry, horrified, and the weight of what you and Clarke just did starts to hit you. It’s either you or your twin going in that chamber, and odds are high that whoever it is won’t come out again. Still, you try to use humor to diffuse the situation, locking eyes with your twin as you ask, “Aren’t twins usually the best test subjects anyways?”

-

Everyone waits around for two hours before Jackson motions each of you to a bed, ready to check to see if your blood has changed. He moves over to you first, drawing a vial of blood from your arm, and you watch in fascination as black liquid fills up the vial. He does the same to Clarke, and her blood is the same, no longer red like it used to be. You both look at each other and whisper, “It worked.”

Jackson puts both of your vials onto the lab table behind him, before standing in front of you again. “It’s been two hours, how do you feel?”

“Good.”

��Ready.”

You and Clarke stand, walking over to the chamber, but your mom stops in front of your path, blocking you. “I won't let either of you do it.”

Clarke puts a comforting hand on her arm. “We trust you, it’ll work.”

“Besides, you were willing to use it on Emori. Now you have to be willing to use it on us.” You turn to Jackson, nodding your head at him. “Turn it on.”

“Jackson, don’t!” Your mom looks between you, looking terrified. “If either of you go in there, you’ll die. I saw it.”

You shake your head, not understanding. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw it.”

Raven questions, “Like I saw the rocket?”

Your mom nods, but you shake your head, still not understanding what she means. Clarke is growing equally frustrated and confused, and she starts to walk towards the chamber again, reaching out for your hand to take you with her. “We're wasting time.”

As soon as your mom sees you on the move again, she freaks out. She pushes past both of you and grabs an IV pole, the same one Emori tried to use earlier, and she starts to smash the radiation chamber. You all yell at her to stop, every single one of you now collectively on the same page, but she doesn't. She smashes the glass and swings at the cables, severing them. She hits over and over until the machine is broken beyond repair, ignoring all of you yelling at her to stop. She drops the pole once she’s finished, sliding down to the floor, starting to cry. 

Clarke goes over to her to comfort her, pulling your mom into her arms as she cries into Clarke’s chest. You watch on, shaking your head, more angry than anything. You turn away from the group, and head upstairs again, straight for the office. Bellamy is already calling out to you when you arrive, the sound of loud music pulsing and beating in the background. You run and grab the radio, joking as you answer, “Did you get lost at a rock concert?”

He gives you a sarcastic laugh in return, “Ha ha, no. Jasper is having an end of the world celebration party. He dragged me to the forest for jobi nuts earlier, which is where I was when you called.”

“Did he hear everything?”

“No, he was asleep in the back until I stopped the vehicle. Then he just woke up and hopped out without a word.”

“Oh.” You pause, and then joke, “Are you drinking jobi nut tea now?”

“No, never again. Though, Bree did try to get me to come dance with her.”

“Huh. Interesting.” 

You feel a flash of jealousy, which Bellamy seems to sense, because he laughs, “Put your knife away, spitfire. I told her there’s only one girl in the world that I want to dance with and she’s currently stuck on an island so I’d have to decline.”

“Good.”

“Don’t think you can distract me from your earlier dilemma with your jealousy though. What happened? Is Emori alive?”

“Emori’s alive because we never tested her.”

“So you spoke up and stopped them? I knew you’d do the right thing.”

“Not exactly.”

You hear suspicion creep into his voice. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

“I mean, I injected myself with the Nightblood before they could give it to Emori and Clarke used the other vial on herself so they couldn't use that one either. But then mom got upset and said she saw a vision of us dying and she refused to let us run the tests so she smashed the radiation chamber and now there’s nothing left to do now.”

You say the words in a rush, the sentences coming out like one long word, and Bellamy calls out, “Woah, woah, woah, back up. You did what?”

“Injected myself with Nightblood.” You can hear him take in a sharp breath, and you feel a lecture coming, so you cut him off, “But you told me to do the right thing and do the hard thing, so I did!”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

You can hear the scolding tone in his voice, and it makes you roll your eyes a little, his protective nature a little too protective at times. Not that you’d tell him that, because even at times like this, you appreciate it. “I know, but it doesn't matter anyways. Mom smashed the chamber so there’s no way to test it. It looks like the radiation really is going to kill us all, and we just have to accept it.”

Bellamy holds the button on his radio down to answer, but at the same time, the other radio in the Chancellor’s office comes to life, Kane’s voice frantically calling through. “Arkadia, come in, Arkadia do you copy?”

Bellamy keeps the button held down so you can faintly hear him answer, “Kane? It’s Bellamy, is everything okay? Harper told me you went to Polis.”

“We found it, Bellamy. We found the Second Dawn bunker.”

The air leaves your body in a rush, as you stare at the radio in shock. A smile comes over your face, and you laugh in disbelief, repeating the cult’s motto, “From the ashes, we will rise.”

-

next chapter

[oneboxofmatches]

This is a request I did for the amazing @strawberry-caffeine​ -- she’s been so kind to me and it was an absolute joy to do this request!

A few things: With the length of the request, while I still included friendship matchups, I decided not to write out descriptions/explanations along with them. To (hopefully) make up for that, I put the #1 friendship choice in BOLD CAPITAL LETTERS with two other bonus characters I think you’d be good friends with in regular bold type (except for the Harry Potter: Marauders era because there aren’t many choices haha). I hope this is okay!!

Here we go!

--Supernatural--

I romantically pair you with…

JACK KLINE

You’re good at hyping your friends up? Please give this boy all the hype in the world -- he needs it.

Seriously though, one (out of many) of the reasons Jack loves you so, so much is how you’re able to talk him out of a slump. His constant doubts and insecurities regarding his identity plague him often, and the fact that you’re willing to both listen to him pour his heart out and still find a way to reassure him means the world.

Jack’s also still getting the hang of the whole “talking” thing, so you helping him along when a lull in the conversation arrives makes him feel supported.

Not only does your helpful nature benefit Jack, but it’s also one of his favorite traits of yours! He believes in a kind, just world and consistently seeing that from you never fails to bring a bright smile to his face.

Whenever you bottle up your feelings, however, Jack is admittedly at a loss at first. Though it would take patience, turning these moments into teaching opportunities will help him become more in tune with emotions over time.

During these moments, all he wants to do is help -- even before he really understands what’s going on. He’ll ask you what you need and rush to assist in any way he can. He hates seeing you hurt, it’s as simple as that.

Jack loves being around you because he learns so much, and you’re just as eager to teach him. Together, you learn to appreciate the little things in life because you both bring such different perspectives to the world.

Overall, the kindness you show Jack from the beginning is what drives your relationship, and he makes it his goal to make sure you know how loved and appreciated you are in return.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

CASTIEL, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Charlie Bradbury

--Harry Potter--

In the Golden Trio era, I romantically pair you with…

NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM

Honestly, Neville’s insecurities may make him feel a little intimidated by you at first. Thoughts like, “How could someone as friendly, energetic, and spontaneous as her ever love me of all people?” are pretty common in the early stages of your relationship.

Of course, you help Neville understand fairly quickly that you aren’t going anywhere. Because you’re so good at reading and interpreting emotions, you’re able to assist him with addressing these doubts head-on. These personal conversations are what truly solidify your trust in one another and serve as the strong foundations of a powerful bond.

Also, Neville really appreciates your ability to keep a conversation going. He sometimes struggles with this himself, but he’s relieved he doesn’t have to worry about these shortcomings when it comes to you. Talking with you just comes naturally.

While his verbal communication can use some work, Neville is one of the best listeners to have on-hand when it comes to any problems that arise in your life. Someone’s pushing you to your limit? Neville has all the patience in the world to let you rant so you don’t have to bottle up your feelings. Need to talk through solutions to personal issues? He’ll give you his undivided attention while you work your way around to an answer, providing feedback if you ask for it. Feel the need to ramble? Neville will not only listen, but he’ll actually take a genuine interest in whatever it is you’re talking about.

While he otherwise second-guesses all his decisions, Neville surprisingly really enjoys venturing on unplanned, impulsive adventures with you. A favorite for the both of you is exploring areas on the grounds or in nature. You’re usually the one to charge ahead, excitedly talking while Neville hangs back a few steps. He takes in his surroundings, sure, but mostly he’s just watching you and simply feeling happy from the joy you radiate.

Speaking of things you love to do together, gardening is near the top of the list! One of Neville’s deepest passions is botany, and he doesn’t share his knowledge with just anyone. Seeing you take a true interest in your shared garden gives him all the warmest, fuzziest feelings imaginable.

Overall, you’re the one to bring Neville out of his shell, and he’s the one who takes time to listen to you. You bring out the best in each other, and your unbreakable bond makes the two of you fiercely loyal until the end.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

LUNA LOVEGOOD, Nymphadora Tonks, Molly Weasley

In the Marauders era, I romantically pair you with…

REMUS LUPIN

You want to talk about one of the most understanding and patient individuals out there? It’s this one.

While Remus isn’t always keen on discussing his own emotions, he is very astute when it comes to sensing the well-being of others. Whether you’re burnt out, overwhelmed, on the verge of a breakdown or something bad just happened to happen to you that day, he knows.

Having people like James and Sirius as friends has taught him both how to tune in to the ramblings of a hyper person as well as how to utilize selective hearing. Remus realizes that he never wants to use that second skill with you. Unlike his friends (who he loves very much, mind you) he wants to take in everything you tell him.

It’s this active listening that makes Remus an excellent gift giver. A majority of the things he gives you are from offhand comments that you don’t think twice about making in the moment.

One of Remus’s absolute favorite things about you is the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about. He finds this trait so endearing, and it’s an easy way to make him smile.

Caring for you when your thoughts are traveling especially fast becomes second nature to Remus. Whenever he knows that he’ll see you, he always has at least one outlet (pen/paper, alcohol marker, etc.) for you. He’s also more than fine with you drawing something on his hand if you’d like -- he loves watching you work and he also gets to walk away with something that can remind him of you!

Remus also excels in history, reading, and writing, so I can definitely see many conversations between you two that revolve around these subjects. Also, after both of you complete your own essays, I believe proofreading and/or discussing each other’s work would become a habit of yours.

Overall, the shared ability to read and interpret emotions as well as the simple wish to care for one another draw you two together to form the sweetest couple around!

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

LILY EVANS

--Marvel Cinematic Universe--

I romantically pair you with…

PIETRO MAXIMOFF

Pietro was first drawn to how easily you can hold a conversation. He recognized immediately how easy it was to joke around with you once you warmed up (which didn’t take long -- Pietro’s somewhat gifted with the power of easy conversation himself). You both felt comfortable around each other relatively quickly.

Yes, Pietro’s known for his impossibly quick movements, but no one stops to think that this requires impossibly quick thinking. While Pietro has had some time to grab somewhat of a hold on his abilities, he still struggles with thoughts that just move too fast for him. You show him some of your tactics for dealing with this, and it literally changes his life.

Up until that point, your interactions had been mostly fun and rather lighthearted. But helping Pietro in such a thoughtful way and relating to him on a level that no one usually can made him see you in a different life. That’s how he knew he loved you.

This can be a chaotic relationship at times to say the least.

Many of your conversations can hardly be followed because you often build off of each other’s energy. While your quick minds are often on the same page, a third person might not be able to keep up.

Pietro does NOT hesitate when it comes to standing up for you. As soon as he learned about your people-pleasing habit, he took it upon himself to be on guard for anyone who could possibly take advantage of you. While you may find it hard to say no, Pietro has no problem stepping in and telling someone to back off.

You might feel as if he goes a little overboard with this sometimes, telling him that it “wasn’t right to be mean to that person.” He’ll just glance at you, shake his head and start up a lecture (albeit not a harsh one -- he really does care about you!) about asserting personal boundaries.

Pietro and his ego LOVE compliments, so you can expect a welcome reaction to each one you give him.

He’s also a big fan of going on spontaneous trips, discovering different parts of the world side by side.

But he’ll also settle for getting to hold you while you two talk about your day.

Overall, Pietro has no problem matching your energy, and you both want nothing more than to discover the adventures life has to offer together.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

VISION, Thor, Tony Stark

--Hamilton--

I romantically pair you with…

JOHN LAURENS

John has a lot of respect for someone who manages to include everyone, so it’s no wonder you caught his eye.

First impressions already told him you were friendly and empathetic, but discovering the more energetic and spontaneous side of you? Yep, he was in love.

Both of you have always had a desire to help people, so being able to do that with someone who shares the same passion and energy feels special. You’re more than a couple; you’re a team.

Whenever John’s troubled by what’s going on in the world, it doesn’t take him long to turn to you. He’s one of the most stubborn people alive when it comes to admitting he needs help, but all he knows is that talking to you seems to relieve him of some of that load (please be patient with him!!).

Meanwhile, he knows you have your own ways of coping with racing thoughts so he feels comfortable giving you space when you need it. If what you need is a person to listen, however, he’s there in a heartbeat.

Serious topics aside, you two just know how to have fun! Between your friendly personalities that naturally draw others in and your impulsive natures that (most of the time) lead you to exciting experiences, you make so many mutual friends! Sharing a group of close friends -- surprise, surprise -- brings you and John even closer.

Overall, you and John can always be found by each other’s side when facing whatever comes your way, good or bad.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

PHILIP HAMILTON, Marquis de Lafayette, Peggy Schuyler

[pretend-writer]

Down Below (Chapter 67)

Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, John Murphy x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader

Word Count: 2.6k words

Warning: mention of death, mention of violence, swearing

✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤  ·  ✤

It was hard to believe in second chances after all I’ve done down at the bunker. Despite telling myself over the past few years that what I did was for Wonkru and to support Octavia, I knew in my heart that it was a shitty thing to do.

But here I stood next to Bellamy as we looked out the window of Eligius IV, staring at our possible new home that Monty researched for us all these years we were in cryo sleep.

‘Monty did all of this... for us...’ Bellamy mumbled to himself, looking at the new planet in awe. ‘This...’

‘This is amazing.’ The words slipped out of my mouth, enjoying the beautiful view we had from up this ship. Who would’ve known that Earth wasn’t the only livable place in the universe? By the way it seemed, the planet full of green life, it was habitable for humans. But we wouldn't know for sure until we get to the ground.

‘Yeah, I’m really excited actually. I don’t know a life outside this ship.’ Jordan grinned widely, ‘Also, it’s nice meeting you two finally. Monty and Harper talked a lot about you guys.’

It was crazy to think that Monty and Harper had a child, but it was more insane to think that they were both gone. Instead of going to cryo, they’ve decided to live the rest of their lives together.

They had their own family, finally had a life away from war and lived in peace. Now that I think about it, it sounded so beautiful. I knew that Monty and Harper were happy together, they deserved all of that and more.

‘Y/N, before I log off from my final video...’ Monty smiled through the camera, ‘I want to thank you for taking care of Jasper. I always wonder if I tried hard enough, he’d still be with us today. Because of everything you’ve done for him, I know that all that happened at the bunker wasn’t the real you, I truly believe that. Even though you did scare me.’

‘Throughout the times from when we landed on Earth to now, you’ve always done what’s best for everyone. That’s all that matters in the end. I hope that on this planet, we can all do better and look out for each other.’ Monty smiled one last time, ‘I believe in you guys. May we meet again.’

‘May we meet again.’ Bellamy and I whispered as Monty logged out of the video. The tears streamed down my face, not being able to process that Monty wasn't with us anymore.

He was the one that gave me hope; after dealing with Mount Weather, Monty was the one that made me realize that I had to push through to be an asset again. He pulled me out of a dark place that I never thought I'd ever leave. He even realize that Skafaiya had changed, that I was being better.

If it wasn't for him, reassuring that I can do better I would of never realized what I've become and all that bad that I've done. I should be thanking him for that, I wish I thanked him before we parted ways.

'Who else should I wake up?' Jordan asked sweetly. 'My dad programmed cryo to wake us up but not the others.'

My dad. Wow I could never get used to that, I thought to myself. I wish I was able to congratulate Monty and Harper, except it happened a hundred years ago.

'We can't wake everyone, it'll be chaotic. We can get the people who can go down and help us search around. Starting with Shaw, the pilot.' Bellamy nodded, he turned to me and flashed a smile.

I shrugged, not really in the mood to talk to him. After what Raven had told me about Bellamy and Echo, I didn't know if I was able to stand him. 'Yeah. Okay. Sounds good.'

'You okay, Reyes?' Bellamy reached for me to hold his hand, except I took a step back. He cocked his head, confused. Last time I saw him, we were in good terms and wanted to start over again. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.' I avoided his eye contact as I left the room. Bellamy followed me into the cryo room, not saying a word as he tried to give me space.

I'd rather not wait and instead, tell him the whole truth about what I knew about The Ring. The problem was the fact that he was acting as if nothing happened, as if he didn't kiss another girl while he was in space. Bellamy made me feel bad about the bunker when the fact was that he was hiding things from his at-the-time girlfriend.

As I worked the cryo machine, I woke up the people we needed to venture down with on the new planet. Each person popped out of cryo, slowly waking up as if they were just taking a short nap.

'No, not her.' Bellamy rested his hand on mine, stopping me from pressing the button. 'We can't wake Octavia up.'

'Why not? Are you still scared of her?'

'If someone is already living on this planet, we don't want Blodreina fucking everything up.'

'Well, if someone is actually down there and if they happen to be savages, don't we need someone who can fight?' Murphy walked towards us, giving me a hug from the side. 'Just saying.'

Bellamy rolled his eyes, didn't know if it was from John being close to me or the fact that he was told what to do about his sister. 'I'm not taking that risk. I'm sure we will be fine ourselves.'

'Alright, you're the boss.' John dropped the conversation, quickly turning to me. 'Can I talk to you, Y/N?'

'Yeah, of course.' I nodded, smiling at him before he walked away.

In the corner of my eyes, I saw Bellamy staring at me. I could tell that he was confused, maybe a bit jealous too. With all that's happened, I didn't know whether to feel bad or let him be. Either way, I left the room.

Following Murphy out of the cryo room, he led me to the hallway. 'I missed you. Even though it feels like I just saw you 10 minutes ago.'

I giggled, feeling butterflies like I did when I kissed him before we headed to cryo sleep. 'To be fair, it's been over hundred years.'

'And yet, your shot wound hasn't healed.' John pointed at my leg, 'Saw you limping earlier.'

'Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm always fine.' I smiled. Wanting to get everything out the way, I decided to talk to him about the obvious topic we had to discuss. 'I haven't told Bellamy by the way.'

He nodded, 'I figured. It's okay, there's no need to rush it.'

'But I feel bad, I don't want it to be a secret or anything.'

'Don't feel bad because whatever we have, it's worth it. I don't mind the mystery either. Besides, sneaking around is kind of a turn on.'

This feeling I had for him felt so right, so nostalgic; felt way better than feeling pressured by Bellamy to be different and to feel bad about who I was. I didn't have to pretend with John, we knew each other majority of our lives and he understood what I've been through.

What I didn't understand was why all this time, Bellamy guilted me about the years I spent in the bunker when he had secrets he was keeping from me.

Jackson suddenly rushed towards me and Murphy, looking at me as if he was very stressed. 'Jackson, what's wrong?'

'We're prepping Kane for surgery. He's awake and somewhat stable for now but-' He paused, I could tell he was scared of my reaction.

'What?'

'Kane wants to see you.'

My heart dropped, not expecting to see Marcus at all. Last time I saw him, he was unconscious and when I spoke my final words to him back at Polis, I said some pretty mean stuff.

'Can I just see him after surgery?'

'Bellamy is preparing with Clarke to go check out the new planet and he told me you're going with. Also with Kane's condition, we're afraid he might not make it.'

'You should go see him, Y/N.' John tapped my arm, 'I can come with you if you'd like.'

Marcus' condition? How bad was his injuries? I knew that one of Abby's patients attacked him but I didn't know it was this critical. No matter how much pain he brought me after all the betrayals, I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him.

'I'll be okay.' I faked a smile to John, but instantly he knew I was lying.

He didn't push it though, instead he nodded in return. 'Let me know if you need me.'

'Thank you, John.' I said before I followed Jackson into a room. Raven, Abby and Bellamy looked up as the door opened for Jackson and I.

'What is she doing here?' Abby growled, staring at me as if I came to kill Marcus myself. 'She's going to trigger him and make his condition worse than it already is.'

'Kane personally asked for her. I think he has a right to see her, Abby.' Jackson replied back, 'We should give them some privacy.'

Raven nodded, 'I agree. We'll be right outside if you need us Y/N.'

'Thanks.' Raven and Jackson left the room, Abby still glaring at me as she stood next to Kane laying on the bed.

'I'm not going anywhere Y/N. I don't trust you for-'

'It's okay Abby. Give us some space, I need to speak to her.' Marcus spoke up, putting his hand on hers. 'We will be fine.'

Abby huffed as she headed to the door. 'If anything happens to him, it's on you.'

Bellamy looked at me with sad eyes, I guess he understood my situation with me and Marcus after I told him before he got into the fighting pit; sorry flushed across his face.

He reached for my hand but I quickly swept it away, I didn't even mean to do it. 'I-I want to be alone with him if that's okay, Bellamy?'

'Ah. Sure.' Bellamy whispered, scratching his temple as he left the room.

I slowly walked over to Marcus' bed, holding my breath. I didn't know what to say or what to feel after everything that had happened.

'How are you?' He whispered, not being able to speak loudly. The patient had stabbed Marcus on his neck, causing him to lose a lot of blood.

'I should be the one asking you that.' The bloody bandage on his neck scared me a little, I've never seen him so helpless.

'Physically, I can tolerate this pain but emotionally I'm not okay.' Marcus' voice cracked, 'I'm sorry for what I did to you.'

'What are you sorry about exactly?' I didn't mean to sound petty, I genuinely needed to know if I was ready to forgive him. It hurt that someone I love so much turned his back on me, but it was hard to keep hating him also.

Marcus paused, carefully turning his head toward me. His eyes started to water and he lightly whimpered. 'About everything, monkey.'

I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold my tears in. It made me feel sad for him, but for what? He betrayed me not once but twice; The first time in the bunker after he never believed that Abby blackmailed me and when he turned against Wonkru to work with Diyoza.

His betrayal made me angry but it made me even more upset at myself for still caring for him. Just like he told me at the fighting pit, I tried to stop him for a reason. And that reason was that no matter how much pain he put me through, I cared for him.

'You know, Octavia came to me and told me what happened when the Dark Year began. That Abby had told you to shoot those people. I didn't want to believe that someone I love did those things to you. I also couldn't believe what I saw when you shot and killed Wonkru.'

'But you chose her over me, even when I came up to you about Abby. All those years you took her side and left me in the dark, made it mine and Octavia's fault that the Dark Year happened.'

'I know... I know...' He breathed, 'I just didn't want to admit that Abby would do that. I saw what you did and I didn't wanted to believe that she was behind all of this.'

'So you were okay with blaming me and not her?'

'No, I wasn't. Not at all.' Marcus held his breath, gently wiping his tears that were streaming down his face. 'I was confused, I felt like everything was falling apart. I chose the easy way out, turned you into an enemy. I never even considered how you felt at all.'

It made me mad, knowing that he knew he was wrong for blaming everything on me. All I wanted was a hug, an "I love you" or just any support from him. 'You made my life a living hell.'

'I know Y/N, I know.' He reached for my hand, his hand shaking from weakness. 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.'

Leaning in closer to him, I felt his touch on my cheek. It's been a long time since I've been this close to Marcus. 'I was just a kid, I was scared what Abby was going to do to Octavia. She had a gun... and I knew her drug problems and I-'

'I'm sorry, Y/N.' Kane sobbed, caressing my cheek. 'I'm sorry.'

Gently and carefully, I wrapped my arms around Marcus. Making sure not to put my whole weight on him, I hugged him as I buried my face into his chest. Tears fell down my eyes, staining Marcus' shirt with tears which added to the blood stains from his injuries.

'I just wanted you to believe me, that's all I wanted.'

'I'm sorry.' Marcus repeated over and over again. 'I'm proud of you okay? For overcoming this without me, without Bellamy or your sister.'

'Octavia was with me. She helped me through everything.'

'Oh, baby.' He shook his head, holding me tightly as he can with all the strength he had left in him. 'Why did I do this to you again? I told myself after what happened at the Ark, I wouldn't ever do anything to lose you again... Why... why?'

Even though I hated that he took Abby's side, it must've been hard for him to see her in that way. I can never justify or maybe even forgive him when he turned his back on me but I can understand the confusion he must of had.

Everyone knows I was not innocent in this at all. Not at all, not even close.

'Thank you, for apologizing.' I mumbled into his chest, hugging him a little bit longer.

'No, thank you for even coming to talk to me.'

Taking a deep breath, I recollected all my thoughts. I tried to wipe my tears off of his shirt but it all sank in. 'Sorry your shirt is wet now.'

Marcus laughed lightly, shaking his head. 'Don't worry about it. I need a new one anyway.'

Placing my hand on his cheek, I wiped his tears. 'Don't leave me again.'

'I'll try not to.'

'No, promise me you won't. You can't leave me again. Not after all that's happened.'

He looked at me, smiled as he nodded. 'Okay. I promise Y/N.'

Nodding in return, I gave him a kiss on his forehead. 'For good luck.'

'Thank you, monkey.'

'May we meet again.'

Marcus smiled once again, 'I'll see you soon kiddo.'

[pillsofpink]

Apokolips War Thoughts and Feelings

First of all 9.5/10. LOVED IT LOVED IT LOVED IT

As a massive Damirae shipper it is all I wanted and more

!!!SPOILER WARNING AFTER BREAK!!!!

*This includes analytical views from a filmmaking perspective*

1) AGYUFbeijwbfnkewnfou

2) (skip this if you don't care about my analysis) I love the way they used flash backs in this, just like I had hoped, not to dump all the info at once was great. The scene toward the beginning in the pub perfectly sets up the tone and general attitude after the defeat. A great moment that introduces the limitations on Clark and Raven. I think that the ending, with the whole flashpoint thing, though logical, cheapens the movie in the retrospective. It would have had a much greater impact had they left it as is and just continued to have a new universe. 

3) I for one was so surprised by the overall change in demeanor and attitude in Raven. From the first scene we saw her she was cynical (more so than usual) and aggressive and just generally tired of everyones shit, AND I LOVED IT. it also very much set up how the characters are after the changes that have happened and what has happened to them.

4) “For fucks sake” if you're in the chats that I am in, you remember the long conversation we had discussing who would get to curse with the R rating, and we had basically agreed not Raven. Ive watched that 10 seconds too many times to count, brilliant.

5) Etrigan, whom I have never really cared much for was such a highlight.

6) Constantine & King Shark. idk if it was canon or Fanon that had John as bisexual, but we STAN A BI KING

7) Dick in the cell absolutely demolished me

8) I was a bit peeved by how little reaction Clark had to Lois’s death. 

9) In that vein of thought, the way that Bruce took a moment to mourn Damian’s death but then got right back up and it did not seem to affect him much after that, which is somewhat in character. However when Damian died in the comics Bruce was inconsolable (BTW if you have not read that storyline please do so. it is somewhere after Batman Inc. #8 but I could not figure out which one) so it felt a bit off, but the mission comes first, eh?

10) I am not the biggest fan of John and Zatanna (I like it, just never been one of my biggest ships) but all of that was SO HEARTFELT.

11) I wish we had more with Damian leading the League of Assassins, I also think they should have explored more why he went back there. I think that his returning is a very important character point and it was brushed over.

12) I NEED AN AU OR SOMETHING WITH DAMIAN AND RAVEN AT THE HELM OF THE LOA

Now for all my Damirae:

1) YAY CANON

2) I loved the fact that Damian immediately dropped his impending verbal match with Clark as soon as he realized Raven was unwell. 

3) It is incredibly showing of the impact of little things that the scene where Damian admits his feelings and Raven shares her suicide attempt , is not the most impactful moment for me.

4) Raven going absolutely ape when Lex hurt Damian is my kink. How dope was that line too? “No one will mourn you” Savage

5) Are we not going to talk about the main threat that Trigon gave Raven? that he was going to kill Damian?Because that's major that that was such a conflicting force for Raven, and sadly, most likely a huge part of her attempt.

6) Damian’s “last words” being “Remember. Justice, not vengeance. Save them. Save her.” Because HOLY ANGST BATMAN. first of all that his last thought was her safety, but secondly that he was reminding his father of thee lessons he had been taught. Knowing that Bruce would have gone into psycho mode, and reminding him of those values.

7) Something coming COMPLETELY out of left field and I was totally nt expecting was the “I love you” I was not even expecting a kiss and then we got that moment. Damn.

8) kiss. Need I say more?

I have many more thoughts but I was using this as an excuse not to study for my Bio exam so I actually need to do that now. Boo.  

[orionwhispers]

Beware Of The Dogs - Part IV

(A/N - Here she is. The final chapter of BOTD. Its been a wild ride and Ive loved every minute of it. This b!tch is almost 17k words... yeah, i know. its probably got hella errors and whatnot but i really want to get it up for everyone who has been invested in the story. thank u from the bottom of my heart. until next time!)

Part I

Part II 

Part III

The drive back to Birmingham was as painful as pulling teeth.

The air was thick with unspoken tension and your eyes were stinging with tears; your throat red and raw. Tommy occasionally glanced over to you, probably to check that you hadn’t choked on your sobs, but for the most part you both sat in silence, the low hum of the car ringing in your ears.

You didn’t go back to Watery Lane. You didn’t know why that surprised you, it had been almost two years and yet you thought that perhaps nothing had changed, but you were wrong. You knew the house was Tommy’s as soon as you saw it perched atop of rolling hills, a gloomy Georgian manor surrounded by sprawling acres, intricately designed with large windows and a wrap around veranda. Royal and mighty, just like him.

He opened the car door for you, waiting patiently as you stepped onto the gravel. The numbness you were feeling was fogging your brain and every moment was slow and hesitant. He locked your fingers, pulling you along like you were one of his frightened mares visiting the blacksmith for the first time, you almost expected him to tempt you with a sugar cube. Part of you wanted to dig in your heels and resist, knowing that as soon as you crossed over the threshold that you would be admitting defeat and once again falling under lock and key, but the stronger, more forceful side was far too exhausted to put up a fight.

The inside of his house was just as beautiful. Lavish paintings were hung on the walls, the decor was a mixture of blood red and expensive gold, and every room was furnished with items probably worth more than your yearly salary. You couldn’t appreciate any of it though, and the colours faded into blotches in your eyes. Every time you blinked all you saw was the utter betrayal on Alfie’s face, the pure anger that flickered inside of him at you, and your heart broke all over again.

“Mr Shelby! You’re back early.”

An unfamiliar voice momentarily snapped you from your trance, and you looked up to see an older woman in a black dress waiting at the foot of the stairs.

“Yes, Mary.” Tommy slid your coat from your arms like he used to when you were a child, hanging it from the rack by the front door whilst you stood as still as the marble statues above his fireplace. “This is my sister, (Y/N). Make up one of the guest rooms for her.”

The woman nodded and practically flew up the stairs like a dog eager to please its master. Tommy had a maid. You wanted to laugh out loud and mock your brother for his snobbery but the ache in your gut kept your jaw locked. He busied himself in the way that Tommy did, every move calculated and strong, not even allowing himself the luxury of relaxing in the comfort of his own home. He shrugged off his own jacket, and then you felt his hand touch the small of your back, gently coaxing you to walk.

He cleared his throat as he led you through the hall, each of his footsteps purposeful and sharp.“You hungry?”

“How did you find me?”

You both faltered. You were shocked that you had managed to form a sentence and despite the shakes in your pitch you remained firm, needing to know the answer. He rubbed his upper lip with his finger, the same way he did before smoking a cigarette, a habit that you didn’t even realise you missed. You expected him to ignore you, divert the conversation to something that he deemed appropriate, but instead he looked you in the eye.

“I’ve known for a while.”

“Billy?” You asked, the name tasting sour on your tongue. All you could picture was the redhead with blood pooling around his crown and Alfie holding the gun with it’s smoking barrel.

He nodded, “I had an inkling before then, but Kitchen confirmed it.”

“What about Arthur?” You demanded.

“Johns sorting it.” He looked hesitant, keeping his thoughts private like he had always done, drip feeding you information. “Let’s get you upstairs, eh? You look exhausted.”

“I’m not some broken toy that needs to be fixed, Tommy.” You snapped, a lot harder than you meant to. You saw his sapphire eyes flicker with humour, but also impatience, the way they always did when the two of you would argue. He held up his hands in submission, the charcoal colour of his suit looking darker under the low lights as he stepped backwards. He looked at you, eyes running across the redness of your face and the tear stains that streaked onto your throat, his gaze softening ever so slightly.

“I know. Just go and get some rest alright?”

You sat in the tub with your back resting across the taps, numb to the way the metal dug into your flesh. The water had long gone cold, your skin still red from the boiling water you had filled it with, but now the icy chill was chewing onto your flesh. Your fingers were pruned and goosebumps trailed along your spine, but you remained still, watching the flame of a candle flicker. Mary had brought you up some dinner, but it was left untouched on the table. The sky was fully dark now, a long stretch of black that seemed to go on for miles. You weren’t sure what time it was, probably well past midnight and despite the ache of exhaustion and the soft, clean bed that was made up for you, sleep was the last thing on your mind.

You eventually got out, changing back into your dress that still lingered with the smell of Alfie, ignoring the fresh clothes hanging in the wardrobe, probably left from one of Tommy’s many lovers. The warm duvet looked comforting but your thoughts were far from relaxing and so you left the bedroom, feeling trapped despite the high walls and open space. You tried to be as quiet as possible, careful not to let the stairs creak under your weight as you made your way downstairs. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, you weren’t hungry or thirsty, you just longed for a distraction.

There were so many rooms in the house you needed a fucking map, but you couldn’t expect anything less from Tommy. You’d wandered like a spectre around the mansion, nosing at the few personal items your brother had displayed. You couldn’t stop the twist in your heart when you saw a photo of the two of you was pride of place on his living room table. You stood for a while in the library, looking out at the miles of fields surrounding his house, the wilderness and back woods a tribute to your gypsy roots.

Muffled sounds caught your attention, and you followed them towards the furtherest door in the hallway. The light was dim, and you could hear the faint flicker of a fire, along with the smell of oak and ash that moulded Alfie’s face in your mind. You bit your lip hard, willing yourself not to cry despite the tears already blurring your eyesight. You edged closer to the fireplace, inhaling the bittersweet scent, until you heard Tommy clear his throat behind you.

“Can’t sleep?”

You jolted, turning to face your brother. He was hunched behind his desk and scrawling on notes, a lit cigarette between his fingers. “Sorry, I...” You said, wanting to apologise for disturbing him.

“It’s alright.”

You noticed he was nursing a murky glass of whisky, and he followed your eye line, smiling softly and walking towards his bar cart.

“What do you fancy?”

Despite your current state of mind you snorted, raising a brow as Tommy shot you a look. “You’re offering me a drink? Of alcohol? Who are you and what did you do with my brother?” You sat on one of the plush sofas, curling your legs under yourself.

He filled a glass with the same liquor lacing his, sliding it across the table and towards you.

“Sorry,” he said, looking you dead in the eye,“I don’t have any rum.”

“That’s not funny.”

A moment passed, and maybe it was the overwhelming sadness and shock of what had happened or maybe it was the blow of being reunited with your brother but you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Tommy immediately smiled at your reaction, a sight so rare that it made you laugh even louder, but just as quickly as they came the chuckles died in your throat, and once again the misery rose to the surface.

“I’ve really, really fucked things up, Tom. With everyone.”

He walked around the table, one hand shoved in his pocket and the other fondling his glass. He sat next to you, close enough that you could smell his distinct aroma of expensive cologne and sweet mint but also far away enough that you didn’t feel trapped.

“Ay. I think that’s called being a Shelby.”

You didn’t reply, downing your drink like it was water, loving the burn at the back of your throat. Tommy observed you, that overprotective big brother feeling clawing inside of him, but your sad eyes and obvious heartache made him swallow the reprimands inside of him. Instead he pulled you close to him in a rare moment of weakness, letting you cry into his shirt once again, his hand running through your hair. There would be time to find out what exactly had happened in the years you had been gone, to scold you for leaving the way you did but right now he just held you, the fire roaring behind you both, drowning out the muffled sound of your sobs.

When you awoke the sun was beaming onto your skin, and you were no longer curled up on the sofa, instead under the thick down duvet in the guest room. You were still dressed, but your clothes were creased and covered with mascara stains, so after you took a warm bath and scrubbed yourself clean you reluctantly put on a spare dress from the wardrobe, already missing the comforting smell.

The house was just as confusing in daylight, but you managed to find your way downstairs eventually. You were looking for the kitchen, hoping to brew a cup of coffee and make it Irish before Tommy could see and scold you for drinking so early. You stepped around the long, glossy dining room table, shining so brightly you could almost see your reflection, but you paused as you heard the hum of rivalling voices below you.

“I don’t fucking like this, Tom.”

“Look, I don’t like this anymore than you but..

“She’s a grown woman, she can make her own choices.” A feminine voice interjected, the sincerity in her tone so familiar that you could tell it was Ada without even seeing her face.

“How do we know that she isn’t being used as some sort of fucking puppet? Solomon’s is fucked in the head, do you really think he hasn’t hurt her? Isn’t using her?”

“All I’m saying is that maybe she has an insight to how he thinks.”

“So you want her to be a fucking spy? You think that she’ll be safe?”

“That’s not what I said, John. I don’t trust him anymore than you do.”

“Boys, she hasn’t been back twenty four fucking hours, can’t this wait?”

By the time you reached the bottom step the room was so thick with tension it felt like a scalding summer day. Nerves pooled in your gut, knowing that around the corner was the family you loved and loathed and ultimately abandoned. You didn’t want to talk to them about Alfie, the year you had shared together had been so intimate and personal, and you knew that they would never truly understand what had transpired between the two of you.

Regardless, as you stepped into the kitchen, your body frigid with anxiety, one look at the familiar faces gathered around the table was enough to thaw the stress in your veins.

“Hi.” You wrung your hands together, pulling the sleeve of your jumper over your fingers. Your voice was small and quiet, almost drowned out by the kettle boiling on the stove, steam billowing into the air.

“You’re back.” It was Finn. He looked taller and his hair was much neater, shaved at the sides and slicked on top. He was wearing a suit, a blue tie around his throat and cuff links on his sleeves and an expensive looking watch on his wrist.

He looked like a Blinder.

Despite being surrounded by the older men he wished to impress, neither of you could resist the urge to clamber into one another’s arms. You pulled him against you, his head now higher than yours, his hands bigger and his torso stronger but he still smelt the same as he had always done; sweet liquorice and fresh hay.

“Hiya, Finnegan.” You said, breathing into his shoulder. You could feel your eyes brimming with tears once again and willed them to stay put, not wanting him to see you cry. “I missed you, kid.”

“Missed you too.”

You held him in your palms, taking in his warm brown eyes and the softness of his skin, evidence of his youth against his harsh bravado. There were a million things you wanted to say, a hundred different apologies at the tip of your tongue, but none of them felt right.

“C’mere you.”

It was John. He was still so playful and irreverent and boyish, the way he slung his arm around your shoulder and kissed the bottom of your ear. The way his actions seemed casual and nonchalant but his hands clasped around the bone in your wrist, as if checking you had been properly fed. You relaxed into his touch, his body was always like a furnace, and you let his warmth engulf you.

“John.”

“Not been the same without you around,” He said, his voice murmured by your hair. “Every time Esme yelled at me for something it reminded me of you, never stop bloody nagging.”

You elbowed him in the ribs, smirking at his sharp exhale before he chuckled and kissed the heat of your temple, and you gave in to the softness of his touch. You could feel eyes on you, and you stepped away from the embrace of your brothers. Tommy was sat at the head of the table in what you assumed to be his pantry, he held a lit cigarette and wisps of smoke danced around his face as he moved. His eyes softened ever so slightly at the sight of you, but you still felt increasingly on edge, especially as you could imagine what they had been talking about.

The click of heels on stone made you turn, wafts of rich jasmine and soft vanilla hitting your face and you instantly knew who was behind you. Ada smiled, her lips the colour of blood red jam and her eyes sparkling like diamonds. You felt a bubble in your throat, your body aching with sadness but relief at the sight of your sister, still so young and beautiful. She pulled you into her arms and the silk of her blouse felt like running water against your skin, she squeezed you tight, her smell bringing back memories that you had pushed far away.

“God.” She held you at arms length, her pupils darting across you, determined to take all of you in. “Look at you! You’re a real fucking woman, you’re...!” She stumbled over her words and playfully dragged you back into her arms, anchoring you down as if you would run at any moment.

“Course she is. She’s a fucking Shelby.” The thick voice like sharp liquor and expensive cigarettes cut right through you, and you felt a hand clasp around your shoulder. Nausea pooled in the pit of your stomach, the woman you feared and admired and loved still managing to make you anxious after all these years.

You met Polly’s line of sight, her makeup was perfect and she somehow looked younger than she had when you left, her skin luminous and her clothes lavish. Her fingers were covered in jewels and a fox was wrapped around her throat, it’s tail bushy and thick. Without hesitation she covered your face with her palms, the coolness of her rings making you pull away slightly, but she held you firm. Her eyes met yours and her stare was intense, you could feel the magic practically running through her veins, the whimsical gypsy queen wanting to look right through you.

She opened her mouth to say something, her gaze unwavering yet filled with emotion but the door swung open and heavy footsteps echoed around you.

“Well that was a fucking waste of time, I swear these - Oh, shit, you’re awake!”

“Hi Michael.” You said, secretly grateful for the intrusion, you didn’t want to know what Polly had seen inside of you, and facing your family was making your blood run cold. All you wanted was Alfie. All you wanted was to feel him beside you, his hands so much larger than your own, his touch so comforting and safe. You missed him completely and wholeheartedly, you knew that he could never be next to you, the lines drawn between him and your family felt so much stronger now you were reunited with them, the difference between those you loved unbelievable.

You let your cousin pull you into his arms, feeling the fabric of his expensive tailored suit rubbing against your neck. He smelt like his mother but with a tang of rich spice, and his smile was contained as he looked down at you, able to mask his emotions better than Finn. Whilst you, squeezed his torso, you could feel him above you, mouthing something to your family across the room. You spun around in his grasp to catch the end of the conversation, but as soon as you did, the whispering faltered.

“Is this how it’s going to be then?” You grumbled, sucking on your tongue.

“How what’s going to be?” John replied, sipping on a mug of steaming coffee.

“This. Everything. It’s all going to go back to normal?” You said, unable to stop the fire building in the pit of your stomach. “I’m going to be left out of fucking everything.”

John snickered at your cursing and Tommy rolled his eyes, making a spectacle of pouring himself a cup of tea, adding milk and sugar and stirring it three times before answering,

“You’re not being ‘left out’ of anything. Talks about the business don’t concern you.”

“If they involve me or -,” You stopped yourself from saying his name, hating the way it prickled in your mouth like you were swallowing razor blades. “If they involve me then it is my concern.” You paused, thinking back to the snippet of conversation you had heard. “I’m not going to tell you anything, if that’s what you think.” You said, “I didn’t tell him anything about your business and I owe it to him the same.”

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but your sister got there before he could.

“Look, (Y/N). You just got back.” Ada stroked your arm gently, shooting her brothers a look that could calm even the roughest storm. “Take some time out, you look exhausted.” You wanted to protest but she cut you off before you could, “Come and sit with me and Karl, he misses his Auntie. Let the boys deal with this for now, OK?”

You let her intertwine her fingers with yours, tugging you along softly, knowing that promises of seeing your nephew after so long would melt away any objections you had. She directed you towards the door, nodding silent agreements with Tommy, communicating with him in the way that only she could as she walked you away from the impending argument you could tell was about to start.

The living room was dark, the sky was clouded and gentle rain splattered along the windows as you sat on the floor with your knees tucked under yourself. You played checkers with Karl, the game a mundane distraction and you lost every round, your mind occupied with greater things. Ada watched from the sofa, nursing a glass of port and picking gently at her manicure, her eyes never leaving you.

“You know, if you want to ask me something, you can.” You said, feeling your sisters gaze burning holes in your back.

She clucked her tongue in thought and then called out for her son, “Karl? Can you go and ask Mary to make us some tea and bring some biscuits? The strawberry ones we like, yeah?”

You ruffled his hair as he passed you, your heart lurching with love for the small child that you had missed so much. You both waited to speak until his footsteps faded to gentle thuds down the hallway and the clock ticked softly above the mantle.

“Why didn’t you come and see me? Why didn’t you tell me you were in London?”

You sighed, “It didn’t seem as easy as that.”

“But it is as easy as that (Y/N)! You’re my sister, you should have come to see me, we were worried sick about you.”

You shifted so you were facing her, your knees stiff and you inhaled sharply in preparation for what you were about to say. “Would you have told Tommy where I was?”

She hesitated, but her silence told you more than words.

“It’s Ok, Ada. Really. I don’t blame you.” You chewed on the flesh of your lower lip, getting onto your aching legs and settling beside her, clasping your hand over hers in comfort. “I’m sorry I hurt all of you, but I had to leave or I was going to go crazy.”

Her eyes softened, and her brows furrowed. “I know the boys can be... difficult but - ”

“No buts, Ada. They were controlling my life, some weeks I never left the bloody house.”

She didn’t reply. All though you were standing firm on your reasoning, you didn’t want to see your sister upset. The truth was, Ada could have done more to protect you and she had felt guilt gnawing inside of her since the day she had discovered you were missing. You were her little sister, so close when you were both kids and then she had let the business pull you both apart, and she never regretted anything more than leaving you in Birmingham to face the lions alone.

You could tell she wanted to explain but you both knew that words couldn’t mend the blood that had spilled. You wanted to express yourself, you so badly wanted to tell her everything about Alfie, how meeting him had turned your tiny world completely on its axis, but you didn’t know how. Instead you levelled with her on the one thing you could both relate to, Tommy and his over controlling meddling.

“Do you remember how it was when you were dating Freddie?” You said, “How Tommy went ballistic when he found out? Remember how much you hated that? That was how Tommy treated me for years. I didn’t ever get a chance to grow up, he never saw me as anything but a child.”

“That’s because he loves you.”

“And I love him. But I’m not a child anymore, I haven’t been for a long time.”

You felt her squeeze your fingers, her wedding ring cold against your skin. You leant into her touch, the soft rumble of rain echoing around the two of you. She stroked your crown gently, the both of you settling into silence whilst you battled thoughts of the person you missed the most.

“Does Alfie make you happy?” She said, her voice so soft you almost missed it.

“Yes.”

He did. He made you happier than you had ever been and that terrified you. You felt as if you had stepped off a cliff when you told him you loved him, but he caught you effortlessly and held you close to his chest. But now you had ruined everything. You loathed the idea of him hating you, wishing more than anything that you could speak to him one last time, but his last words rang around in your head. He couldn’t bare to look at you, he didn’t deserve the pain of seeing you again, and you had to face up to your actions.

“I’m glad.” Ada murmured, not noticing you lost in your own head. “You deserve it.”

You buried your face into the crook of her shoulder, feeling her drag you closer and tut softly. Tears prickled painfully in your eyes and your throat was thick and swollen, but you managed to gasp out a hoarse sentence.

“No, Ada. I really don’t.”

——————————————————————-

There was blood staining Alfie’s boots.

He could see it out of the corner of his eye, a rich crimson, dripping slowly onto the floor. He didn’t know whose it was or where it had come from, only the ache in his knuckles and the knowledge that it wasn’t his was just enough to ease his aching mind.

His brain was fogged, his insides coated in liquor and his lungs thick with smoke. He was in his office but he had no idea how he had got there, and any memories of the past few days let alone few hours were clouded.

He glanced at the spot his phone was usually sat, exposed wires dangerously staring back at him and the headset completely shattered on the ground. He had lost his temper, that much was certain, the carnage around him a reminder of when he thought about calling Tommy and demanding to know where you were, but not even getting to the second ring before tearing the console from the wall and ripping it to pieces.

He could feel the bags under his eyes, but sleep was the last thing he wanted. How could he return home, get into the bed he shared with you - the woman he loved, and fall asleep? After he had told you to leave, his mouth salivating with anger, he regretted it. In that moment, as much as he was disgusted with you, as much as he felt like throwing his fist through the wall and finding out every last dirty little lie you had spun him, watching your face pale and your eyes water he knew he was still completely and hopelessly in love with you.

It took him a few minutes to get his breath back, he wasn’t that young anymore, he wasn’t as quick and as nimble as you. He made himself calm down, forced himself to inhale and exhale the rage out of him, clenching his fingers until his hands turned the colour of snow. He was going to chase after you in the street and bring you back, he was going to command the truth out of you, no matter how monumental the outcome would be. He needed you off the streets, he needed you safe, and he needed to know how you could be next to him, under him, kissing him, and still deceive him. He needed you with him, his brain rattling in his skull as he reached for his coat, ready to find you and take you home. He had barely took two steps forward, his hand just twisting the brass doorknob when the shrill sound of his phone ringing cut through the night.

Any other day and Alfie would have ignored it, but something inside of him told him to pick it up. The only people that had access to his home number were his closest confidants, the men that he employed to watch over everything and tell him if anything or anyone slipped out of line. His heart was beating like a steel drum underneath his still stained shirt, his skin tingling from the ghost of your fingerprints. He knew what the call would be before he even held the receiver to his ear, but the words still made him throw a kitchen chair at the wall, the wood splintering into a thousand pieces.

“It’s Rosie, boss. She, er... she got in a car with that Shelby bloke.”

——————————————————————-

You spent the rest of the day feeling as if glass was under your feet, shattering loudly with every step you took. You could read the anticipation on everyone’s faces, the way they would glance at you, brows furrowed, desperate to ask you a million questions. Something was awry, you could tell by the murmurs and intense looks shared between your family, but you were far too exhausted to bother prying.

You sat curled up on the window seat, watching the rain drip down into puddles. The rest of your family had scattered around the house, occasionally the door would open and Mary would bring you tea, but other than that you were left alone. You were desperate for a distraction, all you could think about was Alfie and it was driving you mad. You wanted to sneak into Tom’s office and call the bakery, you wanted to cry and scream and explain yourself until your voice gave out, but all you could think of was the pain of Alfie putting the phone down on you.

Over the rolling hills you could see a horse. Despite the rain it was grazing, a big black smear moving against the picturesque surroundings. It felt like it was taunting you, so beautiful and so free, whilst you had ended up back where you started. You didn’t have long to stay in your pity party, because you heard the squelch of boots behind you, and three long exasperated breaths.

“Fuck me. This house is massive.”

You looked back and saw Finn, looking tall and handsome as he stood holding a plate of assorted desserts with wobbling hands.

“Tommy will kill you if you fuck up his nice floors.” You said.

Finn sniffed and looked down, mud caking his patent leather shoes and grass sticking to his ankles. He shrugged playfully and hopped over the rug in the middle of the room, landing messily on the other side before squashing down beside you. He inhaled a jam roly-poly, sucking crumbs off of his thumb before replying.

“Eh. He has a maid, he won’t care.”

You watched him, noticing how his freckles had faded and the colour of his hair had deepened.“You look older.” You muttered, tilting your head to the side at your observation, the light dancing off his newly sharpened jaw and nose.

Your youngest brother wrinkled his nose, scoffing slightly. “So do you. You need a new night cream or something.”

You elbowed him, grabbing a treacle covered cake and taking a bite, feeling the velvet softness on your tongue. “Tommy got a sweet tooth?” You asked, gesturing towards the array of puddings in your brothers hands, the plate piled high with sugar.

Finn shook his head sheepishly, his gaze flittering away from yours, watching the same horse trot along the meadow. “No. I asked Mary to make some, cause’ I knew they were your favourites.”

Your body flicked like a furnace and you smiled, resting your head on his shoulder, knocking into him gently to show your appreciation. Silence settled over the both of you like a wave but it wasn’t long before Finn spoke up.

“I missed you, you know. Wasn’t the same without you.”

You inhaled, clasping his now larger fingers in yours, anchoring him to you. “Finn.” You said, regret and sadness washing over you, you so badly wanted to apologise and right the so many wrongs you had caused, but you didn’t know how.

“I’m not looking for an apology.” He spoke, his voice deeper than you remembered. “I get why you left.”

“I had to.”

“I know.”

You chewed on your upper lip, still tasting sugar on your tongue. The horse had gone by now, probably to seek refuge from the rain in his stable, and the fields suddenly looked awfully big and empty.

“What’s London like? I’ve never been.”

You paused, not knowing what to say. Finn had always been in an awkward purgatory, forced to grow up too fast in a family that was constantly rife with danger, yet never fully respected as a full fledged blinder, always regarded as the youngest boy. You dug your head into the crook of his neck, squeezing his fingers and holding him close.

“It’s big, and loud, but it’s... beautiful.” You thought back to the towering buildings and the street markets and the expensive cars, all of the things that shone like diamonds, but none of it compared to the man you were picturing in your head. “I’ll take you one day. Not just London.” You said sincerely, wanting to show Finn the world he deserved to see. “Anywhere you wanna go, London, Paris, Rome. Tokyo?”

He smiled softly, such a kind contrast to the frown that graced his face far too often. “I’ll hold you to that.”

There was a brief pause, but soon the silence was shattered by ripples of voices on the other side of the house, voices raised and words curt. You sat up suddenly, your spine going rigid. You shared a glance with Finn as the arguing continued, and you both winced as something loud and metal clattered onto the floor.

“Oh shit. I think they got Arthur out.”

—————————————————————————

You could smell the sour, coppery, tang of blood as you both ran into the hallway. You heard him before you saw him, his accent and deep, throaty voice so distinctive that it gave you goosebumps. The paintings on the wall were practically vibrating from the disruption and Tommy was trying his best to wrangle his brother who was bucking around the room like a feral stallion.

“I get my fucking hands on him - if I even see him in the fucking street, I swear to God, Tom. I swear to God I’ll put a bullet in his fucking skull.”

“Arthur.”

“They were gonna make me fucking hang, Tom!”

“Look...”

You gasped as you rounded a corner, the state of your brother sending shock waves through your flesh.

“Oh, Arthur.” You murmured. His face was bruised and swollen, deep purple patches dotted across his skin. His hair was matted and thick with blood, and his fingers were torn and scraped raw. His hard eyes softened at the sight of you, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding and grabbing you intensely, enveloping you in his arms and holding you close. You started to cry, completely overwhelmed with seeing your brother in pain, and the knowledge that it was the man you loved who had caused him to almost have a noose around his throat.

He smelt of sweat and tobacco and he was so much skinner than your remembered, but his arms still felt the same way they always had, as if he could cradle you through the roughest storm. Sobs escaped your mouth and you dug your head into his shoulder as his hands clung to your hair, you could feel your family gathering around you both but you ignored them, focusing on nothing but the man holding you. The reunion didn’t last long because before you knew it Arthur was holding your face between his palms, his eyes boring into yours.

“John told me everything in the car. Everything that that fucking cunt has done. I swear when I get my hands on him (Y/N) I will fucking tear him apart. He won’t get away with what he’s done to you.”

You faltered, your knees buckling and you struggled against his grip. “Everything he’s done to me? What are you talking about?” Your eyes darted around at the faces circled around you but no one met your line of sight, more focused on calming Arthur who was cursing like a sailor.

“Fuckin’ hell! The way he’s manipulated you, the way that he’s fucking used you!”

“Used me?” You said, shaking your head adamantly “He never used me.”

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, blood sticking to his forehead and beads of sweat pooling at his crown.“You really think that fucking Jew feels anything for you? Look at what he did to me!”

You inhaled sharply, pushing Arthur off of you. He was broken and battered and bruised but you would not have him speak about Alfie as if he was the devil, not when you knew the side of him that was gentle and loving and kind, the side that baked bread and laughed loudly and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe.

“That’s bloody rich coming from you! How many men have you killed, how many men have you left for dead?”

“(Y/N).” Tommy’s voice was stern, it was meant to make you submit, and a few years ago you would have, but not anymore.

“No, Tommy! Alfie isn’t like that! Yes, he’s... he’s done wrong and I’m disgusted by it, but I won’t let you paint him as the villain!”

“Don’t be so naive! The mans a fucking psychopath! You hardly know him!” John stepped forward, riled up with anger and ready to join Arthur on his rampage. He was determined to make you see the way they all saw Alfie, so certain that you had been manipulated beyond control, but they knew nothing.

“I love him!”

Three words were all it took to silence your family. You saw the way that they stepped back, faces filled with sympathy and disgust. Tommy stood centre, standing tall and dignified as John scoffed and Polly frowned and Arthur clenched his knuckles till they turned white. Ada took a step forward, your brilliant, beautiful sister ready to fight alongside you like she should have done all those years ago, but you wanted to be alone.

You took a step backwards,“I know that you’ll never understand it, and you’ll probably never accept it, but I love him.” Your voice was wobbly but you willed it to settle, not wanting to sound like a child. “And you don’t have to worry about ‘protecting’ me from him, I already fucked up enough that he’ll never want to see me again, so.” You awkwardly wrung your hands together, moving towards the grand staircase. “And now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go to bed and pretend that none of this ever happened. Good night.”

Finn reached for your hand as you darted up the first step, and you squeezed in response. His eyes met yours and you nodded slowly, letting him know that you were okay, or rather, you weren’t, but you would be. You avoided the prying eyes and the heated stares keeping your head down as you ran up the steps, holding in your tears until you had locked the door and slid down onto the carpet, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort.

A few hours later and the voices had stilled. You had watched the cars disappear one by one down the driveway, expensive black tyres crackling along the gravel. Finn, Ada and Polly had both come to say goodnight, pulling you close and saying they’d see you tomorrow and that the boys would cool off eventually. Your cheek was crimson from where your Aunt had kissed you and your body was moulded to the shape of Finns gangly frame, but you felt hollow.

You knew that Tommy was still home, you could feel him in the house, his presence as obvious as the thunderstorm that still lingered in the air. By now it had well passed midnight, the moon full and round, a beacon of light against the darkness. You huffed, getting to your feet after hours of doing nothing, trying to find a way to occupy your racing mind. You had been putting off what you needed to do for too long, but you couldn’t wait any longer, and so you shrugged on a house coat and made your way downstairs.

You could hear the rhythmic tap of the typewriter, and the air was thick with tobacco as you walked down the hallway. You pushed open the study door softly, watching Tommy’s face illuminate in the moonlight, and you smirked at the unfamiliar round glasses perched on his nose.

“I thought you had an assistant? Shouldn’t she be the one staying up all hours working?” Your words were teasing and entirely untrue, you knew that Tommy would never fully hand the reins over to someone else, control ran through his veins.

“No rest for the wicked.” He said simply, rifling through papers on his desk. He glanced up at you momentarily, a gesture for you to speak.

“I need to borrow some money.” You said, clearing your throat. “I don’t have any on me, but I’ll pay you back as soon as I have my purse.”

He pushed away from the typewriter, flexing his fingers and his cobalt eyes watched you carefully. “You don’t need to pay me back.”

“Yes I do, Tom.”

He sighed like an old dog, and you wondered when he had last slept. “Alright, what are you buying?”

“A train ticket. Tomorrow morning I’m going to ring work and apologise for missing a few days, and then I’ll take the train back to London. Well, after I’ve said goodbye to everyone, properly this time.”

The room stilled. Tommy rose to his feet, his hands massaging his temple, his clipped fingernails stroking the crease above his brow.

“London isn’t safe.”

“Neither is Birmingham.” You countered.

He took a few cautious steps. You watched as he moved to his bar cart, running a finger over the ridges of a whiskey glass, pulling gently on a cork. He glanced back at you, moving one hand from his pocket, gesturing towards his lavish armchair.

“Sit.”

You bristled, stiffening ever so slightly. “No.”

His eyes flickered with annoyance and you resisted rolling yours. The room had suddenly become unbearably warm and you shuffled on your feet, like a deer sensing danger. “What have you done Tommy?”

He lowered himself into a chair and crossed a leg over his knee. He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and holding it between his lips before you could even blink. You paused, growing increasingly agitated as you waited for him to speak.

“I’ve already rang your boss.”

You hurtled forward, your blood running red hot and ice cold at the same time. “Tommy!”

His face remained impassive, but he held up his hands, signalling for you to calm down. But you didn’t want to and instead paced up and down the length of the oak flooring, muttering under your breath.

“I’ve already spoke to him. Told him that you were having some time off.”

“Told him? Tommy he’s my boss! You can’t just tell him things!”

He cleared his throat, “He didn’t have a problem with it, sends his love.” He looked down at you over the rim of his glasses with a hint of amusement and you resisted the urge to throw a satin pillow right onto his skull.

“Right, well, that’s awfully kind of him but I don’t need anymore time off, I want to go back in tomorrow.”

Whatever playfulness that the two of you had shared was long gone, and you watched the all too familiar look of authority wash over your brother.

“No.”

“No?”

“London is not safe.” He repeated, as if echoing his earlier statement would somehow make you agree. “You can’t go back there, not for a while at least.”

“That’s bullshit!” Your voice was getting increasingly higher, and you swore you could see flames flickering behind your pupils. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Tommy.”

He huffed, getting to his feet and walking behind his desk. He rummaged around the drawers before pulling out a thick folder and dropping it down, the pages fluttering open.

“I don’t want to fight, (Y/N).”

You opened your mouth to snarl something back but his stern look made you falter, and instead your gaze dropped to the files beneath you.

“I’ve got you another job, with a publishing company just outside of Birmingham. The pay is good and I’ve found a house for you, all you need to do is sign a few papers and it’s yours.” He flicked through the documents, stopping to pull out a small black and white photo and thrusting it towards you. It wasn’t a brilliant picture, but you could tell that the cottage was beautiful. It looked almost exactly like the fairytale ones you used to dream of, and you could tell that Tommy knew that, but the problem was that your dreams had changed.

“Tommy. No. Thank you for everything, but I cant.” You moved towards him, your features softening from his actions and from the hazy glow of the moon. “I have to go back to London, it’s my home.” The words tore like a knife slicing your gut, because it wasn’t true. London had never truly been your home, not when you lived in a tiny flat and not even when you were sprawled next to Alfie in bed in his big house, the summer sun dancing in your skin and Cyril snoring at your feet.

Home had never been a place to you, it had always been a person. Home was Alfie. You knew that he hated you, but you couldn’t go another day without seeing him, without attempting to mend the hurt you had caused. You were tired of running, you were tired of lying, you just wanted to be with him, and even if he refused your apology, at least you wouldn’t spend the rest of your days wondering what could have been.

“You’re not going back to London. It’s not safe.”

“You can’t stop me, you can’t...”

“Damn it, (Y/N)! Listen to me!” His hand slammed against his desk, the noise making your body jolt from shock. “It’s not safe for you. Sabini knows where you are, he knows that you had been hiding in London. He knows that you were with Alfie.”

His words burnt you like gin at the back of your throat, but you weren’t backing down without a fight.“Why would he hurt me now? He has no reason to!”

“Just.... stay.” He said, clenching his knuckles in sync with his voice, trying to control the adrenaline rushing through his veins. “At least until we finish with the races, then Sabini will be off our backs.”

“That’s how it starts, Tom. I stay for a few weeks and then suddenly I’m moving back. I can’t stay.”

“You aren’t leaving.”

You inhaled sharply, unable to stop the anger rising in you.“What the hell is wrong with you, Tommy?”

“What about Solomon’s?” He said, standing straighter, noticing the way his name made every muscle in your body tense.

“What about him?”

“You can’t really think that things will be the same? That he won’t be angry with you?”

There was a certain venom to his tone, and it made every hair on your body stand on end. “What the hell are you insinuating?”

“I’ve done business with him, (Y/N). I know that he’s impulsive and violent. I know that he’s a fucking murderer.”

“You know nothing. He would never lay a hand on me.”

“Are you sure?”

“He loves me!” You could hear the crack in your voice like a dam ready to burst at the seams. Any second you could expect tears to flood from your eyes and your whole body to drown in sorrow.

“He loved the woman you were pretending to be.” You felt like you were going to vomit. Not only from Tommy’s harsh words but more so that you were terrified that they might be true. You had barely slept, hardly ate, because your mind was rife with worry, that Alfie would never love the woman you truly were. It’s true that you never faked your personality around Alfie, you and Rosie were just as fun, as kind and as playful, but the truth was now everything you had said was stained with lies, and you could no longer hide your family. “This isn’t a game, (Y/N). Take the job down here. I’m done for tonight,” He said, silencing you like a child, “Go back to bed.”

The hurt was surely evident on your face, and you guessed that was one of the reasons Tommy’s eyes drifted back to his work, he always had a soft spot for your sweet, sad, eyes. You blinked back tears, sucking on your tongue as if it would help ease the pain of the words you wanted to spit back. You turned, sick of looking at your brother, and moved towards the door.

“You know,” You started, glancing back over your shoulder. “Whenever Alfie came back from a meeting with you, he always spoke so highly of you. Sure he thought you were a bit of a prick, but he also thought you were so clever, and so brilliant, I could tell. I wanted more than anything to say that you were my brother, to tell him about all the amazing things you had done. I used to always look up to you, but not anymore, all you are is a controlling coward.”

You saw a flicker of emotion in Tommy’s expression, but you didn’t stick around for him to say anything, darting out of the study and slamming the door behind you, as fast and as powerful as a gust of wind. By the time you reached your room, hot tears were sliding down your face and onto your collar. You crawled into bed and hid under the covers, moaning at the unfamiliar clinical smell, your entire being aching with the want for Alfie. Your sobs were muffled by the goose feather pillows, but the tear stains that remained would forever be a mark of the heartbreak you endured, a sight of your sadness.

You wanted to hide away until morning, until the gentle sunrise would warm your shaking skin. You wanted to cry and wail but you also wanted to sleep, recover some energy so you could properly fight Tommy’s decision. You sat up with your back pressed against the headboard, trying to regulate your breathing, when the night breeze rumbled against the large window to your left. You looked through the glass, at the crescent moon outside and the long stretch of black, so reminiscent of the night you left Birmingham, so long ago. A tree branch swung and scraped across the window, leaves rustling in the wind, and you got an idea.

——————————————————————-

The thing that broke Alfie, was a photo of the two of you.

He had returned home, off his face from rum that tasted like petrol and his stomach filled with sadness that hung like an anchor in his gut. Ollie had snapped and demanded that Alfie leave the office, the older man had roared back, telling Ollie to fuck off and that he was fired, but they both knew they would see each other again on Monday.

The house smelt like you and he hated it. His kitchen was filled with the blush coloured tulips he always bought home from the market for you, and he swore he could hear your squeal of happiness ringing in his ears, feel the weight of you in his arms, taste the honey on your lips.

The bedroom was the worst. He could see the indent your body had moulded onto the mattress, and he imagined long soft hair sprawled across the pillow, your strawberry shampoo filling his senses as he pulled you into his body, feeling like he was the one place he was meant to be.

He couldn’t sleep there, not with the memories of you haunting the room like a spectre determined to make him weak. He rummaged through his drawers, looking for his long pyjama bottoms because he knew the spare room was cold, and he would no doubt long for the furnace of your skin against his. He mumbled under his breath, rifling through the lace and silk that had somehow made its way into his drawers. He refused to look at the pastel colours and the sundresses that were always so dizzyingly short, he refused to think of you, barefoot and loose haired in a skirt that made you look like an angel, made him ache with the uncontrollable need to touch you and make sure you were real. He didn’t want to think of you with your hair tied back with a satin scarf, showing off every inch of the most beautiful face he had ever seen and would repeatedly tell you so, even when you would turn red and disagree, pointing out the flaws that he would never, ever see.

He snapped his hands out far too quickly and angrily, the chest of drawers heaving and wobbling, and he swore as he tried to keep it from shattering on the ground. Shirts and vests and trousers spilled onto the floor and he rolled his eyes in frustration, sending a sharp kick against the edge of the wood, undoubtedly breaking his toe if he wasn’t wearing his steel capped boots. He was so fucking angry. So fucking irate that he almost missed the small square in the ground, the corner barely peeking out from under a pile of grey. He hesitated, guessing what it was and knowing that the pain would slash against this throat like a blade, but he was a masochist and before he knew it he had picked it up and turned it over.

It was from Margate, when the two of you had been walking along the pier before you had spotted a man talking photos. Alfie had flat out refused, but he was a goner when you battered your eyelashes and tugged on his hands. He stood next to you, so much larger and broader and rougher but you pulled him close, pressing your lips to his cheek as the flash went off. The result was a rare genuine smile you had managed to coax out of him, the twinkle in his eye evident even in black and white, the tug on his lips so endearing. You looked so beautiful next to him, your hair filled with sand and smelling like ocean water and the wax of your lipstick no doubt leaving a mark on his face, but he swore it was the happiest he had ever been.

He fell to his knees, his body giving out from exhaustion and heartache, his massive hands swallowing the photo whole. He was still so angry, he could feel it coursing through him like red hot blood, but he still loved you, he loved you so much that it made his brain fog over. He was furious with you and he felt betrayed, but all of that was eclipsed by the overwhelming knowing that you were the love of his life. His soulmate. Something he used to roll his eyes and scoff over, but it was true, you and him were meant to be together.

He didn’t give a fuck who your family were, couldn’t give a shit if they didn’t want the two of you together. He needed you back beside him, and he didn’t care who got in his way.

——————————————————————

You hardly slept, and by the time the sun rose at six, you were awake to watch the sky light up. You dressed quickly, running your fingers through the knots in your hair and across your aching limbs. You were perched by the window, waiting to catch Tommy leaving for his morning ride, a habit he didn’t break no matter whether he was in a manor or in the shit filled streets of small heath. No matter how rich or busy Tommy got, you knew that he loved his horses more than almost anything, and the thoroughbreds in his stables were a physical reminder of his climb to the top.

It didn’t take long for you to hear the creak of the front door, and the gravel crunching under his heavy footsteps. You saw him exhale the chilly morning air, watched as it whipped around his face and saw the peaked cap on his head bounce with his movements. You stood still as you watched him disappear around the side of the house, towards the stables perched atop of the rolling fields behind his mansion. You counted to thirty, and when you didn’t see a three piece suit strolling back to the house, you jumped to your feet and thundered down the stairs.

In a marble bowl by the front door, next to a brass horse figurine and a vase with Chinese letters adorning the side, were an array of car keys. You’d spotted them the very first day you came back, the silver and gold twinkling under the low lights, probably a million pounds worth of cars parked outside, and Tommy just left his keys scattered in a bowl.You fished out the biggest one, checking your left and rights in case Mary was waiting in the shadows, but the sound of clattering dishes and running water was an indication that you weren’t going to get caught; not yet at least.

The front door was heavy, but your body was pumping with adrenaline and as you heaved it open, you felt sixteen again. Memories blurred your vision, sneaking out of your bedroom window, climbing down the guttering and scratching your arm raw on Polly’s thorn bushes, walking down the street barefoot, clutching your heels in your hands. None of that mattered anymore, not as y reached the first car and twisted the key in the lock, and then the second and then the third, and then finally felt the satisfying click from the fourth, and clambered onto the leather seats. You didn’t have a license, your only driving experiences had been when John given you a lesson in Johnnys field, and you had smashed the wind mirror on his caravan, and when Michael let you drive for a few miles when you were both on your way to the races, but hey, you were a quick learner.

You started it up, the engine humming and purring and you swore you could feel Alfie underneath you, your back pressed against the steering wheel, his hands in your hair and his teeth biting your open lip. You ignored everything though, focusing on the gear stick and the pedals at your feet, and squealing as you messily spun the car around, smacking into another one and then jetting down the driveway.

You weren’t going to London in the car, you would most definitely end up overturned in a ditch or on a stretcher for a months stay in hospital, and there was only one place you could think of. You and Isabella had kept in contact over your year apart, ringing each other whenever something significant happened in either of your lives, like when she met her boyfriend, or when you first kissed Alfie. She was the only person you trusted with such sacred information, she had held her own amongst your brothers since she was a teen and you knew she would hold up in an interrogation, one that she told you that they had given her the very first night you left.

You followed the signs to Birmingham, the journey taking much longer than it should, and giving yourself whiplash multiple times when a bird flew too close to the wheels. The plan was to visit your friend, borrow some money and then take the first train back to London. You needed to see Alfie, your desperation was reaching critical levels, and you longed to see his face, even if it was plastered in hurt. You needed to see him.

Isabelle lived in the back streets, near the cut, and you parked along a road just far away enough from the public eye. The sky was a muted, milky blue and the soft darkness of night still blurred at the edges. Your heart was thumping like a freight train and your blood was rushing in your ears, the noise almost deafening.

Which was why you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you, not until a hand was clasped over your mouth and your head slammed into the concrete, blood dripping from your crown.

——————————————————————-

Alfie swore he was driving into a cloud of smoke, he swore that the sky was tinted with blood as he drove further north. He’d been driving through the early hours of the morning, and his eyes were blurry from his lack of sleep, but the adrenaline inside of him was stronger than any expensive coffee he could buy. He knew where Tommy lived, he had sent over a barrel of rum after their first meeting, as much a taunt as it was a token of their partnership.

Of course Tommy Shelby had flown from the narrow streets of central Birmingham, and Alfie was forced to resort to his old and faded map as he attempted to navigate his way. He thought of you, as brambles scraped over his windshield and he passed a small stream, he had no idea what he was going to say, what he was going to do, but he knew that he had to get you home.

He had no doubt that your brothers wouldn’t let you go without a fight, and his gun shrugged against his stomach as he moved, a reminder of just what he was willing to do to have you back in his arms. He had no intention of killing your brothers, but he was certain that they would be more than happy to put a bullet between his eyes. Ollie had called and told him that Arthur had been released, and he knew that the oldest Shelby would be on him like a rabid dog if he didn’t keep his guard up.

He saw a large manor and scoffed. The chimneys looked like they were in the clouds, and the house was reflecting gold under the low sun. His fingers were twitching with anticipation, his body was still filled with uncertainty and deception, but the knowledge that you were only a few yards from his was enough to make his blood bubble and his toes curl.

The car skidded across the gravel as he pulled it to a hasty stop, so small under the massive house looming above. He hesitated, only momentarily, collecting his thoughts and clasping his cane with his hand, stroking the brass lion to ground himself. His fingers toyed with the handle, ready to pull open the doors, but before he could, the front door swung open.

—————————————————————-

You blinked. Once, twice, three times. You were surrounded by darkness, black seeping into your eyes and blurring your vision. You were cold. There was no breeze and the air was steady and stagnant, and you could feel the goosebumps rising on your flesh. You went to run your hands over through your hair and inspect the wound that you could feel, but your wrists were bound.The ache in your skull was intense, a rhythmic thumping that made your eyes water and your fingers wobble. You glanced around, letting your eyes adjust to your surroundings. You were too exhausted to feel panicked, and your wrist was throbbing as you moved it. You winced as you flexed, barely able to stretch out without yelping in pain.

The floor was heavy concrete, and you were sitting on some kind of tarp, thin enough that you could feel the indents beneath you. You strained your eyes for some kind of clue as to where you were, everything smelt stale and empty and the chill around you made you think that the place had been vacant for a long time.

You had no suspicions as to who had taken you, the unfamiliar Italian words still ringing in your ears. You felt nauseous, not just from your head wound but from the feeling of their hands on you, fingers bruising into your skin, grasping at the root of your hair and slamming you into a wall. You remembered trying to fight back, biting down on a palm and kicking with all you could muster, but you were shouted at, and punished with a sharp slap across the face.

There were no windows and you couldn’t tell how long you had been out for, but all you knew was that you were desperate to fall back asleep. You thought of the nights when Arthur came home from the ring, battered and bruised and bloody. Ada holding a damp cloth to his head as you cleaned his knuckles, your sister reminding you that he had to stay awake, he couldn’t fall asleep.

You were too tired though, to tired to try and fight the fatigue that was taking over your body. You felt so tender that sleep was the only thing you wanted, the pain in your skull overtaking everything else in your body. You groaned, the rope cutting into your wrist and burning your skin as you moved, so you tried to stay as still as possible. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, and the room was spinning around you.

All you thought of as you gave in to the overwhelming exhaustion, was that Tommy had been right all along. You choked out something between a cough and a sob, the pain so intense that you were begging for sleep to take over. You thought of your family, happy memories playing like a lullaby in your head. The last thing you saw before you drifted off was Alfie, the two of you laughing and dancing in the surf at Margate, pure unadulterated bliss.

————————————————————-

The room was thick with palpable tension, and usually Alfie would be the one to fill the silence with some kind of joke or sarcastic remark, but right now all he saw was red. Tommy was on the other side of the room, and for once he looked... disheveled. His shirt was untucked and unbuttoned at the top, and his hair was slightly askew. He might go as far as saying that Tommy looked upset, and his concern for you was the only thing stopping Alfie from throttling your brother.

“How could you have fucking lost her?” Alfie said, chewing on the words and spitting them out.

Tommy sucked on his lip, stepping forward with intensity in his eyes. “I didn’t lose her. She stole a car.”

Part of Alfie wanted to smirk at your escape attempt, but worry was taking over all of his emotions. He ran a hand over his face and shifted his weight, thinking back to the way you ran when he had his first meeting with Tommy, suddenly all of the pieces falling into place. He felt unbelievably haggard, his body begging for you wrapped around him and the sweet embrace of sleep. He swore that when he found you he was going to drag you back to his house and keep you in his bed for at least a week.

“How could you be so fucking stupid? Not keeping an eye on your own fucking sister?”

Tommy’s face flashed red. He was always civil around Alfie, and the two of them had even become somewhat dysfunctional friends, but he wasn’t fond of this sudden ambush. Tommy thrived on his family’s safety, and he was splitting hairs the second Mary had quivered and told him that you were missing.

“Well she was in a bit of a state, wasn’t she?”

Alfie choose to ignore the comment, for both of their sakes.“Right well, where do you think she’s gone? She doesn’t even have a bloody license.” Alfie said, trying not to picture your beautiful body sprawled on the road, glass and blood sparkling all around you.

Tommy ran a hand over his eyes, feeling exhausted, you always had a way of making him feel a hundred years older than he was. “London.” His voice was muffled by the cigarette he had put in his mouth, desperate for the relief of nicotine if he wanted to get through this little chat with Alfie.

Alfie put a finger to his ear, pulling it mockingly. “Eh?”

“London. She asked me for money for a train ticket before she ran off.”

“Well that’s fucking good then isn’t it, at least she’ll be out of this shit hole.” Alfie’s heart was thumping in his chest. You wanted to go back to London, you must have wanted to see him, and his stomach twisted into knots at the thought. He grasped his cane firmly, getting ready to walk to the front door. “What the fuck are we doing standing here then?”

“I didn’t give her the money.” Tommy said, facing the large windows behind his desk, the ones that showed the magnificent grounds all around his house.

Alfie hesitated mid step. “What?”

“This is her home.”

“Ha. Not anymore.”

Tommy exhaled through his teeth, turning to face the taller man, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Tommy’s arrogance and haughtiness about the situation made Alfie’s fingers twitch over the top of his gun, but he waited for him to speak.“And what? You think her home is with you?”

Alfie almost bit through his tongue. “Listen mate, its not a good time to fucking piss me off, right.”

“She was heartbroken when she came home. Because of you. Although I’m sure this isn’t the first time.”

“Well she always seemed fine sleeping next to me.” Alfie said, hoping the idea of you and him tangled under his cotton sheets would be enough to make Tommy fume. He smiled at the flicker of emotion in your brothers eyes, loving that he had gotten a rise out of him.

“You don’t expect me to believe that this was anything more than a “fling”. She’s my fucking sister and I won’t let you treat her like dirt. I know you, Alfie.”

Alfie felt his stomach bubble, he felt physically sick at what Tommy was insinuating. The idea of hurting you in anyway was unthinkable and he was filled with rage at Tommy’s insult. “I wouldn’t lay a fucking hand on her.”

Tommy looked him up and down, “You’re a good business partner Solomon’s, but that’s all.”

“Fuck this and fuck you.” Alfie spat, “I’ll find her and take her home, with me, where she belongs. Why the fuck do you think she left, eh Tom? Maybe because you and your family are fucking poisonous.”

“You think that you can protect her? That you won’t hurt her again?”

“I’m not some stupid fucking gyp. I know how to take care of family.”

“We’re her family.”

“Right. You just let her fuck off to London and get in bed with a gangster. You may not think I’m much, Tom, but I would never hurt her.”

“She’s not going back with you.”

“Who the fuck are you? Her fucking dad? I just think you’re pissed that she doesn’t think the sun shines out of your ass anymore Tommy boy, I think you’re upset that she’s being looked after by someone who isn't you.”

“Solomon’s, I swear to God - ”

The shouting was cut off by a flurry of footsteps and gasps for air. Both men turned to face the door, where a pale faced Finn hurtled across the threshold. Tommy furrowed his eyebrows at his youngest sibling, his blood cooling at the sight of his grey skin and wide eyes. Before either of them could speak, they noticed the crimson stained fabric in his hands, and the wobble in his voice.

“It’s (Y/N!)”

————————————————

The stains marking the material were deep and black like spilt gasoline and that was enough to send both men into overdrive. The bickering stopped, instead the room was filled with mutual wrath and worry, the men rattling around like wasps trapped inside of a beer bottle.

“Regards, Sabini.” Were written crudely on a label attached to the seam, the simplicity of the message just as effective as if he had written a long ransom note. Finns face was devoid of all colour, and yet he seemed to appear translucent as Alfie held his cane to the teens neck, the wood pressed harshly against his jugular.

“Where the fuck did you get this?”

Finn scrambled to breathe, loud choked gasps escaping his throat. He tried to push Alfie off of him, but it was impossible, the older man filled with such rage that it had boiled his blood, his need to find you stronger than it had ever been, possessing him like a beast.

Tommy’s hand wrapped around Alfie’s shoulder, hoisting him back and snapping at him to calm down. The room was spinning and red hot, and Alfie had to clench his fingers so tightly that he thought they might snap in half to resist slamming Tommy’s head through his desk, watching his brains splatter across his fucking expensive floral curtains.

“Calm down? Calm fucking down? Your fucking sister has been taken by the wops!”

“Sabini won’t hurt her!” Tommy roared, not able to control the anger in his pitch. Alfie wasn’t listening to him, and he hated when people didn’t listen to him. “Not unless he wants to die. He’s smarter than that, this is just a threat.”

He watched the baker pace back and forth with such vigour that he was surprised the wood didn’t spark and catch alight. Tommy liked to keep his emotions private, he liked to analyse things in his own time and Alfie’s obvious rage was making his skin crawl. He was going to find you, there was no doubt in his mind that he would bring you home, even if it meant burning through the streets, striking every man who stood in his path. He was worried about you, he loved you and wanted you safe, but the thing that was making him feel ever so slightly uncomfortable was that he could see the same emotions flickering on Alfie’s face.

“She’s going to be alright, Alfie.” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, and in another scenario Alfie would have teased him relentlessly about it; made a joke about him going soft. But Tommy knew what you were like, he knew that you had a way of worming you way into someone’s head and blurring the rest of their thoughts. Everyone who knew you felt the same way, entranced and infuriated and enamoured by you, a desire to protect you and keep you safe, no matter how irritating you could be.

Alfie didn’t appreciate the sentiment though, holding his cane to Tommy’s face like it was a cocked rifle. “You better fucking hope so. If there’s one hair out of place on her fucking head right, I’ll kill you myself.”

—————————-——————————————

They found the warehouse an hour later.

Tommy had sent Blinders round the streets, threats on their life if they came up empty handed or without the blood of their rivals staining their skin. Sabini only had a few lock ups in Birmingham. Tommy had made note of them the first time the two of them had crossed paths, he liked to keep his eye on his opponents. He knew Sabini was no fool, despite his disdain for the Italian he was sure that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to lay a finger on you.

The largest one was a few streets away from one of the factories that the Blinders owned, Sabini was using it as storage for “livestock and agricultural goods” but Tommy knew that was a front for stolen guns and illegal gambling. He’d been on the phone to John and Michael before Alfie had arrived, and they were tearing through the streets on a rampant search for you, their mission was to put the fear of God into any of the Italians, send a warning about what happened when you messed with a Shelby.

The car lulled to a stop as Tommy steered round an alley. His eyes flickered to the rear view window and spotted Alfie mirroring his actions, their cars parked side by side. Tommy had wanted to find you alone, but even suggesting that to Alfie was sure to get him a knife in his gut. He could feel the apprehension steaming from Alfie’s skin like boiling water as they silently made their way to the side door, both of their hands hovering over their weapons.

Right as Tommy reached for the metal handle, their eyes met, a silent consensus taking place. Despite their disagreements, their business rivalry and current hostility for one another, there was one thing they had in common: They would both do anything to keep you safe.

There was a man watching you. You couldn’t recall when he had arrived, but you could feel his eyes on you in the dark, two orbs of emerald green as striking as a cats’. You had been asleep, but suddenly awoken to the clang of metal and the tangy smell of stale bread. You chewed softly, the dough turning to crumbs in your throat, and you drank as much water as you could muster, sipping from the jug you had been handed greedily. Your wrist was throbbing and so was your head, and with the ache of hunger subsiding a little, you closed your eyes once again.

You drifted in and out of sleep for a while, and jolted awake due to the pain in your skull, you winced as you felt hot, wet, blood seeping from your wound, and that was when you noticed the man. You tried calling out for him, asking for some bandage or a cloth to use as a tourniquet but he simply scolded you under his breath and looked away. You swore, giving him the middle finger despite the darkness around you both and your bound hands. You reached for the end of your skirt, trying to tear the hem, but your hands were so wound so tightly that you could hardly move and wriggled desperately in protest.

You searched for any kind of friction to loosen the rope, running your hands along the cement in hopes that it would fray the knots a little, but it was an almost impossible task with your snapped wrist. Your struggled grunts and pained whimpers alerted the man on the other side of the room, and he stood up from his chair, his eyes darkening when he realised what you were doing.

“Piccola cagna.” He spat, his footprints strong and heavy. You looked him in the eye as he approached, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you scared.The veins on his forehead were strained and you could see the nastiness residing in him as he came closer, no longer hidden in the shadows. He reached out for you, his hands grazing against yours but a loud bang stopped him in his tracks.

“Take one more fucking step, right, and I’ll blow your fucking brains back to Rome.”

You froze. That voice. You know that voice. You’d heard that voice in your ear, rich like dark chocolate, you’d heard it breathless and filled with bliss, you’d heard it mixed with laughter that made your whole body tingle.

“Alfie?” You called, your own voice so raspy and weak.

“Pet?”

Your heart stopped.

There was a sliver of light down the end of the room, but not enough so that you could see anything more than the Italian about to throttle you, but you clung to that voice like it was a life raft. The man before you held up his palms, wrinkling his noise in distaste as he backed away from you ever so slowly.

“Alfie, grab him.” Another voice added, so cool and calm and collected. “Let me go to her.”

Tommy? You almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the situation.

“Yeah, not gonna happen, mate.”

You heard the scuffle of feet against the floor, figures moving in the dark. You tried to crawl forward slightly and locate the noise, but you were stopped by the silhouette in front of you. It only took a second for him to move his hand slightly into the waistband of his trousers, before you heard the unmistakable bang of a gun. Something hot and wet splashed onto your face, droplets spraying across your skin. You gulped on air, watching as the man sunk to his knees a few feet from you, a hole in his chest.

You fell backwards, off balanced by your tied wrists and momentum. You could hear shouting in the distance, outside of the room, the gunshot obviously drawing a crowd.

“Ah, fuck. There’s more of them.” It was Tommy, but his voice sounded as though it was underwater, your ears were still ringing from the sound of the bullet slicing through flesh. You heard footsteps, muffled voices, all fading to static in the background. You wanted to call out to Tommy, tell him not to leave you, that it wouldn’t be safe and you didn’t want him to get hurt, but all your words died in your throat.

You let out some kind of noise, sitting up as much as you could, pulling at your restraints. You huffed at the welts marking your skin, and you tried to scramble forward, but a figure emerging from the darkness made time stand still.

He looked so familiar. He looked like home. He also looked exhausted. There were bags under his eyes, and bruising on his skin, but he still was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His beard was longer, salt and pepper hair sprouting under his lips, you fingers missing the feeling of running through it. His eyes were wide, frantic and desperate, but they steadied like a calm ocean when they locked on you, relief evident on his features. You were hesitant, wondering if this was some kind of mirage, some kind of final punishment before you died, the man you loved dangled in front of you before you were taken away.

He sunk to his knees like the man he had shot, but this time he had been taken out by the sight of you, not a bullet.

His eyes ran across your face, drinking you in like water. His face hardened at the sight of your face, battered and bruised, and his whole body caught alight. You could see the clench of his jaw, the pure unbridled fury in his eyes, the way that he inhaled sharply, the darkness not even showing the worst of your injuries.

Your eyes met, and everything that transpired was forgotten, he was still upset, still felt betrayed, but none of that compared to seeing you before him. He had to grab you, had to feel you under him and hold you so close, he couldn’t go another day without you. He bent down and wrapped a gentle hand behind your neck and stepped closer, resting his forehead against yours. He breathed you in, needing the closeness of your bodies to calm the fury that was rushing through him, the pure anger he wants to take out on those who hurt you. He’s careful but forceful, pulling you close. You can’t wrap your hands around him like you want to, and there’s a bitter tang of blood and sweat between your bodies, but you have never felt safer.

“You came.” You murmured, voice muffled by his body.

“Of course I did.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and to him it was, he would follow you to the end of the earth.

He was so close to you, his lips brushing against yours, his large hands cradling you into him. He was desperate to get you home and get you safe, but the tantalising distance of your bodies was making him drunk, and you’ve missed him so much you feel like a hopeless addict. His thumb brushed across your cheekbone and his eyes darkened quickly, his teeth clenched.

“Did somebody fucking hit you?”

“I’m fine, Alfie, I’m fine. Let’s just go home.”

He doesn’t want to drop it, he’s furious and fired up and tempted to unload his gun into the body lying still next to you both, but the urgency in your voice keeps him calm. He touched the top of your head softly, frowning as you winced and his fingers felt damp and sticky. He’s thinking that you’ve lost a lot of blood, but he doesn’t say it out loud, doesn’t want to scare you and also doesn’t want to scare himself. He worked on loosening the rope around your wrist, trying first with his fingers before using his knife,terrified of accidentally nicking you in the dark. Outside you heard a crash, and your heart hammered wildly. You tried to stand to get a better view but Alfie held you down firmly.

“Tommy.” You gasped, trying to catch a glimpse of your brother.

“He’ll be fine.” Alfie said, his voice like warm honey. “Your brother might be a class A dickhead, but he’s a fucking pit bull.”

You smiled faintly, a wave of nausea crashing over you. Alfie noticed your grimace and his pace quickened, moving onto the tightest knot. He huffed, as his fingers refused to prise it open and reluctantly reached into his pocket for his knife.

The action took barely ten seconds but it’s enough time for a door to open behind you. The light illuminated the dark, and you could see a flash of horror across Alfie’s face.

“Fucking hell. Get back.”

Alfie reached out for you, but someone grabbed the rough of your collar, dragging you to your feet. You yelped, kicking out your legs as hands grasped the root of your hair, the pain instant and making your wound throb harshly.

“Get your fucking hands off her.” You could see Alfie scramble to his feet, any softness he had for you replaced by pure fury, his hand dragging out his pistol effortlessly. You felt a hand clasp around your throat and tighten, the feeling so awful and foreign as you tried to gasp for air.

Alfie wanted nothing more than to shoot the bastard, but you were too dangerously close to him, and he couldn’t risk the bullet accidentally hitting you, it would kill him. He tried to think as fast as he could, his eyes flittering from the mans knees to his elbows to his throat, determined to find an open target.

You struggled in the mans grip, the pain shooting through all of your nerves, and you did the only thing you could think of. You lifted your heel, striking him in the groin with as much strength as you could muster. He howled in pain, his hand digging into your throat, slamming you into the ground.

“Don’t look.” Was all you heard as your head hit the floor and you closed your eyes. Alfie wasted no time, firing a bullet through his skull, the sound making the walls vibrate around you. You were splattered with more blood, but you kept still, trying to stop the pounding in your head.

You felt hands all over you, cradling you close, whispers and murmurs of comfort in your ear followed by strangled cries to someone else. You tried to stay awake but you couldn’t. He smelt like home. Like warm bread and sweet mint and overripe peaches. He felt like home, like kisses at midnight and watching the stars and dancing in the kitchen to the lull of the radio. You didn’t want to die, you didn’t want to leave your family and you didn’t want to leave Alfie. But if you did, wrapped in his arms with your head in his neck, at least you would die feeling him one last time.

————————————————————-

The sunlight was soft on your skin when you woke up. There was a needle in your arm, tight and prickly in your flesh, and you felt as though you had been scrubbed raw. Your throat was dry and your lips were so chapped that you could taste blood, but at least the pain in your skull had subsided a little. There was a jug of water by your bed, and you gulped greedily, loving the feeling in your throat.

You swung your bare feet onto the carpet and tried to leave the bed you were trapped in. You were in one of Tommy’s guest rooms, judging by the excessive decor and thick duvet practically suffocating you. The room was empty, save for an abundance of flower arrangements and chairs facing the bed, evidence that you hadn’t been alone. You called out, your voice thick with sleep but there was no answer, the house eerily quiet.

Despite your arm wrapped in a sling and the aches of protest every time you moved, you were desperate to find someone, anyone. There was a chill in the air, or maybe it was just the stiffness of your bruised bones, and you shivered as you tiptoed down the stairs. You could hear the soft chime of the grandfather clock and the gentle hush of running water and you wondered sadly if you were truly alone, until you heard a low rumbling roar.

“Oh, fuck that!”

You smiled, recognising the voice instantly. You followed it down the thin hallway like a lighthouse luring you to shore, not even flinching when you heard another rivalling shout.

“Don’t fucking start with me.” Arthur.

“I’m not. I’m finishing it.” You pursued the noise, following it down the corridor into the kitchen like you had only a few nights prior.

“You’re a fucking psychopath.”

“Is that the best you’ve got? Fucking pathetic, mate.” A hearty laugh.

“She’s not leaving.”

“She’s coming home. With me.”

You pushed open the door to the kitchen, listening to it whine on its hinges. “Does she get a say in any of this?” You asked.

Eight pairs of eyes snapped towards you. All of your siblings were crowded around the table, as well as your cousin and Aunt, but stood at the head, looking entirely out of place and burly and beautiful, was Alfie. He didn’t say anything, but you felt his eyes burning holes in your skin as you made your way further into the room. His hand tightened ever so slightly over his cane and his jaw was clenched, but there was a certain softness to him, an ease of calm washing over him at the sight of you.

“What the bloody hell are you doing up?” John asked, putting down his tea and storming towards you. You rolled your eyes and pushed him away, slightly embarrassed by his overprotective fussing.

“All the bloody shouting woke me up.” You teased.

“Ah. Right. Sorry.” Arthur sounded awkward, his eyes not meeting yours. You could see the faint bruising on his skin and your heart tore. He had been through so much.You could tell he was avoiding you, so you moved by his side and squeezed his shoulder, wanting to bury the hatchet. He smiled at you, softly and kindly, and you leant into his touch.

“You should be in bed.” Finn strode over to you, a cautious grin on his face as he looked you up and down. “You look like shit.”

You scoffed, holding him under your good arm. “Aw, thanks. I love you too.”

The room was quiet and awkward, the conversation you had interrupted still hung in the air like a bad smell and the silence you were receiving from Tommy was unnerving. You felt a hand on your shoulder, and a waft vanilla perfume drifted around you as you leant into Ada’s touch, grateful for her stepping in.

“We were all worried about you, (Y/N), but you’ve always been a fighter.” She said, running a gentle hand over the sling cradling your arm. She looked around at her family, her eyes darkening slightly at the obvious tension. “Shall we go and sit down?”

You smiled and shook your head, your eyes drifting to the man anchoring you on the other side of the room. “I’m alright, really. Can I... Can I be alone for a moment? With Alfie.”

“No.”

“Shut up, John.” Ada snapped, as your older brother huffed in annoyance. “C’mon, let’s all go upstairs and have some lunch.” She prompted, trying to corral your reluctant family members out of the room. Her voice deepening when they all stayed rooted to the spot. “Now.”

One by one they shuffled out, giving you tender hugs and empathetic glances, and you didn’t miss the death stare that Alfie was receiving, even though it merely made him smirk. Last to get up was Tommy. He had a faint scratch on his throat, but he shook his head when you went to question him. He stood before you, holding you at arms length as he looked you over. “C’mere you.” He said, pulling you close. You melted into his arms like butter, breathing in the scent of cigarettes and sweet gin. “I’m glad you’re alright.” He murmured into your hair, pressing a kiss to the tender spot on your scalp.

You hugged your brother tightly. The warm comfort of his body and the affection he was showing you in front of Alfie was more than just a hug. It was an apology. You had been taken when he should have been looking after you, and even though you adamantly disagreed that he was to blame, Tommy craved control and order, and almost losing you had upset the balance that he had painstakingly created.

He still didn’t trust Alfie as anything more than a business partner, but he had seen the way that Alfie had torn through the streets looking for you, he had seen the pure carnal fire that flickered in him when he realised you were gone. He knew that Alfie had sat by your bedside for the entire two days you had been unconscious, not leaving the room as you had an emergency blood transfusion or when the Polly ordered him to rest. He watched the way he didn’t even pick a fight with Arthur, didn’t tease John or mock Finn, instead spending all of his time and energy on you, his hand in yours as you slept.

He’d ordered a family meeting that morning, and that was the only time Alfie had moved from the chair he was practically moulded into. It was also the first time Arthur and him had been in the same room, and Tommy had to hold his brother back by the scruff of his neck as though he was a rabid dog. Arthur and John were adamant that you were to staying in Birmingham, and Alfie had laughed for the first time in a week, telling them that as soon as you woke up, he was taking you home. Tommy had been watching him like a hawk as the argument unfolded around him, controlled and calculated, and for the first time in years, he wondered if maybe he had made a mistake.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, a thumb stroking your hand before he turned and left the room. His eyes flickered to Alfie’s, the two of them connecting like they had before they stormed the warehouse, and after a moment, he walked out of the door.

The silence was deafening. Alfie watched you, his stare as intense as a blazing fire. You were on opposite sides of the room but it felt like miles, and a tight ball of nerves knotted in your stomach.

“Hi.” Your voice was weak, and yet it almost bowled him over.

He grabbed a chair, sliding it out from the mahogany table and glancing up at you. “You need to sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sit.”

You sat. You kicked out the chair next to you, beckoning him to join you and he rolled his eyes, settling down beside you. There were a million things you wanted to say, but the words were trapped in your throat like cotton balls, so you settled for the only thing that seemed right.

“I’m sorry.”

He opened his mouth but you wouldn’t let him speak. “No. I need to say this. I...I never meant to hurt you, I swear. I wanted to tell you, more than anything.”

“You should have told me.” He said, after a moment of silence. “Why didn’t you trust me?”

“I do trust you Alfie. But losing you would have killed me.”

“You wouldn’t have lost me.” His voice was smaller than you had ever heard, and it broke your heart in two.

“But I didn’t want to take that risk.” You sighed, “After you told me you had a meeting with Tommy, I just - I just couldn’t cope. That’s why I stopped speaking to you. You’re too good for me. I thought if I told you, then you would push me away or make me leave, and I was more afraid of losing you than I ever was of my family.”

You tentatively moved from your chair, your brain on autopilot. You stood in between his legs, a homage to the very first time the two of you had kissed in his office.“I was an idiot and I was a coward. I’ve never had someone that I was scared of losing. I’ve never fallen in love before.” You moved your hands so that they brushed his, and his arms snaked around your waist, tightening and pulling you into him. You rested on his lap, and he ran his eyes across the bruising on your skin, taking sharp, rapid breaths.

“I understand if you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.” He touched the purple swelling below your eye, wanted to kiss the scars and the dried blood that stained your beautiful face, touching you as if you were made of glass. “I was fucking fuming, but I almost lost you, and that was a hell of a lot scarier than my fucking bruised ego.” His lips ghosted over yours, he was drunk on the feeling despite not even having a hit, you were so fucking intoxicating to him.“You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since the day we met, right. And call me a fucking fool but I don’t think there’s a better place to be.”

You pulled him into you. He wanted to be gentle, not hurt you and your wounds, but you were insatiable. The kiss was clashing teeth and biting lips and your bodies reacting to every single touch. It was overwhelming, both of you needed to feel each other, needed to know that the other was there and that they weren’t leaving.

After a moment he pulled away, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth, claiming you as his. He rested his forehead onto yours, a swirl of protection and love coursing through his veins. “Come home. Can’t fucking do any of this shit without you.”

“No.” You felt him stiffen under you, and you bent down, grasping his chin and tilting his head. “Not yet. I need to be with my family,” You looked into his eyes. “I need all of my family around me. I can’t leave them the way I did, not again. We’ll go back to London in a few days, but right now, I want to be with everyone I love.”

“Ok.” He breathed.You kissed him again, feeling him smile into you, his beard scratching the softness of your face.

“You know your family will never fucking trust me right?” He murmured. You adjusted your sling, manoeuvring your body so that you could wrap an arm around his neck. 

“They just need to get to know you like I do. You’ll fit in just fine.” 

“I’m not sleeping in a fucking caravan.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, dragging a finger down his open lip. “Don’t be a dick.” He laughed, his eyes filled with love. He dragged you in for another bruising kiss, so passionate you moaned into his mouth. 

“Yeah, thats not going to give off the best impression.” You giggled, pulling away from him as he pouted like a child.

“Fuck it, they wont mind, we’re family now.” He wiggled his eyebrows and bent down, moulding your bodies together in the way that they should be, tied with an invisible rope, never apart. 

You knew that eventually you would have to leave your bubble. You didn’t doubt that the rest of the day would be filled with vicious arguments and hostility, but you were reunited with your family and the man you loved, and you couldn’t be happier. The two of you were a train wreck waiting to happen, especially given your differing families and business’, but you knew that you didn’t want it any other way. You were the soft in his world of sharp, and he was the bright white light in the darkness that followed you. He would do anything or you, even if that meant faking a smile around your brothers or buttoning his lip when he really wanted to start an argument. 

You had found one another, and you weren’t letting go. 

You were sat with the windows open in the guest room. The sun was setting and the fields below sparkled an emerald green. Your legs were intertwined with Alfie’s, your feet playfully touching his and making him squirm. You both drank strawberry wine, and picked at the cheese board you had stolen from downstairs, sharing a makeshift picnic inside the mansion. Alfie’s hand was wrapped around your waist, the scent of your hair and skin keeping him grounded, the feel of your body next to his almost biblical. Your pulses were synced, and every time your skin brushed against one another it sparked like a match. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the magpies and the crickets and the steady thump of his heart. You jumped however, as Alfie started wheezing uncontrollably.

“This bread is fucking shit. Way too much flour. Fucks sake.”

You laughed, “Take it up with Mary!”

“Oh I fucking will.”

“What should I call you?” He pondered after a moment of quiet, breathing in your smell like it was the finest perfume.

You blinked at him, confused.

“Can’t fucking call your Rosie now can I? That’s not your fucking name.”

A wave of heat rose to your cheeks and you stiffened, all of your past lies making you cringe. Alfie sensed your discomfort and squeezed you playfully, pinching your inner thigh.

“(Y/N)”

He looked at you, wrapped in his arms, with your big eyes and gentle smile and his heart skipped a beat. He leant down, his lips claiming yours and he tasted the berries on your tongue and the sweetness on your soul, feeling as though he was in heaven.

“Well. It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N)”

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[hunterenough]

I am Dean.

I am Dean. I’ve identified with the character essentially since the show aired. We’re about the same age, both oldest siblings, and we’ve both had a lot of responsibility thrust on us that we just had to learn to handle. We’ve learned to stuff down what we feel because it’s our job to get shit done, and most of the time, feelings just get in the way. We love deeply, but most people think we’re unfeeling because after 30 odd years of boxing shit up, we’re damned professionals at it.

Right about the time the show started, I’d dropped out of graduate school and was living back at home while I worked up enough cash to find a place of my own. There was very little about my life that I felt was my own, and it was very much like being back in high school. All of the things that I’d learned about myself in the years I was away were erased, and I was very much trying to act like the person everyone thought I still was. I think Dean was the same, that each time he was out on his own, he learned a little more about who he actually was, and that each time they came back together, he had to act like nothing had changed, like he was still the perfect little soldier his dad had raised. I had to act like the quiet book-smart girl my family knew. But we knew, Dean and I, what we were hiding from the world in those moments. For Dean, I think it was a recognition of grey areas, an understanding of what love really could mean, how different his life could be.

I was a lot less successful at hiding it in the long run. I didn’t come out to my family intentionally. My dad happened to come home from work early one day, and found me napping with my then girlfriend. Shit hit the fan, I was essentially kicked out of the house, and wound up living with my girlfriend. I’m really lucky. It was a pretty smooth transition, and my brothers were incredibly supportive. It took nearly a year, but my parents eventually realized that having a queer daughter was not the end of the world, and they’d rather have me in their lives than not. It wasn’t perfect, but I’ll give them every bit of credit for learning to not only accept me, but to show that they had never stopped loving me. My mom even tried to explain that they just didn’t know how to talk to me about it at first. That relationship ended, not well really, but that didn’t matter, life went on.

I met my husband-to-be the same year Dean met Cas. I won’t pretend we danced around starting a relationship like they did, but I think Dean and I had a pretty similar approach. I performed my role as a new girlfriend the way I figured people thought I should. I held hands and we kissed in public. Honestly, that’s not how I’d ever been in a relationship before. I’m not huge on touching in general, less so in public, but nobody had ever seen me in a relationship with a guy, and, after everything, I just didn’t feel like trying to explain myself again.

Performing is exhausting. When I realized that this guy was important, that I really might want him around long term, it felt even more so. Again, I’m lucky because when i started to let my mask slip, this guy fell in love with the real me too. Our relationship settled into a comfortable safe space, and I was happy. Our relationship wasn’t perfect, but at the end of the day, he was always there for me.

Dean, I think, had that with Cas. Regardless of their “relationship” status, whether they were best friends or something more, Cas was Dean’s safe place. He was the person that knew all of his weaknesses and flaws and still chose to stand by his side.

Fast forward to season 12. A lot happened in those years, both for Dean and for me. Honestly though, this is where Dean and I found our next huge plot of common ground. In 2017, my husband was diagnosed with cancer. I watched Dean wrap Cas for his funeral pyre while I was sitting in a hospital room next to my husband who was hooked up to IV’s in his arm and a central port in his chest. I completely understood the stoicism of the act. Our practicality and sense of duty serves us well when our world is going to shit. Dean turned to drinking, I learned exactly how to be responsible for my husband’s at home care. I’ll never be able to explain how well I understood exactly what Dean was feeling when he met Billie. I didn’t want to die, but honestly if it was my time, then so be it. I’m not suicidal, never have been, but I didn’t have a lot of fight left in me after I lost my husband.

Now, to the end of Season 15. I think Dean’s characterization after Cas was taken was spot on, but I can say that primarily because nearly all of what we saw was him with others. Remember, we’ve had years of practice stuffing our feelings down, doing what needs to be done, and acting fine.

I held my husband’s hand while he died. I did exactly what I promised him I would and told him I loved him and that everything would be okay. (We’ll get back to how much that part of the finale kicked the shit out of me in a bit.)  

When he was gone, in the living room of our house mind you, because that’s what he wanted, I got shit done. I called his nursing service to report his death, called the funeral home to retrieve his body, and started notifying our friends and family. I smoked a pack of cigarettes and kept my shit together because I knew that if i started to cry, I might never stop. I watched the home nurse and the funeral director prep his body and roll it away, sent his mom home, and when I was finally alone, more alone than I’d been in years, I sat next to his bed and cried until I couldn’t breathe.

By the time my brother showed up a couple hours after I’d called to tell him my husband had passed, I was doing the dishes. It was well after midnight at this point. I’d told him I was good, but...he’s my brother, and he knows me. He came with a bottle of whiskey (another thing Dean and I have in common), and sent me to bed after we’d shared a few shots.

The thing that you don’t know, unless you’ve been through it, is that there is a TON of shit that needs to be done after someone dies. I planned a cremation, a memorial, dealt with insurance companies and our mortgage and all of our joint accounts, and by the time all of that was underway, it was time to go back to work.

When someone you love dies, there is an expectation that you’re going to grieve publically. For me, for Dean, that is unacceptable. If we’re weak, if we lean on someone while we’re dealing with our grief, then we’re letting down the people that depend on us to be strong. Yes, that’s a completely acceptable and normal thing for a good chunk of the population, but that’s not who we are. I can honestly say that moving forward with my life was literally the only thing that kept me going.

So, the final two episodes.

I didn’t question for a second that Dean didn’t talk about Cas’ declaration or his sacrifice. I sure as hell didn’t. I didn’t doubt that he’d make a seamless transition back to casework in the same way I went back to my own job. Having a role to perform that I understood and knowing how to act in specific situations made it so much easier for me to push things down. He had to prove to Sam that he was fine for the same reason that I did, so that the people who love us wouldn’t be watching our every move waiting for us to run screaming off the next cliff. My brother, the same one who showed up with whiskey, did essentially the same thing that Sam did. He didn’t push me to talk. He helped me clean all the medical supplies out of the house, made sure my house and car weren’t going to kill me, and texted me weird random memes daily just so I would text him back.

I also didn’t question the empties in his bedroom or the coat in the trunk. In private moments, when no one is around to see, it’s ok to loosen the relief valve on all of the shit that’s been tightly contained. I slept in my husband’s hoodies and emptied my bar. I understood those things. No one knew about the nightmares, and I ignored the fact that I was drowning in a million memories of my husband every day I spent at home.

To me, those things go hand in hand with losing the person you love most. Regardless of whether or not you think that Dean loves Cas romantically, you can’t argue that Cas was his life partner in a way completely different from Sam. Sam is his responsibility, Cas was his choice. He loves them both, just differently.

Disregarding the revival of an old character for no apparent reason and the fact that it was one of John’s old cases, I didn’t struggle with the handling of the vampire scene in the barn either. I don’t believe that Dean would have ever killed himself intentionally. He would have seen it as his responsibility not only to survive, but to live. Cas just died to save him, again, and there’s no way that Dean is going to let that be for nothing. For me, it was finally going to a Supernatural convention and taking a trip to Paris. For Dean, it was Pie Fest in Akron. They drove fifteen hours for pie. Live, don’t just survive.

He didn’t intentionally throw himself at that hunk of rebar. It was a byproduct of doing his job. But, I think, his reaction to it was the most real thing that could have happened. He didn’t want Sam to call an ambulance or try to save him. He didn’t want Sam to do anything but give him permission to stop fighting. He needed to hear that it was ok.

I’ve never been close to my own death. I don’t have that perspective, but in the year and a half that my husband fought cancer, I was taught to understand this moment as well. When we moved to the palliative stage of my husband’s treatment, the part where medical care is no longer about treating the disease but is now focused on providing comfort, we talked about everything. The thing that scared my husband the most was leaving me behind. He worried about how I would deal with my grief, he worried about me being alone, he worried about how I would manage a sixty hour work week and four pets and a four bedroom house and a two hour round trip commute. He didn’t worry about being dead, he worried about me being alive.

The night my husband died, we all knew it was coming. There are a variety of medical indicators, blood pressure changes, muscle changes, and most critically, at the very end, the fucking death rattle. I cannot explain this sound, I hope you never hear it, but you’ll know if you do. So, at the very end, when my husband was fighting for every breath, I held his hand, and I told him I loved him and I told him that everything would be ok. It was my way of telling him that he didn’t have to fight for me anymore, that I would be ok without him. It didn’t have to be true, but he had to hear it. I couldn’t let him die with all of that worry and guilt swirling around in his head.

Hearing Dean ask Sam to tell him it was ok hit me so fucking hard. For me, it was the clearest declaration of his love for Cas that he could have given. He literally looked at his brother, who he has sacrificed his life for in a myriad of ways, and asked for permission not to fight anymore.

Sam did the same thing for Dean that I did for my husband. He recognized that Dean would hold on as long as he could just to make sure that his little brother would be ok once he was gone. He knew Dean was miserable and suffering, so he held Dean’s hand, told him he loved him, and that it was ok. It didn’t have to be true, he just had to say it.

To be honest, I didn’t have a problem with Bobby being the one to welcome Dean to heaven. In fact, I think he was a great choice, regardless of whether or not it was a Covid related decision on the writer’s part. Bobby was his dad, someone he trusted, and was the logical person to let Dean know that Jack had revamped heaven before sending Dean out to do what he had to do to find his peace. I didn’t expect an emotional scene, it would have been out of character for both of them.

I didn’t have a problem with Dean climbing into Baby and just driving. Two years after losing my husband and I still do the same thing when the shit in my brain is moving too fast for me to deal. Baby is home to him, a place he feels comfortable and in control, and driving is the best way he knows to find some perspective.

I didn’t have a problem with the montage of Sam’s life. I thought it was terribly constructed, but the content of it was predictable. Sam stayed true to character and did what he asked of Dean before hopping into the pit. He went out and made himself an apple pie life. I would have been surprised and disappointed if it was anything different.

The thing that made me hate the finale was the end. When Dean turned around on that bridge, what we should have heard was “Hello Dean.” That hug should have been Dean and Cas. Regardless of whether or not you think they shared romantic love, Cas was family, name on the table and all. I didn’t need a love confession, I didn’t need a kiss, I didn’t need some grand romantic moment. I just needed that thank-Jack-you’re-not-stuck-in-uber-hell hug like the one Benny watched in purgatory or that Mary saw after the soul bomb. Dean’s been in heaven for a bit, long enough that Sam could have witnessed this one from the passenger seat with a grin.

There’s no way Dean would have found peace without seeing for himself that Cas was safe, and you’ll never convince me otherwise.

[blookmallow]

im starting to realize there’s a bunch of connections going on between tma episodes.. i dont know what it Means yet and dont tell me!!!!! ill get there!! but. hmmm. im going through the transcripts after i listen to them to make sure i didnt miss things/checking the details and i just. Keep Finding More Shit, it’s all connected, i feel like there’s something huge going on behind all these and i Do Not Know what it is yet 

this is. very long and disjointed i went through all the transcripts for every episode ive listened to so far and kept noticing more things 

like Don’t Tell Me if im right or wrong ill find out im just gathering thoughts. setting up my little conspiracy board. red strings everywhere

- firstly theres an obvious running thread going about the cursed jurgen leitner books, gerard keay, the. worms. and jane prentiss 

- carlos vittery in Arachnophobia mentions offhand that his complex had an infestation of “small, silvery worms” which passed right over my head the first time but looking at it again thATS THE FUCKIGN WORMS!!!! and martin found. Probably Jane in the basement of that same complex. so. well, (that also means like Who Knows how many people in that building might have gotten infected) (i also wonder whether the spiders might actually be Good, if the worms are hideous parasites maybe the spiders are showing up to eat them/get rid of them, martin says he likes spiders, the spiders almost definitely killed vittery but he was violently trying to wipe them out so maybe it was a greater good kind of thing) (or they’re just spiders and dont have that level of comprehension and like the nasty silver worms. either way) 

- there’s also a lot of Foretelling Of Death but i dont want to go through and list all of those rn

- in Anglerfish, there was some kind of. shadowy hand thing beckoning people into the darkness. Amy Patel in Across The Street describes seeing a similar shadowy hand thing reaching into Graham’s apartment before his. replacement. both of these are described as “folding” in on themselves/moving in a really unnatural way. smoking was also mentioned in both but i havent really been following that as a symbol very closely. possible link with Fire? i dont know

- Repetition. Graham was obsessively filling hundreds of notebooks with the words “Keep Watching,” mary keay’s skin was completely covered in unreadable script tattoos, the paper found by the garbage men was the Lord’s prayer written in latin over and over again, ivo lensik’s father became completely obsessed with fractals and couldn’t stop drawing them. the unnamed burned man in First Aid repeats an unclear phrase over and over again. gerard keay is also covered in tattoos of eyes in First Aid, which was not mentioned before (though probably wouldn’t have been visible before) 

- Graham was convinced he was being watched/followed by Something, harriet was concerned about being followed after she was attacked by prentiss (which. matches with martin’s experience too, though he was much more fortunate), vittery was followed by The Spider, lensik’s father also believed Something was coming for him (and “all the bones are in his hands” sounds very. leitner), and there was. whatever approaching darkness was coming after robert montauk, as well 

- Graham has a weirdly hypnotic table, the first Leitner book found by dominic swain had oddly vertigo-inducing woodcuttings, gerard keay’s eye painting is similarly hypnotic, lensik finds a box in the old tree with the same hypnotic carvings on it 

- not sure if the Spider Apple has any relation to the Arachnophobia episode, but, there’s that, also 

- swain’s book had an image of the sky, which he described felt like you would “fall into it” if you looked at it for too long, and robert kelly sort of “fell into the sky” in Freefall. laura popham describes a sense of being swallowed up by the earth in Lost Johns’ Cave, as well 

- same theme of becoming “lost” in Lost Johns’ Cave and in Alone, similar concepts of being consumed by the earth 

- i dont think its necessarily related to anything else as far as i know but just wanted to mention also i didn’t process the... extra audio recording in Lost Johns’ Cave correctly, i thought she was saying “help me, help me, please help me” which was unnerving, but didn’t really seem all that critical to add, until looking at the transcripts i realized it was “take her, not me” which was a HUGE punch to the gut when i discovered it lmao. dont ask how i managed to mishear that badly but i am very very bad at auditory processing which is why im reading all these scripts to make sure i didnt process them wrong

- Graham mentions he’s gay, and the man who had the dream about gertrude mentions having broken up with his boyfriend, Graham. jon doesn’t comment on this and it’s not necessarily the same graham, and im not sure what the significance is if it is, but it seems like an odd coincidence if it isn’t. “antonio” doesn’t go into detail about why they broke up, but mentions they had been living together 

- the name Joshua Gillespie stands out to me for some reason, like I’ve heard “gillespie” somewhere before, but I haven’t noticed it coming up again in any of the transcripts unless I just missed it. could just be that my brain decided to Remember that name for no reason though. he’s the guy with the coffin 

- jon mentions this, but Breekon and Hope deliveries were responsible both for the weird coffin and the yellow stole from the incident with father burroughs 

- there’s a major ongoing theme of Fire and Burning, both just in general, and a more specific Fire With No Apparent Source thing continuously happening. the prayer paper in the trash had been burned, timothy hodge burned his apartment after the Worms Incident (and martin mentions noticing one of the worms looked slightly burnt - maybe it survived the fire and returned to jane?), sgt. berry was “distinctively marked” by an incident with a flamethrower, the vampires are supposedly very very vulnerable to fire, raymond fielding’s house burned down and his. ghost? disappears with a burning smell and a burnt spot on the floor, lensik experiences an intense, unbearable heat with no clear cause soon after the encounter with raymond, which father burroughs also experiences in his account. the mysterious coffin in Do Not Open had an unnatural heat to it. gerard keay burns the leitner book and picks up the still-smoldering ashes but isn’t concerned with the heat, and then appears again as one of the burned men in First Aid, having apparently experienced second-degree burns on every inch of his skin, but had completely undamaged clothes. the nurse describes feeling a burning sensation when the chanting starts, but dismisses it as a nervous reaction, then experiences the. boiling drink bottles and the burning hot door handles. she says she could feel a burning heat from gerard’s hand. the burned man’s body immediately self-cremates when gerard kills him. lee rentoul also gives specifically a lighter to angela for her Piecemeal curse, though that might be coincidental. he does burn the first box after he discovers it, though

- the garbage man describes the last Weird Trash as “tied off with a dark green ribbon, arranged in a bow like an old-fashioned Christmas present” - which contained a copper heart, possibly symbolizing alan’s real heart, with the rest of his body never being found. this matches both with robert montauk’s killings and the cursed boxes from angela’s curse- “brown paper and string, like an old-fashioned Christmas present.” there was also the weird thing with raymond’s hand, but im not sure that’s related 

the vampires’ victims bodies also seemed to disappear, not sure that’s related either 

- jon confirms that the pendant julia describes (the one belonging to her mother and also her father’s last victim) is a symbol of the People’s Church of the Divine Host cult. wondering if this is related to what father burroughs experienced. gerard keay is searching for a lost pendant in First Aid, but its design is unclear, and he describes it as brass. unsure if related. the fact that gerard’s tattoos/etc were of eyes, and the other pendant is of a closed eye, while one is made of brass and the other of silver seems like there might be some connection though even if it isn’t the same one. there didn’t seem to be any burning involved with the montauk case, anyway 

then there’s. this entire thing im just gonna paste it here, from sebastian adekoya in the Boneturner’s Tale: 

“Books are amazing, aren’t they? I mean, when you think about what they really are. People don’t give the actuality of language the weight it deserves, I feel. Words are a way of taking your thoughts, the very make-up of yourself, and giving them to another. Putting your thoughts in the mind of someone else. They are not a perfect method, of course, as there’s plenty of scope for mutation and corruption between your mind and that of the listener, but that doesn’t change the essence of what language is.

Spoken aloud, though, the thought dies quickly if not picked up. Simple vibrations that vanish almost as soon as they are created, though if they find a host, then they can lodge there, proliferate, and maybe spread further. Still, it is not a reliable method in terms of a thought’s endurance, as humans are fragile creatures, and rarely last a century.” 

this definitely seems relevant to jurgen leitner (and this is. one of the episodes about a leitner book, so) it definitely seems likely that he’s spreading some kind of.... Belief or Self or Power or Something through his books, possibly even his own consciousness is within them somehow, or at least the consciousness of Something or Someone. the man with all the bones in his hands. taking bones and warping them. bones appearing in the pages but Wrong. might be related to the bag of teeth, too, hundreds of All The Same Tooth

definitely something to the... immortalization of thoughts/memories/Consciousness through written word, especially when we consider the words literally tattooed into mary keay’s skin/the book possibly bound in her skin. i cant put a coherent thought together on this but its definitely... important, i think 

sebastian also for some reason specifically mentions he was holding a copy of Stephen King’s Misery in the confrontation with Jared’s mother, which is a story about an author being forced to write something against his will/words that aren’t really his own, to appease someone else, which. seems like it might be relevant somehow too, maybe. the fact that it was named specifically when it wasn’t apparently relevant to the story seems interesting 

[yasbxxgie]

By the time I made the hike down the long pathway from the top of Kyoto’s Fushimi Inari to the houses below, I was thirsty. Which was convenient, since many local residents take advantage of foot traffic from the mountainside Shinto shrine by hosting small cafes in their homes. It was on that winding street that I first encountered amazake, an ancient, non-alcoholic, lightly fermented rice drink, which a helpful English sign noted could be served “hot or cold”.

I looked at the faintly sweet and creamy drink as a reward for my physical activity, one that, like kombucha, promised to replenish me after physical activity. But what my ¥400 (£3) bought me was actually a microcosm of Japanese culinary history.

First developed in the Kofun period (around 250 to 538AD), amazake was originally a food fermentation and preservation technique, created by boiling rice, water and koji, a filamentous fungus that is also used in the fermentation of miso, natto and soy sauce, for eight to 10 hours. The resulting drink, which is packed full of nutrients and gut-friendly bacteria, became so popular that it’s even mentioned in the Nihon Shoki, a text compiled in 720AD that comprises the oldest official history of Japan.

Since then, the drink has seen several rises and falls in popularity. Sales jumped 134.8% between 2016 and 2017, according to food and drink exhibition Foodex Japan, at the time that at-home fermentation became a trendy pastime. The drink then continued its popularity in 2019, thanks in no small part to boyband Kanjani Eight, who were hired to act as spokespeople for Hiyashi Amazake, a popular brand throughout Japan. Amazake also has a regular presence in cafes and convenience stores across the country, with locals sipping on it as a morning treat or afternoon pick-me-up.

Hiroshi Sugihara (杉原大), a fishmonger and fermentation enthusiast originally from Japan’s Aichi prefecture who relocated to Perth, Australia, has seen the rise of fermentation culture firsthand. His Facebook group THE BREW LIFE-発酵生活 has swelled to more than 5,900 members worldwide since its creation in 2014. Already a fan of fermenting miso and doburoku (a form of sake), he enjoyed introducing amazake, a drink from his childhood, to the group.

“It was very interesting and there were mixed reactions from Caucasian [members] but Asians were able to relate [it] to some of their traditional sweets,” he said.

Sugihara fondly recalls drinking hot amazake at temples on New Year’s Eve. Because the beverage is believed to have warming qualities (particularly due to ginger, which is often used to add flavour), it tends to be heavily consumed during the winter months, a period that includes several major holidays, including the Hinamatsuri “Doll Festival”. This has resulted in many Japanese people considering the drink as a tie to both their past and current national culture. As Shihoko Ura, author of food blog Chopstick Chronicles explains, her memories of amazake are laced with a fair amount of sentimentality, particularly now that she’s migrated to Australia.

“I used to be a Red Cross-trained RN in Ise City, Mie prefecture, where there is [the] famous Ise Shrine,” she recalled. “Ise shrine served free amazake for worshippers, and we first-aid employees were also offered the drink. I was always looking forward to the sweet treat when I had a little break in [my] eight-hour shift.”

Amazake is a sugary drink, as hinted at by its name, which translates to “sweet sake”, even though it only contains trace amounts of alcohol due to the fermentation process. Because of that translation, finding it in convenience stores can be tricky for non-Japanese speakers, who should consider asking for a brand name, such as Hiyashi Amazake or Marumi-koji-honten to avoid being served alcoholic sake instead.

As I sipped on my drink, I was surprised by the lumpy texture, similar to rice porridge, due to the small pieces of koji suspended in the liquid. At roughly 80 calories per 100g, it’s healthier than its creamy texture might initially imply, and fans of amazake claim it can positively impact seemingly every part of the body, including hair growth, weight loss, hangover recovery, sleep cycles and bowel movements.

Because of its nutrients, which include B6, folic acid, ferulic acid, dietary fibre and a notable amount of glucose, many claim it deserves a place in Japan’s stable of hangovers cures, which includes beverages made from turmeric or beef liver, ingredients meant to clean a specific organ. And amazake’s drinkable, easy-to-digest, gluten-free nutrients have also earned it the nickname “drinkable IV”, something that Sugihara confirms from experience.

“I usually have it when I have cold or fever and especially when I don’t have an appetite,” he said. “Amazake is something easier to swallow, yummy, and, thanks to the power of starch-breaking enzyme [found in the koji], it’s sort of pre-digested so kind to the digestive system, too.”

Its qualities are also thought to go beyond health benefits. As Misaki (文咲), a model and Spa LaQua ambassador in Tokyo explains, the drink is also loved by the beauty community. “Vitamin B group contained in amazake is related to metabolism of carbohydrates, lipids and proteins, skin and hair,” she told me via email. “Therefore, beauty effects are expected. Amazake also contains an ingredient called ergothioneine, an antioxidant that has the effect of suppressing skin aging.”

But with any food touted as an ancient cure-all, the big question remains. Does it actually work?

Adam Yee, an Austin-based food scientist and host of the podcast My Food Job Rocks, agrees that the minerals and vitamins contained in amazake will help the appearance of skin and hair – if consumed in large amounts. But he also says that the power of suggestion plays a large part in determining a food’s worth. He cited bone broth’s spike in popularity, a beverage that made many similar claims, as one example of good PR. However, he also made it clear that because amazake has an element that’s still very hard to scientifically account for, there may be some hidden, unaccounted truth to these claims.

“Fermentation is something that we really don’t know much about,” he explained. “It’s not like, give it one thing and [it] spits out another thing. Food is so complex, the koji that’s eating whatever it’s around, might actually create something different. You can say the same thing about yeast. Bread and wine are two different things, even though they use the same yeast strain.”

Currently, amazake is barely known outside of Asia. But that looks set to change. Like matcha, which has found its way into desserts both at home and abroad, amazake has become a ubiquitous part of Japanese cuisine, often extending past beverage status. Its continuing success outside of Japan was even predicted by America’s Test Kitchen, who named koji its number one food trend forecast for 2020.

John Sugimura (杉村), corporate executive chef and concept-brand director at PinKU Japanese Street Food in Minneapolis, has turned the drink into a signature part of his offerings, using it both as a creamy base and a way to add unexpected bursts of texture.

“I enjoy delicious baked goods including amazake for its nutrients,” he said. “For me growing up [with Japanese and German parents in the United States], I enjoyed amazake and banana smoothies. I have the most experience making pickles using amazake. And my greatest accomplishment has been incorporating amazake into my ‘sexy sesame dressing’ and salad.

This fusion of cultures may be what will eventually help amazake become a food trend outside of Japan, similar to the way kombucha and quinoa are now widely considered health foods outside their native regions of China/Russia and the Andean region of South America.

Atsushi Nakagawa (中川 貴司), owner of Amazake Co in California, agrees, noting that by linking it to already-popular products, he only has to provide his consumers with a basic introduction to the drink and its potential benefits. After completing apprenticeships at miso and koji microbreweries in Japan over the last few years, he’s pleased at how his knowledge of amazake has sparked the interest of his Los Angeles-based clientele, and how he’s been inspired to play with traditional flavours.

“They get it,” he said. “Especially they love our amazake-mixed latte drinks. We offer Japanese ceremonial matcha, Golden Milk (turmeric, ginger and cinnamon) and horchata flavours. In the last few weeks, more and more people are becoming interested in our Pure Amazake, which is undiluted, so they can use it however they want.”

It might be easy to think of amazake as another trendy food. After all, bone broth, Brussels sprouts and açaí have all seen spikes and falls in popularity. However, those who grew up with amazake see its resurgence within Japan and its gradual introduction outside the country as an opportunity to take pride in their culture. As Sugimura explains, it’s that mindset that encourages him to experiment with the drink’s benefits – and has informed much of his career in food as a whole.

“When I was young, I resisted many Japanese traditions out of fear for the code of etiquette,” he said. “As a third-generation Japanese-American lacking mentoring, there were so many expectations on social behaviour, I became overwhelmed. Fast forward, [and now] every day is a celebration of my Japanese-American heritage.”

Amazake is a cup of Japanese history, but the natural energy the beverage delivers still feels very relevant today. I finished my drink, and returned the glass to the cafe owner, ready to continue exploring Kyoto. It might have just been the superfood at work, but not only did I feel nourished, I felt connected, too.

[queenmaracasandlove]

You’re My Best (Sex) Friend - Roger Taylor x F!Reader - PART V

Word Count: +/- 2800

In the last part: Roger is on tour and Y/N is trying to move on back in London. She tells him she has been asked on a date but he doesn’t get it and say it’s a good thing. Roger comes back to London but Y/N is now dating Linda and is staying at her place before he goes back on tour. 

Warnings: None this time (I think)

A/N: To be honest I don’t really like this part but I needed it... Tell me what you think loves. 

PART I PART II PART III PART IV

MASTERLIST

(Credits to whoever edited this beautiful picture)

The performance had gone perfectly, it was a good one, the audience had been particularly receptive. Y/N could not believe she had achieved to become part of such a big production in so little time. She didn’t have a role but it did not matter, she was on stage every night and she was playing her part in the performance. She was a little sad that the spotlight were preventing her from seeing the audience, she could only rely on their laughs and cheers to know if they were enjoying the show. Expect during the bow when she had time to squint her eyes and that was one of her favourite moment. When she could see the smiles on people’s face.

She was still heavy breathing because of the last dance but she had to go back on stage, let the audience applause, and enjoy it. She was smiling like crazy, she would never get bored of it and tried to enjoy the last minutes as much as possible as she was bowing. And for the first time she heard someone scream her name from the audience and she recognized it immediately, Freddie. She thought she had been imagining things but as she was going for the second bow she heard it again. She moved to the side of the stage as the leads where taking her place and tried to focus on the audience. First thing she could see was some hair that could only belong to one person, Brian. Next to him was Freddie, looking at her and waving like crazy which made her laugh but she barely had time to look around him that the curtain dropped.

She stayed on the stage for a minute, listening to the people leaving the venue. She was confused and her heart was pounding in her chest. Had they come to see her? Why didn’t they tell her beforehand ? Was Roger there too? He hadn’t called Linda’s phone but he had only been back for two days after all and they were leaving again so soon. Millions of thoughts were invading her mind when she saw a familiar face coming to her.

“Doll? Are you okay?” Linda asked

“Yes, sorry. I’m just recovering. Tonight was intense right?”

“You bet it was. Let’s get ready to go home shall we?”

Y/N nodded and followed her backstage where she would change and get rid of the make up. She liked that moment too, enjoying what was left of the adrenaline and chatting with the other performers. But tonight she felt out of place, unable to unzip her costume on her own, dropping things on the floor. She would have never dreamt of seeing them here,but they all had been so supportive even after all this time. Y/N was finished to remove her make-up when she heard some agitation in the next room. Only seconds later one of the producer of the show appeared in the communal dressing room.

“Guys we have some people who would like to congratulate you for your performance, very special guests”

It happened sometimes, when personalities or so-called important would come to see the show they usually liked to come backstage and congratulate the cast. But most of the time it was only for the leads, not the whole ensemble. Immediately Y/N’s colleagues were getting excited, wondering who was going to show up in the room tonight, but she stayed calm, at least on the outside and got up with everyone else. Of course Freddie was the first one in, congratulating everyone, followed by Brian. For a second Y/N thought that it was just the two of them but she saw John coming in right after, with Veronica.

She had never told anybody about her acquaintance with the band apart from Linda. In fact, Linda was not looking at the guests but at Y/N, asking her if she knew about it, but she shook her head. Everybody was extremely excited to have the band in their dressing room and the musicians took the time to smile to everybody but clearly they were looking for someone in particular.

“HERE IS MY STAR!” shouted Freddie, running to Y/N as soon as he saw her

“Fred’, I’m so happy to see you here” she replied, hugging him 

And she really was, and in the end she didn’t care about anybody else in the room because it was so good to see them all again. She hugged him for a while before turning to Brian.

“You were really good Y/N. Congratulations”

“Thank you Brian” she smiled

Y/N was overwhelmed by their sincere compliments and she almost teared up. Veronica was saying how happy she was because it was her first musical and she loved it when she heard little screams of excitation behind the group. She wondered what was going on and understood when she saw the blond man coming in her direction. Her heart stopped for a minute and their was a strange look between the two of them…

“Sorry I was talking to…” Roger started

But before he could end his sentence Y/N was hugging him as hard as she could. He looked surprised for a second before returning the gesture. She had missed him so much. She wasn’t too sure about how she should behave with him, where she was standing, what her feelings really were but right now she was just too happy to see him again.

“I can’t believe you came to see the show” she said, parting

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world” Roger smiled

“Booked the tickets all the way back from the States !” said Freddie

Y/N looked back at Roger, not sure she was believing it. All of this was so surreal.

“We should probably let you finish” said John

“Yes, we’ll be waiting for you outside” added Freddie

“Waiting for me?” Y/N asked

“Darling, we have to celebrate your amazing performance, we’re taking you out. Don’t take too long I’m dying of thirst” he replied

And just like that they all went out. Everybody was looking at Y/N and she felt much worse than when she was on stage. She had to explain how she had met them a few years back and that they were friends now and that she had no idea they were going to come and see the show tonight. Linda was next to her and hadn’t say anything. She had noticed something that she didn’t like. All this time she had thought that Y/N’s feelings for the drummer were not mutual but after seeing the way he had been looking at her she was now doubting and she was worried. 

They both got ready to go and went towards the exit. The boys and Veronica were waiting for Y/N next to the stage door, inside, talking with a few members of the crew, signing autographs. Roger saw them coming and immediately understood when he saw the woman next to Y/N, he knew she was Linda. They glanced at each other for a few seconds but not enough for anybody to notice.

“All set?” Brian asked

“Is your friend joining us?” asked John

“Oh I’m sorry I forgot to introduce Linda.” Y/N said, a bright smile on her face. “This is Linda, she’s a dancer but you’ve seen her ahah. And she’s… She’s my… friend now”

She wasn’t ashamed of it but she didn’t want people around to hear that the both of them were a couple. But everybody understood what she was implying and she could see them smiling although she did not dare looking at Roger’s reaction. It was stupid, she had made peace with her decision, or so she thought. So she looked at Linda and smiled, she really wanted her to come and meet her friends. That was important to her.

“Of course” Brian said, smiling too

Linda nodded and the smile on Y/N’s face became wider. They all decided to go to a nice pub the cast was used to go to after some shows. Linda was always making sure she was next to Y/N but was very happy to learn more about her girlfriend’s friends. Y/N could be quite an outgoing person but she had never seen her so alive. One of the only other place she seemed to shine that bright was when she was on stage. Linda was glad though to know that she had had the exact same attitude with her although on very rare occasions.

Everything was going great between the two women. They had been seeing each other for a month and all was well. Y/N’s kindness and silliness matched perfectly with Linda’s maturity and assertiveness. They spent a lot of time together, making sure to always be honest with one another. They rarely talked about Roger, they had discussed it once and it was enough. But Y/N sometimes mentioned him as a friend with the other members of the group and it was never a problem. 

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

There had been a few beers already. They had talked about the tour, about the show, about the next album and about life. So many things had changed in a few weeks. Brian was getting married but Freddie was no longer engaged to Mary. Y/N was sad to see Freddie’s worry but not surprised about the news. She also understood better the sadness in Mary’s voice during their last few phone calls. Life was moving on she thought, and so was she.

Because of the alcohol, Y/N was less preoccupied by the way she behaved and let herself go more than she did since she had realised her feelings for Roger. Maybe it was because of her new relationship. She was barely paying attention to the way Roger was hanging on her every word and how she was in fact doing exactly the same thing. She had to excuse herself and go to the bathroom, beer definitely working on her bladder and mind. She looked at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath before opening the door. Roger was leaning against the wall facing her, waiting for her.

“Hey love” he said

“Rog” she smiled

“Just wanted to spend a little minute alone with you. It’s been a while”

“I know. I’ve missed you a lot. I was sad you stopped calling…” she admitted

“I’m sorry Y/N” he came closer to her, looking into her beautiful eyes “Things got a bit crazy you know. I’ve missed you too”

She gave him a hug, she wasn’t as careful as she would have been sober but she didn’t mind. Feeling him against her felt so good. She wasn’t sure where she was sentimentally speaking but he was still her friend and she wanted to enjoy the little time she had with him.

He found her so beautiful. He has been so impressed about her performance. He never doubted her talent but he was so proud of seeing her on stage. He wanted to kiss her so badly but he couldn’t. She seemed so happy to see him but she also seemed so happy to be with Linda. All his hopes of confession had been crushed and that was hard to take it in but he still wanted to spend time with her. He had never felt so needy.

“Thanks for coming Roger. It means a lot to me”

“Y/N… You were amazing. I swear I’m not saying that just because I…You’re one of my best friend. You’re going to do amazing things” he said

His hands still on her shoulders and she was going to answer when John arrived. For a split though the world had stopped for both of them, everybody else disappearing. The bassist looked at them but didn’t say a thing. There was an awkward look between Roger and Y/N but it wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong.

“Thank you Roger” Y/N simply said

“I can’t wait to be back” he confessed as they were going back to their table

“You shouldn’t think that way” Y/N replied, stopping a few tables away from their friends “You should be enjoying the tour”

She looked at him and saw his surprise. She had noticed how sad he looked since the beginning of the night. Roger was usually so happy all the time or sometimes in a very bad mood but sadness wasn’t something you would usually see on his face. Y/N wished she had more time to talk to him, ask him about what was going on but it was clearly not the right time. Everybody was kind of looking at them although trying to pretend not to.

“Roger, you should make the most of this tour. I know the U.S leg was quite long but you’ve always said so. And now you’re going to Japan. That’s going to be amazing right? You told me so much about you’re last time there ! Come on! You’ve got an incredible album to promote, amazing fans and a fabulous culture to discover.”

“You’re right” he smiled, soothe by her words and sincerity

“And I’m sure Freddie needs his friends right now. Can’t let him down hey” she said before punching his elbow

“You might be a smart girl but you really have no strength love” he joked, unconsciously putting his arm around her shoulders before joining the rest of the group.

They were both smiling again and didn’t realize they were holding each other until it was time for them to go back to their seats. Y/N pinched her lips and went back on the bench next to Linda. She smiled at her and put a little kiss on her cheek. She felt safe here, with her friends around her, and there was nothing wrong with it. She was also not completely blind. It was a lot to take in. Linda knew about her feelings for Roger and she had met her friends, including him without any notice.

“So how long have you been together?” Veronica asked

“Well…” Y/N started

“It’s actually our first month anniversary tomorrow” Linda answered, taking Y/N’s hand inside hers under the table

“Isn’t it sweet” Freddie said “I think that’s the first time she’s been with someone for so long love. That’s good. She always looked like she was waiting for something…”

There was an uneasy look among the boy and everybody noticed it. The innuendo wasn’t well disguised. Y/N was probably the only one clueless amongst them, she thought he was talking about love, he was clearly talking about Roger. If she was now aware of her feelings she didn’t think it was obvious to everybody else. The sadness was back in the drummer’s eyes.

“I guess it was worth the wait” Linda answered jokingly, tightening her grip on Y/N’s hand. “She just needed someone to see how amazing she was”

“We all know how amazing Y/N is. We wouldn’t  be here otherwise” Roger answered, tensed

“Technically you’re on tour most of the time right?” Linda replied, looking right into his eyes

“We’ve been friends for years now. She knows we’ll always be here for her no matter what.” he snapped at her 

Y/N was not a fan of how things were going. First of all Linda was crushing her hand under the table and she didn’t like it. She quickly removed it and grabbed her glass. Furthermore, she hated how everybody was talking about her when was right in front of them.

“Why I wasn’t dating beforehand is none of your business and I don’t need to see my friends everyday to they’re here for me. Thank you very much for your concern but I’m doing just fine” Y/N said

John was now coming back too and looked at the silent group. The atmosphere had clearly changed. Thanks to Freddie though they found something new to talk about and the conversation went on as before. Y/N saw Roger whispering a sorry in her direction and Linda smiling at her, trying to see if everything was fine. Y/N was tired, she had had a long day and all the emotions were a lot to take in and thanks for her the bell from the bar was telling them it was time to go. They all gathered their things and said their goodbyes. Once again Y/N thanked her friends for coming to see her and for this amazing night. She wished them the best for the rest of the tour.

“You’re going back to Linda’s place right?” Roger asked as he was lighting a cigarette outside

“Yes… I just… I thought it would be easier for you to have place to rest while you were back” Y/N replied

“Thank you Y/N. That’s really thoughtful. And thank you for what you did with the flat, I really like it.”

“Y/N ! Taxi is here!” Linda shouted behind them

“I have to go” Y/N sadly said ‘But Roger promise me something.”

“Yes?”

“Enjoy the rest of the tour ok? This is all you’ve ever wanted. That and money and it’s finally coming in right?” she joked

“I promise” he smiled “If you promise me you’ll be here to hear all about it.”

“Of course. I’ll always be here for you when you come back Roger. I promise” Y/N said before waving at him and joining Linda in the taxi.

She closed her eyes as soon as the vehicle was moving, completely exhausted. She needed time to reflect on that night. Her eyes still closed she thanked Linda for being here.

“I’m sorry it was so unexpected” she said “But I’m so happy you got to meet them all. It means a lot to me.”

“They’re all so crazy, but that doesn’t surprise me. I like them, especially Freddie.”

“I could have bet on it” Y/N joked

“When are they finishing the tour?” Linda asked

“End of April I think”

“You can come and live with me then if you want to. Roger will probably want his place back.”

This time Y/N opened her eyes to look at her girlfriend. She was more confused than she had ever been in her life. She wasn’t expecting it, at all. Of course everything was going well between them but it was still so soon. And she wanted to say yes, because she really liked Linda and she was bringing her so much. But at the same time it made her realise that she would have to live Roger’s apartment, and forget about her feeling for him once and for all. And that was terrifying.

Permanent taglist: @reedusteinrambles

YMB(S)F Taglist: @rogxrtaylxr

[seromreven]

Pretty weird and its 5AM and my phone is at 3% so excuse me if I type poorly or the concept is too weird but would you be willing to do a story where Paul gets into an car accident or something that makes him essentially forget 1965-1969? I moreso want to see his reaction from learning that John and him split. Basically just Rubber Soul era Paul learning what becomes of The Beatles. Sorry again if this whole thing was weird I can barely type tbh.

oh! it’s perfectly written. especially considering it’s 5AM (what’re you doing up, hon?) and the stress of 3% battery.

it is an interesting challenge and one i’m more than willing to partake! though i didn’t do it as amnesia as such and rather, uh, unexplained time travel. as you’ll see here;

—

January 1st, 1970,

Paul woke up with a massive throbbing headache in stark white sheets with blue horizontal lines. He didn’t have sheets like that, he recalled as he sat with his head pounded as if his life depended on it. A shiver went through him and he shot up in the bed, hizzing at the sudden sharp pain it caused in his head and blinked as his vision slightly blurred for a short excruciating moment.

Once his sight was regained; he looked around the bright room. It quickly became clear to him it was part of a hospital. A private room, he guessed, as his bed were the only one in the quaint room. The radio was playing at a low volume and he could barely make out a song he did not recognise.

What was he doing here? He had just been in a minor accident. And on a moped of all things. He felt only slightly banged up, with the headache to boot, and he could feel his chipped tooth poke sharply at his tongue as he felt his upper row teeth with his tongue.

He heard a small constant beeping that had first begun when had woken up and he groaned at its sharp ear piercing tones. He desperately wanted it to stop as it did no wonders in stopping his damning headache but he had no clue as to where it was coming from and he yelled out towards the open door in hopes of attracting the attention of any nearby nurses.

Quickly came the familiar tapping of high heels on hard flooring and in the open door entrance appeared a young looking nurse. She stopped suddenly on her way into the room as her eyes met his. She looked shocked, but not the way Paul had grown familiar to from… ecstatic fans. Rather, it looked like genuine shock. Like she was taken aback, but not from excitement but rather confusion. But not a moment later; she shook her head and continued ‘till she stopped just short of his bed.

“You called, Mr McCartney?”

Her well-manicured hands were neatly folded together on the back of a clipboard as she looked down at him, politely though creases lined her brown reminding him of the appearance she made only seconds earlier.

“Yes, uh… where I am?”

He was embarrassed to ask but he had to for he had no clue as to his whereabouts. Last he remembered was him looking at the moon as he carelessly rode on his moped with his good friend Tara Browne close behind him on a moped of his own. And then losing control and smacking his face down unto some pavement. Hardly the worth the trip to the hospital, right?

“…,” she hesitated and he felt a rush of warmth reach his cheek at the apparent stupidity of his question, “London Hospital, sir.”

“London?” he asked in a volume louder than what he had meant for it to be. And with a frown he stated to the young nurse, “but I crashed in Liverpool.”

Her confusion equalled his as she looked down at him. Certainly, he wasn’t wrong? Had been visiting his family in Liverpool for Christmas and crashed on his moped one of the nights he was there. That was what happened!

“…I,” she started but was soon interrupted as the door to the room (that she had closed upon entering it earlier) suddenly opened and in it appeared a moustachioed man with shaggy hair that reached his jaw. Paul narrowed his eyes in disbelief as he looked at the man with focused concentration; it was Ringo! He looked vastly different from when Paul last saw him.

Paul whispered his dear friends name as he came to stand next to the nurse. The next thing Paul noticed about his friend was that he looked so tired. Had he not slept? What had kept him up? Surely not Paul. His injuries weren’t so severe to cause insomnia in people, right? He felt only bruises and a slight cut on his upper lip and brow.

“Oh, they shaved you,” Ringo said with a slight smile as he looked down at Paul who still sat in the hard hospital bed. He was getting pretty restless. He felt only slightly worse for wear and not at all like he should be stuck in bed for the rest of the day. And, what? They had shaved him? For what purpose? He didn’t have a beard. Not even a moustache. His hand subconsciously came up to touch his jaw. It was stubble free.

The nurse had gone to the door and stood watching the two for a short second and, in her mind, she probably thought she wasn’t perceived, before finally leaving.

“Ringo,” he whispered. He was still confused. But he was starting to think that maybe it was a side effect of his accident… or something. It wouldn’t be uncommon to be confused after a crash, right? But some things just didn’t add up. He knew for sure he had been in Liverpool. And would Brian really have let Ringo grew out of the mop top and have a moustache too? It looked too different from the rest of them.

… The rest of them. Thinking of John and George, he suddenly got nervous. If Ringo had changed appearance; wouldn’t they have too? Paul would be the odd one out. And where were they?

“It’s good to see you awake,” Ringo patted him gently on the hand that rested in his lap, “I’ll go tell the others,” and then, with a smile that Paul thought to look rather sad, he left.

Paul waited for the door to close completely before he crawled out of the bed. His legs wobbled slightly as he stepped out on the cold floor with his bare feet and he quickly supported himself on the edge of the bed with an unsteady hand as he waited for balance to return to him. He did not know he was supposed to be out of bed or not but nothing was connected to him (IVs and the such) and he felt well enough to walk. So that’s what he did.

He first went to the window and parted the drapes to look out. It definitely was London. But several things made no sense to him. There were fashion and cars he did not recognise. He felt a rush go through his head as he looked down at the streets and stepped back from the window.

When did he last had something to drink? His hands were shaking.

He went to the small sink that stood near the door and, seeing no cups or anything like it, he bent down to drink directly from the small faucet head. It was wonderfully cold and just exactly what he needed. He continued to drink with an eager need and pulled away from it with a sigh of relief. He still felt slight pain stinging the front of his head but getting out of bed and having had something to drink relieved the tight tension a little.

He looked up from the sink and his eyes met his tired reflection. He looked as he had half expected. A visible cut on his lip. A slighter one above his right brown. And he opened up his mouth and was met with the chipped tooth he had felt poking around. Nothing he felt was worth a hospital check-in but maybe he was worse for wear internally than he was aware of.

The door opened again and Paul turned to face whoever would enter the room. He was beginning to feel slightly self-conscious now that he stood out of the bed with no protection from the blanket. The hospital gown would leave little to the imagination if he turned his back to anyone.

It was a long-haired man, somewhat the same length as Ringo had been but with a lot more volume, and he was facing the bed Paul once had been in. He felt a sense of calm looking at the man though he could not see who it was as his back where facing Paul. The man’s body tensed and he turned around and with a frown finally saw Paul.

It was George! Though Paul almost hadn’t recognised him. He looked much older than how he looked last Paul had seen him. His hair too wasn’t a mop top and he also had a moustache. So his worry had been confirmed; if Ringo and George had changed their appearance too so would John, right? But it made no sense. He could hardly imagine Brian liking this look.

“What’re you doing out of bed?”

He was asked by a worried George who stepped over to him by the sink. Paul was too overwhelmed by all that seemed to go and just shrug at George who now stood at the side of the sink, his hands resting on its cold metallic edge. Paul swallowed deep and finally got himself to ask, “what day is it?”

His moped accident was on the 28th December and all signs pointed to the fact that time had passed. Ringo and George had grown out their hair and moustache. How long would that have taken? Could he have been in a coma? Surely not! It hadn’t been that bad of an accident!

“… the 1st,” George said with a furrowed brow and a rather concerned look about him.

“Of January?”

George nodded and stepped closer to Paul to gently place on his shoulder, “are you feeling well?”

This time it was Paul’s time for his brows to knit close together. So he had only been out for a few days. Past the new year which would make it 1966 but that was hardly enough time for Ringo and George’s hair to grow as it had obviously done.

“Yeah… I think. ‘m just confused, y’know.”

He lightly shook his head and went to sit on the edge of the hospital bed. It was then he finally noticed the calendar that hung on the wall. It was pin up one of various American ‘bombshells’. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out if John had been the one who had brought it here. But what really stuck out to him was the year of that stood next to December written in bold, fat, text. Who shot back up from the bed and tore off the calendar from the nail that it hung on.

It said 1969!

He very quickly turned to face George and waved the calendar at him as he muttered words he could not properly connect in his panic. Was this correct! It couldn’t be! It should say 1965! Not bloody 1969!

George looked at him in what could be pity as he continued to wave the calendar at his old friend. He stammered and sighed and sat back down unto the bed’s edge and looked at the calendar as he held it in his lap. The month’s bombshell was a blonde woman dressed in a rather skimpy Santa Claus type dress. It felt mocking and he placed it next to him on the bed.

He burrowed his face into his hands, willing away tears as his fierce headache returned. The bed dipped slightly and he removed his hands to see George sit next to him. He seemed to be studying Paul. A look was in his eyes that Paul just couldn’t quite place.

“You’re not from this time, are you?”

Paul blinked at what George said. His friend seemed wiser and much mature than what he had known of him. And not the twenty-two year old he had been. But how could he not be from… ‘this time’? He just had a slight crash on his moped. Nothing pointed to him having been in a coma for well over four years. Especially not with what George just had said. So the only thing Paul could think of doing was a mix of shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head in complete silence.

Nothing of this made sense. Nothing of this should be possible. How did he miss four years?

He licked his lips slightly and looked at George. Their eyes met and Paul blinked. It was going to take time to get used to George’s different appearance. But it suited him well. Paul nodded slightly to himself and finally asked a question that had pushed and pushed to get out;

“Where’s… where’s John?”

He dreaded something had happened to his great friend. If four years had passed; was else could have happened?

“On his way, most likely. Ringo left to get him and Yoko from the airport.”

Paul frowned in confusion at George and he continued;

“Oh, Yoko’s his wife. He and Cyn divorced two years ago.”

Divorced? He supposed that in a way made sense. John’s relationship and feelings for Cynthia seemed unstable at best. But, divorce? What about Julian? And what had Brian’s thoughts been about this? He arranged their marriage to begin with. And a divorce would certainly go against the Beatles brand.

“And… and was that okay with Brian?”

He was hesitant to ask but the situation was just puzzling. The entire bloody situation felt like a dream. He was yet to see if it was a bad one.

George visibly hesitated and looked away.

“He’s, uh… he’s dead. Died before John even met Yoko.”

Oh. Oh.

“He’s… dead,” Paul repeated in quite a monotone way and nodded slightly to himself. Tears welled up and he swallowed hard and rushed to the sink. He shook. He was shaking. Fuck… fuck! Brian was dead? What… “how?”

It came out to barely a whisper. George didn’t hear. Paul had no idea how to react. How could he? How do you react to something like that!

Paul felt sick. More so than before. He turned to find George staring down at his hands… Right, the hospital gown. Probably had given him quite a show. He turned back around. He drew a heavy sigh and stared hard at his own reflection.

In the mirror, he saw George stand back up and come to stand near him, a hard pitying look in his eyes.

“This can’t be easy for you. And I don’t know how to help you,” he said in a calm voice and Paul nodded carefully as they looked at each other in the mirror. “John will be here soon. I’ll let you be alone,” he said and patted Paul’s back before leaving.

And he was right. Almost as soon as Paul had sat back down on the bed, his hands still shaking as he breathed heavily still trying to make sense of the situation; John entered the room alone.

He too looked vastly different from the John he knew in 65’. Skinny. Long hair. Longer than the two others. He wore small round glasses and had a full beard. A wild look in his eyes as he neared Paul on the bed. “Paul!” he yelled out on his way through the room and stopped just short before bumping into his knees.

“George told me everything,” he said and looked down at Paul. His hair almost covered his face completely as he leaned forward.

“And you believed it?”

He shrugged, “had no reason not to,” and he sat down next to him. The same place as George had.

“You’re not the Paul from last week. Or last month. It’s visible to the naked eye. You’re two different people.”

Huh. Paul wasn’t sure he completely understood what he meant. This was all just… heavy. A heavy situation. There was no sense in any of this. How could he have gone through four years? This wasn’t Doctor Who. Not some H.G. Wells novel. And where did George intuitive ability to just… kinda sense all of this? Brian was dead. John divorced and married again. What else was different?

He swallowed deeply as he realised the question he had to ask, “how’s… how’s the band?”

He looked to John who was fidgeting with his hands as they quietly looked at each other. Paul sensed the news would be bad. Of course, it would. Nothing else had seemed to be right within this predicament he had come into.

“We’re done, Paul. Finished. No more.”

Even if the answer had been expected; it stung. Hard and painful. That it had come to this. Brian dead. The Beatles having ended. What was he to do in this strange universe he was somehow in? God, he knew it not to be a dream but, oh, how he wished it to be.

It was useless to sit and cry. But what else was there to do. The intricate downfall of his personal life couldn’t possibly be the only thing to have gone through a major change. The world, from the small glimpse he had given himself, was unfamiliar.

But this was home now, it seemed. The long relationship he had with John was done if The Beatles was. He knew this much. That it wouldn’t have taken something drastic for them to have come to such a point.

He sighed, deep and hard. Acceptance of this would come slowly, he knew.

He resisted the hard urge to yell. To cry. To throw a fit. Instead; he laid back on the bed, John staring down at him in silence. And breathed in the air of the year he didn’t belong in.

[something-tofightfor]

The Punisher Season 2: Episodes 11-13

Initial reactions as I watched these episodes.

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. I literally tagged it four different ways for spoilers so if you read them after this it’s your own damn fault. 

11: The Abyss Frank covered in blood and nearly dead and handcuffed.... stop me if you’ve heard this before Two person rescue mission at the hospital Amy seems concerned. Curtis is about done with Frank’s shit John. I think your wife is dead...nevermind. She is dead. Yikes. So this is all for nothing. FUCKING KAREN KAREN Karen is fucking heeeeeeeere K A R E N SHE IS NOT LETTING ANYONE KEEP HER FROM FRANK IVE BEEN WAITING THIS IS ALL IN CAPS BUT HOLY HELL THIS IS EVERYTHING But what the fuck is she wearing a cape LOOK AT HER FRANK how do you feel about him Karen FUCKING SAY IT SAY IT YOU GODDAMN ASSHOLES JUST FUCKING ADMIT IT Madani is so obsessed with this. I don’t think frank killed those women. I think they were already dead and billy had a plan to make him think that he did. And it’s working IM SO SICK OF THESE DEAD WIFE FLASHBACKS THEYRE HOLDING HANDS I REPEAT HOLDING HANDS All frank wanted was a family and to be done... my heart is aching. Frank talking about his kids oh my god Straight into “i would have killed anything that got in my way” Lmfao everyone is in this room - WHAT THE FUUUUUUUCK RING RING ITS BILLY FUCK OFF KRISTA what I’m trying to figure out is why Krista is helping him - what is her motive? I was right. Frank didn’t kill them. I’m going to blame it all on this bitch because I don’t like her. She keeps saying “for us”... what is this us? Doesn’t she understand that Billy won’t leave? He wants the things that he’s worked for... not just her... or maybe not her at all. He says she makes him happy... but I don’t buy it. She’s saying all of the right things... but she doesn’t mean them. This.... im.... just... hmm. Time is running out for Billy to redeem himself. Ed is my favorite character. HERE COMES THE KRISTA BACK STORY spill all the details now because i hate you you dumb bitch BILLY DID NOT SAY US. He said we- but not us. NO NO NO NO you don’t love him. YEAH BITCH WHO WAS KM oh shit she has daddy issues. Everything makes sense now. Her father tried to kill her and threw her out a goddamn window... ok. So she fucking becomes a therapist and bangs her patient to get closure from the fact that her father tried to kill her. .................. Jesus Martha Kent, calm down. This dude is bad news. God at least take a selfie with frank AMY HOLY HELL LISTEN TO KAREN OH MY GOD HERE IT COMES DAMN STRAIGHT SHE WILL THROW EVERYTHING AWAY FOR YOU FRANK CASTLE “you cannot keep loving people in your dreams” FUCK OFF AMY JESUS CHRIST FUCK ALL THE FUCKING WAY OFF YOU DUMB LITTLE BRAT Frank castle in full police uniform FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF all he wanted were her shoes 🤣 oh, Ed Goddammit Brett

12: Collision Course Brett is a shit driver Another Manson song... hmmmmmmmm Oh yikes that’s an ambulance crash if I’ve ever seen one Brett doesn’t look so good Well that’s one way to fix a dislocated shoulder there frank Holy god supporting a grown ass man on a fucked shoulder “BR 143/24” graffiti on the bridge.... wonder if it’s just coincidence but it’s the only thing on the wall so i don’t think it is Good choice Brett Well fuck Pilgrim is going to Madani’s house BILLY RUSSO IS NOT GOING TO RUN OFF WITH YOU FUCKING KRISTA if this isn’t a long con on his part, I’m going to be fucking pissed. He didn’t say “i promise” and you lied to him. Don’t lie to billy Billy may be mentally unstable but Krista is ILL. Why is she calling Madani?!? She’s too fucking detactched MADANI SEE FUCKING PAST YOUR OWN NOSE FOR ONE SECOND AND FIGURE THIS OUT wait i think she just did Also.... Krista’s going to fucking make billy think frank is coming after her even though he isn’t... this is going to be messy as hell Nevermind... he went to the trailer. SHIT SHIT SHIT POOR CURTIS Well Curtis only has one kneecap? Soooooooo Oh look it’s Amy ruining every fucking thing again I GASPED OUT LOUD DURING THIS CURTIS FIGHT poor dude BITCH BILLY LIED TO YOU HES NOT GOING TO GET THE PAPERWORK dammit nevermind he did. Shit. Are you really planning on running off with this bitch, Billy Russo ?! The fuck?! Well Curtis is still alive Oh and frank kidnapped someone, ok cool Billy can’t just fucking let frank go, right? Like............. Back to the Russians again. It’s his dad, Frank. Let me save you some trouble. I believe him. I think he really didn’t know that anything was being done. An honest senator?!? I thought that buckshot was pomegranate seeds for a minute Are you actually going to shoot him, Amy? Madani is at Krista’s door - calling it BINGO Is Krista going to fucking hit madani with this teapot? Billy is buying her flowers?! Madani playing Krista... this I like. I hope billy walks in this goddamn door SHE FOUND THE JOURNAL. She KNOWS HOLY SHIT SHE STABBED HER WITH SCISSORS Battle of Billy’s Bitches OH MY GOD HOLY FUCK MADANI PUSHED HER OUT A FUCKING WINDOW Billy had something taken away from him yet again. This is.... not going to end well. He’s gonna think it was frank. FUCK. WOW HOLY FUCK.

13: The Whirlwind Billy, as assumed is not happy. “You had to make it about her” uh, yeah.... it’s always been about that fucking psychopath therapist That’s not the end of Billy Russo.  it cant be. FaceTime With Frank™️ Bitch that is CLEARLY a threat Amy’s room service? Except she’s hiding around the corner This kid’s name is LEMMUEL?!!? “He came after me” BITCH YOU THREW HIS GIRLFRIEND OUT A WINDOW OF COURSE HE CAME FOR YOU holy crap, madani’s done?!? WRONG ROOM FRANK Putting lots of holes in the wall and OH HELLO FRANK IS GOING RIGHT THROUGH IT Shit look at Amy again screwing everything up Frank has bad luck with elevators in hotels He fights best when he is cornered Omg billy getting operated on by a drunk... Jesus. .... If he dies on this operating table .... NO ANESTHESIA JESUS CHRIST BILLY so much goddamn pain .... GET THE FUCKING BULLETS OUT DOCTOR DRUNKARD. COME THE FUCK ON. HES NOT DEAD They sure did, David. Oh my god. This doctor threw him in a fucking dumpster Fuck fuck fuck fuck Amy trying to talk sense into John.... ok, sure Jan. PEOPLE NEVER CHANGE Who are you meeting Brett? Oh. Curtis and David. Doing the right thing could have fucked over Frank, Curtis. THINK ABOUT THAT. He played the family card. Fuck off John Pilgrim. If i had a dollar for every time frank told someone to point a weapon at him.... OUCH, Frank’s face. Aaaand there it goes through some glass and chains.... Jesus These two men can barely stand WHERE THE FUCK IS BILLY frank’s got a giant pipe . Didn’t Daredevil wrap chains around his arm too? THIS IS EMBARRASSING FRANK GET IT TOGETHER there you go, with the oxygen tank Asking for leniency for his kids with his last breath... damn “You’re the whirlwind” FUCKING CURTIS IS BILLY IN YOUR ROOM AGAIN no. Fucking Billy. Oh lord. GO BE WITH HIM CURTIS JESUS PLEASE “I don’t want to die alone” Dinah and Krista again.... FML You don’t love him, girl, i promise And he’s not coming from you FRANK . . . . . Fucking hell. Jesus. No redemption. He died alone and scared and sad and in pain. Fucking hell. .... keep the lies going Curtis and Madani. End of story. Bye Eliza. BYEEEEEE. WAIT WHAT HE LET PILGRIM LIVE?!? Well, i guess it’s nice that Frank has something to care about. Too bad I feel nothing for Amy. Still. What the fuck do you want Madani? She’s with the CIA now?!!? LAST FUCKING SCENE. Daaaaaaamn.

[abyss-mal-blog1]

current mind-space//word vomit

it’s amazing how much can change in a few days, but it hasn’t been a week since my finals ended and i already felt so different. i have been doing f45 everyday this week (if not then some kind of workout, but i’ve really been into that recently). i am feeling so much better now without deadlines, sometimes i don’t know if i function better under pressure or not. i guess not, but then it’s amazing how much i can do and achieve under pressure. i need the right amount of pressure, and this semester it has been a little difficult for me to get around that. 

last friday was kinda my last day of finals, i just had an essay to submit, and i am disappointed in myself and my work ethic because i submitted it at 9pm, went to my cousin’s (disappointing) party, and then professor emailed me to say that she cannot read Pages format (seriously smh @ my tardiness!!!), only got back at 1am that night and sent my mediocre essay. i am a little sad about it because i know that is not my 100%. idk why but college so far has just been a series of 80% effort. this paper was an interesting one, on airbnb, on the sharing economy, it’s a performance studies paper where i analyze the hospitality platform in terms of host-user relationship, parasitism and (attempted) to talk about free online labor. it is a little too late now but i kinda want to work on it again and like, submit for feedback. maybe ill ask taylor. 

last saturday was kinda meh, i agreed to go to a *social* kinda event at a bar/club at chelsea, held for Asian-ivy-alumni-people that yanlin invited me too. it was at up&up and honestly a little...i didn’t enjoy it at all. the music sucked, the people were either too dorky or gross or old or weird, and the whole time i just kept saying to myself, “never again”. they said it was open bar but they only served absolut, which was shit. and then my friend’s two friends were...i feel sorry that this was their first clubbing experience. at the beginning my reaction was look at all these ivy alumni! get hitched with one of them for ~da connectsx~ (and nothing else) but no kidding i was actually interested in talking to them just to get to know what people who graduated from ivies are up to, and what are they doing at such events...and are they actually enjoying themselves because it was really kinda gross. met my friend’s friend who seemed like a really smart engineer (he asked for my number the next day lol), and a german dude at the bar who didn’t want to get me a drink. all i needed that night was a drink.....(i’m glad i didn’t drink tho because recently drinking has made me feel all kinds of bad)  we had ramen after at ramen-ya (most probably the worst ramen and charsiew i’ve had but what can we do at 3am and my friend wanted noodle and soup...)

on sunday i KNow i should have left my house earlier to workout but i didn’t. i was angry at myself that i didn’t. instead, i stayed at home and emotion-ate. i must have eaten more green bean soup than my stomach would have liked. what else...avocado? i remember..two bananas? god. this was the day i felt like i was n’s boyfriend because i had to do what she wanted to do. i know i had agreed on going, but at that point i really wanted to go thrifting or something. i mean when i got to central park it was fine and things were good but the whole day just felt like i was kinda pulled into doing something that wasn’t my first choice of plans, not that i didn’t enjoy myself lying under the sun at the park. it just felt like i was accompanying someone. i was half an hour late to meet her as well, and half heartedly got a burrito-wrap at newsbar. if you think about it it is really kinda funny, we’re just buying food and taking the subway to this grass patch 50 blocks away. we didn’t walk much, we literally only stayed at a little grassy slope overlooking the baseball pitch. anyway we went to a dance class after (the class was an hour long but i felt like n had asked me about when and what time we should book the classes for more than an hour by text so i just got really sick of it) i rushed home and got dinner with my uncle who’s in town for my cousin’s graduation. i was surprised that he chose the same japanese restaurant again, after dissing it half a year ago we ate here. the omakase was crazy and it cost 230 per person. (for the most expensive set) it was also kinda dumb because you aren’t allowed to order a different omakase set from anyone else - everyone on the table has to order the same - because of “timing”. i wonder if this is how it is in japanese omakase etiquette, but in any case it really earned them a hefty amount because my uncle decided to get 230 for all of us. qiyang didn’t like and said qiqi had bad taste, hahaha. the food wasn’t bad, i mean it’s japanese fusion, but the prices were way too steep for the taste. anyway enough about the food, during the dinner i think we talked about many things though. i kinda wanted to talk to my uncle individually because i think he is the only one who knows about ah gong, but he was sick, and i could tell he was exhausted. my aunt got a little impatient because i didn’t arrange plans to take their furniture and they were going to throw all of them away and it was actually the first time i’ve seen her get so worked up - but at the same time trying to control her emotions - because she was talking to me. i could tell she was annoyed though but i tried not to take it personally, and arranged it tomorrow. 

arranging the moving stuff was kinda last minute, i was walking to the library for work one day and i saw a truck that said MakeSpace. i assumed it was a kind of moving company and so i looked them up. they seemed to be pretty okay in terms of their services and so i decided to try them out. confirmation and setting up an appointment went pretty smoothly, except for the part where the guy i think his name was joseph, asked me to give my credit card details over the phone. idk why i did that! i stopped though, and asked him why, to which he replied he wanted to key in with the coupon code. this service has so much gimmicks within the first 2-3 minutes on the phone he was already telling me about how the first pick up is free, and that he will deduct 100$ off the first month...when people give you discounts too easily it just feels like a ploy and a thing they give to everyone, it’s not anything special and it’s probably calculated inside whatever we have to pay. anyway, i was just thinking it would be cheaper (assuming the maximum that i would have to pay is ~$500, as i confirmed with them on the phone yesterday), it’d still be cheaper than starting an apartment lease now and going through the trouble of finding two subletters. 

well. idk, it’s also easy to have things all moved in, i have to find a place to store my perishables!

moving is so much work, and storing things. this reminds me of my paper on airbnb and about the digital nomad lifestyle. it is interesting though, that this is what it has become. but the homogenized aesthetic is something i really cannot stand, in airbnb, in coffeeshops around the world..i am sure you know what i’m talking about. a new york times writer did something about this - he termed it “Airspace” - and apparently it originated from Brooklyn. I guess that’s where the art/avant-garde stuff started. well. keep a look out im gonna write a blogpost about that 

moving on 

nat came to sleepover on sunday night and a few days after because the school kicks you out of the dorms you pay so much for right after your final ends. i forgot if we did something fun but i probably just fell asleep. 

on monday i think i went to f45 and did cardio at Dumbo with Gi. he seems like a pretty nice trainer, the first time i went it was him and another girl Bertha (i think my first f45 was last tuesday) and i felt like i had two personal trainers with me - Gi was cheering me on and Bertha was doing it with me. it felt like such a good workout, one of the best ive had in a while. then work, where i arranged the movers stuff. i also realized i bought the wrong date for my flight ticket as my friends and had to buy one more...............

tuesday was the same f45 in the morning, and the bobst after. didn’t really get much work done at bobst. oh i also viewed a 3BR flex at 160. hella expensive and small, and dates didn’t work out anyway. also the broker who brought us to view the apartment was a very nice tall french man and his name was jean-francois which i couldn’t pronounce and asked nat but still called him jean as in jeen instead of john. this is why i have to learn french. you’re embarrassing. i also went to the itp/ima spring show with shubham which was super cool. there were many cool ideas, and i just wonder if i could create something like that. i didn’t get to see all of the exhibits which i regret, but i remember a few notable projects. one was an installation made with keyboards that randomly clicks, but when you hold your phone up it’ll stop. it’s made using 3d gestures. there’s also one at a gallery for surveillance, this team had a thing they call facebox, and it’s literally a box, that when you open it has a webcam that would capture your face, find you on facebook, and print out an invoice/receipt on how much you have earned for this giant tech company.  what else...an AR project that when you scan a food,  it shows you where the food comes from. nat said that she would love it if menus have something they could scan and then have pictures appear in ~holographic~ format, or maybe in the nearer future something on your phone that shows you a picture of the picture of the food. but isn’t it a surprise tho? sometimes the fun’s in the surprise, you read the description, you know what are the foods you’ll eat, leaving room to imagine or be surprised by how the chef puts it together! anyway, went for dinner with nat and jenny - got vegan shwarma (definitely wasn’t worth $14) and went to get crepes with will after. 

wednesday we were gonna go to the dmv but we weren’t prepared. nat also needed to get her passport and she was lazy. wow the number of times i mentioned her, it feels like she’s my boyfriend at this point. talked to famz, sister, and beatrix. am currently considering if i should even go to beijing or just go straight home. fuck. went to bobst for work but no one was there i was just really sleepy. viewed an apartment at 55 morton (it’s a nice quiet residential street that seems to be tucked away from the loud cars and bars and people) then i went to f45 again-varsity!!! cardio!!!, walked across brooklyn bridge (a little regret although i wanted to walk, but my bag was heavy and there were too many tourists to brisk walk) 

also the reason for this is that after my soba/miso/salad/shrimp dinner last night i was just watching a bunch of netflix shows and it was probably the caffeine from puerto rican roasting company - the barista made me a chai cappuccino with almond milk (3 SHOTS!!!)

me and nat couldn’t sleep, i really think i slept for an hour. i watched so many different shows, yoko and john’s documentary, while we were young, anthony bourdain, i was seriously flipping through all the shows and alternating between amazonprme and youtube and netflix and i even tried watching peaceful cuisine and making the brightness lower and had the sleep mode on and wow i just couldn’t sleep

so yeah the birth of this word vomit 

i am going to create more things