#maybe the unlucky part is how precarious their situation is

[canisalbus]

Okay I just realised this but Vasco's two moles under his eyes reminded me of this old saying that two moles directly under the eyes mean you get bad luck in relationships. Intentional or not, this detail is a nice little easter egg to his relationship with Machete and any he had beforehand!

.

[thedivinedemom]

An AU of DC with a mass crossover of PS4 properties.

Provisional name: Players Searching for Detectable Changes (Get the pun?)

The setup:

This is the future of DC, a world where the old guard has slowly withdrawn and the newer generations have risen to the occasion. The original Titans in particular, most of which have formed the new Justice League while many other, very similar teams had started to form across the world. One of which was a resurgence of the Teen Titans, led by an older and purified Raven. She wanted to make the Teen Titans something akin as it was for her, a place to belong and learn to use one's powers.

The first 'class' of such individuals include:

Stargirl (of the now-disbanded JSA and still getting used to the Starrod)

Blue Beetle III (Freshly attached to his alien symbiote and freaking out a bit)

Robin V (to work on his anger issues, mostly at the new Batman's request)

Kaldur (a half Atlantean half metahuman who is struggling with his identity and the surface world, Aquaman feels a kinship for the boy seeing their similarities)

Static Shock (a promising new hero but little experience working outside his city or in groups)

Mary Marvel (she's... she's going through alot. Fresh from a coma, her brother is distant as he acts as the new Wizard, and she may be, sorta kinda, being corrupted by Black Adam's gifted power)

The team was rough and there was plenty of head butting (Mostly between Stargirl and Robin/Damian as one is almost the unanimous leader while the other thinks he should be) but they were getting there. They were more of a clean up crew for the Justice League, they did more than the "kiddie missions" that the Outsiders didn't do, and they meant more than the PR grab that was the International team. Though they didn't seem to amount to more than that. They still did their best, pushing past the silent ridicule, as they went about their missions.

This may be why tempers were so high that day.

One day, outside a little city by the name of Weller's Point, the prisoner transport for the villain Plasmus had an "accident". Released and awakened the creature went on a rampage, heading ever closer to the populated area. Luckily, the mentor of the New Teen Titans could teleport. The new team did fairly well in the fight, though they did struggle a bit as Plasmus was not a being where simple brute force would work. It made the fight tricky and more than a bit... messy.

Messy enough that juvenile and emotionally compromised Mary Marvel lashed out against the downed villain but was stopped by her teammates... things escalated from there. Restraint turned blows and the whole team struggled to stop their powerhouse without hurting her. The ones who do the best are Raven, Stargirl, Blue Beetle, and oddly Static.

While both of the former could use their abilities to restrain her to a very effective degree Static was actively draining her of strength, or at least of the electic aura she was radiating and blasting with. Frustrated, done with the situation, and a bit petty Mary launched her largest attack yet by saying her magical word.

SHAZAM.

Virgil did what he did best, he handled that lightning as it came crashing down towards Mary and the Titans restraining her. Well, he tried. The bolt was just too powerful, too unlike anything he had ever encountered. He could not handle it and it was dissipating, if anything it clung to him or tried to jump towards the girl. He had to get rid of it and he had to get rid of it quickly, safely too if he could help it.

He shoved it into the ground, into the power lines. He did it as carefully as he could, trying to prevent overload or flashover as guided the charge into the power grid.

What happened next was a combination of a few things. 1. The Mystic and transformative properties of the Lightning, 2. It is effectively being filtered through a bang baby, 3. The kryptonite power plant owned by, provided by, and operated by Lexcorp.

This interaction, this new charge, cycling through the power grid interacted strangely with a number of devices but none more so than PlayStation 4s and the devices connected to them. This new electricity changed things, literally. It brought fantasy into reality.

Whatever game was loaded into became a part of our reality in a small way. Sometimes TVs, Controllers, and even the system changed to reflect items from the game but the bigger change came with the Players. If a person was playing their console during the surge then they would become a metahuman with abilities based on the playable character they were playing.

The city, the county even, was now flooded by an abundance of metahumans and items of varying power of devastation. Static felt horrible.

He couldn't help but compare what has happened here to what happened in Dakota City but on a wider scale. And this time it was his fault. His sense of responsibility wouldn't, couldn't, let that stand. He had to fix his mistake and his team was dragged along for the ride.

The story to follow is a mix of Final Crisis and Kingdom Come with a bit of the Young Justice cartoon in events and themes, a few twists and likely a bit lighter in tone but to the DC geeks this should give a rough idea… Maybe a bit of Marvel's Civil War but hopefully not the rushed knee-jerk mess that that ended up being.

But it's here that I start having issues with my planning. One part in worry as outside the set up we start to follow the perspective of OCs (something rarely smiled upon) and another part in wondering which OC to focus on.

Now, one thing I love in fiction is progressive powers and the conflict escalating from the different paths people take in said progression. In that vein, I have a pair of protags in mind as well.

The main two/co-protagonists:

The Lawkeeper- a cop before the change and now a member of a task force made up largely of those affected by the surge. A gamer, a man of color, and a believer of the spirit of the law. He doesn't always get along with his fellow officers but he believes in what the blue does. He believes that an organized response is what is best.

His abilities are based on those of Jesse Fades of Control. Meaning he has tremendous psychic potential but he needs 3 things to reach his full potential.

1.Items to bond to so he can generate these psychic abilities. Jesse's used altered items of her universe to get thematic abilities from them (ex: a safe to generate a shield, a carousel horse for a dash ability, ect). Here he can use items generated by the surge.

2. A patron/partner entity to help guide, give insights, and empower. It also let's the user enforce reality, basically becoming an anti reality warper.

3. A bonded morph weapon or a weapon to come to his hand when called.

The knight- a recent college graduate who instantly decided to go the route of the caped hero. She, after figuring out how to get her powers to work, instantly went the route of a caped crusader. Going out to the streets, saving lives, stopping instances of surge item abuse, and (in the humble opinion of the local Police Department) getting in the way of operations. In her opinion they were taking too long to get things done.

Her abilities are based on those of Prince Noctis of Final Fantasy XV. This means she has tremendous physical and magical potential but like the above she has a number of check marks needed to gain access to the character's full power.

1. A gem/crystal to draw power from.

2. 13 magical weapons to boost strength. The generated game weapons will do and I have most picked out in a way that likely would help the plot progress.

3. The blessing of 5-6 gods.

4. A power ring of some king to channel all this power.

I keep debating the two above as I do like the idea of both of them climbing in power and clashing over conflicting ideals of what to do with their power. At the same time, I think that just smooshing aspects of both into one (which is actually where they started, a single character) and play off the different ideologies of how best to help people from within her friend group and precinct along with internal conflict. Maybe have the one be a fellow officer they butt heads with because of the... precarious nature

Another OC I was thinking on, keeping with the theme of what to do when you have power, is a thief who played Persona 5. Like both of the above they would be crippled in their ability to use their abilities without a way to fake the connection to. In this case, without the Mementos App, they would need an item that could affect or enter the hearts of others. Luckily, more unlucky really, there are plenty of items floating around that can do just that. Namely Keyblades.

Most other Players are an odd mix but most are variations of the Shooter build. Peak physical humans who heal quickly and often have bullet time. But there are enough other variations to cause trouble. Demigods of unreal strength, men and women who can easily tap into a patron for powers from the outside, 2 variations of spider powers, cat eyed men and women who can cast magic with simple gestures, and so much more. But the real issue was the first two, the demigods without a parent to protect them and those easily connected to a divine source.

The disembodied New Gods of Apocalypse were very happy with those groups. For how bad this can be please look at what happened to Mary Marvel in canon Final Crisis.

Thoughts and opinions would be appreciated.

[gohyuck]

part 1 is out now! here

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; ft. brother!johnny

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 2k

warnings: none

a/n: this is just a prologue (but you should still read it 😉) and it provides some context for the events of the main story... part of the criminal collaboration by @neovisioned

let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

April 13th, 1956

There’s a couple of lilies in a transparent vase, half filled up (half emptied out? you ponder this in an attempt to keep your mind off of what is right in front of you) with water that likely hasn’t been changed since before the weekend. Jojo, the class pet, runs on his wheel, keeping a surprisingly steady pace for a hamster. He pays no mind to his surroundings. What it must be like - to be completely and utterly unperturbed and unaffected by those around him. Maybe you’ll be reborn as a hamster in your next life. A quick glance (your fourth in maybe three minutes) around the tense room at the rest of your classmates and at the teacher leaves you hoping.

The clock’s ticking is louder than usual - though that may just be your mind playing tricks on you - and the room seems to be holding its breath as a singular entity rather than a whole composed of twenty-three individuals (one of whom is the teacher himself), or parts, within it. The whole situation is like a suspenseful movie scene - you know something big is going to happen, and soon - it’s just that none of you have any idea of what it’ll actually be. All eyes are focused on one person - a person who’s up on his feet with a previously pristine stationary-based letter crumpled between his fingers and who is staring holes through the teacher up front, who just so happens to be the sorry individual who had handed him said letter. The teacher, a man whose knuckles have more hair than his head, is trying his best to stare back. He can’t quite match the student’s gaze.

You glance down at your desk at the wrong moment. Before you can even register that anyone has moved, the distinct sound of a textbook hitting the floor startles you. A chair follows it. Before you can look up, the classroom door shuts with a resounding bang. The crumpled up letter is on the floor by the door. Mr. Simmons, in all his balding, middle-aged, beginnings-of-a-beer-belly glory, stands in front of the chalkboard, mouth open in a comically wide look of shock. 

After what has to be more than just mere minutes, your English teacher decides that the lesson must go on, and in the midst of telling the class (now with twenty one students and one teacher) more about Shakespeare’s specific usage of language in The Taming of The Shrew, he subconsciously wipes his chalky hands on the front of his pressed khakis. You wince. That’ll be hell to wash. A girl behind you snickers behind her hand to the boy beside her that it looks like Simmons does cocaine. Somebody wonders aloud, though in a quiet enough whisper that Simmons himself can’t hear, who would sell a man like your English teacher coke. 

A smart-mouthed class-clown type in the back heaves a cough that sounds oddly like “Jeno Lee”. laughter ripples through twenty seniors. you don’t join in.

Jeno Lee. 

You hadn’t even caught sight of his scuffed black Chuck Taylors or the back of his hand-me-down leather jacket when he’d stormed from the room. There was no glint of his pocketknife, either. You’ve come to see all three as hallmarks of his persona. 

There’s a lingering smell of smoke in the air, though. His seat, after all, is only two over from yours to your right, and you’ve always been unlucky with inhaling his secondhand smoke. Rumor has it that he smokes two packs a day. 

Somehow you doubt that, though. 

Maybe you’re naive, but, after all, nobody with a smile like that can plow through 40 cigarettes in 24 hours.

♕ ♕ ♕

April 16, 1956

That's the last class you ever have with jeno. His desk is noticeably empty the next day, and the next, and the next after that until your teacher finally - though with an air of relief you find at least mildly despicable - lets his remaining students know that Jeno will no longer be attending your high school, or any high school at all. You don’t pretend to understand - there’s only about four weeks left until you’re all set to graduate, anyways - but you also don’t pretend to be surprised. 

The recycling bin hasn’t been emptied for days. In what’s far from your proudest moment, you stay after class - waiting until Simmons himself walks out to check on what sounds like a hallway fight between two boys - to dig through it, trying to hide your triumphant smile from your own self when you find the crumpled paper Jeno had discarded on his last day here. It had very obviously made him angry, angry enough to drop out, and the wonder of what might be in it is killing you.

After all, he’d been good eye-candy in class, at the very least. You kind of miss him being there, even if you’re the only one who does. You squint, trying to make out what the ink on the paper says. 

It’s a letter - specifically it’s a letter from the Neo Institute of Technology, easily one of the most difficult universities to get into in your state. Your fingers twitch as you battle internally over whether to open it or not - rejection is hard to deal with, even if it isn’t your own. Your school sends hardly two or three people to NeoTech per year, and there’s no way someone like Jeno could’ve gotten in. Eventually, your curiosity wins over, though not before Simmons walks back into the room and you find yourself telling him that you’d tripped and fallen near the recycling, all while hiding Jeno’s letter behind your back. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Your brother, home from college for the weekend, is lying languidly across the couch, hand in a bag of chips when you walk in through the front door. You aren’t surprised - you’d seen his prized red Chevy Bel Air convertible parked out front when you’d stopped to pick up the mail. You realize fairly quickly that he’s the only one home - your mother must be at a book club meeting, and your father is still at his 9 to 5. it’s just you and the devil himself. 

Johnny raises one chip-dust covered hand in greeting before turning back to whatever old western rerun is playing on the TV. For your part, you pay him no mind, dropping the mail - some bills, a... magazine, a reminder card from the dentist - on the kitchen counter while shouldering your backpack to keep it from falling. 

“Hey, John?” You finally call, already halfway up the stairs. 

He grunts in response, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. You consider not telling him for a moment, but then realize that you really don’t want to witness the screaming match your parents will have with him if they get to it before your brother does. 

It, of course, being his not-so-guilty pleasure. 

“This month’s Playboy came in. it’s on the counter.” You finally say, though not before throwing him as disgusted a look as you can muster once you see the way your brother perks up immediately. Pig. He drops the chip bag onto the coffee table, scattering bits and pieces of food across it. You don’t hold out hope for him to clean it up. You also don’t wait around to watch him grab his magazine, instead making your way up the stairs and into your room, finally free to be truly alone for the first time all day. 

You shut the door, making sure it’s locked properly, before dropping your backpack on the floor and jumping backwards, bouncing once, onto your bed. The letter’s been in your hand since you’d found it, and you can’t help but feel mildly excited - and also, of course, just a little bad - as you smooth it out in your lap against your plaid skirt. Slowly, very slowly, you pull it open, bracing yourself for what you know you’ll see. 

Dear Mr. Jeno Lee,

Once again, on the behalf of the admissions board at NeoTech, I extend a hearty congratulations to you for being accepted as a member of the class of 1961. The School of Engineering looks forward to witnessing your growth over the next four years, and we know that, upon your graduation, you will make us proud as an alumnus. However-

You pause in your reading, blinking rapidly in mild disbelief. Jeno - Jeno Lee, known for being a greaser and a hooligan, a threat and a terror - had gotten into NeoTech? The realization shakes you, causing you to blow air out through your lips before you continue reading. 

However, we find that we will have to rescind your full scholarship. I understand that you may find it difficult to pay tuition, but there just seems to be nothing we can do: we request a disciplinary record for each student, and yours is riddled with fights and altercations with both students and teachers, especially one Mr. Richard Simmons. Typically, this would be grounds for rescission, but considering how stellar your grades and essays are, we will allow you a probationary semester. 

You will still have to pay your tuition in its entirety. The first semester payment of $1,200 is due by Friday, April 20, 1956. If you cannot pay it, I’m afraid that we will be unable to take you on for the fall semester. 

Best regards and congratulations once again,

Sooman Lee, Neo Institute of Technology President and Board Chairman

Although you’re still surprised at him having gotten in - internalized prejudice, your brain whispers to you, and you hate that it’s right - your heart twists as you read the letter over and over again. $1,200 is steep for a college, and you know that there’s no way in hell Jeno can ever fork that up. Of course, you realize, heaving a heavy, heavy sigh as you do, he no longer can guarantee getting a high school diploma anyways. His rescission from NeoTech must be on its way to his mailbox already. 

Before you can think too deeply into Jeno Lee and his now-precarious future, a loud knock interrupts you, causing you to swiftly slide the letter underneath your bed. You never know if Johnny’s going to try and pick the lock on your bedroom door or not, though you’re glad to see that he stops short of doing so this time. 

“What?” You ask, your tone as annoyed as possible. 

“Don’t ‘what?’ me, shithead,” Your brother responds, throwing your tone of voice right back at you. “Mom’s back, wants your help with dinner.”

“Why can’t you help for once, you ass?” You snark, sliding off of your bed regardless. The door swings open just as you unlock it, revealing your brother smirking down at you in a way that makes you want to right hook him directly in the face. 

“Men aren’t made for the kitchen.” Is all he says, stepping back so you can get out. Before you can reprimand him, threatening to kick his patronizing and patriarchal ass, Johnny disappears into his own bedroom, slamming the door shut. 

“(Name)?” Your mother calls, sounding displeased at having to wait for you. You groan, pulling your own bedroom door shut before bounding down the stairs. As rock-and-roll music starts pouring out of Johnny’s room, no doubt courtesy of the radio he’d gotten as a high school graduation gift, and as your mother thrusts a rolling pin into your hands while grumbling about not raising you right, all thoughts of Jeno are pushed out of your mind. 

Dust starts to settle on the letter beneath your bed. 

It’s no matter, though: though you believe it might very well be the last thing connecting you to the Jeno Lee, fate has other plans for you. Soon enough, the surface level image of who Jeno is will no longer exist to you, replaced by your own truer perceptions. 

Of course, there’s a series of things that have to happen before that.  

It all goes to shit on May 25th, 1957. 

[xsecretblastsx]

2x02 - Never Been Marcused

Here we are on a new recap, sadly we say good bye to the hamptons on this episode, but it seems fitting considering is the start of fall after all. 

This one of those episodes were I barely remember what happens except for a few scenes here and there from my first watch, so it almost felt like watching a new episode. Anyway here we go.

As usual recap under the cut:

Thoughts I had while watching the episode:

Akward morning after talk between Dan and Serena, not my prefered way for the start of an episode, but what can I do

Well they are kind of cute here, I’ll admit. Though I’m kind of glad Serena’s first instict wasn’t to get back together right there and actually acknoweldging their break up had a lot of reasons behind it.

Blair looks super cute riding that bicycle, so picture perfect. Too bad is only on paper. That Marcus guy is super boring.

Blair can be like “Revenge is so 12 hours ago” but Serena’s is all of us being like “Sure Blair, you totally love Marcus and all of this has nothing to do with Chuck ofc” 

I’m not sure if being refered as “ a perfect post Bass palate cleanser” can be taken as a compliment. And just like magic a wild Bass appears.

I’m just here to enjoy the akward moment every single boyfriend of Blair has to endure whenever they realize that Chuck Bass is going to be a relevant part of said relationship.

“For England” Marcus your nation is surely going to be proud of you for acting like a total englishman and accepting to be civil with Chuck Bass, the guy who just totally manipulated you into inserting himself in your date.

“Blair Waldorf a fling... you’re not exactly low maintenance” Serena speaking words of wisdom.

I guess abstinence (on Serena’s side mostly) was hard for Serena and Dan, otherwise I can’t understand why they’re acting as if keeping their hands to themselves is so difficutl, they never seemed that type of couple in S1.

Blair called him Charles, I guess she was pretty mad. 

That whole sequence of Dan and Serena fooling around on the Jitney is soooo extra, and so unintentionally funny.

Nate’s family drama is never ending, though imagine the tragedy it must be for any UES to lose their money. Auch.

Surprise! Nate’s fling is actually the Duchess.

This whole dialogue: “No offense but don’t you think you’re a little outmached?” “As a guy. Blair wants to be a princess (>.<) and your greatest achievement is owning part of a burlesque club” and the cherry on top “Oh you know is love when you star talking like an assasin” Oh Nate Archibald, I love you. 

Also apparently Chuck did spend tme with Bart from time to time, is kind of hard for me to imagine them playing Squash though.

Chuck keeping noble secrets from Nate. That’s love.

Hi Rufus... and Vanessa

Oh Marcus, giving so much intel to his new “best friend”.Also I kind of like the polo/vest combo Chuck’s wearing there. Weird.

“I have to present myself as crown jewel, sorrounded by other smaller slightly flawed gems, but quality stones nonetheless” this is such Blair thing to say haha.

“If you can’t find common ground wiht a dictator I don’t know who can” The added commentary is really making this episode for me. 

I’ve never related more to Blair than this moment where she express how great it is that Serena’s free from Dan.

I just love when we get to see how much Chuck actually cares about Nate, selling his shares of Victrola is no small deal.

Nate and Vanessa! I still can’t believe how much I don’t mind, and actually kind of like this ship.

I kind of would love to see Anne Archibald doing her shopping at Salvation’s Army.

I love the combination of that suit with that shirt Chuck’s wearing, the color really suits him. I don’t know why but I’m noticing his wardobre much more this time around. Figures. I do remember thinking the first time around he was going to try and seduce the duchess. Now that would have been another akward moment of “Sorry Nate”

Serena looks so pretty here, even if I’m not that fan of her outfil. 

“So she can warn me about the effects of too much botox” auch.  Chuck: 1, Blair: 0. and he’s definately enjoying it.

I so wish Rufus had gone to tour again. He deserved to live that dream to the fullest.

“A lowly Waldorf” wow. Even I was hurt by that. 

I love it when the GG voice oveer points out how ridiculous everything is. Case in point: “Chuck and Blair’s dates are mother and son, and Nate and Blair are exces, and Nate and the mother are in a book club?”

I get why Nate is mad at Chuck for not being upfront about the money, because it’s not easy addmitting that kind of problems in their wordl and even less accepting that kind of help, but Chuck’s intentions were good. Fact is he always helps Nate anyway he can.

The fact that Dan and Serena’s plotline this episode was basically just trying to resist each other, and I can’t help but think that this was the show’s way of trying to make them be more “chair like”, you know intense chemistry and sex appeal. As if.

“if the best version of the situation is I’m going to become Blair’s father in law I think is just time to move on” Now imagine that, thanks to Nate for putting that horrifying thought in my head.

And this is the start of Nate Archibald the gigolo.

“Oh my effing God” same Blair, same. Props to Nate for still acting so rightous and being all like “I don’t have anything to explain to you” 

Blair telling the Duchess how things are going to be now... You go baby Vamp!

“I’m gonna turned it in a novel” so I guess this throway line was the start of “Inside” 

Rufus beyond anything was first a Dad, the Humphrey kids got the best dad in the show, the kind of Dad any of the NJBC would have love to have as a parent, and yet they feel they were the unlucky ones.

That last scene between Chuck and Blair is such a display of chemistry a lot of ships wish they had. and the literal definition of what eye sexing each other means. 

I feel so bad for Nate and Vanessa right now... with the add visual bonus of her sadly blowing the candles for a date that wasn’t. Feeling sad for Vanessa, now that’s new for me.

So this episode while there are moments that I really liked and it did kind of move the plot forward in some points, it also fills a lot like a filler episode and like I don’t really have much to say about it. Maybe because these storylines while I don’t hate them I don’t particularly like them either, in particular this chapter of the Serena and Dan saga this episode feels such a waste of time, they’re basically stalling because they really don’t want to have the difficult conversation of why they broke up and how they can fix their issues, and so to keep avoiding they distract themselves with taming their unrestrained need for sleeping with each other... sorry but what?

I’m not saying there’s no chemistry between Dan and Serena, but their relationship in S1 except for like 1 or two scenes was very much rooted in cutesy moments, tenderness, and how Serena was better with Dan (ugh) and how he wanted for her, not only because she was super hot, they never acted like “oh it’s so hard to keep our hands from each other, and we can’t resist this atraction” that couple were Chuck and Blair, so on this episode I just can’t buy it, it seems forced, almost as if the show wanted them to be more exciting and outrageous... to keep them as the main couple of the show as they were suposed to be, after all at this point of the show while Chuck and Blair were getting more traction, they hadn’t really overtook the show as they eventually did. It also felt part of the “omfg” vibe the show was going for, that scene in the Jitney was so extra, though in my case rather than getting me into them just made me laugh. 

Nate storyline on the other hand is the one that really went places this episodes. It turns out his family is on the brink up bankrupcy because all the legal issues his dad is facing, and because his grandfather won’t help he and his mother are a very precarious situation wich leads Nate to seek help. He tries going to Chuck but on one hand he doesn’t really now how to explaint the situation, and also Chuck’s apparently really busy with scheming his way back to Blair. Except Chuck because he knows Nate is going to refuse him and he can’t help but help him either way sells his shares on Victrola and gives the money to Nate’s mom. Of course when Nate finds out he gets mad, because pride and also because he hates that Chuck lied to him about Victrola and to be fair it hasn’t been that long since they had a big fall out because Chuck wasn’t honest about stuff, so there’s that. Still, I feel I must take a moment to point out how much Nate actually means to Chuck? He loves that club, it’s a place with a lot of sentimental meaning too for a lot of reason and yet Chuck doesn’t hesitate to part with it if meants helping Nate. I know Chuck makes plenty of mistakes and awful things during the show, but these kind of moments are always kind of overlook and I just feel that’s unfair because only focusin on the worst of him, reduces him to this one dimensional villian, and in reality Chuck is one of the most complex characters on this show. These kind of moments are an example of his many layers.

So back to Nate, he ends up going to Vanessa, and I just feel this rewatch is turning me into a Nate and Vanessa shipper. Truth is I never hated this couple, but I was a bit meh to it, in part because Vanessa annoys the hell out of me for the most part, but I always thought she was less annoying with Nate. I like how she just sits and listens to Nate, and I think this is something that his best friends are not always the best at, Chuck tries but he’s more the type of friend that goes into action, he does what is need to do in order help rather than the heart to heart talk, and Nate and Serena’s friendship at this point while getting there, is kind of akward still and also there’s always some crisis going on her life that prevents her for being fully there, and Blair and Nate well.. they weren’t ever the talking type. So Vanessa helps with that, also when the show started Nate wanted in someway to detached himself from the UES and all it’s expectations and so Vannesa was that needed breeze of fresh air, and while she can be as judgy as Dan, I always felt she made more of an effort with Nate to be understanding than Dan ever was with the UES. So I like them, at least for now. Too bad Catherine happens and while Nate was really into the idea of having an affair with her this episode he realizes that’s an awful idea (the fact that she has a step son that’s older than him and is also dating Blair is admiteddly gross) but it’s a desperate time, and she offers him her help... and so we got Nate the gigolo, and that last scene in the taxi when he cancels on Vanessa made me sooo sad.

Lastly we have the Chuck and Blair part of the story, it’s always fun to see them scheming, and Chuck’s tactics these episode are rather sucessful at first and it’s mostly a display of him knowing Blair so well that he’s able to get the upper hand on all of her efforts to get on the Lord and his family good side. I should feel bad for her, in the sense that Chuck’s ruiningin her plans and it’s not fair because if he had showed up to Tuscany everything would be different. And yet I’m kind of glad he gets on her way because truthfully, this is just one of those times that Blair is trying to show herself as something she isnt’ in order to get a guy, and also climb higher in the social hierarchy, and it pains me because at the end of the day is just Blair not accepting herself, like Serena keeps pointing out through all the episode, just show the real Blair sure, she’s anything but low maintainance but there’s a lot of amazing in her that can make her shine to anyone. This plot also reminded me a bit of Blair and the prince storyline and also (because this party was trying to be very pretentious and sofisticated) that saloon thing she did with Dan in Season 5 and just remembering that gives me nightmare. So really not a fan of these particular scenes. In the end she ends up gaining the duchess via blackmail, which I like because I hate the Duchess so I’m all for Blair showing her Queen B side in full display and after this episode I missed it. It’s also the basis of that great moment at the end between her and Chuck in the Van der Bass kitchen, which is easily the most memorable thing in the whole hour and only for that I’m glad this episode exists. The chemistry and sexual tension  of this whole scene is amazing and it puts to shame all the Dan and Serena “can’t keep their hand of each ohter” scenes, this is how is done. Sorry Derena.

Random bits I noticed:

The Pierces song playing in the background at the start of the episode, “Boy in a Rock and Roll Band” always puts me in a good mood for some reason.

That pearl headband Blair’s wearing at the party were so popular here for a while, I loved it so much back then, I sort of wish I had one now.

I loved the “Summer 08″ collage the Humphrey’s had in their loft. It also had this phrase “ I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality... I still believe that we shall overcome” by Dr. Martin Luther King. Kind of relevant isn’t it?

Having and episode ending with a shot of  the NYC skyline at night, while New York, I Love You but You’re Bringing Me Down playing in the background... these are the kind of details I love. 

Ending with a Chuck pick because I really like this suit

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 9: Salvation

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Nine: Salvation 

Note: As always, I loved your comments on this chapter! Keep being you! This chapter was one hell of a wild ride to write...

-~-

The road forward was treacherous, much like the road behind them, but they carried onward regardless. At this point in their journey, they were tired and beyond thinking about the little things that affected them such as falling to their death into a crevice. In all truth, that was less of a small issue, but they were so tired that it didn’t really matter to them anymore. The two weary travelers were practically ready to willingly roll down the mountain if it meant reaching something akin to safety. The sooner that they were able to assess their situation, the better it would be for both of them.

As V and Morgan continued forward, the older teen with the white hair allowed his mind to wander for a moment. While still paying close attention to their surroundings, he was still somewhat distracted by the conversation that they had both just participated in. Everything about this situation worried him profoundly, and he wasn’t sure how to reconcile that kind of information. It seemed that no matter how far he ran from his childhood, the seemingly supernatural trapping of his reality would always find a way to catch up with him. There was a part of him at that moment that contemplated the possibility of that being among the reasons that he had grown up without his family in the first place. Was he cursed or something? With his track record, it seemed likely to some degree. While that wasn’t the sort of thing that he could strictly say he believed in, he could certainly say that it believed in him. It simply wasn’t possible to be this unlucky otherwise.

Morgan glanced over at him as he tested a particularly precarious section of the snow-covered rock face with his foot, unsure as to whether or not he trusted the structural integrity of what he was forced to work with. While he wasn’t entirely convinced that it could hold their weight, he was willing to try if for no other reason than the fact that there was literally no other way that they could get down this side of the mountain, and he would be damned if they backtracked. It was simply too risky of a maneuver to go back into the woods. It was practically a miracle that they’d made it as far as they had without encountering any further resistance. There was no reason to push their luck.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t like our chances,” Morgan said hesitantly as she looked over the edge of the slippery ledge that her companion was testing out. It didn’t take a genius to see that this wasn’t the safest option in the world. “I mean, there isn’t really a better option, but still. What if this crumbles and we fall and break our legs or something? That would make things really easy for those creeps that are after us.”

V glanced over his shoulder at her, internally agreeing with her sentiments. To be perfectly honest, he’d never been very keen on heights. There were certain things that just instinctually creeped him out, and the idea of benign this high up was pretty far up that list. The only thing that made it even remotely acceptable was the fact that everything was covered in snow, so it made his depth perception less accurate. That was both a blessing and a curse considering the fact that the one thing he truly needed in that situation was accurate depth perception. Well, that and a warm blanket. It was truly cold outside, and they both needed to get out of the elements as quickly as possible.

“You make a good point. We must not willingly go to our deaths in our haste to find salvation. It would be rather unfortunate for us to tumble over the edge due to impotence and impractical thinking.” V shifted uncomfortably, looking over to his left side at the woods. Something stirred in him as he gazed at the unfeeling wall of dead foliage, practically acting as a physical counterargument to his point. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but the longer they stood there, the more compelled he felt to get the hell away from their current location. “That being said, while this is far from the safest route down, it is the quickest. And since it was my idea in the first place, I’ll do the right thing and volunteer to go first.”

Swallowing heavily, he peered over the edge again, regretting it immediately. That’s right. I truly dislike heights, don’t I? The self-sabotaging thought was almost enough to make him backtrack on his former statements, but he liked to think that he had more integrity than that. It would make little sense for him to bring them both this far only to dangle his young companion to the wolves at the critical moment. He was an adult, and it to say that it would be cowardly to allow a young teenager to go headfirst into danger because he was too scared to act first would be an understatement. 

And it would be even less acceptable if he took the fact into account that she had stayed behind and saved him from their attacker when she’d had a perfect opportunity to flee and leave him to his fate. They were basically strangers, after all. She’d demonstrated resolve and bravery, and now it was his time to do the same. And while he knew this and accepted his fate, he only wished that the universe had been kind enough to present him with another obstacle instead. But then again, when did he ever get exactly what he wanted? That wasn’t the nature of human existence, especially when it came to the nature of the wilderness. Mother nature hated humanity with a burning passion, and that was a fact. Maybe he could get lucky and just crack his entire skull open on the way down?

“Oh, you don’t have to-” Morgan began as she took in the gravity of what V had proposed, a tinge of horror coating her tone of voice. The idea of watching her new companion plummet to the depths below shook her deeply. He didn’t deserve such a fate. But before she could continue, he hushed her gently.

“Please don’t. Let me do this for you. Before I lose my nerve.” He gave her a gentle but serious look as he waited for her to comply. With a heavy, disgruntled sigh, he relented and lowered her arms to her side, worry evident in her face. He was a grown adult and she knew that, and if there was one thing that she’d learned in her young life, it was that adults didn’t tend to make the best decisions at times, but it was probably best to just let them learn the hard way. She knew that at the end of the day he meant well, and could only hope that this particular lesson wouldn’t cost him his life. He didn’t deserve to die, and she didn’t deserve to see yet another death that day.

With a heavy sigh and a nod of confirmation, V turned towards the edge of the rockface that could easily spell his doom. crouched down and put his hand on the ledge. Everyone had to die at some point, right? He hadn’t expected to have his nerves tested so vigorously when he’d left the house that day, but here he was, looking down an icy slope and seriously readying himself to clamber down it like he actually knew how to do that. The situation had called upon him to be brave, and he knew that that wasn’t something that he was capable of doing at that moment. But what he could do was take a deep breath and take things slowly. This wasn’t the first time he’d been called upon to descend a great height in order to procure his salvation. This was but another unfeeling stepping stone in his path. He could overcome this.

Crouching down on all fours, he tested the edge on the ledge with his grip one last time before gripping it as tightly as he could and sliding over the edge, trying his best not to mentally consider the fact that he was now dangling just over a story up in the air. Below him was a ledge at least ten feet wide. If he could get down to it safely, then he could get Morgan to safely. And at that moment in time, that was all he cared about. Perhaps that was the kind of single-minded focuses that this situation required.

He tried to ignore the dull aching that came from the cold ice making contact with his fingers as he placed his right foot on a chunk of ice, pulling his body into an uncomfortable vertical position. His gloves were the typical cheap sort that you got from a hole in the wall general store, and as such, had not been constructed with this kind of activity in mind. They barely carried out their most basic function of keeping his fingers warm in the first place. This was asking a lot of them.

As he attempted to place his left foot on something solid below him, he quickly realized that his right hand wasn’t coming loose from the ice above him. It seemed that the thin fuzzy fabric was now stuck to the ice, the combination of cheap material and heat from the palm of his hand making it impossible to pull free, at least from this position. He cursed himself internally, opting to try and recenter himself with his free hand as he tried to pull his hand out of the glove. It would have to stay in his pocket. Much to his surprise, his hand was not budging, seeming caught in the position that it was in when it had frozen in the first place. 

Somewhat miffed, he yanked the appendage harder, earning him a sharp pain in his wrist, and an unsettling cracking sound for his trouble. But, much to his dismay, he knew that the cracking sound hadn’t come from his wrist. There was a part of him that wished it had, but he knew that wasn’t the case. V was granted a momentary second of horrifying clarity before he lost his footing and slipped downward, hitting the ice blow side first with the kind of impact that he imagined a wayward car would probably do to a fire hydrant. Morgan covered her mouth with her hand and yelped in horror as he hit the ice fifteen feet below with a horrifying crack, his left side catching a stray branch that stuck out of the side of the cliff face before he teetered to his right and made his final impact with the frozen ground below.

For a moment, V laid there and wondered if that was what death felt like. Both sides of his body ached horribly in what had to be the worst dull throbbing sensation he’d ever felt. The only emotion that he felt was profound regret, his sides now burning like he’d been lit on fire. Somehow he mustered the physical energy to be able to curl up into a ball and shiver in discomfort and squeeze his eyes shut, all the while noticing that a distant sound from above him. It sounded like he was underwater, his ears ringing and muffled as his entire upper body throbbed. He sucked in as much air as he could get into his body, yet the dreaded lightheadedness that he felt indicated to him that he might still not be getting enough air. 

It was perhaps the most discomfort he’d ever felt all at once, and though there was a part of him that was sure he should probably count himself lucky, all he felt in that moment was horrible pain and immense regret for everything that had led him to that momentary outcome. Perhaps it was easier to just lay there and let the elements get the best of him? Would anyone even notice if he did that? Before he could ponder that thought any further, his ears stopped ringing, and a quiet but distant voice registered to him. It was Morgan! How quickly pain had made him forget that she was still above him! 

“Holy shit, V! Are you okay?!” A horrified voice shouted as quietly as it could from about him. Morgan was leaned over the edge of the ice shelf, her messy curly hair hanging down from above him like curtains framing a window. “ Try to breath slower and deeper. It might help. That’s what I did when I broke my arm leg in a skiing accident as a little kid. Just calm down, okay?!”

He tried to calm himself, a potent mixture of anxiety, pain, and confusion overloading his senses and overtaking any rational thoughts in his mind as he tried to take slow, deep breaths. After a moment, the pain began to relent slightly, giving him a brief window to attempt to sit up. He needed to know if he could still move, and he needed to find out as fast as possible. With a pained, shuddery groan he pushed himself up into a sitting position on the ground, his trembling arms barely holding his weight. His hand was badly scraped, his head felt like he’s been hit with a cinderblock, his eyes throbbed as they made contact with the light again, and he was certain that he was going to be covered in bruises soon enough, but he was still alive, and he was positive that with the extreme amount of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he would be able to stand.

With a low, pained groan, he stood up and steadied himself, brushing the snow off of his soon to be bruised body and collecting his shoulder bag. Part of him was sure that the garment bag had probably contributed to his fall, but he didn’t care at the moment. At least nothing inside of it could break, and nothing inside of him was broken, either. At least as far as he could tell. He couldn’t say for certain just yet.

“T-thank you. I think I’m alright.” V took a few steadying breaths, positioning himself so that he could maintain his balance as he held his sore arms up towards Morgan. “If you jump, I’ll catch you. We might both roll the rest of the way down the hill, but it’s much less steep here. Can’t be more than twenty feet or so.”

Morgan gave him a hesitant look, her large hazel eyes containing a mixture of apprehension and concern at the prospect. She was more than certain that she didn’t want to experience what she’d just seen V go through, but he did have a point. She just hoped that it didn’t have to come to that. With a deep breath, she sat down on the ground and slid over the edge of the frozen embankment and towards V, hoping with everything in her that he actually managed to catch her as terror flooded her bloodstream with adrenaline.

To the surprise of both of them, V actually did manage to catch her. They both groaned in discomfort from the impact as he set her down, the pare of them rubbing their shoulders as they attempted to massage the sore muscles in their shoulder blades. Morgan exhaled in relief, the realization that they were not technically out of the wood and in the village settling in. Now if we could just get off of this damn mountain in one piece…

Suddenly, a loud cracking sound echoed through the air as they turned to face what looked to be a way down. Something hit the icy wall behind them, ricocheting elsewhere out of sight. The pair yelped in terror as the realization that something had just shot at them registered in their exhausted minds. Morgan grabbed V around the waist and tackled him to the ground, sending them both rolling down the hill. They kicked up large plumes of powdery snow as they went, a sight that they might have found reasonably funny if not for the circumstance. 

As soon as they rolled to a stop, they were met with the barrel of an old rifle, several villagers with guns standing over them. One held back two barking dogs on short leashes, the two slavering hounds eager to do their master’s bidding. Morgan and V sat up, immediately raising their hands as disbelief, confusion, and fear set in. What in the world was going on here?!

“Hey! Put the guns away! What the hell is your problem?!” Morgan shouted in horrified frustration. She’d had more than enough bullshit for one day. “Some crazy people are after us! Were just trying to-”

Before she could finish or V could interject, one of the men fired off a round into the air as he approached from behind the mob, eliciting a startled scream from Morgan. V placed himself partially in front of the young girl as she backpedaled, the pair completely at a loss as to what was going on and why. Perhaps a calmer approach would elicit a more positive response?

“She speaks the truth. Were being pursued. We only seek safe passage through your town. We were hoping to contact the authorities… The town we live in, Lympha, was attacked a few hours ago.”

The man who had approached from behind nodded, cocking the gun and pointing it down at them as he approached. “Oh, we know, boy. We know. They told us you might be coming this way. Said that they’d leave us alone if we handed over any stragglers to them that they missed, especially if they were young like you lot. You’re the only ones so far. Everyone else, well…” He looked around at the rest of the group, his eyes lingering on the dogs for a moment. “Well, it looks like your going on a little trip.”

Morgan shook her head in disbelief and horror. “Your working with them?! How could you?! Their murderers! Shoot them, not us!” The anger and pain in her voice was evident as she gave them a fierce look, V sliding further in front of her to both hold her back and to hopefully block any stray bullets if things took yet another nosedive for the worse. “Were not going anywhere with you, especially back into that forest! Your all crazy!”

Laughter irrupted from the group of men as they disregarded her words. V felt a chill colder than with winter air run down his spine as he considered the reality of the situation they were in. Had he helped walk them into a trap? Were they going to die here? They couldn’t fight nearly a dozen armed men, especially with the condition he was in. Had this entire plan only ended them back up in the same situation that they had hoped to escape in the first place?

“You see, that’s where your wrong, little lass. Our town has lived in the shadow of that mountain for as long as any of us can remember. They promised to free us from it. And all we’ve gotta do is bring you to the witch vault. Pretty sweet deal if you standing where we’re standing.”

V shook his head, sharing Morgan’s seething fury. Well, if he was going to die, then he might as well do so spitefully. “I would imagine that it is. But we wouldn’t know since we actually have a sense of morality and we’d never willingly ally ourselves with mass murderers. I’ll have to take you at your word.”

An angry look crossed the man’s face as looked down at V raising the but of his gun. “We’ll see how funny you are after you meet your new friends. We weren’t asking for you to cooperate. We don’t need you to.”

Before either V or Morgan could respond or even hope to register the reality of their situation, the butt of the gun came down on them, and everything went black. As he faded into concussive blackness, V could only hope vainly with what little faith in humanity that he still possessed that things couldn’t get worse. But one way or another, he was determined to get them out of there alive. He’d made a promise, and he intended to keep it. Even if it meant that he didn’t leave that place, he had to make sure that Morgan got to see her mother again. He’d never be able to live with the guilt if he did.

-~-

Mini arc my ass lol! This probably has about 2-3 more chapters before it’s over. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Well, enjoyed is probably the wrong word for this, isn’t it? It’s okay, V is tougher than he looks, and I’m sure Morgan, too. She’s got a lot of spunk in her. See you in the comments, and hopefully again next Friday. Something tells me that V’s hope that things can’t get much worse might be a little bit off base.

Boy, this fic is one hell of a bittersweet pain train. That angst tag wasn’t playing around!

[whitewolfbumble]

Behind Enemy Lines - Part Two of Two (Bucky x Reader)

COMPLETED

Summary: Bucky was trapped in a locked down facility, the very one you were home grown in. Now you were back and to get him out you had to battle criminals, your past, and your fears to do it. Alive, preferably, but there was no promise of that.

Prompt: “What are you doing here?”

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language, violence/blood, death, angst, kissing because let’s balance that angst lol

Word Count: About 5k

A/N: Don’t get too comfy because down we go... This was written for @sweetboybucky 1K Writing Challenge! Congrats babe!

MY MASTERLIST // SEND ME A REQUEST // PART ONE

The descent down to save your lives began quietly, though you doubted it would stay that way for long. This hell hole was full of gruesome surprises, most of which were burned into your memories and left you screaming from the nightmares of it.

The floor below the one you saved Bucky from was empty, as was the floor below that. Soon enough you would have to get through the carnage of bodies and blood you left in your wake, lining both stairwell and hallways. But facing that would hardly be a problem to you. There was another, bigger problem now that changed the game since your ascent up here.

“So, your brother?” Bucky asked beside you, reserved and concerned.

His arm was slung over your shoulder as the pair of you walked, Bucky’s leg hitching awkwardly and making him falter a bit with every step. You figured maybe something (or somethings) was broken. Not an easy feat to break the bones of a super soldier, but he’d heal. Eventually. If your brother held up his end and the two of you could get out alive. But it wasn’t going to be fast enough.

The big thing now was that you had added Bucky- a powerhouse of a person to be sure- but he was hurt and slow. Days of torture and electricity frying his flesh plus a broken bone (or several) left his usual prowess more than a little muted and sluggish. You couldn’t risk moving too slow but also couldn’t run full speed out of here with your hurt team mate in tow. 

It was a precarious position to put it lightly.

“The one and only,” you muttered, eyes scanning the corner of the hallway for the cameras. The little ever blinking red lights indicating they were watching were still off. You breathed out a puff of air and walked on, pulling Bucky along with you. 

Switching stairwells was a fucking ballsy move, but you knew this place better than anyone. Certain doors were locked on certain floors from the stairs to the hall (literally over to fuck people trying to escape over). Meaning if you didn’t shift stairwells and had the unlucky fortune of getting trapped, you absolutely knew with Bucky’s slow speed you wouldn’t get out alive. So better to take a big risk than guaranteed doom you figured.

“And you trust him?” Bucky questioned, limping along, his hip to yours as you held on to him.

You gave Bucky a sideways glance and a grin with little real joy in it.

“Of course not. He ratted me out more times than I can count,” you sighed before continuing, and it wasn’t because of your brother’s betrayal in your old life. You had a hard time now faulting him for keeping his head above water by throwing you under it, however painful the outcome for you. “But we won’t make it alive without him.”

And you tried not to let the two entirely empty corridors you had just passed through give you too much hope that Ward would actually pull through for you. Nothing ever worked out when you hoped. Blood and sweat and pain was how you got out of situations like this, and to that formula you would stick too.

You scooted along the wall at the far end of the hall, the little L-shape section giving you two some protection from view of anyone who left their apartment. You rested Bucky against the dirty wall, taking a break to straighten up and look around.

“Alright,” you began, taking precious seconds to fill Bucky in. You couldn’t wait until this powderkeg of a scenario blew up so now was as good a time as any. “To survive hell, you need to know a couple things. Stay away from the windows unless you want to be shot by snipers. Machetes are the weapon of choice here, so assume everyone has one and enjoys butchering in their spare time. There is no place to hide, no safe place to lay low, no time to make a plan, no time to think. You act or you die. This is worst possible life scenario here, so no pulling punches.”

“Understood,” Bucky nodded. He was a man that could handle a mission as well as any you had seen, but you watched his eyes flit back between yours, something bubbling underneath their surface. It made you shake your head slightly.

“Pity won’t help you here either.” you warned, guessing at the guarded emotion behind his eyes and poking him in the chest. 

Yeah, you grew up in this, and yeah you were irreparably damaged by it, but that only meant if there was a person who could survive this it was you. No time to stop and feel upset about it now.

But instead he stood up from the wall to his full height and pulled you in close, pinning your body suddenly to his. He gave no warning before his lips hit yours, warm and instantly intimately deep.

Your breath caught in your throat, stopped by a euphoric little hit of emotions flooding your pained and split open body. For a brief moment you felt his broad hand wrap around your waist, pressing you into him harder as his kiss did the same. 

It was a fast and deep fire that passed between you, the flames still licking inside you under you skin when he broke apart from you just a quickly as he connected. It left you as breathless as a fight did and as dazed as a punch to the head.

“You said no time to think, so I didn’t. Just acted.” Bucky murmured to you, tucking a piece of sweaty, dirty hair behind your ear. His ice blue eyes shone an inch from yours with an intensity that did nothing to quell what you were feeling.

Mission minded my ass, you thought, reversing your previous musings.

“Not exactly what I meant,” you swallowed, willing yourself to step back and not back into him. Despite how fucking amazing that felt, you two just did not have the time here. “But I’m not complaining. Last thing, no more lovey-dovey shit til we get out with our hides in tact, hmm?”

Try as you might you couldn’t help a side smirk break through your expression. Or a spark of hope in your chest that you’d get out with him at your side. Because you wanted more of that fire. More of the feel of him pressed to you.

But hope had never been your friend. The fact that you were feeling it now was undoubtedly an ominous herald of what was coming.

Three more floors and not a single other living person to dodge or fight or kill.

Bucky didn’t comment or even give you a sideways glance at the carnage that painted the floors and walls of your recent ascent. Brains and limbs, blood and shards, bone and muscles lined these halls as the dead bodies they belonged to lay in silence. You had been a one person army in a war for someone far dearer to you than a thousand of these wretched people.

Beyond the judgement of Bucky, which didn’t seem to come, you hardly cared what you had done or what it looked liked. All you wanted now was the get out and leave this behind, ideally forever.

But with every step you were growing more impatient. And anxious. And restless.

Another floor, another now cold bloodbath, and another empty desolate space. That stillness as the two of you shuffled and huffed down each hall started in you a feeling that was growing with every step.

Fear.

Maybe you had only escaped this place once, but you had tried practically daily for years to get out. You were always making plans, always trying to wheedle and plot and struggle your way to freedom. You knew these gritty halls, knew these awful people, understood the routine…

This was wrong.

That thought hit you like a ton of bricks and it was only then that you realized a bit of hope there rooted in you. There was too much of it for you to dash it away out of hand as though it had never been there, and it made you feel sick. When you stopped and looked to Bucky you could feel the panicked flooding of a fresh batch of adrenaline in your veins to match the doom you felt.

Shit. This was all wrong.

“What is it?” he whispered low in the near dead silent space.

Your eyes were moving a mile a minute, taking in absolutely everything you could, though this grey concrete lined hall with cheap wooden apartment doors looked like every other hallway. Nothing was out of place (even the blood dripping and pooling around the several bodies at one end).

“There is something… Just…” You struggled with the words to describe a formless, emotion-wrought weight in the depths of you. “I don’t…”

This came on so suddenly there had to be a reason. Had to be something that sparked this survival instinct you hadn’t felt in exactly this way since you were last here.

Narrowly your eyes picked up something at the end of the hallway.

It was small, easily ignored, and nothing invasive or obvious. But you spotted it and immediately kicked everything inside you into high gear, noise and stealth be damned.

Despite your size and strength verses Bucky’s, you squeezed your arm around him tighter and pulled him along with you as you took off down the hallway. He kept up as best he could but your speed wasn’t hampered by either his hindrance or help here. He could be unconscious and dead weight in your arms and you doubted you would move any slower.

As you two passed by the camera, only then did Bucky see it too.

A tiny red blinking light of a security camera, now on and capturing your every move.

They were coming.

They were coming.

The drum of voices and footfalls and knives scrapping on the ground echoed and followed you, sounding louder, getting faster, driving you mad. It followed on your heels and chased you down the huge concrete stairwell, hidden in the shadows you until you just couldn’t take it.

They were several floors above you, screaming and jeering and gaining speed. They would overtake you in minutes. You clung still to Bucky, holding him upright and trying not to scream at the top of you lungs as your worst nightmare- your worst reality- was so fucking close to happening all over again.

You clenched your fists so tightly in your palms you felt the warm pricks of blood popping up from your fingernails breaking skin. The humidity in here was stifling and cloudy and felt like it was holding you down enough to make tears spring up in the corner of your eyes.

You were never going to let this dirty concrete coffin be the last place you saw before death took you, and in all the years that hadn’t changed. It made you desperate and reckless, but with the oncoming horde of unseen people on your tail you weren’t going to make it out if you didn’t try something. And try it right the fuck now.

“C’mon,” Bucky said over the echoing yells, willing you forward with words and holding you back because of his injuries. “Only a few more floors to go! We can do this!”

You shook your head, sweat dripping off and landing around your tired, lead-heavy feet as you shuffled him and yourself forward as fast as your frantic steps could.

“Not here,” you said, strained and on the verge of panic. Shit, you had to keep it together. If only that wasn’t near impossible, as you too vividly knew what would happen if you were caught. “We have to get to the north-side staircase. Now!”

You veered the two of you to the exit of the fourth floor- only four more to go until freedom that you would not probably never reach- and through the hallway. This was the one you exploded a couple hours earlier, with sticky red completely coating every square inch of this place. It covered the light fixtures and lightbulbs, casting a dark and twistedly eerie crimson glow on everything.

Bucky blinked surprised at the carnage as you entered the floor, but you didn’t. Your focus was in trying your best not to lose balance underfoot with the chunk of sinew and organ slime covering the floor, and decidedly not thinking about the decision you were currently making.

You pushed through the most unnerving corridor to exist, only rivalled by blood river in The Shining, to get to a small stairwell that you had avoided in every single one of your escape plans as a child. Because even then you weren’t stupid enough to try and escape this way, even at your most desperate. It filled you with far more dread than the hallway you just left.

The white light cast down around you with an uplifting, almost palpably calming glow as you entered the north-side stairwell. The feeling was a lie, a cruel deceit, as this was anything but a safe haven. It was lure and a dangerous one at that.

You swallowed, halting Bucky as he stepped forward and instead pushed your backs to the door.

He looked confused, both at you stopping and your drawn furrowed look of hesitation. You had come in head first into this building with little regard for safety, and now this bright and airy path to freedom gave you pause?

Grimly you nodded to the windows. They lined floor to ceiling in a filmy glass that carried all the way from the top floor to the bottom one. No one was allowed in here, save the Boss. You would be safe from the mob at least, but as far from actual safety as you could be.

“First rule,” you muttered. “Stay away from the windows.”

Bucky’s mouth opened slightly as he looked to the windows before clamping shut.

“So, hacked to death by a crowd or shot by a sniper, huh?” he said, cluing in grimly. Anyone coming in here that wasn’t the Boss would be shot, friend or foe. You had taken a bullet to the leg before and you weakly tried to forget that feeling.

“If we go fast,” you said, trying your best to stay optimistic and almost succeeding. But not quite. “We’ll be fine.”

And if not, at least your deaths would be quick. Hopefully.

Before you even took a first step out to what was a fucking terrible plan, a voice sounded from above, your skin tightening in sudden fear and locking your bones together.

“I don’t think so, sweet princess.”

That name. That little pet name that haunted your dreams and filled you with equal measure of crippling fear and burning rage, said from the mouth of your torturer for so many years.

You didn’t have to say a word to Bucky or explain who the voice was. His face grew dark and muscles tensed for a fight, having heard your stories in gruesome detail before being subjected to his own round of torment at the vile man’s hand.

Steps came down from above, slow and measured. Two pairs, actually.

When the man came into view, stopped at the top of the flight of stairs in front of you, he looked exactly as you remembered as a child. It was as though he was endlessly bound to outlive you and time itself, always alive as though to be a continued, nagging torture in your mind.

He was wearing a thin linen shirt that was too faded to be butter yellow, a sweat stained white tank top, and old beige shorts that couldn’t contain his beer belly. But the most noticeable attribute of him was the disgusting air of unchecked power a dirtball like him exuded. He ran this place and he knew it. Even called himself the Boss, his real name lost to time. His wrinkled, papery skin was almost tattooed with the invisible, disgusting deeds he had proudly done in his life. One such victim of his power being you.

And beside him was your brother.

You didn’t know if the punch to your emotional gut was because of the Boss or because of Ward, who must have ratted you out. Just like when you were kids.

“Bucky,” you said quietly but controlled. “Meet my brother Ward.”

You abstractedly gestured to your brother and Bucky’s only response beyond cold eyes was the slight squeeze on your shoulder, the pressure of his hand the briefest of comforts.

You noticed Ward’s hand, blood dripping in a stream it. It once- the last time you saw him actually- had a total of five fingers on it. Now there were two.

“Punishment.” Ward said, voice not fully like or unlike his usual tone.

It was that same tone the usually vibrant and annoying brother used when he sold you out. Shut down and robotic, but still your brother all the same.

“And what’s the reward for a job well done than?” you said bitterly, looking to the Boss.

He merely smiled, thick lips drawn over scummy teeth.

“You get to die.” he said simply.

That made your eyes narrow at him, not particularly fearful of the threat. You were marked from death since you walked in here, but that would never be the Boss’s first choice typically. He loved watching the sweet agony he inflicted on people, more addicted to it than any junky you had ever seen.

“He kills you, ruins you, and you die by your own brothers hand.”

Ah okay, so it was agony he wanted. He wanted one of his righthand men to pay for betraying him. 

“But if you survive,” he continued, thickly smug. “Then your brother is killed and you, little princess, are strung up like a present just for me. That is until you find some way to kill yourself. Because there’s going to be no other way to escape this time.”

You took a breath, shaking your head. Eventually you couldn’t help a bit of a smile spread across your face, with a low breathy chuckle following. Bucky was both furious at the Boss and slightly unnerved at your reaction, though his eyes stayed focused protectively on the threat in front of you.

“I’ll stay…” Bucky said, low and firm before you could get your laughter under control. “And you’ll let Y/N go. That’s the only thing going to happen here.”

“Bucky,” you said, smiling and trying to calm yourself down a little and set your smile back into a neutral (or even angry) face. “It’s alright, whatever happens, it’s going to be fine.”

You could see in a brief flash of his eyes to yours that he knew it wasn’t going to be. The horde would close in at their commanders orders once given, the snipers were visibly poised across the street, the Boss had your brother (as much as chip to play in all this as anything else was), Bucky was injured and barely able to fight, you had no backup, no way to escape unharmed, no chance to get away… This wasn’t going to end well at all.

But all that didn’t matter. For a brief moment, it just didn’t matter to you anymore.

“What?” you said to the Boss, rage creeping into your speech and overtaking each word as you spat them out, turning from humourous to furious. “You thought you could put me in a cage match all those times and get off without having to fight me yourself? Huh? Or sell me off by the hour to scumbags and not think I’d be back to fuck you up?”

You took a measured step forward, dropping away from Bucky, voice lowering dangerously.

“Whatever happens to me, you don’t win this. I won’t let you win this. Whether it’s at my hand, or Bucky’s, or someone else on my team, or even my brother one day when he grows a pair of fucking balls… Someone will take you down and I will win that day. I will.”

There was silence, deafening and suffocating, his beady eyes watching you, dark and angry at the insubordination from the likes of a “little princess” like you.

You waited for him to signal to the snipers to mow you and Bucky down, or maybe giving the okay to the few who were left to come in and overtake you and end this theatre.

The outcome was worse.

“Kill her, Ward.” he said darkly, taking a step back.

Ward immediately took a step forward, face guarded and unreadable. The same face he always had when he found you or sold you out to get ahead in this shitshow. It was distant and shut down, emotions gone and certainly wasn’t personal to him anymore going by the look on his face and speed in his movements. But to you, this was obviously and completely personal.

You weren’t kids anymore, and it wasn’t only your life on the table here so you forced that aside.

You pushed Bucky back, who reluctantly complied though despite his injured, slow body his muscle were tense and begging to be let loose. But it was finally time to teach your stupid brother a lesson.

Your brother, for all his skills, was never a creature of evolution or growth. He had enough ambition to be cunning and move up in the ranks, but that was all. You were a person who thrived and collected fighting techniques, martial art skills, practiced strategic maneuvers, always looking to expand and grow and become better. Become faster. Grow beyond any restraint or enemy.

But he was taller, less exhausted, less concerned with your feelings than you were of his. It left you two equally matched.

Once in striking distance Ward’s fists lashed out without regard for three entire missing fingers, powerful swings seeking your flesh. Blocking was useful to a point, so you did block the first few hits, your elbows swinging up and fists covering your own face. But ducking down you kicked in his knee twice and hard, rolling on the ground swiftly and with the ground as leverage, kicking out the side of his leg powerfully.

Like a ton of bricks he went down and you pounced, slamming down on top of his body with fists and feet wailing at every pressure and sensitive point your trained mind could hit. You had to get him unconscious or incapacitated, get him out of the way and deal with the Boss.

Your determined thought was interrupted with a boney, battle-hardened fist to the face, a crack of pain matching the sound that echoed in the stairwell at the impact.

You were thrown off of him and on your back, your feet flying up protectively as he tried to pounce on you this time. In a flash you saw the glint of a knife and raised your knee to his chest, using the force to move his body too far to one side and yours too far the other for Ward to plunge it into your abdomen. The knife went sliding out of his hand and clattered blissfully down the stairs.

Another kick to his side and punch to the face happened instinctively almost as shocked, you began to realize he was actually going to do it. Was actually trying to kill you himself this time.

That thought and the rage that went with it spurred you on enough to land a couple more pounding hits, but Ward landed far more. He had you on your back and had the upper hand before long, but killing you with his bare hands was something far different than killing you with a weapon.

As the strikes came, the hits became ever so slightly lighter, but maybe that was just the amount of pain you body was starting to feel, numbing to the sensation after so much fighting.

But maybe the Boss saw it too, as something that had been trained on Bucky, keeping him back and out of the fight this whole time, was thrown into the middle of you two siblings.

The distinct clatter of a gun hit the concrete floor, coming down from the Boss’s position up the flight of stairs, not a foot from you and Ward. Immediately you heard Bucky yell out your name in furious panic as both you and your brother reflexively reached for the weapon.

You hand gripped the metal fast as lightning and before you could blink two shots rang out, the light clinking of the bullet casings floating down to the ground a moment after.

You breathed deeply and calmly, the sight in front of you not reconciling with rational thought right away. You were on your back, still hands holding out the gun straight at Ward as your training dictated. He was just in front of you, body wavering a little as hands clutched his chest.

Confused, you watched dark fluid spread out from underneath his fingers, staining his grey shirt. Another few seconds later you saw that it was a deep red. A moment after a thick drop, then a steady stream began to pour from his mouth.

His guarded gaze suddenly didn’t look shut off from you anymore. The gleam in Ward’s eyes looked pained. Heartbroken even. His watery, accusatory eyes held yours, forcing his tormented and betrayed look squarely on you.

He watched you a few seconds before those vibrantly deep eyes went lightless, and his body dropped onto your legs. His warm blood soaked into your clothes, but the sensation did nothing but chill you so deeply into your bones you never thought you would be warm again.

You saw Bucky drop to his knees in front of you, several metres away, his blue eyes catching yours, but you couldn’t exactly see him. You couldn’t really see or feel or understand anything right now. What did break through your shock was a laugh. It was a familiar one. Cold and terribly cruel.

You turned to the source of the laughter, seeing the man of your nightmares at the top step, looking down on the scene with sick glee.

You got up with the same speed as the sun rising at dawn. But this wasn’t a fresh new day. This wasn’t anything close. Not a beginning at all.

With the gun in your hand you waved the man down from the steps, him not having much choice in the matter now. Unhearing and unspeaking, you waved him down the next flight as you and Bucky followed suit, each taking the man’s sweaty arm in hand.

Being so close to him, the snipers wouldn’t shoot. The mob wouldn’t come and stage a rescue. With your gun on him, trained at his side, he wasn’t going anywhere you didn’t want.

The Boss spoke, rambling on about how you wouldn’t kill him. How you were soft- always had been- and it wasn’t your way. How the team wouldn’t let you. How much fun it was watching you kill you only brother. Your only family. How he had now and always taken everything from you. How there was nothing left to you at all.

A hitch caught in your throat at those words as you stepped down to the ground floor. You pushed it down reflexively, trying to breathe through the weight that was increasing on your chest, threatening to burst.

Light hit your face and warmth your skin, though it went no deeper into you and did nothing to set off the chill in your bones. The sun outside was weak but there. The sky wasn’t much blue but it lingered in spots between the clouds. The freedom of escaping this building was lost on you though, the air none the fresher and just as stifling as inside had been.

You were dazed, about to choke on acidic bile rising up inside your beating chest when the sounds of reality snapped back in your ears, however minimally.

They rung, like someone had been yelling, Bucky by the red-faced, chest-heaving look of him. He turned an angry eye from the Boss to you, softening and pained look replacing it as you looked back at him. You saw you were at the gate. The far reaches of your torturers power and domain.

You didn’t speak. Didn’t think. Didn’t feel. You hadn’t done any of those for some time now it seemed.

What you did do was pull the trigger three more times- one for each of Ward’s fingers he took- and left the Boss on the ground to bleed out without so much as looking at him.

Back on the compound there was quite the whirlwind of activity, everyone hearing about what happened from your brief radio home on the jet. It wasn’t exactly common occurrence for a lot of the past day to have happened. 

An Avenger kidnapped without anyone (save you) noticing, another member sneaking off and finding them, not calling for backup, saving the day and bringing the kidnapped Avenger back home relatively unscathed? It was not stretch to say usually things were a bit more structured with mission briefings, a plan of attack, a team assembled and leader to call the shots.

But from what you told them, no harm no foul really. Bucky kept generally quiet on the matter, except for concerned and pained looks in your direction speaking volumes and not going beyond notice. He was unusually quiet- even for him- with face pale and breath shallow, like it hurt him to breath in too much though there was no physical injury to account for it.

“I got in, found him, got him out,” you said to sum up again with a loose shrug, eyes locked to your friend’s. “He was being tortured, probably for some Avenger-related information but if that’s what they wanted, they really picked the wrong team member. He’s a tough one to crack, that Barnes.”

The lie roll off your tongue easily and coolly, as though reality had also been like that. Like this had all merely been as simple as a grocery run from a bad part of town.

You could see a hesitation in Natasha and in Steve behind her, like something in your demeanour wasn’t quite right. Their expressions wavered, their personal little ticks showing themselves: Steve’s concerned frown and a bit of a furrowed brow from Natasha.

It didn’t matter to you though, you would never tell them the truth anyway. Everyone has secrets, you still weren’t ready to give up yours yet.

So you stayed in the med bay for a time and got patched up, before listening to stories from Sam and Clint being their funny, foolish selves, always needing to bring the centre of attention back on them somehow. After that was a drink with the others now that everyone had congregated to see and hear the drama of the day, followed by jokes and laughter and mundane talk of political landscapes and such.

But eventually, after some hours when you were sure you wouldn’t be noticed, you slipped away.

You didn’t go to your room or escape to another quiet place of the compound. You couldn’t handle being inside any longer. Instead you walked calmly straight outside.

You carried straight on across the grass until the glow of the compound was only faint on your skin. Once enough distance was between you and them, you broke out into a run, breaching the forest line in a sprint, thrashed by twigs and scratched by bushes until you had enough.

Collapsing to the ground you gasped for breath, clutching your throat and the ground, body shaking and heart dying in your chest as panic and grief not only set in, but shattered both your facade and numbing shock with an explosion of sheer agony. You had no other option, no other ability but to face your past and the murdering of your only family member, and it stole every particle of oxygen from your body.

In among your strangled gasping, your body let out a sound from deep within your soul, choked out like that of a wounded creature, pitiful and unearthly in the dark night. It was pure pain, greater and deeper and from the most tortured dying place in your soul. The moan didn’t stop, just ran out and echoed alone louder and louder. The sound of it broke you over and over again.

The mask was broken, the pretense gone. The truth of where you were from and what you had to do laid bare and open in the darkness around you.

The mournful wretched moan from that dying part inside you snapped in half, a scream taking its place in a shrill ear-shattering volume, anguish flooding every inch of you like stabs to your flesh you just couldn’t see or get away from.

Footsteps sounded behind you, almost negligible to the sound of your cries, warm arms around your hunched over body barely a comfort to you at all.

Bucky’s frame was wrapped around yours, his scent and presence and touch unable to broach your pain. The stumble of his cheek was against yours, rough and bracing against your tear-softened skin.

“I didn’t- I didn’t want to go back!” you sobbed, unhinged and uncontrolled, face digging into his own. “Please, I just didn’t want to go back!”

“You won’t have too,” Bucky whispered to you, trying in vain to say something- anything- that would help a helpless situation. He knew what it was like to lose everything, to give up a piece of yourself to simply survive even when you don’t want too. But not what it was to kill your only family in this world. “You will never have to go back there.”

“He’s dead,” you sobbed, coming out like a high pitched shot, the words bringing more tears and more torment in your veins. “My brother’s dead, and I did it! Bucky, I killed him! How could I.. why could.. how can-”

Words tumbled out without reason or control, tears flooding your eyes and clothes.

And Bucky simply held you. There was nothing else to be done. Nothing he could say, no amount of gratitude or sympathy or reasoning able to fix this or take this pain away from you.

Like you, he could only endure it, his few tears slipping down with your endless ones.

A distance behind him the silhouettes of the Avengers lay dotted in the woods and on the ground in front of the compound, both called and held back by your sobs in the darkness, and as unable to help you as you were. As unable to erase the horrible place and what was done to you. To erase what horrors you had committed.

A/N: Thanks for reading loves! Let me know what you thought of this angst!

Permanent Tags: @dontpanc, @smodvocate, @bunsterjonez, @buckybonky, @marveloustrashpanda, @hangirl93, @captainrogerrsbeard, @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen, @thisgirllikeme, @jjsoccer11, @innerpandablizzard-blog, @fanatic-fanfic, @mdgrdians, @christinky

Bucky Barnes Tags: @bexboo616 @kaaatniss

[diggingfordragons]

You look around you, trying to hide your confusion and panic as best as you can. The mayor - you think it’s the mayor, at least, the guy has a suit and a weird top hat and you vaguely remember him from failed kidnapping attempt debrief #15 - is droning on about heroic deeds, as he puts the medal on your chest, pinning it to the side of your vest.

Well, at least he makes an attempt of it - the fabric is too thick, and he eventually stabs it awkwardly through one of the damaged, charred patches. It sits crooked on your chest. The mayor looks at it, and smiles at you.

You try to smile back.

You don’t think you do too well of a job of it - the mayor recoils just a bit, before moving on. He’s talking, still, which is the only reason you allow yourself to quietly freak out some more.

On the other stage of the stage, Sam catches your eyes and gives you enthusiastic thumbs up. You look back at her, and try to communicate the sheer incomprehension you are suffering right now. Somehow, something about your wide eyes and the tilt of your mouth must get your meaning across because her beaming smile falls, swift as a blade.

But she’s a professional, and the smile comes back just as swiftly, and just as sharp as she politely gestures to the stage. She’s immediately let through, and moves to join you without anyone blinking an eye at her. Always so good at what she does - this is why you found her and recruited her for your team of villains. Competent henchmen are always so difficult to come by, you weren’t going to settle for some subpar right hand! No, no, you were aiming for the top and-

And-

And-

How did it get to this-

This isn’t the top you were aiming for-

You blink and Sam is at your side, putting a deceptively delicate hand on your shoulder, breaking through the panic. She’s standing on your right, and part of you relaxes just from that fact.

Right hand woman, standing on your right, that’s how things should be, that’s the correct order, the way the world works. That’s normal.

What’s not normal is the stage, the mayor, the medal, the crowd cheering for you down below- Sam squeezes your shoulder before you can work yourself into a state.

“Breathe, Tal,” she whispers to you through her smile, thumb rubbing comforting circles into your shoulder. “This isn’t the moment to have stage fright.”

“I’m not- I don’t have performance anxiety!” You retort, hissing furiously. She should know this- “How many speeches have I given?”

“To our friends,” Sam says, infuriatingly understanding.

“Our henchmen and minions,” you correct her.

“Sure,” she says, and goes on as though she didn’t acknowledge it, “But those are strangers. And the mayor is a big shot. I get it.”

“No! Well,” you amend, “Maybe you get it, but I don’t! What the fuck, Sam? I feel like I’ve missed a step!” You hesitate a full second, check that the mayor is still rambling on and on, loud enough to cover for your conversation, and then hiss, “Since when are we heroes?”

“Since we help people?” Sam says, slowly.

You open your mouth. Close it.

Okay, so you might have missed more than a step there. Apparently you somehow missed an entire staircase.

“We help people,” you echo, trying the words out. They don’t sound right, even when you’re the one saying them. “No, that’s- that’s wrong. When- How?”

“Tal,” Sam says, slower still. She sounds like she’s trying to talk to a toddler, or maybe to puzzle through a complex math puzzle, “Tal, we have an entire building where we house people that used to be in precarious housing situations. We hired all of them for the upkeep and administrative functions and other essential jobs!”

“Right, the background staff and minions,” you nod along.

You do not see the issue there, everyone knows that proper minions come from bad ways of life, unlucky situations, that’s the only reason they’d ever be willing to work for the dark side. You’ve manipulated them into a lifetime of servitude, surely no one with sense can pretend that it’s a good thing.

Sam squints at you.

“Yes, that’s the running gag,” she agrees. “You realize that we single-handedly solved 70% of the homeless issue of the entire city?”

“70%?” You repeat, and frown. “That’s not right, we should-”

“Strive for excellency, yes, yes, we are currently working on several shelters and rehabilitation centers, but it’ll take a few months until those are up and running- see! That’s a good thing!” Sam whispers-exclaims at you. “We’re also running a few free schools, and a soup kitchen already!”

Shit. Fuck. Oh no, she’s right, that’s kind of a good thing to do, isn’t it?

You scramble for an excuse, trying to remember where such selfless actions fit in your grand plan. Something about a deputy? A twitter account? Hm... Oh right! The elections!

“Right,” you say, suddenly comforted. “we’re doing that because it made every single one of those old biddies on the city council mad, and thus sowed chaos amongst the wealthy and influential, thus distracting them from our evil plans.”

“Sure thing, Tal,” Sam says, in that tone that says she’s just humouring you. “What about The Henchmen? You helped us too.”

“First of all, stop putting the capital letters on that, I can hear it, you sound like a boy band,” you hiss at her. She grins, because she actually likes it, and you try not to feel stupidly fond of her for it. You fail. Clearing your throat, you continue, “and, well, I only did it because you all were the perfect people to help my evil cause! I wasn’t about to let other people damage competent henchmen, you know how difficult it is to find good aides.” You pause, and, struck by inspiration, you add, “I killed Gabriel’s father, didn’t I. And I did the same to Hector’s ex-”

“Because they were both scumbags who deserved it,” Sam interrupts you. You glower at her. She rolls her eyes, and goes on, “Tal, face it. All those excuses about your grand, so called evil plan, are just covers for the fact that you have a soft heart and couldn’t bear to leave things alone.”

“That’s so offensive,” you gasp, clutching at your medal. “I’m evil!”

“You’re really not,” Sam says.

“I’m your evil boss!”

“You’re my boss, sure, and my best friend.”

“Shut up, I’ll cry,” you threaten, not at all choked up, and grasp at more logical reasons for this entire fuck up. You’re starting to see those steps that you missed, but damned if you can’t try to salvage the situation, “I- We have an army of wolves! That’s evil!”

Tal looks at you like you’re the biggest idiot she’s ever met. It’s unfortunately not the first time she does it. Unfortunately, she also doesn’t react at your threatening glare afterwards. You’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe, this is the reason why no one seems to take your threats seriously.

They all think you’re a giant softie.

“Tal,” Sam says, flatly, “It’s a rescue pet shelter. There’s more cats than actual dogs, let alone wolves, in it.”

You let that sink in. Groan. Put your head in your hands.

“Oh my god,” you say, muffled in your palms. “We’re doing a terrible job at being evil.”

“There, there,” Sam says, patting your shoulder again. “Look at the bright side. You’ve got a shiny medal, and a crowd of adoring fans.”

You look down at the medal. Then past the mayor, who is still talking - impressive, and slightly concerning - at the crowd. You spot a few teenagers, obviously skipping school to see you on stage.

That puts a bit of a balm on your soul. Obviously you’re still doing something right in being evil, if you are still a bad influence on the kids.

Actually, that’s perfect. Sam is right.

“You’re so smart,” you say, easing into a more relaxed position, and waving down at the kids. They seem absolutely delighted at your toothy grin, and wave back. “See, this is why I hired you. You’ll give that speech to PR later so that no one suspects.”

Sam sighs, rubbing a hand on her face, looking entirely too done. You ignore the expression with the ease of habit.

“Sure,” she finally sighs out. “So that no one suspects what, though, if I may ask?”

“Our latest plot to manipulate the entire city’s population into thinking that we’re the good guys, of course!” You says with manic cheerfulness. “Oh, this is going to be grand. By the time anyone realizes we’re lying and actually evil, it’ll be too late, and we’ll have taken control!”

“Well, I suppose that’s as good as we’ll get,” Sam says quietly. You think she doesn’t mean for you to hear it, so you tactfully ignore that. Louder, she says, “Of course, Tal. That’s a great plan.”

You resist the urge to cackle evilly. Only B-rate villains cackle in front of witnesses after an evil monologue, and you’re no B-list villain. You’re S-tier. You’re the best.

You’re aiming for the top!

And one day, everyone will tremble in fear when they mention your reign of terror!

Now if only the mayor would stop monologuing... That’s such a cheap, C-tier villain thing to do, really. You hum, eyeing him, considering. Maybe he is. Maybe he’s not such a good person.

Well, that’s not going to stand. You won’t have any competition around this city.

Time for kidnapping attempt #16.

Why is no-one cowering in fear before me? Why are my minions always talking about the power of friendship? Why am I being awarded a medal of honour? Oh no… am… am I a good guy?

[dragon-moms]

Entry 193 - Gloria

Today was a lot.

I feel like I’m basically completely functional now. I suppose the wound where they cut my wing off is still healing, but it’s not affecting me anymore, besides my non-existent wing hurting, occasionally. That’s going to take some getting used to. But I can walk fine now, I don’t feel weak, I’m sure I can get things done. But I’m still being kept here. Going to have to talk to the Queen about being overly protective, maybe. Reliquary wasn’t really like that. Maybe the Queen was right, that she’s someone different.

That doesn’t matter, though.

What matters is all the information I got today.

Part of it was things from the incredibly dry books Maude brought me. Still won’t tell me why she gave them to me. They’re still boring. But I know more about swamp drainage systems in Yit than I ever wanted to know at this point. So I’ll just pretend that’s a plus.

No, the big news came when Clementine and Tyrion came to visit me.

Clementine I was expecting, but not Tyrion. So I must admit that my smile at seeing Clementine walk in with my Egg gave way to a shocked expression when Tyrion came in behind him.

“Hi,” I said.

Clementine was looking at my missing wing, hugging the Egg. “Mom… why did you have to go and do this…”

“Hey now, I told you all about it this time,” I said. “No secrets.”

“But your wing!” Clementine said.

“Yeah, well,” I said. “Nothing can be done about it now.”

Clementine was shaking a little. I got up and held my claws out for a hug. He passed the Egg to Tyrion and did just that. Tyrion looked away during the hug while Clementine started to cry.

“You’re just so… mmph…” Clementine said, crying against me.

“Yeah, I know…” I said, holding him. “But hey, I’m here. It’s okay.”

He took a moment more, then moved back. “And Flare?”

“He was okay last I saw him. But they tell me he’s on some special mission for the Queen, and nobody will tell me anything,” I said.

“Merry?”

“Fine, as far as I know, as is everyone else. I was the unlucky one, I guess.” I turned and looked to Tyrion. “Not that it’s not appreciated, but why, exactly, are you here?”

“Oh, uh,” Tyrion said, looking a bit nervous as he held the Egg. “I just didn’t want Clementine to have to come alone. And I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m sure my son could have handled himself,” I said.

“He most certainly could have,” Tyrion said, nodding.

I looked to Clementine. He avoided my gaze. I looked back to Tyrion.

“Fu…” I started, and then remembered the Egg, taking a breath.

“What?” Clementine asked.

“You two?” I asked, perhaps a little more angry than I intended.

“What’s wrong with that?” Clementine said, also likely a little more angry than he intended.

I turned to Tyrion. “Since when do you like guys?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m learning things about myself.”

“What about that young girl, that Red?” I asked.

“She… didn’t feel the same way… though we’re still working on the lodge project together, it was a friendly turn-down,” Tyrion said.

“Why him?” I asked Clementine, turning back to him.

“Well, I couldn’t stay with Pike after he arrested my best friend, could I?” Clementine said, acid in his voice. “And Tyrion is a great guy. He’s done a great job looking after your Egg. I don’t know why you think something’s wrong with him.”

“Nothing is wrong with him! He is a great guy!” I said. “It’s just…” I took a breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m surprised and I am overreacting.”

“Thank you,” Clementine said.

“This is a hell of a time for you to break this information,” I said.

“He was worried you’d be very hurt and I’d be upset,” Clementine said. “I thought it was sweet he wanted to come.”

“It is, sweetheart,” I said, and sighed. “Tyrion, let me see my Egg, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Tyrion said, still obviously feeling awkward, but handed over the Egg, which glowed happily.

“Hey there,” I said, and hugged it close. A lot of emotions came flooding in. It’d missed my Egg so much. “Hope you’re looking forward to being stuck in this chamber with me for who knows how long…” I said.

“What are all these books for, Mom?” Clementine said, looking at the pile of books set on the floor in front of him that Maude had brought. “These aren’t your normal reading material.”

“I don’t know, it was Maude’s idea, won’t tell me why,” I said. “Turns out, being hurt and out of commission means you don’t know a lot of things, even who your son is dating.”

“Mom,” Clementine said, frowning. “It just… happened, okay?”

“Sorry, sorry,” I said, taking another breath. I’ll just admit it: the idea of Clementine having slept with someone I’ve slept with on multiple occasions was just such a strange idea I did not know how to process it. I mean, if anything, it was me who was the creep. Tyrion was so much younger than me. But still. “I promise you both next time I see you I will not make this weird, promise.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Clementine said, obviously still displeased.

“Sweetheart, at least admit this is a lot to take in?” I said.

“I know, I wasn’t sure how to t…” Clementine started, but there was a knock at the door.

“Come in?” I called.

“Clementine!” Merry gasped as she opened the door.

“Merry! Are you alright!” Clementine said.

“Yes, we’re fine, you know? Fine enough?” Merry started.

“What is that thing?” Tyrion said, backing up a little and pointing to what Merry was holding.

And then Clementine saw it. And then I saw it.

I saw her. A White Dragon.

“Right. It hatched,” I said. “You wrote that it hatched.”

“It hatched!” Merry said, smiling, moving inside so Myrmidon could join us. There was barely any room in the small chamber.

“Hello, Gloria,” Philly said.

“Hi…” I said.

“I’m… a dragon now,” Philly said.

“I can see that…” I said. And I thought I was shocked before.

Clementine was at a loss for words.

“That’s a dragon?” Tyrion said. “I mean, sorry, you’re a dragon?”

Philly nodded. “I’m of a lost lineage… something like that, anyway.”

“A lost lineage… that’s so small?” Tyrion said.

“Honestly, I’m a lot bigger than I was. I think so, anyway. I don’t have a lot to compare to easily,” Philly said. “Everything is still very big.”

“You weren’t always a dragon?” Tyrion said, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

I shook my head. “Myrmidon, Merry, Philly, this is Tyrion. He’s the father of my Egg and apparently him and Clementine are together now. Tyrion, this is Myrmidon, Merry, and Philly. They’re a family.”

“Hi…” Tyrion said.

“It is delightful to meet you,” Myrmidon said, offering a claw. Tyrion shook it.

“Sorry, you’ve missed a lot,” Clementine said. “Even more than me.”

“Apparently so…” Tyrion said. “You sold those potions for a while, on the Plains,” he said to Myrmidon, looking them over.

“Ah, yes! I do hope I can get back to that soon. I did feel quite good at it,” Myrmidon said, smiling.

“No hat?” he asked.

“Ah, well, it did not seem as important to pack while we were wanted…” Myrmidon said. “I suppose I shall have to get a new hat.”

“This is all a wonderful meeting, but I think we may have more to talk about,” I said. “Unless this really is just a visit to keep me from boredom, and then, sure, let’s just keep talking about hats.” Everyone looked at me. “...sorry, I’m not good at being idle like this.”

“Well, we did see Baroness,” Merry said. “She’s very hurt. She can only move like, one claw. And she’s locked up. We don’t know how to get her out of there.” She described where and how they were keeping Baroness locked up.

“Who, exactly, is Baroness?” Tyrion asked after the whole explanation.

“Look, let me just… let me just try to fill you in,” Clementine said, pulling Tyrion outside of the chamber with him.

I sighed a bit.

“She wants us to just leave her,” Dagger’s voice said. “Pisses me off.”

“Well, we aren’t doing that,” Philly said. “Right?”

“No, we’re not,” I said. “But I don’t really know what exactly we could do right now. Especially with me under lock and key here.” I sighed again. “I need to talk to the Queen again, but she hasn’t been back.”

“Maybe Nobody?” Merry suggested. “She’s good at things like that, right?”

“She’s gone off with Flare,” I said. “It’s just us. And I guess Clementine and Tyrion, maybe. Though I’d rather not get anyone else in trouble.”

“We are on a precarious standing of legality and I have been unable to think of a solution that did not break it,” Myrmidon said.

“Nothing coming to mind for me either,” I said. “But thank you for telling me… I’ll think on it… and talk to the Queen about it if I ever get a chance to see her again.”

“I could find her and tell her to come or something,” Dagger’s voice said. “Though I don’t know why she’d listen to me if she hasn’t listened to the four hundred letters Myrmidon has written.”

“It has not been quite that many, my dear sibling,” Myrmidon said.

“Oh!” Merry said. “We forgot to introduce you to Tyrion, Dagger!”

“One thing at a time,” Dagger said. “I’m… I’m fine for now…”

“Nonsense, we shall fix this error at once,” Myrmidon said.

“No, just… no…” Dagger said, sounding nervous.

But Myrmidon had already walked out the door.

Merry looked at me, and I looked back.

“Does it hurt much?” she asked, softly.

“Sometimes… but I’m fine,” I said.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more…” she said.

“You did everything you needed to. And besides, you have a daughter to look out for,” I said, gesturing to Philly.

“Yeah, Mom… I don’t know what else you could have done, from what you’ve told me,” Philly said.

“I know, but I… I don’t know…” Merry said softly. “I just wished you’d have been there, so I could have asked you what to do when I was talking to the Queen… or after you fell unconscious…”

“You’ve got your own little family now, and you’re making the decisions that’s right for them. You’re doing fine, Merry,” I said.

“I hope so…” she said.

“Hey,” I said, putting my claw on her head. “You’re doing fine. I mean it.”

“A-alright,” Merry said, tail flicking nervously.

I took a breath and just said it while I gave her a pat. “I’m proud of you. You did it. This… thing even I doubted at first. She’s a dragon, Merry, because of you. She’s your daughter.”

“I had a lot of help,” Merry said.

“Sure, but everyone needs help,” I said.

Merry gave me a smile, and hugged Philly tight.

“We’ll think on this. We’ll figure out a way to get Baroness home,” I said. “But to do that, I think we need to get ourselves out first.”

“That sounds right,” Philly said. “As much as I hate for her to be in there, we need room to move, especially if we’re going to do something illegal.”

“We’ll try doing it the right way first, but yes,” I said.

Conversation soon devolved into nicer things, and everyone rejoined us. But soon, the nurses started shooing everyone away to change my bandages and do whatever tests they do, and everyone headed out, Tyrion was obviously still a bit overwhelmed but Clementine stayed close.

And then I was left in my chamber alone again, to think about things.

“I have to do something, right?” I asked the Egg, sitting in its carrier near my bed.

It glowed softly, unsure.

“Things don’t get done if I don’t take action,” I said.

It glowed a little softer.

“Yeah… maybe you’re right,” I said.

But no, I can’t take a break. Can I?

No. No way.

[inktae]

home after rain

↳ blue orchids short story

◇ pairing: jungkook | reader ◇ genre: too much fluff.. too much cute ◇ word count: 3.986 ◇ author’s note: surprise! \o/ I honestly have no idea how or why this happened. yesterday I just… started writing, and here we are, a few thousand words later. also, bear in mind that this is a sequel to blue orchids, so you need to read that one first if you want to understand this short piece. hope you all enjoy!

This story is set six years into the future within Blue Orchids’ universe.

The sun rays are melting on your skin. It has been a while since the skies opened up like this, leaving the sun bare to the living, its warmth a pleasant gift after days of storm and gloom. The sand under your legs and feet is, fortunately, not scorching — not yet, at least. The early morning is still warming up to the pristine sun, and the salty winds of the beach are still a strange mixture of the growing heatwave and the remnants of past iciness.

You cannot remember the last time you visited the beach, but it does not feel foreign or uncomfortable. It feels like you belong, mind at peace and body molding to the sand as your extended legs allow your toes to brush against the gentle waves that break and ebb away, water still too chilly to enjoy at its fullest.

The kid that plays by your side has long since stopped moaning about plunging into the ocean, falling silent at your suggestion of creating a sand castle. You give her a silent glance as your feet sway slowly, amused eyes finding her concentrated gaze as she focuses her utmost attention on the clumsy castle that stands precariously close to the approaching waves.

Her independence has always surprised you, how she seems to pride herself in playing and creating on her own without the help of an adult hand. You can only stare as she struggles to finish the castle, knowing that your aid would not be welcome and that she would only give you a glare and a huff at the question.

The little girl lifts her eyes then, and it hits you, once again, how scarily similar her features are to Jimin’s — the warm, welcome eyes that bring a smile to anyone who spots them, eyes that hide a fierceness that most of the times comes off as endearing.

“Are you done?” you ask her, eyes shifting to the rising tides. “Do you want some snacks, or water? It’s getting kinda hot now, maybe we could—”

The little girl laughs, placing a hand on your lips and smearing it with sand. You sputter, making her laugh even harder.

“I’m just bored, I wanna go inside,” she pouts, staring longingly at the water. “Tell Jungkook to hurry up so we can go play in the water.”

You ruffle her dark hair, making her whine. It is impossible to hold back the silly smile lifting your lips, almost cooing at the way her cheeks heat up. Her blatant crush on Jungkook has always been too obvious, even if she denies it every single time.

“You demand too much. Don’t you want to relax with me for a while? He’ll finish in no time, I promise.”

“Relax?” she wonders, looking thoughtful for a second. “Does that mean I can ask you anything I want?”

You blink at that, growing slightly nervous. Just like any other kid, Jimin’s daughter is always brimming with curiosity and wonder, asking questions left and right whenever the opportunity presents itself. You have lost count of the times she has embarrassed you or Jungkook with questions that do not have easy answers, always turning in your direction whenever her parents assure her that she will know better when she grows older.

“I, uh—” you look back, throwing a quick glance at Jungkook’s sitting form under the shadow of the beach umbrella, a few meters away from the shoreline. Babysitting for Jimin’s daughter did not fit too well within your busy schedules, but you both have been managing as much as you can, even if that means finishing some work early on a beach day. Looking completely immersed on his laptop, he does not notice your desperate gaze, making you sigh as you turn back to the curious looking girl. “I guess, yeah—”

“Can you tell me about soulmates?”

Well, that catches you off guard. She pronounces the words slowly, hesitantly, as if she were telling a secret. You have never seen a kid so serious, which means her parents’ reaction were, most likely, just as secretive.

“Where did this come from?” you ask with a laugh, trying to keep a normal tone of voice. She can’t see me get scared. “Did someone tell you about it?”

She nods, eyes wide. “Misun.”

Of course. That kid is just as discreet as her father, Taehyung — which means not at all. You make a note in your head to speak to them the moment you go back to the city.

You sigh, trying to keep your cool. “Okay. What did Misun tell you?”

“That there are people who get red marks instead of black ones,” she whispers, pouting. “And that they’re the most unlucky people in the world, because they will always be alone. She told me that it can happen to me, too.”

Christ. You run a hand through your hair, freezing as the girl’s eyes start watering.

“Is it true?” she continues, voice wobbly. “I don’t want a red mark. I’m scared.”

She sniffs, and you caress her hair again, gently dragging her closer for a hug. Your eyes are drawn to the tattoo on the palm of your hand — the black lines, once sharp and bright, now look slightly faded, which reminds you that you need to get it retouched sooner or later. People like Hoseok and Jimin do not have to worry about trivial matters like these, because the marks on their skin will always stir and shine with the love of their soulmates.

It is an unexplainable bond that closed its doors for you and Jungkook years ago. Even so, you feel at peace, and your heartbeats calm down as you caress the little girl’s back, nerves fading away as a small smile lifts your lips. She pulls away, rubbing her tear-stricken cheeks with her fist.

“Can you tell me if it’s true? Dad said I’m too small to understand, but I want to know,” her eyes grow fierce, then, cheeks puffing up. “Misun knows, and she’s only one year older than me!”

“Misun knows because her dad has a big mouth,” you pinch her nose, making her smile through the sadness. “And you bet Misun and Taehyung will get the scolding of the century the moment I tell Yoongi.”

She gasps at that, eyes widening with fear, which makes you laugh out loud.

“That’s so mean! Uncle Yoongi is scary,” she shudders, making you nod solemnly.

“About your question…” you begin, licking your lips. You may not be this girl’s mother, and you may be overstepping a boundary here — but the worry and curiosity in her eyes easily tear down your walls in less than a second, and you ultimately figure it will not hurt to give her one tiny, brief explanation, one that hopefully she can understand. 

After all, who can explain the red marks better than you?

“Tell me! please,” she begs, almost jumping on the spot.

“It’s… true. The red marks exist,” you finally say, biting you lip at her sudden crestfallen expression. Looking down at your hand again, you smile, lifting it so she can see. “Let me tell you a little story.”

And so you tell her. A condensed, simmered down version, one that does not involve the hurt and the pain and the terrifying beauty of the petals that bursted out of your mouth whenever your feelings rose like the onshore flow of the beach. Her lips stay parted through it all, full of disbelief as you reach the happy ending of etching Jungkook’s name on your palm, not by destiny, but by your own doing.

She stays quiet for a while, only the sounds of the crashing waves breaking the prolonged silence. Taking your hand, she stares at Jungkook’s name with pure awe tracing her innocent features, and you can almost listen to the gears working in her brain, trying to make sense of the situation.

When she finally looks up, her eyes are glinting with fascination.

“Is he your soulmate?”

“Yes, he is,” you reply, no hesitation in your words. A fond smile keeps your lips curved upwards as you look at Jungkook’s name again. It may be fading, but it still manages to make your heart jump with a wholehearted feeling you know very well, one that reminds you that your feet have never been firmer on the ground, and that your journey has never been clearer.

It is hard to define, because you do not like to refer to it as just love. In your world, love refers to the ardent passion of soulmates, a fixed feeling that stays unwavering through life and death. Your type of love, the one you and Jungkook know, is flexible and fluctuating — surprising you everyday with all the shapes it takes as you discover new ways of describing the touch of his fingers against your skin.

You know it goes beyond love, because calling it love only puts boundaries to it.

“You were alone when you had your red mark,” she says quietly, recalling the story you just told her. “But then you met Jungkook, and you weren’t alone anymore.”

“I was never alone,” you tell her, making her tilt her head. “Uncle Yoongi was always there for me. Your dad was, too. And uncle Hoseok.”

“But they didn’t know,” she frowns. “Why did you keep it a secret?”

You ruffle her hair again, laughing when she grimaces. She genuinely hates it when you do that. “That’s a little bit more complicated. I can tell you when you grow older.”

She huffs, playing with the sand for a few seconds as her eyes acquire a pensive expression.

“I still don’t understand…”

You start making circles on the sand, just like she’s doing, as you organize the scrambling thoughts swirling in your mind.

“What I wanted to tell you with this story is that… you don’t need to be scared of the red mark,” she lifts her gaze at that, looking slightly stunned, as if she cannot believe the words slipping past your lips. “Because you can still choose to be happy. As long as you want it, it will be okay. Besides, you have parents that love you so, so much, and you have me and Jungkook, and all your uncles that will always protect you and Misun. You will never be alone, Y/N. It doesn’t matter what kind of mark you get. You will always be loved.”

It still feels inherently strange to say your own name when referring to Jimin’s child, a girl that is so different from who you are and who you were. A small part of you was terrified of it — always silently fearing that the curse of the red mark might pass onto her just by carrying your own name.

Even if it never made much sense, that fear followed you ever since she was born and Jimin and Hana named her in your honor. But now, as her eyes clear up and leave their cloudiness behind to show their usual brightness, the knot in your heart eases up, eyes involuntarily burning with unshed tears as the little girl smiles.

“Okay!” she says, grabbing your hand — the one with Jungkook’s mark on it. “Besides, your mark is prettier than mom’s. I hope mine will be like this.”

You giggle at that, adopting a mischievous smile as you point in Jungkook’s direction. “Hey, don’t you think he’s taking too long back there? why don’t you go surprise him?”

Her cheeks adopt a deep shade of red at that, but she gets up and nods. You watch as she sprints in Jungkook’s direction, who still remains oblivious and completely absorbed in the task under his typing hands. He lets out a yelp of surprise when the little girl curls her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and making the laptop slid from his legs and onto the towel he’s sitting on.

Finally catching your diverted stare, a warm smile graces his previously serious expression, and your heart swells when he starts tickling the little girl’s sides in a vicious battle that she easily loses. Her infectious laughter fills the lazy atmosphere of the early morning, and for once you do not mind being an outsider — feeling utterly content as you get to watch the heartwarming scene unfold. 

They eventually get to the water, Jungkook’s laptop long forgotten behind them as they chase the waves and splash each other. She has always loved to play with Jungkook the most, and you can easily tell why — his inner child has always shone the brightest, making everything seem timeless around him as his eyes gleam with unbounded radiance.

She might be a child with never-ending energy, but playtime cannot go on for as long as she would love to. Putting on your adult pants — figuratively — you drag her to the shadow of the beach umbrella one hour later, trying not to laugh at both hers and Jungkook’s complaints. She inhales her snacks and water before you can open your mouth, and soon enough she is drowsily staring at the horizon, eyes dazed as she struggles to stay awake.

Lying down on one of the two folding chairs, you cover her with her towel, and the cool breeze that brushes her disheveled strands quickly lull her to sleep. Jungkook, from his spot on the other chair, gives her a fond look before sliding his gaze in your direction.

“Come here,” it is not easy for you both to fit on the plastic chair, and for a moment or two you wonder if it will break under your weight combined — but you finally manage to fit your body against him, tangling your legs with his own and brushing his toes covered in sand. Your head rests on his shoulder and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, trying not to let sleep take over under the welcoming peace. Moments like these are hard to come by, and you want to stay fully awake through it all.

“Did we interrupt your work?” you ask, lifting your head and leaning on your elbow so you can get a better view of him. The bags under his eyes have been prominent on his face for a while now, but knowing that they are the product of Jungkook’s passion and hard work makes you feel slightly less worried about them. “I know this sudden trip to the beach was bad timing for you. Sorry.”

He shakes his head, and the arm curled around your waist tightens its hold discreetly. “Actually, Yoongi told me he could deal with it while I was away. But you know how paranoid I get about this project. It’s a new group, after all — I really want their album to turn out alright.”

“He did? hmm. Then you’re not allowed to touch your laptop for the rest of the day.”

He pinches your side, making you laugh. You shoot a glance at the sleeping girl, making sure she is still resting soundly.

“Hey, Jungkook… she asked me about soulmates, right before you started playing with her.”

He perks up at that, looking slightly more awake as he fixes his wide eyes on your face.

“Oh, wow. What did you tell her?”

You’re surprised by your own blush, heating up your neck as it involuntarily sizzles under your skin. “Our story.”

You do not know why you suddenly feel so bashful, because Jungkook’s eyes are nothing but caring. That attentive gaze, always swathed with affection, has never lost its intensity — not even with the thick layers of tiredness that usually mask his face. As if thinking about the same thing, you feel his touch tracing the tender skin behind your ear.

“Is anything wrong?”

“No,” you shake your head, fixing your eyes on the kid’s sleeping form again. “But she asked me why did I decide to keep it a secret, and it made me wonder…”

“Why did we keep it to ourselves?” 

“Mhm.”

“Well…” he sighs, blinking slowly as he looks ups. “It took me a while to learn that I shouldn’t have been afraid of it. I still remember that waitress, you know — and I still see people like her. Carrying the red mark proudly, and not letting it define them. Those people are brave,” he turns back to you, bearing a dazzling smile that warms his whole expression. “You had an impact on that, too.”

“Ah, you’re embarrassing,” you pinch his arm lightly, feeling your skin heat up again. “Besides, it’s just not me in the Gladiolus Foundation. Hana helps out a lot, too.”

“It’s you, believe me,” the look he’s giving you, warm but compelling, does not leave room for arguments. “You can brag about it, you know.”

“Okay, I’ll do it sometimes,” you give him a tiny smile, a long exhale escaping your lips. The charitable foundation you started three years ago, aimed at those who are lost and alone and find no hope in bearing the red mark, grew before your eyes with a speed that was almost too much for you to keep up. Paired with Jungkook’s hectic job as a producer in Yoongi’s entertainment company, you almost lost yourselves countless times along the way. Even so, you always found your way back to each other, and every time he held you with a stronger hold and a firmer conviction of keeping you by his side.

A comforting silence stretches out, one that is hard to come by within your restless lives. You fall into a trance that makes you teeter between dreamland and the world of the living, only stirring awake when you hear Jungkook’s voice break through the harmonious, subtle sounds of the beach.

“Remember that movie we watched a month ago?”

“Iron Man?” you mumble, lips brushing his shoulder. You feel him scoff against your side.

“We watched that one two months ago,” he corrects, making you bite your lip in amusement. “You know, the one where it’s the end of the world and the main characters randomly decide to get married on the beach. Just because they can. And because the world is ending, of course, but still—”

“Ah,” you murmur drowsily, frowning. You’re not sure if you know what he’s talking about. “I think I do, yeah.”

“I think it would be cool if we did something like that.”

You try to picture the scene in your head — you and Jungkook standing together by the beach, colorful clothes ruffled by the salty breeze as a faceless priest bonds you for life. Skies open and winds cool and warm, just like today. Your chest warms up at that.

“Yeah, that would be fun,” you nod, smiling. A few seconds later you open your eyes, lifting your head so fast the world starts spinning around you. You give Jungkook a stunned look, and it is hard to miss the violent blush coating his cheeks, wide eyes not meeting yours. “Wait— did you just propose?”

“Ah, damn it— I was going to wait a little bit longer,” he groans, shifting in embarrassment. “I don’t even have the ring yet… I’m sorry— I should have prepared this better—”

A thunderous laugh escapes your lips and it makes Jimin’s daughter stir, quickly covering your mouth as unstoppable chuckles continue to burst out. Jungkook looks beyond mortified, though there is a timid smile stretching his mouth as he bites on his bottom lip.

“Stop. That was a mess, I know.”

“And it took you six years,” you move around, straddling him and finding support on his chest as you gaze down at him with a fond smile. Your words are not harsh nor serious, because you are both aware that a proposal is the least defining component of your relationship.

Your journey has always been different — from Jimin and Hana’s, who already have a daughter and another coming on the way, or Yoongi and Taehyung’s, who settled and fell in love with an unhinged speed that still leaves you in shock sometimes. Adopting Misun was never in their plans — technically, she’s Taehyung’s niece, but that is a story for another time —, and you never imagined to see in Yoongi a fondness so similar to that of soulmates, intense and deep and almost overbearing. And even if he always claimed that this kind of love was not for him, even if he presented his lack of feelings with pride and ease, changes are bound to happen, and the future is always, always uncertain. It molded each one of you in ways that are not better or worse, just… different.

And you know this kind of different, the one you share with Jungkook, is one you would never trade — not even for the most glowing mark of destiny. You love your own, grey-ish and fading, with an intensity that matches your affection for the man that currently lies under your body, still shifting with mortification and big, self-conscious eyes. 

His shyness slowly evaporates as he sighs and places his hands on your hips, thumbs caressing the exposed skin under the hem of your shirt.

“Getting married almost sounds… silly, doesn’t it? with all we’ve been through…” he muses, eyes raking up and down your body with the faintest hint of desire. He finds your eyes and smiles when you nod, your hand finding his own on your hip so you can intertwine your fingers. “But I thought it would be cute.”

“Yes, it would,” you giggle, lifting his hand so you can place a kiss on his knuckles. “And hey— you can still make the ring a surprise. Just don’t give it to me while watching Iron Man. Or if you do, at least do it during the first one. You know I hate the sequels.”

He immediately opens his mouth to retort — fighting over the sequels is the only recurring argument that has not changed overtime — but you stop him with a searing kiss. It is hard to keep it innocent, because there is a fire burning in your belly that started simmering the moment you joined Jungkook on the chair. You can feel his own restraint against your lips, full of hidden promises and a contained passion that speaks of many more journeys with him, all at your own pace, and always hand in hand without leaving the other behind. 

“Ew! You’re just like mom and dad.”

You pull back at the sound of disgust, giving Y/N an embarrassed smile as she scrunches her nose in your direction. Her sleepy glare is ineffective as she turns around, turning her back to you while still making grossed out noises.

You peck Jungkook one last time, noticing the mischievous look on his face.

You frown, knowing what’s about to come. “She doesn’t like getting startled, Kookie.”

“I’ll be nice,” he snickers, making you roll your eyes. Allowing him to get up, you watch as he dares her to a race in a sudden, booming voice, making her jump out of the chair with a squeal before dashing towards the shore behind him. You laugh and shake your head, sitting up to watch them play with a fond smile dancing on your lips.

You were eighteen years old when Jimin’s name showed up on your hand, but the future is always, always uncertain — and you never imagined, so many years later, that you would see the lenient sun shining on the glinting eyes of the soulmate you were always meant to be with. Not to love blindly and fervently, but to share your hopes and face your fears with. Someone who showed you that it is possible to turn a curse into a priceless gift, if you wanted it enough.

And for better or worse, you genuinely cannot wait to find out what lies beyond the unfolding horizon.

[idealisticrealism]

Blindspot 2x21 recap

(Aka the one where Sandstorm takes the NYO)

So it’s been like five days and I’m still screaming internally over how FREAKIN AMAZEBALLS this episode was. Tbh if I didn’t have to make sure I survive to see the finale, I probably would have died already. Like seriously, this show is 100% back to its old self, and with a VENGEANCE. Thank god for a guaranteed season three...

Anyhow, more screaming below the cut. 

Aaaahhh nooo my babies, please stop, I mean I know siblings are meant to fight but not like this!! And ughhhh he's really actually trying with the whole killing her thing but tbh I'm kinda proud that Jane still wins? Our girl is the Warrior Queen, no one can defeat her. Not even when she’s pulling her punches like she is now. And ugh she knocks him out just as the detail gets in there-- you seriously need to work on your response time, dudes, though I guess it's good you weren't any earlier or you would have probably shot Roman which would have been completely unacceptable. But ugh he's regained all his memories from this fight, and now knows everything she's done... ughhhhh my baby boy please just think things through, because she really truly loooooves youuuuu. I swear. Also wow his biceps look amazing in this shirt? Ugh but then Jane comes to see him in the now-spartan cell (I guess all his stuff went with him to the safehouse) and ugh she’s all cautious and worried and ughhhhh he literally hates her and no matter what she says he just thinks it's more lies-- and tbh I feel like between this and the whole Emma thing with Weller, Jane is going to be 100% honest for the rest of her life bc she's already experienced too much pain due to lies. But ughhh I don't think I'll ever get over how much Luke just nails Roman's anger and pain??? The prowly way he walks, the deadness in his eyes as he tells her that the more he remembers, the more he hates her?? And then just turns his back on her and ughhhhhh my poor babieeeeesss let me hug you bothhhhhhh. Surely Roman must think about things and realise she was genuine, though? Although I guess he feels kinda like Weller did when it was revealed Jane wasn't Taylor; that just because part of it was a lie, everything must have been. And ughhh my baby is so heartbroken and walks out into the corridor and ugh Weller is right there waiting for her. I bet he escorted her down there in the first place and ugh man I wish we'd gotten to see when he first got there and was briefed on what happened? Like how terrifying must it have been for him to get that call, to think that Jane had nearly been killed by the man that HE had sent home with her? And at the same time he would be devastated for her bc I bet she was literally in shock as she robotically explained what happened and he could already see how much this was going to destroy her. And so when she comes out, he's still hovering there, waiting-- like I guarantee he was ready to go in and pull her out if it all sounded like it was getting too much. And now he stares at her with his big sad eyes and tells her how sorry he is, and then she tells him it's his and Nas' fault, and for a moment he looks like he wants to argue, but he also understands that she needs somewhere to place some of her blame (because god knows she's already shouldering enough of it herself) and so he doesn't try to defend himself, bc he knows she's not wrong. If she needs to blame him, he'll let her. He’ll help her in any way he can. But when her voice breaks as she insists that Roman could still be useful, he knows he has to be tough, and tells her that Roman's dose is wearing off and he's reverting to who he was. He needs Jane to accept that now, before her hope slowly kills her. But ugh it must be slowly killing HIM to see her upset like that and yet not reach for her?? I feel like he was seriously about to do just that when his phone buzzed about Pellington. Ugh, they never get a damn moment alone...

Oohh Zapata has rocked up in the lab, and uh-oh, I bet she's about to embark on her little crusade to break Parker by breaking the rules. And then ooh Reade's there, awkwardly ducking in to say hi since they already saw him going past and he couldn't very well ignore them haha. And Patterson's so happy to see him and so supportive and then he tells them that he put in for a transfer??? What???? And oh god Zapata's face just drops and ugh it's clear he didn't mention this at all last night and nooooo all she asks is how long he'll be at the new position and the answer is FOREVER and ughhhhh she just looks like she just got sucker punched and nooooo Reade you can't gooo! We need the dream team together!!! 

Aaaahhhh Pellington is shutting down Jane's case (again), both the tattoos and Sandstorm-- and Weller looks like he's barely keeping himself in check, which explains why he looks to Jane to steady him, and okay firstly I love that she's actually in here too?? Like I thought this was going to be a meeting just between the Big Boys, but lbr Weller and Jane are kind of a package deal again nowadays haha. And then Pellington says they're going to put a public face to Sandstorm-- Shepherd, AND Roman. Which means that literally every law enforcement officer in the country will be hunting them both. Shit. And he seems undecided about what he's going to do with Jane-- hold on, so, what? You're going to ignore all she's done for the team and turn your back on her? Maybe throw her in jail? And ugh she doesn't even seem to care about her own precarious fate, she just tries to convince him not to turn on Roman, and then she literally starts shouting at him, making Weller panic a little bit bc honey please don't piss off the man who could have you thrown behind bars with the wave of his hand-- but it's kinda lucky (and also unlucky) that she does, bc when she tells Pellington that Roman's regaining his memories, that actually changes his mind. Which is great in that Roman won't be one of the targets of Sandstorm... but terrible bc Pellington now wants him to go to the CIA for 'acceleration of his recall'. Yeah, we all know what that means. And then Pellington is outta there and ughhhh Jane literally begs Weller to help Roman and ughhhh he knows there's nothing they can do and he is hurting for his wifey and wow these guys are having a really bad start to the day aren’t they

And then Zapata gives them one bright spot--- they have leverage on Parker. Devon's pregnant. Wait actually pregnant tho, or did Zapata make it up and then trick the others so that Parker would believe them? I love that all three of them go into the interrogation room and tag team him (I'm very much ignoring Weller's contribution bc it only reminds me of the whole Allie situation ugh), and ughhh Parker tries to brush it off but Jane convinces him and he tells them about the Sandstorm warehouse, but will only give them the exact location once Devon is safely on a plane to London. I can't tell if he's playing them or not?? And they all know it could be a trap but they've gotta try anyway, so when he gives them the address, Weller and Jane take a bunch of FBI dudes, leaving Zapata to keep interrogating Parker. And ugh as much as I enjoyed the 'let’s split up bc you're the only one I trust' thing last week, I really love seeing them enter side by side, guns up and ready. And ooooh here's the structure that Sandstorm has been building-- is it a replica of the NYO, a la Ocean's 11, like I suggested in a past recap?? Ughhhh it is! God this must be so weird for them and aaaahhh they realise it's a training ground (close, guys, but that’s not all it is) and that they're about to take down the real NYO and aaaahhhhh their signal is being jammed so they can't warn anyone. And then just as they're about to pull out to get back to the NYO, a sniper starts taking out their guys. Weller takes him down though bc remember he's Mr Crack-Shot, and Jane notices a weird red X on the floor in the fake-gym. What does it meaaaaan? 

Meanwhile back at the NYO, a couple of Sandstorm guys have already snuck in disguised as technicians and are doing something nefarious with the power grid. Reminds me of Weller in the prison... Not so fun when the tables are turned, eh? Anyway Reade's with Dr Sun, asking her to clear him psychologically so he can take the transfer. And you know what, she actually seems pretty on the ball right now? "Needing help doesn't preclude you from helping others" like daaaamn that's some wisdom right there. And it's definitely true in my own experience-- you know how many doctors I've met who have mental, emotional, or social issues of their own yet still give their all to help others?? And then ugh when she says that he can go, but he'll still be Edgar Reade when he gets there. And wow I am actually impressed rn? This is a rollercoaster in of itself lol

Ugh Jeller are racing back to the NYO and frantically trying to call anyone inside to warn them but it's all still jammed. Which means the attack has already begun. Weller calls the NYPD to mobilise them for help but argh it may already be too late.  And ugh Pellington walks into the lab to demand all the info they have on Shepherd/Sandstorm and hahaha I love that Patterson's first response is to question whether Weller knows about it, despite Pellington being HIS boss and being able to do whatever he wants regardless of how Weller feels about it. Lbr tho man, literally everyone in the NYO would follow Weller over you if it came down to it. And Patterson is belatedly like 'oh yeah you're actually the boss-boss' and so she’s gonna put it all on a hard drive for him-- but tells him it would actually be quicker if she did the data migration she'd already been planning, and all it would mean is that her servers would be stuck in boot mode for 30mins while it was happening. But then their conversation gets derailed by an official emergency alert, and Patterson brings up footage of the bullpen to see active shooters attacking people. Pellington gives the order for evacuation, and then says he'll join the armed response team and take out the shooters. Wow, I think this is the first time I've actually felt genuine respect for you, sir. Nice. Instead of evacuating, Zapata goes straight for the lab, because of course she does. She knows that that's where Patterson will still be, and she won't leave her girl. And then she sees a glitch in the videofeed, realising that it might have been tampered with-- just as Pellington and the strike force get out into the bullpen, which is completely normal and shooter-free. Awkwaaaard. But because the evacuation protocol was initialised, all the external doors were unlocked, now allowing Sandstorm to come in. And ughhh now it really is a showdown-- Pellington and the FBI vs Shepherd and Sandstorm, and for a moment there's just a bunch of shouting about 'you surrender/no you surrender' then some dumb guy knocks over a coffee cup and all hell breaks loose and everyone is shooting and ughhhh Paterson and Zapata are stuck there watching and Zapata is about to run out to help but Patterson won't let her bc it's literal suicide, and so she does the only thing she can and seals in the Sandstorm peeps. Ughhh. Pellington is crawling for his gun, and the rest of his team are dead or wounded. Shepherd calls him by his first name and tells him that that didn't need to happen-- and okay did these two know each other or something?? Like there was the way he called her 'Major-General' and now her using his first name?? And ugh she demands his access code and I'm actually super impressed that he still won't give in, just tells her she's under arrest, and wow this dude actually has way bigger balls than I gave him credit for? Don't tell me I'm about to start liking him just before he dies?? And ughhhh Patterson and Zapata are still there, stuck watching, as Shepherd kills their agents one by one and ugh the tears running down their faces and ughhhhh on one hand I know that Pellington's refusal means the death of his agents, but still... he's protecting thousands (if not millions) of lives by preventing anyone getting access. I feel like Weller would have done the same, though it would have destroyed him. Though if Shepherd had threatened Jane... then I don't know. Maybe he would have given in. Glad we don't have to find out. And ugh Pellington tells them all that this is how they-- the good guys-- win. By staying strong. By sacrificing themselves for the greater good. And then ughhh Briana stands, and tells her she knows Weller's code, and honestly I can't blame her. She's saving her own life, but also everyone else in the room-- friends, workmates. And I don't think she has quite the understanding of just what Shepherd could do with access to Patterson's lab. Who can really know what they themselves would do when faced with that choice? But ughh I actually feel really sad for Pellington, he knows that they have just failed so many civilians and he tried his best and now he's about to die. Dammit, man, how dare you make me respect you right before you die??? I guess I should also apologise now for always assuming you could be a Sandstorm mole... my bad. And ughhhh Patterson and Zapata are feeling so helpless bc Weller's code overrides Patterson's and now Sandstorm has free access to everywhere-- and is heading right for them. And ughhh I love that they know, they already know that they can't win, that they are just heading for death, but they fight anyway-- Zapata's immediate response is to get guns and go down in a hail of bullets, because of course it is. Patterson fights back in another way-- starting the database migration to slow Shepherd down, utilising one of the only tools they have. And then together, they go to the armoury, even knowing  that one of Shepherd's teams is on their way there right now. Sidenote: screw you, Borden, for giving these guys a full blueprint of this place. You traitorous asshole.

Ughhh Jane's biting her nails and Weller confirms that Sandstorm has the NYO-- maybe even for Phase 2. But the NYO is Weller's kingdom, and he knows it better than anyone. He knows that there's a sub-basement access tunnel from previous construction. He and Jane are gonna save their people or die trying. 

Well, Patterson's delaying tactic has worked, pissing Shepherd off. Also dude, it's 5% complete when she arrives, and Patterson said earlier that it would take about 30mins total to complete. To get to 5% would have taken about a minute and a half, which means that's how close behind Patterson and Zapata Shepherd was. Aaaargh. And now Parker's there, saying that 'Remi' and Weller took Devon to a blacksite. Mmmhmmm, way to cover your butt, Mr Slimy. And ugh Shepherd expected Weller and Jane to be there-- what if they had been?? What was her plan for them?? Nothing good, I’m sure. But haha he says that at least now they won't be a problem. Think again, bucko! Meanwhile Patterson's being problematic enough on her own. I'm so proud. But wait they have targets in four timezones?? What and where??? And so they're about to hunt her down (ugh stay away from my baby) when Parker finds Roman on the screen instead. Ugh, stay away from my other baby!  

Ugh my girls in the armoury with their vests and guns makes me simultaneously so proud and also want to sob. My babies are making their stand. And then the door opens and they nearly shoot the intruder-- but it's just Reade, here to stand with them and defend their home. Patterson explains that Shepherd's after the lab, realising that her computers have access to the Homeland Security servers. Which is very, very bad, for reasons I don't entirely understand but I'll take her word for it. And so she proposes going to the server room so she can try to divert auxiliary power and fry her computers before the migration completes, thus locking Shepherd out. Ugh, the sacrifices my baby is willing to make... those computers are HER babies. And ugh her talking about the chances of it succeeding: "80%... 75%... closer to 60 if I'm being honest." and ughh why must even the humour in this show be heartbreaking? But she doesn't wait for permission; she just goes and the others follow. Tbh without Weller (or Jane, the unofficial next in line) there, Patterson is now the team leader, regardless of actual hierarchy. Lbr, the other two would follow her anywhere.

Idk where Weller found this fire-stick thing but I'm happy he has it. They're breaking into the sub-basement now, and ughhh Jane is so worried about the team and what might have happened to them, and she's beating herself up about lying to Roman and causing him to be in that cell right now, completely vulnerable if Shepherd decides to punish him for his betrayal of her. And Weller tells her that she had to lie, because she knew what he was and was scared of what he'd do if he learned the truth. And he looks up at her as he says it, and hmmm this is interesting, bc Jane only ever lied to Roman bc Weller and Nas made her. She was going to tell him the truth. Now who else has she lied to recently that she only did it bc she was afraid? Ah yes. I remember. Well, good to know that Weller understands her choices and is making it clear to her that he forgives her for them. He needs her to hear it, because he knows that one or both of them could be dead within minutes. Ughhhh. And she worries that if Roman's turning back into Old Roman, then will the same happen to her? Will she turn back into Remi (her greatest fear?) and ugh he promises her that it won't happen and that they'll do everything they can to save Roman along with the others and ughhhh. They've broken into the sub-basement-- ew, it reminds me of Oscar's grimy dungeon-- and then suddenly they spot four Sandstorm guys, and ugh they communicate with hand signals and basically pincer-manoeuvre the dudes and take them out in about two seconds because they're badasses. And that would be great, except the dudes were there guarding a shit-ton of explosives (that's the technical term). Well I guess we know where some of that HMX went? And aaahhh Sandstorm is gonna take down the whole building. Well, shit.

Aaaahhh my lil warrior babies are defending their home by destroying their own servers from within, and ugh the lives of SO MANY people literally rest on their shoulders (specifically Patterson's) rn?? Like holy shit if she doesn't get a message through to the DHS, the other sites will have zero warning of the attacks about to take place. Also ugh I've mentioned before how Patterson is literally one of the most powerful people in the FBI, but this proves it-- with her computers, she possesses access to several other major agencies. Literally if she wanted to, she could cripple the entire country at any time. She could have done exactly what Shepherd is trying to do with just a couple of taps of her screen. And she's what, barely past thirty? Like okay I have a job where I have some small measure of power over life and death, but this kind of scale is HUGE. Patterson literally has the keys to the kingdom handed to her, and could be the world's biggest supervillain-- but instead she protects everyone to the best of her ability, even now, when it may very well lead to her death. No one will ever convince me that Agent Patterson of the New York Office of the FBI is not some kind of cult figure in the world of government agencies. I bet her name has even become a common term for absolutely owning something through skill and ingenuity: "I'm gonna pull a Patterson"/"I'm Patterson-ing this biatch". For real, Shepherd, you have no idea who you're up against...

Weller delicately disassembling the cover of the bomb detonator while Jane stands guard over him with a huge-ass gun is entirely my aesthetic. And then he explains how to disarm it-- I love that he knows this, our boy sure paid attention in class-- and when he tells her he'll need her to do it (because of his giant meat-paws, as Rich lovingly named them), she doesn't hesitate. And then ugh he talks her through it and I love that they're BOTH needed for this. Jane wouldn't have known what to do without him, and he couldn't have physically done it without her. They're two halves of a whole, the perfect partnership. And ugh I love that she trusts him to guide her and he trusts her to be able to do it. And ughhhh he compares it to playing Operation and she's all "Weller this is a terrible analogy I've never played that game" and he's all "c’mon honey you can do anything ilsym babe"* (*paraphrasing). No but actually he's so cute with how he reassures her, using humour to settle her, and ugh the little look she gives him like 'you're such a giant dork and god I love you for it'. But don't worry anyway Jane, I've never played Operation either, and I've assisted in actual operations without any issue. You got this.         

Aaand Shepherd's down with Roman. He's heard all the alarms-- I wonder what he thought was going on? I wonder if he was worried for Jane? But anyway he remembers everything, including Shepherd, and ugh she says that everything she's done she's done for love, and tbh that's true. Love of herself, and her own conviction that she is in the right and everyone else is wrong. Newsflash, lady. Pretty much every terrorist who ever lived thought they were the ones in the right. But ughhhh then she says one of the few things I will give her credit for being right about-- that Roman chose Jane over her. JANE, not Remi, because as she says, Remi is GONE. THANK YOU, psychopath lady. Remi ceased to exist the moment the zip coursed through her system, and lbr, that was likely what she intended all along. I don't know the particulars of how or why, but I firmly believe that by the time Phase 1 & 2 were being developed, Remi lost her faith in Sandstorm, and in herself. I'd like to think it had something to do with her surveillance of Weller, and I hope that someday we'll find out. But the fact remains that in the end, Remi was ready to give her life to the cause. Not to Shepherd's cause; to her own, which was to stop Shepherd and save not only her brother, but Kurt Weller, and the country itself. I strongly believe that if Asshole Oscar hadn't killed Markos, he would have been able to fulfill his side of her plan and tell her everything. Maybe if that had happened, though, Jane would have run off with him to stop Shepherd, and Weller and the team would have continued their lives without her ever being more than a blip in their existence. And regardless of all the bad that came along with her, I'm glad things happened the way they did. (Except the CIA part. Screw you, Keaton.) But anyway ughhhh Roman says he chose Jane bc she wasn't forcing him to choose. She gave him free will and agency, whereas Shepherd always tried to enforce her own agenda. You can see though from the fact that she offers for him to rejoin her, that she's desperate for that connection back, for someone she has a relationship with other than that of Commander and soldier. Family. Well guess what, lady, you could have had a loving family and lived a normal happy life, but instead you chose to be a mass murderer. Forgive me if I don't feel at all sorry for you, you human stain. 

Ughhh someone save me from Weller's whispered 'good, Jane' as she slowly pulls out the detonator pin. He can feel how tense she is (after all, she has both of their lives plus the lives of everyone in the building depending on the steadiness of her hands) and he reassures her, staying right there in front of her-- not crowding her, but reminding her that he's there with her-- and then ugh when she gets it out safely he gives her this approving grin and she lets out this huge breath and rests her head against the block of explosives and ugh these two are literally the cutest. Supportive hubby Weller is one of my fave Wellers tbh. But there's no time to rest-- he's certain there's more bombs, and Jane remembers the red X from the Sandstorm training replica. And ugh they don't even hesitate before throwing themselves straight back into danger to protect everyone and ugh I love them so much

I love how much it upsets Shepherd when she discovers that the sub-basement bomb is now offline. Take that, you evil cow! And then she sees Jane and Weller on the monitors, and it's like that's right biatch, you are being thwarted by your two former favourites. Not only will they never follow you, but they will beat you. And ugh she sends a team to kill them and Roman doesn't look at all comfortable with it. I wonder whether that's because he still loves his sister, or-- as has been suggested by others, including in @gypsyscarfwoman’s amazing fic-- that he feels like he owes a debt to Weller for what he did to Emma. Hopefully a bit of both?? 

Ughhhh back in the server room, Patterson knows that all her computers are now back online, and Zapata tells her to go ahead and surge the lab. And ughh she hesitates, and at first it seems like she's just having trouble facing the thought of killing her computers (her babies), and Reade impatiently tells her they'll get her new ones-- but that's not it. Surging the lab would effectively paint a target on their backs, bringing Sandstorm right to them. If she does it, she basically signs their death warrants. And if the bad guys come quickly, she may not get to complete the surge before they're all killed. And then ughhhhh just let me die bc Zapata looks at Reade and Reade looks at Zapata and then Reade tells Patterson that they'll buy her as much time as they can and Zapata looks at Patterson and gives her a little nod and tells her to start it and ughhhhhhh they know they're about to die and that was their goodbye to Patterson-- a 'we can't save ourselves but maybe we can help you save others' and ughhhhhh my baby manages not to break down and instead gets right down to it, further ruining Shepherd's day when she instantly recognises that Patterson is about to out-manoeuvre her. And ugh Parker's already leading a team their way as Reade and Zapata set up a barricade (Do you hear the people sing??) and ugh this might be their final minutes together and Zapata chooses to give him shit about ditching them for Quantico and basically telling him she does not at all approve haha. And ughhh even as she's giving him a hard time about it she's also reminding him what a good agent he is and ugh I love the love these two have for each otherrrrr

So Jane was right (as she so often is) and the other bomb is in the gym. I love their perfectly coordinated sweep of the room, and then Weller crouching to remove the outer cover of the bomb detonator for her while she checks behind the bomb for any sneaky baddies. Nice. And then he hands over the reins and moves to stand guard over her-- the stakes are higher on this one, since they're no longer in a secluded basement with the enemy team already dead. Right now, they're sitting ducks. Jane gets right to it, now a veteran at this, and Weller only glances over briefly to make sure she's going okay, confident that she can do it but ready to support her if she needs it. All is well-- until they hear the kill-team approaching and know that they're busted. Jane makes the split second decision, with Weller instantly following her orders as she tells him to go, to meet the bad dudes somewhere that is more even territory, tactically speaking, rather than as the proverbial fish in a barrel that they are now. And ugh right now she has her hand in the jaws of death and he's about to walk out into the same when he pauses and says her name, and for a moment they lock eyes and ughhhhh "Don't die."/"You too". And ugh that was so THEM? Like they each refuse to believe that this will be the last time they see each other, and they know that they'll both fight like hell to make sure it isn't, because they've barely even had a chance to start the life they're gonna have together and it sure ain't ending here. And then ugh Weller goes into Super Agent mode, taking out one of the Sandstorm dudes before they even know what hit them, then sprinting across the room and body-slamming two of them at once while shooting the other, only to grab one and use him as a shield before beating the crap out of another, then tackling another and wrestling his gun off of him just in time to kill the one who was about to kill Jane. And ugh poor Jane, she had to focus on steadily removing the detonator even as she could see everything that was happening, knowing that any one of the many gunshots could have found Weller, meaning not only that she would lose the man she loves, but that she'd be left alone and completely exposed. But she manages it, disarming the bomb and looking up at a panting Weller, who is da bomb, tbh. Take that, Shepherd! You sent five men to kill one, and he took them all down. Bam! Ugh and Jane's little 'thanks' is so cute, like omg could you two just freakin' dive into each other's arms already, you know you want to!! I mean, let's not pretend that that little 'don't die' wasn't just a shortened version of 'don't die because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I plan that life to be more like 50 years than just the next 5 minutes'?

~~Will you join in our crusade, who will be strong and stand with me? Beyond the barricade, is there a world you long to see? Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be freeeeee....~~ Okay yes, I did have to pause my recapping to go listen to some Les Mis because of this. I'm just getting a lot of feels (and literal goosebumps) about these two and their sacrifice, okay?? And ugh Parker's team is on them and bullets are flying and they might be dead any second now and Zapata is still snarking about Quantico (while also crouching in tight jeans and heels wow #iconic), and he snarks back about writing her a recommendation letter and ugh I love these two and the fact they both know that the only way they can cope with this is with sass and ugh save me. And then Patterson fries the system and everything blacks out for a moment, and then the lights come back on they reveal all of the Sandstorm dudes are down. Wait, guys, wait! Havent you heard of a term called 'playing possum'?? I don't care if it seems dishonourable, please shoot the crap out of those bodies before you leave the safety of your barricade! And ughhhhhh they juuuust start to grin at each other, almost believing they really made it, when FREAKIN' SLIMY-ASS PARKER SHOOTS MY BEAUTIFUL BABY. HOW DARE YOU SIR, I ALWAYS SAID DEVON WAS FAR TOO GOOD FOR YOU. And ughhhhh the shock and rage on Reade's face as he fills him with bullets is so intense ughhh. And ugh my baby is only concerned about Reade even while she's bleeding and okay okay at best guess the shot looks like it got her in the shoulder? Which in reality could very easily be deadly but in TV land generally means you'll be just fine (let's not forget that both Jane and Patterson have been shot in the abdomen in the last few months and were in fighting form like 2 days later), so I'm not too worried. But ugh speaking of my other baby Patterson, she's all alone in the dark, frantically dialling DHS to warn them because she needs to save as many people as she can, all while having no idea whether Sandstorm has already killed Reade and Zapata or how much time she herself has left to live. Ughhhhh seriously can I hug her rn bc we both need it

Given that we know how pissed Shepherd gets when things don't go her way, I'm very suspicious of her 'meh' attitude towards her plans being ruined rn. What else does she have in store?? And ugh then she uncuffs Roman (keeping the cuffs tho which feels weird? Maybe she's just into recycling? Or souvenirs?) and then even offers him a gun?? And tells him that staying means being locked up alone in a cell for the rest of his life and noooooooo Roman she's wrong! Jane will fight for you! And ugh the first thing he does is aim the gun at her, and ugh SHOOT HER ROMAN. She doesn't love you, she doesn’t even deny it when you accused her of controlling you your whole life. And ugh she says that losing Remi was an inherent risk of the plan that they all accepted. Yeah, idk about that. I mean I totally believe Shepherd was willing, but I doubt Roman accepted it easily. As for Remi herself, well, I already said that I believe she went into it with the hope of coming out as someone new, hoping for the chance to finally become the person she should have been, instead of the one Shepherd warped her into. I think Jane's dream was wrong. I don't think, if her two selves could meet in a dream, that Remi would see Jane and try to kill her, to take back over. Instead, she would just look at her with tears in her eyes and whisper 'thank you'. And then she would look behind Jane, where dream-Weller and Dream-Roman are standing, and she would tell her to take care of them. And then she'd close her eyes and fade away, at peace at last. Because she'd spent her whole life as a prisoner of who she was, and it was only in letting herself be erased and replaced that she could finally be free at last. 

But anyhow that's speculation for another time. With her warning given, Patterson has raced out of the server room to find her friends, initially relieved and then panicked as she sees Reade crouching over Zapata. And ugh she races back to radio for help. And ugh she must just want to collapse in a sobbing heap when she hears Weller's voice and discovers that he and Jane are in the building. Mom and Dad are here. They'll fix everything. The kids have done their best, and now they get to hand over the responsibility to the grownups. And ugh speaking of family bonds, Roman steps out into the hall right in front of Jane and Weller, and she immediately drops her gun, looking as stunned to see him as he is to see her. And then he raises his gun and shoots right at them-- or does he?? Like yes, Weller immediately shoves Jane through a doorway and to safety, but how did Roman, trained sharpshooter, not hit them with either of the shots he got off before that?? Because he WASN'T AIMING FOR THEM. He aimed wide, just enough to look like he was trying to kill them, while actually sending them into cover before Shepherd could fire at them. He knew his side outnumbered theirs, and so did the only thing he could to protect them without having to turn on Shepherd and try to kill both her and her men. He and Shepherd flee into Borden's office while Weller and Jane take out the last of the Sandstorm guys, joined moments later by their own backup team (better late than never, guys, tho lbr these two badasses don’t really need you). And ugh she tells Weller that they won’t surrender, and the understanding passes between them that this will be shooting to kill. He locks his eyes with hers, and tells her to take Shepherd.Her unsteady breath and tiny 'thanks' kills me. He would never make her kill her own brother, and we all know that he's going to do whatever he can not to kill Roman either. And she's right there with him as they go in-- instead of sending the backup guys, they're both through the door first. But seriously dude that smoke is super dangerous for them, obscuring their vision in a way it wouldn't for Roman and Shepherd, meaning that they would be totally vulnerable to being shot before they even see their targets. But actually there’s none there to be seen; I assumed they escaped out the same air vents that Jane and Patterson crawled though in the lockdown ep, since Borden clearly knew about those from that time, but instead, the sneaky bastard had actually cut a hole through the wall behind a panel, pre-engineering their escape. Dammit, Borden, why you gotta keep hurting us even from beyond the grave? I definitely get how Patterson feels rn...

Ugh, the calm after the storm. Jane is standing near Weller-- I have a feeling they haven't been more than a couple of yards from each other since this whole thing happened, a subconscious connection of both protection and reassurance--  as he looks down at Pellington's body, and ugh they may have both had their issues with him, but they never wanted this. And then Patterson joins them like a timid puppy, telling them that Shepherd tried to attack six other buildings all over the country. Their efforts prevented four of them, but couldn't stop the other two-- but all civilians were evacuated in time and the law enforcement casualties were minimal. They're still shaken over it, naturally, but it's a better outcome than they could have hoped for. Jane looks almost near tears as she realises that they saved thousands of lives. And they did. But Weller's right; that's not what people will remember. People always look for someone to blame, and don’t necessarily always care if it's the right person. This poor team has been through hell today, and though they did save thousands, there were plenty of their own that they couldn't save. Lbr the bullpen is going to have a very 'Empty chairs at empty tables' vibe for a long time. 

Omgggggg. They're in the cell and Weller is fluffing the pillow and all I can think is BLUE SHIRT BLUE SHIRT BLUESHIRT BLUESHIRTBLUESHIRTBLUESHIRTTTTTTT. AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH. IT'S HAPPENING. And ugh Weller apologises that she can't go home-- everyone else can, because they're not in danger of being murdered by their mother or brother (well, as far as we know; maybe they have a complex family situation too). Tbh I feel like Weller is totally fine with her staying; this building is now a fortress, and there's probably nowhere safer for her to be. Plus, he's now kinda the big boss, and will no doubt be staying in his office (not forgetting he'd be a main target too), putting him only moments away if she needs him. And ugh now that they're out of the firefight and reality has settled in, she can't think of anything but how her family is responsible for all of this death and destruction, and how she herself played a role in bringing it about. Not to mention that Roman, one of the people she loves most in the world, turned on her, shot at her, and fled with Shepherd, choosing to be a terrorist rather than stay with her and fight for good. And that's where her real fear comes in-- what if the same will happen to her? What if she's just a time-bomb, ticking down to the moment when the zip wears off and Remi reawakens? What if one day she could suddenly lose all that she has become, could snap and turn on the team, on Kurt, and have no control over it? It's her Remi nightmare all over again, except this time she's faced with the possibility of it becoming reality. Ugh how awful must that be, to live with that potential death-sentence over your head? But ugh Weller won't let her think like that; he immediately reaches out, and ugh her voice hitches almost imperceptibly as his hand covers her knee and she fixes her eyes on his, needing to hear that it will all be okay, and he tells her that they aren't their families and she shudders and looks away and you can practically see the 'but what if I am?' that runs through her head, and he turns to her, voice more insistent as he tells her that he knows her heart (asdfghjkl of course he does, bc it's the match of his own; he knows her as well as he knows himself) and ughhhhh then let me die because he PUTS his HAND over her HEART. Just like she did with his all those months ago; it was her starting point, the symbol of her journey of becoming Jane, becoming the person she truly was. This is her. The tattooed FBI consultant who saves people on a daily basis and whose heart of gold belongs to Kurt Weller. That is who she is, not a cold and calculating terrorist who only wants to watch the world burn. "[Remi] is not who you are,' he tells her, and he's right. She's his Jane, and always will be. And ugh she holds his hand against her chest, head down and eyes closed, keeping him from pulling away, needing that reassurance. Needing that contact. And then she looks up at him almost pleadingly, like she's so desperate for him to be right, and so needing the reassurance of his touch, of his love. And he sees it, understands it, because he needs her too. And he never looks away as he shifts his hand to cup her jaw, and ugh the way her hand covers his and her tear-filled eyes find his and her chin trembles and okay it's super faint but I am so sure he shakes his head just a fraction and whispers 'it's not', and ugh I'm also convinced that he pressed his fingers just lightly against the back of her neck in like a tiny 'come here' gesture and she's barely fighting off the tears as she does, finally letting herself give in and believe that she can truly have him this time, that she can at last give him her heart completely. And ugh her hand lifts from his but falters, wanting to reach for him but unsure for a moment if this is just a comforting peck or if this is an everything-laid-bare, I'm-never-letting-go kind of kiss, and she soon realises it's the latter and curls her hand around the back of his neck as he buries his in her hair, the other gently gripping her arm, anchoring her to him, and ugh this is a kiss they could both happily live in forever; a real everything-out-in-the-open, no-more-hiding-or-pretending kiss, no more secrets, no more ghost-Taylor, just the two of them choosing each other. Just Kurt and Jane, finally kissing the person they're stupidly in love with. And god, part of me so hopes Patterson is still in her lab rn and happens to look at the video feeds just at the right time and is standing there with happy-tears in her eyes and her hands over her mouth to hold in her squeal, because the day had been full of fear and suffering and devastation and darkness and then there was this one tiny bright spark, this one beautiful and happy thing, and ugh I bet she mutters abuse at the secret service guys when they interrupt and is already anticipating the moment she visits Zapata later and gets to tell her about this because if anything makes her friend feel better, it'll be winning the bet that they've had going on since the other night in the bar and ughhhhh this is the first moment of sunshine through the clouds and the first time that she realises that maybe things might just be okay. And ugh back in the cell, Weller is super displeased about the Secret service interruption-- when they first arrive, he doesn't even seem to hear them straight away, bc for a split second when Jane pulls away he seems confused, grip tightening on her like he wants to pull her back in, and then he registers what was said and realises why she pulled back haha, and you can literally see him make a gesture like 'kind of in the middle of something here guys' lol. And then ugh when they say he needs to come with them, his body shifts, and as usual idc that their hands are out of shot, bc I am 100% certain that when he says 'I'm not leaving my people'-- meeting Jane's eyes as he says so-- he closes his hand over hers on her thigh, linking them like he's daring the agents to try to separate them. And then she tells him that he has to go and it's okay, and gives him this adorable little encouraging smile, and he gives a tiny huff like 'alright, wifey, but only because you said so' and ughhh he gets up and moves past her and their hands are still holding onto each other and he gives her fingers one last tiny squeeze before forcing himself to let go and ughhhh he walks out without looking back because he knows he has to go do his ~duty~ and if he looks back and sees her sitting alone on that bed he won't have the strength to leave. But his dedication to serving and protecting others is one of the things she loves about him and she would never want to stand in the way of that. Doesn't mean she won’t miss him like hell until he gets back, though.

Oh boy. Shepherd is all dressed up, medals and everything. I have to say she does look good in a beret. But hold on, this isn’t one of those situations where the person gets in their full military dress before killing themselves, right? Nope nevermind, she's making a video announcement. I'm intrigued by the two empty chairs beside her-- were they originally intended for Roman and Remi? Was this vid meant to be a family affair? And she claims responsibility for the attacks, blah-blahing about how the country is failing and needs to be rectified (look, I'm not necessarily arguing with that, but I sure disagree with her methods), and ugh as she talks we get little glimpses of Weller being taken somewhere unknown, while Patterson stands in the bullpen with tears running down her face, and Reade sits by Zapata's bedside, and Jane sees the R carved on the bed and grieves afresh for Roman. Ugh. Oh right, the empty chairs are for 'those we have lost and those who will take up the fight'-- so, they kinda are for Remi and Roman then. And apparently now is the dawn of a new America, and clearly Roman is as discomfited by this as the rest of us, because that definitely sounded like a victory speech. Given that she wants him to send it to the Times tomorrow, yet said 'Today's attacks', then clearly she has a lot more planned.... #shit

Aaand now Weller is being escorted into a mysterious bunker in a mountainside, having to surrender his gun and phone (noooo, how will you tell wifey you're okay??) as part of the Deputies' Committee protocols. And then we see the flashback to Briana getting him to sign those documents and well, nice work show. Way to plant that little seed early on haha. And now Weller's in the hands of the army, walking into... a giant, fancy conference room filled with official looking people. I love that Weller's focus isn’t on the guy addressing the group; it’s on the bunker doors sealing behind him, cutting him off from his team, and from Jane, for who knows how long. And he already knows that something about this is very, very wrong. And then he hears the words Continuity of Government Subcommittee-- COGS-- and sees the copy of the Truman protocol in his binder. Not to mention the fact that Keaton, Julia Chang of the CDC, and Agent Valentine of the DEA are all there, people who are all in place due to tattoo cases removing their superiors from power. And then he knows. Knows that THIS, the Truman protocol, is Phase 2. They are the new dawn of America, the new founding fathers (and mothers). Shepherd chose them all based on their leadership skills and morality, which is kind of a weird thing to think about when she is the exact type of thing that they will be protecting the country against. It's very ‘be the villain in order to become a hero’ kind of thing? But either way, literally everyone outside this bunker, including everyone Weller loves, is now in terrible mortal danger. And he has absolutely no way to stop it. #Checkmate