#maybe the doctor later chose to work directly for him

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

whirlwind works for fucking overlord what the hell

[avatarloverfrfr]

Dreamwalker Siblings

Chapter I: Cryo-sleep Masterlist Summary: Y/n and Jake Sully. Siblings, shipped off into the depths of space to explore the mysterious world of Pandora. Warnings: Mentions of death, reader is NOT excited at all, Constant reminder of deceased loved one. Word count: 3,6k

"You cannot ask this of us! Tommy is the scientist not us. He wanted to be shot light years into space, not us. We cannot do it." I shrieked, pleading with my brother for validation, but my cries were met with oppressive silence. His gaze fixed onto our fallen sibling, Tommy, robbed of life right before he went off to do the only thing that put a smile to his face. All sacrificed for the contents of his wallet.

"Your brother represented a significant investment, we'd urge you to accept taking over his contract." The man besides Jake had said, completely disregarding all that I had said. "I'm sure he would hate to have all his hard work go to waste, knowing someone so close to him would be able to continue his legacy." The second man, besides me, added with a curt nod.

Outrage boils within me at the audacity of these men, exploiting the loss of one of us, former triplets, as leverage against us. How dare they use Jake and I with their clear motives of greed, revealing to us that our worth to them is nothing but a budget they refuse to abandon.

"It'll be a fresh start, on a new world. And the pays good, very good." they said staring at Jake and I. Before I could even say something in retaliation. Jake had spoken for the first time that night. "We'll do it." Disbelief swept over me as I locked eyes with him. How could he agree so easily? How could he not see that these men were just using us— he probably could, yet chose to turn a bind eye.

"Perfect, Y/n we will get your Avatar ready, they will mature on the trip there." the men said walking out, leaving me in there with Jake.

"How could you just accept like that Jake. You caved! Just like that? You know they are just playing us, and you still went along with it! Don't you see–" I started, but he interrupted me. "Maybe you don't see it, but I do. We are dirt poor Y/n! Struggling... This cash could change everything. We could finally be able to live." he pleaded, desperate for understanding. "I could afford to use my legs again." he confessed.

While I was sitting there, next to my brother, a big whole blown right in the middle of our lives, I started having these dreams. Dreams that whispered secrets of possibility and untold wonders. Sooner or later though, you always have to wake up.

As I wake up, I glance around and it hits me, I'm in some sort of cryo pod. Flashbacks flood my mind, reminding me of the time before my life had got frozen, five years of my life, gone. The memories of Tommy's death, as if it was yesterday. 'We had to do it, so we could live." I think to myself, trying to find comfort in all of this.

"Rise and shine sleepy head." a doctor had greeted me as I exit the cryo pod I had spent the last five years of my life in. "We're here."

"Exo-packs on! Let's go! Exo packs on! Remember people, you lose that mask, you're unconscious in 20 seconds, and dead in four minutes–" I stopped listening to what the sergeant had to say. Looking around my eyes landing on Jake. We should not be here, this is not our home. But what's the point in dwelling now, there's no turning back. I think to myself while putting on my exo pack, adjusting it so oxygen could freely flow through.

"When that ramp comes down, go directly into the base. Do not stop! Go straight inside wait for my mark!" the sergeant yelled. Standing up I walk over to Jake who was still seated waiting for everyone in front of him to leave the air craft so that he was able to freely able to deploy his wheelchair.

"Let's go special case! Do not make me wait for you Sully's!" he barks. Not bothering to acknowledge him Jake and I walk off the ramp and onto Pandora, our "fresh start." Taking a long look around I spot soldiers, back on earth these guys were heroes, marines fighting for freedom. But out here they were all just a bunch of hired guns, serving the RDA until their last breath.

"You're not in Kansas anymore, you're on Pandora ladies and gentlemen–" the man, Quartrich, continued. Tommy was meant to be listening to this, not Jake and I.

"Excuse me. Excuse me. Jake!" a lanky man rushes up to us after the "safety brief." "You're Jake right? Tom's brother." he asked looking down at him to meet his eyes. I just stare at him, does he just not see me here?

"You look just like him." he says eyes finally landing on me. "Sorry– I forgot he had mentioned he had two siblings, Y/n. I'm Norm. Spellman. Went through Avatar training with him." he says leading us into some sort of bio-lab.

As Norm continues briefing us on the bio-lab procedures, my attention drifts, drawn to avatars in three separate cry-chambers. I approach them, circling until I stop at a particular one.

"Looks like him." Jake and I simultaneously say, not once taking our eyes off what our brother could have been.

"No, looks like you. This is your avatar now Jake." Norm reassures him placing a hand on Jakes shoulder before moving to the last tube in the bio-lab.

"And this is your avatar Y/n. She had to get to the lab as soon as possible, since you know–" Norm starts, but I cut in, "–I wasn't meant to be here. Yeah, I'm aware." I finish, stepping closer to my avatar.

She looks so much like me, except for the obvious differences. Blue skin, a queue, and her sheer size. "She's beautiful." I whisper, touching the glass, feeling a soft heartbeat pass between us.

"The idea is that every driver is matched to their own Avatar, so their nervous systems are in tune... Or something. That's why they offered us the gig. It's insanely expensive... Is this right? Do we just say whatever to the video log?" Jake questions turning to Norm and Max.

"And do we have to share the exact same camera to film these things?" I interject, trying to nudge Jake out of the screens view.

"Yeah, you both need to document everything you see, what you feel. Plus, you're twins, who knows if you both are able to feel the same emotions or not. It's all apart of the science." Norm explains, retuning to his work.

"Plus it'll keep you sane for the next six years," Norm adds chuckling.

"Not if I have to sit next to Mr. Jarhead it's not." I remark, rolling my eyes but smiling slightly.

"Look who's talking Miss. 'I might not be a marine, but I sure can beat your ass,' " Jake adds, playfully pushing me.

This was one the first times I had smiled since arriving to Pandora. Usually keeping a stoic face, only smiling around my brother. My only family, the only thing from my past life.

Entering the link room behind Norm and Max, we're greeted by a voice. "Who's got my goddamn cigarette?" a redheaded woman demands, emerging from one of the link pods.

"Grace Augustine is a legend. She's the head of the Avatar Program. She wrote the book, I mean literally write the book on Pandora botany." Norm gushes. "Well that's because she likes plants more than people." Max adds teasingly.

"Well, there she is, Cinderella back from the ball. Grace, I'd like you to meet Norm Spellman, and Jake and Y/n Sully." Max says pointing at each of us in turn.

"Norm, I've heard good things about you. How's your Na'vi?" she asks, completely ignoring my brother and me, then begins to speak in a language I can only assume is Na'vi.

"Uh- Grace, this is Jake and Y/n Sully," Max interjects, trying to redirect her attention.

"Yeah, yeah. I know who you are, and I don't need you. I need your brother. You know. the PhD who trained for years for this mission? Yeah him." she snaps.

"He's dead. We know it's a big inconvenience for everyone, including me." I reply bluntly. There's no need to sugar coat anything that's already happened.

"How much lab training have you had?" she asks, looking between Jake and I.

"We dissected a frog once." Jake simply states.

"You see? I mean, they're just pissing on us without even the courtesy of calling it rain. I mean hell, the girl isn't even supposed to be here! I'm going to Selfridge, this is such bullshit." she rants, storming off but not before putting out her cigar.

"Well she's kind." I remark dryly.

As Jake and I arrive precisely at the time Max had instructed us to the day before, 0800, Jake and I hasten to catch up with Grace and Norm, who are already stationed at the link pods.

"You're late Sully's. You're in there, you're here." Grace remarks, gesturing towards two pods for Jake and I, and we obediently follow her directions.

"How much have you both logged?" she inquires, turning to the screen besides Jakes link pod.

"Zip, but I read a manual." Jake replies with a nonchalant shrug, as he wheels over to his pod.

"I listened to him read it out loud, if that counts." I confess making my way to my own pod.

"Tell me you're joking." Grace says incredulously, as she abandons her work on Jakes screen to approach mine.

"So you just decided to venture out here, to the most hostile environment known to man with no training whatsoever and see how it went? What was going on through your head?" she questions, setting up both mine and Jakes link screens for launch.

"Maybe I was tired of doctors telling what I couldn't do." Jake retorts, lying down in this link pod. I look at him wondering if that is why he spared no chance in me saying anything back when those men asked us to take the place of Tommy, because he was tired of the life he had.

"Keep you arms in, heads down." Grace instructs, pushing me into my link bed before I had the chance to ask Jake what he had truly meant.

"Just relax and let your mind go blank." are the last words I hear Grace utter before she seals my link pod.

Off to the side, Max examines scans of Jake and my brain. Studying the intently, he remarks. "Jakes brain is gorgeous, with nice activity. However we're detecting some resistance in Y/n's brain. She's unconsciously pushing back against the transfer, if this continues it could potentially harm the link." he informs, turning to Grace for guidance.

"Once the link is established, it cannot be interrupted. It will only worsen the issue," Grace states matter-of-factly, keeping an eye on my Avatar. Stubborn and resistant to change- that's Grace's initial assessment of Y/n, even after less than 48 hrs of meeting her.

As my eyes flutter open, I'm greeted by a blinding light that pierces my eyes. A sharp ache throbs in my head, intensifying until two figures materialize before me- doctors, no doubt.

"She's awake. Y/n, can you hear me? Are you feeling alright?" the female doctor inquires, checking my expression for any sign of discomfort.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I reply, opting not to mention the pounding headache. Slowly, I sit up, only to find my hands adorned with five blue fingers.

"I made it." I murmur to myself in disbelief. Glancing around, I notice Jake already on his feet, a grin stretching across his face. He's standing, a sight I never thought I'd witness again, his legs finally functioning.

"Y/n you've got to see this. When's the last time you saw your brother standing tall, huh?" he exclaims, turning to face me while his tail knocks over everything in it's path.

Finally on my feet, I chuckle, "Bro, we're giants." The realisation hits me as I gaze at Jake and then towards the exit to find that he was already smiling at me– we're thinking the same thing. Tri– Twin telepathy perhaps?

Without a word Jake and I bolt, dodging Avatars engaged in a game of basketball, evading Norm and the two doctors running after us. We hurdle obstacles until a humanoid robot comes into view.

"Sorry! we both exclaim breathlessly, narrowly avoiding a collision as we skid to a stop near some flora. Catching our breath, we're approached by an avatar bearing striking resemblance to Grace.

"Hey, Sully's!" she calls out, closing in on us.

"Grace?" Jake questions, eyeing her up and down.

"Who else were you expecting numbnuts?" she retorts with a grin, with me laughing at the nickname Grace gave him.

As Jake and Grace catch up, I slip away into the area where Avatars are housed, searching for a change of attire. Opting for a top similar to Graces but in a deep shade of blue, that are about a shade darker than my current skin tone, pairing it with green cargo shorts. Hoping to blend in slightly to the flora and fauna of the forest.

Gazing up at the darkening sky, I realize it's nearly nightfall, meaning I had to delink for the night. "Alright, everyone, settle down! Lights out." Grace commands, ushering the remaining humans away.

"See you at dinner kiddos," she adds, flicking the lights off.

Lying back, I can still feel the remnants of the headache, but I decided to let sleep wash it away. Closing my eyes, I drift off into a peaceful slumber.

next II

Tag list: @pinkvrydag @neytirismissingtoe @youskawng @tsuteyssyulang @lylalaminated

[ethanxcho]

INTRODUCING . . . ETHAN CHO

full name: ethan cho

age: thirty-one

date of birth: june 30, 1993

gender: cis male

occupation: temp worker

neighborhood: south hills

IN A NUTSHELL . . .

car accident tw, death tw growing up as benji's younger brother, ethan found that he was given the responsibility to be everything his parents wanted both his older brother and him to be. the pressure was immense, but he took it in stride for many years. though school did not come easy to him, he worked hard to ensure that his grades stayed up. it was music that came naturally. when his fingers touched the piano keys, he was a different person. he continued to perform across the country and soon globally when he was in high school and in college. it was when he was 25 that tragedy struck in the form of a car accident that claimed his ability to ever play again. distraught, he spiraled into self-destructive tendencies and fell in with the wrong crowds as well. his parents tried to bring him back under their thumb when, a couple years later, he lost his closest friend. that changed him completely and he ended up cutting off almost all ties with his family, choosing to live alone and work odd jobs to pay the bills rather than taking even a dime from them. now he works as a mechanic, or on construction sites, as a bartender, as a dishwasher. you can find him anywhere that is loud.

IN THE WEEDS . . .

Ethan Cho was never meant to be the golden child. He was never meant to shoulder a burden that had been otherwise shrugged off by his elder brother. Born on a balmy June night, it was obvious from the start that Ethan close to ordinary, but would be required to be extraordinary. Somehow, despite seeing how his parents forced their decisions on him, Ethan did not complain. Call it filial piety, call it keeping the peace. Whatever the reason was, he chose to abide by the steps laid out for him, even when he was hardly the best at anything they put before him. Schooling was never the easiest for him. Grades did not come easy, but he worked immensely hard to keep them up.

There were a few options on the table for him. He could have gone on to become a doctor, like they wanted of his older brother. Or he could have chosen to partake in the family business. Ethan found his talents elsewhere. What started as an extracurricular that would get him into the best colleges in the country (if the Cho money was not enough) ended up turning into a passion and escape. He finally found what he was a natural at and had an uncanny talent for. Whenever he sat in front of the piano, it was as if he were coming home. And though he did not directly contravene his parents’ wishes growing up, the interest and desire to make this his full time job kept growing. As he traveled for performances through middle and high school, being away from the overbearing environment at home also felt liberating. He could understand why his brother had wanted to run and never look back. Yet by him doing so, Ethan was unable to. Call it that pesky feeling of indebtedness.

But he made one choice for himself. A compromise so to speak. He agreed to enter the family business down the line if he could simultaneously continue to develop his career in music. It took convincing (or maybe their conviction that this was a phase that would wear off). With an acceptance to Julliard, his travels continued with his performances. He gained a sufficient bit of recognition among those who appreciated classical music. His concerts were well attended. It was during an international trip that he lost his everything. Seriously injured in a car accident, after hours of surgery, he was nearly presumed dead. It was only after he came to that he realized that he could no longer play. Physical therapy taught him how to use his limbs once more, helping him regain fine motor skills and control of his hand. But there was no way he was able to go back to how he was before. The tremors in his hand never stopped and with this, Ethan felt his world crumble. He lost his outlet and his freedom in one well swoop. His parents were waiting with open arms, ready to usher him into the life he had promised he would return to. Yet he couldn’t. Not immediately.

For the first time, after losing everything that he had worked so hard for and had wanted in life, Ethan crumbled and spiraled. He began to fall in with the wrong kinds of people, doing things that would risk his life further, as though chasing death that he had just barely escaped. And once again, he would escape. As if the world was forcing him to live to see another day. He was a friend. One who knew him through everything. One who supported him through everything as well. One who tried to reason with him time and time again to pull him out of the self-destructive spiral he was going down. But it was only when Ethan lost this friend that he realized what he was doing and how far off the path he had veered. He’d come to pick Ethan up after one of his worse days, to take him home. In the wrong place at the wrong time, he was collateral damage in a mugging that took his life. A mugging that should have otherwise have claimed Ethan’s life.

When honey doesn’t work, it was time to use vinegar. His parents promised to make any investigation into Ethan and any word of his presence at the scene go away. So long as stopped ruining his life and did what they wanted. Yet this attempt to strongarm him back into their grasp backfired on his parents. He cut all ties with them in that moment and called them on their bluff. He carried that guilt with him and turned towards doing a number of odd jobs to distance himself from the sheer wealth he grew up with.  

[hobidreams]

june 1869.

you’ve never been able to hide from him.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff? words: 2.3k contains: choices, consequences.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 21. start from the beginning?

The moment you reach your private chambers, you collapse against the door. Your heart softly shudders with strain as you finally let the first tears fall, trickling steadily down your cheeks. The bundles you carried in fall to the floor as you cover your face with your cold hands, trying to stifle the quiet sobs that seem so determined to come.

You had gone into town after your work today. Walked down, escorted by a guard that you pretended wasn’t there. (The king now insisted upon such a thing whenever you left the palace walls, but you could tell the guard thought the job much beneath him.) You had just finished picking up a few ingredients from the market traders and was on your way to see if the bookstore had received new products when your attention had been caught by the sizeable crowd gathered outside the town clinic.

“Please, please, give me medicine for my daughter!” The peasant woman clutched a child that couldn’t have been more than two years old. The babe’s crying was as raucous as the yelling, the noisy mix of voices all clamoring with want.

“I need to see someone! My side— It hurts every day. I can’t work anymore. My family’s going to starve. I need treatment!”

The physician’s assistant stood on the clinic steps with folded arms and a bitter, hard look on his face. “Are we running a charity? We need to eat too! If you can’t pay, you can’t see the doctor!” He slammed the door in their faces, leaving them out in the sweltering heat, crying out that they could pay next week or as soon as they could, they just needed help right now, but the door remained shut.

Your chest felt stiflingly tight at the sight, compassion’s hand squeezing hard around your heart because you knew you could help. You had to help. You took a step forward, ready to offer your services only to have the guard block your way.

“Su-uinyeo-nim. We must return to the palace.”

“No, I want to stay.”

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. They could harm you.” And if they did, then his own head would likely be on the chopping block. Ridiculous.

“They won’t. They just need treatment, and I’m a physician.” You didn’t have many of your tools here but you could at least take a look, provide a diagnosis or recommend some easily obtainable herbs.

“The king would not approve of putting yourself in danger.”

You opened your mouth only to shut it. The king wouldn’t approve of a lot of things, but how could you just stand here and do nothing? These people, they needed your skills.

You took another step forward.

“Su-uinyeo-nim.” The guard’s voice was firm. He indicated for you to start walking away, towards home.

You shot him a stare, the hardest look you could conjure, but didn’t move. Not yet, damn it.

“Oh—uinyeo-nim!”

You dallied long enough. One of the women had evidently recognized your outfit and was now barreling towards you with a fire in her eyes. “Uinyeo-nim, you can help me, right!? It’s my daughter, she’s been having a fever and—”

“No, she cannot.” The guard’s glare was as sharp as the blade that the hand on his sword promised.

“Oh, please!” She threw herself against the arm the guard tried to reign her in with. Threw herself forward trying to reach you. “My daughter, my daughter will die if she’s not treated!”

“Let me—” You started, only for the guard to shove her harshly back since he could not do the same to you. She cried out, almost toppling over from the force as she clutched her baby, but he did not relent.

“We are leaving.”

He began to boldly walk towards you, practically into you, leaving you no choice in the matter. You were too afraid he might hurt her further if you did not comply even though every step away felt like a blow to your chest, like tiny fists pounding against your ribcage, making you sore and ache because the stark truth was that your inability to help her wasn’t even entirely the guard’s fault.

All those years ago, you chose to stay.

You never opened the affordable clinic mother had dreamed of. You put your feelings before the wellbeing of all those people you could have helped then, and you did it again today. Selfish. Selfish and helpless and selfish. For all the work you’ve done, it never feels like enough. There are always more patients in need and here you are, living among this extravagance and opulence but really getting nowhere. Not with the king. Not with how much change you can bring to the people.

Even your tears can only be shed here, in privacy and cowardice.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper through your blurry vision, but these are just words. They do nothing in the end and every choice feels like the wrong one and that there will only be dire consequences to follow them.

“Su-uinyeo-nim?”

At Eunuch Kim’s muted voice, you startle. Hurriedly, you wipe the backs of your hands against your eyes. “Y-Yes?”

“The king has requested your company tonight.”

“Oh.” Shit. You’re in no state to face him, not for what he has in mind, but you must go. “I-I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Just allow me to… change.” You push to your feet, onto shaky legs as you sniff.

“Of course.”

The brief walk over in the cool summer evening helps to pull some of the sorrow from your mind (or at least tucks it away to be revisited later when you find yourself as always, alone). Eunuch Kim is kind enough not to probe into the heaviness about you today; he simply chats about the latest novel he has picked up in town, a study of birds that he recommends heartily to you. The king is not so kind. The second you enter his chambers, tilt your head just enough for him to catch your eye, he frowns.

“You’ve been crying.”

It’s not a question.

“I, um, simply had some dust in my eyes, jeonha.”

Searching for a distraction, you begin to undo the tie of your blouse. You’ve never purposefully let him see you openly upset, or at least not since this ‘arrangement’ began.

“Dust. Really.”

You nod, unwilling to meet his stare.

The floorboard creaks as he steps towards you. Covers your hands with his own so he can strip you instead. You can’t tell if he believes you; he is so quiet while he pulls layer after layer from you, letting the fabric drop to the floor in bunches of crumpled white and light blue. The warmth of his fingers on your skin feels like comfort, even when it’s only a prelude to his desire.

Isn’t it stupid, that some excessive part of you wants him to openly refute your lies even as you tell them? To undress your mind as hungrily he does your body until you have no choice but to be bared and free, released from the burden of your own thoughts?

“Get on the bed.”

Maybe it’s better like this. You are the only woman he has ever known in this way; you can’t let yourself be so greedy, to again let that selfish part of you want and want and want so much that appetite consumes you, bones and all. You press your palms and knees to the hard bedding. Squeeze your eyes together. Force the tears to stay back while you wait for the burn to come.

His calloused hands land on your waist, but it’s to urge you to turn over instead.

“J-Jeonha?” you question, confused when you see him already on his knees, that piercing gaze provoking goosebumps from your skin. “Why…”

His hands find your ass, urging you towards the edge of the bed. He throws the top layer of his robes aside before he spreads your legs apart, letting them rest against the wood.

What… What is he doing? You find your answer as the sokgot strips fall to the floor beneath his touch and abruptly, before your poor heart has time to prepare itself, his breath blows warm across your clit.

“Ah, this—!” Wild-eyed, you try to squirm back, hot with embarrassment that his face is this close to your crotch. It floods you with worry after worry about your scent, the possible bumps marring your skin, the tufts of hair, but he doesn’t seem to care about any of it as he hooks his hands beneath your thighs. “You’re not—”

Soft lips and a slick tongue are pressed flush against you.

Your entire body seems to quiver at the first lick; a single taste of wetness followed by a second, a third, a relentless fourth that makes liquid pleasure crest, surging upwards, a high, rushing tide in mere seconds. You buck, hands finding no support upon the sheets and part of you wants to cover your face instead, to let die the moans that surface with each gasp but that means you would miss the sight. This unforgettable sight: inky eyes between your thighs, the quick, pink tip of his tongue swiping heat directly into your veins. It feels messy before he finds his rhythm, settles into a beat that only reaffirms how he is irrefutably dominant even while he is on his knees before you, for once not breaking you apart but making you feel so dizzyingly whole you could burst.

While his fingers have learned almost every inch of you, this remains a scenario you never even thought to entertain, never even thought he would want. His pleasing only you. His putting you at the forefront of even his own satisfaction. Stop. The grip on your thigh tightens; you never want him to let go. Stop giving me hope. He does anyway with a drawn out suck, his stare as hazy and heady as if he’s been drinking the most exquisite cheongju.

Your body is taut, sweat beading down your spine. “This is— I can’t—”

“You can,” he quips back, and whatever words you could have said are stolen by orgasm. Taken, and made unbecoming moans that blow past the last shreds of your resistance now resting between his teeth.

It overwhelms you, this newfound sensitivity from being consumed; it makes you want to shirk back but he doesn’t let you. Somehow one of your legs finds its way over his shoulder and he uses that momentum to keep you against his stunning mouth, giving you what you need but never what you want. Each lick nudges you further off the edge, finding an acute bliss past every limitation you thought you had and you think, feverishly you think — it’s like he’s giving you permission to fall apart.

Tears coalesce at the corner of your eyes but you don’t notice. You don’t even know they’re there until wetness trails down your cheeks and even then you’re distracted by another peak, this one a muted swell that makes your muscles tense around his thin frame; he supports your weight without a word of complaint as his strokes finally dwindle in time with your pulses until both drop off entirely.

As he lets your leg roll off his arm, his breaths come almost as unsteadily as yours. Slowly, he retracts his wide hands from your thighs. Rolling his tongue against the inside of his own cheek, you watch him paint your taste in his mouth and don’t know what to make of any of it.

It’s only when a few tears cling to your eyelashes and blur your vision that you realize what’s happening. How embarrassing. You told yourself you wouldn’t do this on the way here and look at you now. You’re about to reach up to wipe away the tears, the damning evidence of your weakness when the king wraps his hands tight around your wrists. Pushes you back. Presses his knees to the bed as he hovers above you, all silence and heat and him.

“Um, j-jeon—”

He leans down and cuts you off with a kiss.

You gasp into his mouth but he doesn’t pull away. He is just soft, persistent, firm, and soft as he moves naturally across territory that should have been unfamiliar, but instead it feels like he’s been mapping, planning this capture for as long as you have. An impossible dream, yes, but the warm breath ghosting across your skin, lingering, is real. You open for him. For your first kiss. Your first kiss with him.

The warm fingers at your wrist squeeze harder.

“You… You can cry.” His voice is a murmur, delicate and hesitant against your lips, as if imparting a secret. “If you want.”

So you do.

You finally let yourself cry while he kisses you again and again, adjusting his angle to push you further into the pillows, releasing a wrist to cup your wet cheek. He kisses you with his nose pressed to yours, a tiny, precious moan finding freedom from someone’s throat.

Yoongi, your mind recalls, clinging to the syllables that belong to a word you’ve never dared to say aloud as he kisses you, kisses you, kisses you until both your mouths are swollen and your chest feels a bit lighter, his a bit heavier in exchange.

And when he finally pulls away, he holds you. His arms accept all your gravity for just a few lingering minutes more, a few heartbeats more, until it’s time for you to go.

[l4verq]

fight back | b.b

bucky barnes x enhanced!reader

in which bucky won’t lay a hand on you no matter what :(

tags : a little brawl, fluff cause icanthelpmyself, mentions of blood, john walker (idk if we're supposed to like him now ??) bucky is a cat lady okk

fic : one shot

a/n : inspired by that scene in the final ep of tfatws when karli is screaming at sam to fight back lol😳

|| gif by @unearthlydust ||

-

one world, one people.

you repeat it in your head one more time, when he comes into view, vibranium gleaming onyx with loops of gold.

you know that he knows you’re here, back to the wall a few feet away, peeking at him.

he doesn’t know that you let him know.

doesn’t know that you laid out a trap and just like the foolish mouse, he walked right into the lion’s den.

although you’re not sure who the fool actually is, when you meet his eyes, knees almost buckling at the sight just cause of how long it’s been without them.

“y/n.” he breathes out, almost in disbelief.

it’s been fourteen months since he woke up to an empty bed and a handwritten goodbye letter folded in a clean white envelope, tucked under a pillow still marked by the soft indentation of your head.

fourteen months since you took off in the dead of night, pulling your- his hood over your head, the cold wind nipping at your skin, almost like it was punishing you.

maybe, it saw what you did.

oh, but fred definitely saw what you did, that damn cat always followed you two around even though it’s owner was the blonde next door. her name wasn’t even fred, bucky came up with it after the third time it snuck into the apartment.

he swore he hated it but always seemed to have a treat lying around in case it did come.

and it did, a lot. neglected by it’s owner, it chose to seek comfort in the couple next door, and sometimes a meal or two.

“sorry, no treat today bub.”

fred scowled - honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if an actual human was living in it - mewling as it came up to you for the usual chin rubs and cooes.

you sighed, caving into it’s antics, squatting to pet it.

cradling it’s head into your palm, she was purring, a very uncommon sight. fred doesn’t purr, she scratches and hisses at anything and everything that moves.

“you’re particularly nice today.” you commented, getting up. it mewled even louder this time but you turned on your heels and headed for the stairs.

you were already late.

your legs picked up pace quickly, easily crossing multiple blocks over in a few long strides owing to the blue serum coursing through your veins.

though your mind remained stationary, fixated on a single face, how it’d crumble at the sight of the letter, how he’d probably end up hating you.

“took you long enough.”

her auburn locks were tied into a loose braid that curved around her neck, the tip sat just below her collarbone, a piss poor job held together by a thin maroon colored band.

it was quintessentially her, the lack of utter patience to spend two minutes looping three knots of hair one over the other.

you jogged over to the other side of the black suv, noticing a stark white rectangle where a liscence plate should be.

“he’s knocked out cold,” you asked as soon as you grabbed the door handle open, “how?”

lazropthalein.

it came in the mail in a brown package, no return address. bucky wasn’t home, he had a scheduled therapy session down the block.

just a pinch is enough.

the text from the unknown number read.

it had no odour, a clean, white colour to it that blended in seamlessly with the flour.

“you baked without me?” bucky gasped, dramatically, hand covering his gaping mouth. his other hand carried two plastic bags, filled to the brim, a purple razor was poking out the top.

he even had to drop the poor bags on the floor, just to emphasize the utter shock he felt.

“i got bored.” you giggled, wiping the countertop with a wet cloth, remnants of flour on the sleek marble turning goopy under it.

“traitor.”

“it’s just cupcakes.”

“still a cake.”

you sighed, “you’re a five year old.”

he huffed, trudging towards the living room, shoulders hunched to really hone in on just how devastating this was for him.

“don’t i get a hug?” you held your arms out, making grabby hands, following him.

apparently, the devastation was to the point where he had to bring out the big guns, the sad baby blues.

the act lasted for another minute? at best. hours later, he was happily munching away.

“i know why it tastes so good.” he moaned, smacking his lips.

your smile faltered a little, did he kn- no, there’s no way he could have known. you burned that little plastic bag as soon as you dumped a pinch in.

“yea?”

he grinned, popping the last bit left in “it was made with your love.”

“how did it work?” your voice rose several octaves higher, amplified further by the cool, silent night.

drugs and sedatives don’t work on supersoldiers yet a certain blue eyed one was back home, unmoving even if you screamed right into his ears.

“dr wilfred, he invented it. the power broker wanted something to balance out our,” she flared her hands at both of you, “super-soldierness, so that we don’t have an upper hand when all’s said and done.”

would the either of you even be alive when all was said and done?

“look, i know you didn’t want to do this but james, he won’t understand. he’s not one o-..”

“yea, can we jus- let’s just get out of here.” you get in beside her, whipping the seatbelt over your torso.

the car was stuffy, felt like a choke around your neck that only seemed to tighten more and more.

“if we go now, there’s no coming back.” she glances at you, hand curled over the gearstick ready to position it in place.

she was giving you an out, one last chance. karli was a lot of things and having a heart inside that cold, bitchy exterior was one.

“i know.”

you sunk deeper into your seat, the hoodie had a faint smell of burnt toast and that cologne which was on sale, almost half off if you cut out the taxes.

it smelled like him, too much like him.

until it didn’t after a few days. but you still slept with it, just outright refusing to wash it despite karli’s snarky remarks about hygiene.

hygiene could go fuck herself, for all you know.

compared to the motels and basements you guys shifted around in, that hoodie was a doctor’s scrubs.

when the moon hung low on the black sky, you tried not to think about him too much. the silence didn’t help, you needed something to drown out your thoughts. that’s when the ‘socialising’ with the other flag smashers started. they were nice.

nice cause you were the leader’s little sister. but also a huge fucking liability because of a certain supersoldier hot on their heels in search of you, ruining every goddamn plan so their niceness was.. limited.

karli was a natural when it came to it, all of it. the talking, rallying of supporters - fuck, she just had a way with words. she could make you believe she hung up the stars in the sky.

probably how she convinced you that holding a room chock full of council members hostage right smack in the middle of nyc was a good idea.

the only idea, more precisely.

you guys had the upper hand, more than a handful supersoldiers at your disposal, capable of taking down the entire military force if you so pleased.

the only playing card they had was one supersoldier, who was better off distracted, kept off the field.

so who better to send to do the deed than the love of his life.

“fred had a baby. multiple babies, spawn of the devil if you ask me. always running around, thrashing the place up.” he takes small steps towards you, slow and calculated, as if a lion stalking around a prey.

“you shouldn’t be here.” you lie through your teeth, a tiny white compared to the ones that’ve rolled off your tongue before.

“i think the neighbours call me a cat lady now,” his eyes shift around and he leans in to whisper, “they haven’t even seen my knitting skills yet.”

“stop.” you think you said it or much rather whispered it, your voice was failing you. he’s getting close, too close for your liking so why aren’t you backing away from him?

“fred misses you, you know. she wonders where you went.” he smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

the hairs on your neck shoot up, a slight twitch of your brow. the way bucky’s ear perk up, you realise it’s not just you and him here anymore.

someone else has arrived.

“i’ve got it handled, john.” bucky turns around, plants him directly infront of you, blocking john’s view of you.

sure enough, it’s john limping in, a nasty gash across his chest.

your blood runs cold because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

john isn’t supposed to be here, he’s supposed to be fighting.. oh god. you notice the various splatters of blood on his cowl, on his boot, on his shield.

it’s too much blood from a guy who’s barely bleeding.

“really? i was thinking you should do more than just talk.” he spits on the ground and wipes his mouth.

you notice, the spit’s all blood too.

“i’m giving you a chance to walk away, right now.”

john snorts, leaning sideways to get a view of you, neck craned out.

“and leave this prize all to yourself?” he grins, “i’d be an idiot.”

“you have a death wish then.” you lift your chin a little higher, praying your quickening heartbeat doesn’t give away your calm exterior.

john whistles, grimacing as he straightens, “so, she does talk.”

you scowl, crossing your arms.

he’s in bad shape. he has no chance, not that he ever did even in his best shape. he knows that too yet he’s still here. that sends a chill up your spine.

“go, i got this.” bucky tips his head, glancing at you.

“i don’t need you to save me.” you hiss at him, which comes out a little harsher than you intended. an apology dies in your throat as he flinches just the slightest.

“trouble in paradise?” john’s barely finished saying it before he’s reached behind his back and swinging the vibranium

you hear it before you see it stopped mid air by a gloved hand. then you charge.

it’s all a hazy mix of blue and red until your fist connects with his jaw, sound of something breaking ringing in your ear.

something pulls your waist back, a grip far too strong to be just flesh.

“go, i’ll ta-..” bucky’s barely said anything before an upward cut from john connects to his neck, violent coughs ensuing.

you grip john’s arm before he’s even retracted it back, jump up his back, settling around his neck and twist until you hear a crack and a bloodcurling scream following suit.

he whips his head back right into your stomach, seizes that moment when the wind knocks out of you to pull you by your hair off him.

“i told you to go.” bucky growls, kicking john right in the shin that makes him kneel and you almost fall off but you keep your fingers tightly looped around john’s hair, pulling as hard you can.

but he’s relentless.

your head hits something hard and you realise you’re on the ground now, legs loosely around john’s shoulders, him also on the ground.

it’s like the both of you realise at the same time but you’re quicker. your legs tighten around his neck, against the spot where a thick neck muscle throbs. he claws desperately around, straining for oxygen

soon, his hands lull down, the dull thud on the ground confirming his unconsciousness.

“are you hurt?” bucky’s hovering over you, seemingly unfazed by john’s neck in a chokehold by your legs right now.

you reject his hand he extends and push yourself off the gravelly concrete on to your feet.

“this was a mistake.” you trail off, saying it more to your own self.

you weren’t the lion, you were the stupid fox who thought it was.

stupid enough to believe you were over bucky and that everything wouldn’t come rushing back as soon as you laid eyes on him.

he whips you around by your hand and before you know it, he’s already caught your other fist heading for his sternum. you barely feel the grip, it’s soft, just so incredibly soft and fits so right.

you hate it.

rage bubbles inside you, mostly at yourself. partly at him because he’s not screaming at you or slamming you against the wall or jus- anything.

you wrench your hand away, land a swing which he does nothing to block. his grip on your other hand loosens and he still does nothing when another hit to the jaw leaves him staggering,

instead, he looks at you softly as if resigning himself to your anger, to let it simmer off.

“fight back!” you scream, outstretched palms pushing him back.

he stumbles a few steps back, hands reaching out to yours resting on his chest, fingers intertwining yours tightly.

“stop.” it’s a soft plead, tears spiking the corners of his eyes.

“hit me!” you’re practically begging at this point, thrashing your arms around.

his hands grapple at your shoulders, bringing you to his chest, “it’s okay.”

he smells so sweet, just so sweet that you almost believe him.

“i drugged you and i left you and i-,” you inhale sharply, “i killed so many people, bucky.”

the last fourteen months had escalated quickly from doing what’s right to doing what’s needed, lines blurred between moral ethics and survival.

“it’s okay.” he repeats, hand patting your hair, gentle and soothing. your body betrays you, sinking into his touch, his warmth.

“you should hate me.” you whimper.

you wouldn’t blame him if he did. you doubt he could hate you more than you already did yourself.

he pulls back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “i couldn’t if i tried.”

god, why does he have to be so.. bucky?

frustated, you spit out, “this? this was a distraction to separate you and sam.”

you don’t say it but it’s understood, understood that you wouldn’t have met him if not for it.

the inner corners of his brows angle up slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “i know.”

your breath hitches, if he knows then wh-

“then, why..?”

you finally look up at him, vision blurry because of the stupid tears pooling at your eyes.

his thumb wipes away a tear dribbling down your cheek, the coldness of the metal a clear contrast to the warm moisture, “you know why.”

-

a/n : this one’s been sitting pretty, collecting cobwebs in my drafts so thought i’d take it out lol, also haven’t been posting fics in a whileeee cause im dumb and i’ve been working on multiple things all at once lol yea this is me rambling and also i just wanna say that i. love. folklore. sm. that whole album has me crying and sad and just :((

[calliecat93]

Okay, I know that the Spones content in Bread and Circuses has been talked about before, so I’m likely adding nothing new. But heck with it, I’m talking about it anyways cause it’s just too good not to!

The episode has Spock and McCoy somewhat saltier towards each other than usual. From the second the episode resumes after the opening credits, they’re snarking at each other almost immediately. It goes on for so long that we have the guest character outright ask Kirk if they’re enemies, and even he isn’t for sure. It’s almost like one of the writers anticipated the fact that some would legit think that the two genuinely hated each other, and decided to ask the question. For the most part, their banter is mutual and they’re clearly trying to rouse a reaction from the other.Even when at gunpoint, McCoy just HAS to snap at Spock for “[being] so blasted honest?’. Spock’s raised brow to me almost came across like ‘really doctor? must you be like this now?”. It’s got some amusing stuff, like the banter in the beginning and McCoy of all being being the one to suggest illogic regarding sun worshipers has Spock giving some utterly hilarious facial expressions. But still, the banter goes enough that event he audience has to ask: are these two truly enemies.

The rest of their scenes answer the question.

During the gladiator fight, McCoy’s still so pissed off that even fighting to the death won’t stop him from yelling at Spock when he asks if he needs help. Stress and you know… trying not to die is a factor, but still. But since McCoy’s a doctor, not a warrior he’s about to be killed… until Spock takes out his own opponent and nerve punches McCoy’s before he can be harmed. Doing this breaks the rules and Kirk chooses to take what would be their death sentence upon himself. Spock acted on pure instinct in that instant. Or even more bluntly, it was an emotional response. He interfered because he didn’t want McCoy to die, and he was the only one in a positon to save him. He even seems pretty started that he did so. But because of i, now Kirk is going to die in their places and neither he nor McCoy can do anything about it. He outright pulls at the cell bars, according to McCoy, fifteen times. Logically it’s pretty clear that it’s not working.

With this, McCoy’s now cooled down enough that he legitimately tries to thank Spock for saving him. It’s awkward, neither one are very good at having heart-to-hearts with each other. Spock pretty much acts like it’s the usual banter and kind of condescendingly before telling him to get to the point, which causes McCoy to just snap it out at him. Spock tries to go into the usual ‘I’m a logical Vulcan’ spiel, saying quote:

Spock: Oh, yes. You humans have that emotional need to express gratitude. You're welcome, I believe, is the correct response. However, Doctor, you must remember I am entirely motivated by logic. The loss of our ship's surgeon, whatever I think of his skill, would mean a reduction in the efficiency of the Enterprise and therefore-.

Which is what finally gets McCoy pissed off enough to directly confront him about it. Why? Because he knows that Spock’s spitballing here. He’s trying to deny his emotional responses, despite having demonstrated it at least twice with McCoy right there for both of them. Saving McCoy despite knowing the consequences of doing so was an emotional response. Trying to escape the cell due to Jim’s life being in danger despite all efforts failing is an emotional response. He tries to say it’s just due to professionalism, but at this point there’s been enough episodes that the audience knows that that’s not true. McCoy absolutely knows it. He knows how Spock tends to keep his emotions suppressed and deny that he even has them, even though he very clearly does. It is a factor that has continuously frustrated McCoy. He’d never force Spock to be outwardly emotional, Plato’s Stepchildren made that VERY clear. But when it DOES happen and Spock tries to act otherwise? And after having dealt with this for nearly two years now? Yeah, McCoy decides that he’s had it as he grabs Spock, turns him around so that they’re making clear eye-contact, and makes his opinion VERY clear.

McCoy: Do you know why you're not afraid to die, Spock? You're more afraid of living. Each day you stay alive is just one more day you might slip and let your human half peek out. That's it, isn't it? Insecurity. Why, you wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling.

Which… he’s not entirely wrong. Even during this, Spock turns away from him like he doesn’t want to talk about it. But McCoy’s right. Spock’s been at war with his Vulcan and human halves for his entire life. He chose to suppress the human half, and it peaking out does concern him. He isn’t able to settle two sides, hence why he’s always insistent about being a logical, unfeelign Vulcan. Now we all know that Vulcans DO feel things. Very strongly in fact, hence why they suppress it to begin with. But I do think it’s safe to say that Spock is afraid of expressing or even talking about his emotions. Whenever he does, he needs to get his grip back on the Vulcan side as quickly as possible. Even though he knows that McCoy knows otherwise. McCoy is pretty damn good at picking up on Spock’s emotional state and Spock knows it. And I think to at least an extent, he knows that McCoy’s correct. McCoy might be being too harsh admittedly, but the point is there. Spock is afraid of letting his human half slip out and the constant struggle of keeping it in check.

I think this is what makes their relationship so important. McCoy’s really the only person who can provoke Spock like this. Sure Kirk can normally reach out to Spock, but he’s not as likely to directly confront Spock and be blunt about it the same way that McCoy can. Spock’s also really the only person who’s ever been able to provoke McCoy and get him think past his own perspective the way that he does. It’s vitriolic in many ways. Like I said, it’s hard for them to really be civil with each other most of the time. Even here when McCoy did try to start off as civil when he tried thanking Spock, it ultimately devolved into another argument. Even McCoy expressed that he isn’t sure why it’s always like this when he says “ I know we've had our disagreements. Maybe they're jokes. I don't know.” But I do think that the episode demonstrates the answer to the queation of if they’re enemies. The short answer is no. The long answer is that they have a very complicated relationship that on a surface level, comes across as hatred. It gets to the point where even they aren’t fully sure. But the truth is they do care about each other greatly. They understand each other a great deal. They’re the only ones who can reach out to the other. The way that they show it is unorthodox sure, but it’s how it works for them.

And even when they are particularly heated, it always ends with them coming down from it and finding a point of unity. In this case, there is absolutely one thing that they can agree on.

Spock: Really, Doctor?

McCoy: I know. I'm worried about Jim, too.

While their concern for Jim is true, I think McCoy brought used that more as a way to bring them both back down after the exchange. Jim and his well-being is very much the one thing that they can agree on. I serves as a calming down point for them n this particular instant. After this while they don’t have anymore direct interactions, they seem to be on good terms and even enter the Bridge together at the end. They still have their heated moments in later episodes such as The Paradise Syndrome and The Tholian Web. But I think that for those who really do think that Spock and McCoy hate each other, I’d say watch this episode again and give their interactios a closer look. Especially the prison scene. Because it shows that for all their banter, for all their differences, there is a strong connection that is very much uniquely them.

[bugworld4ever]

Old Kings & Wedding Rings || one

MASTERLIST:

1919

Matilda had often wondered what her parents would think of her lifestyle. Entangled with gangsters and drugs and dangerous weapons, especially considering she thought herself a connoisseur of all three.

The truth was there was nothing they could think of her because they would've had to have been alive to think it.

At the age of eight, Matilda had lost both her parents in relatively quick succession. Her mother, Joan, a woman whose obituary had described as ‘sweet and gentle’ but whose loved ones had described as ‘loud and untameable’, had died first, shortly after contracting tuberculosis at the hospital where she worked. The shock had been immeasurable to poor Matilda who had left for school that morning with two attentive parents- one of whom was seemingly recovering well from her recent illness- and had returned home essentially as an orphan. Upon feeling suddenly lightheaded Joan had chosen to lay down and take a brief nap from which she had not woken up. Matilda’s father, William, had then found his wife and best friend dead on their sofa, in the middle of their living room, in their otherwise normal and peaceful home no later than midday. He was struck by the oddness of it first, that his greatest fear would not look at all terrible and in fact looked almost blissful. His childhood sweetheart sleeping sweetly in the home they had decorated together, sunlight highlighting her red hair.

It was perhaps this discrepancy that drove him over the edge, he called for the doctor and poured himself a drink (and then a second and a third) as he awaited his arrival. After the worst was confirmed and the body taken away, William Pond sat in the chair furthest from the sofa and realised that he could no longer bring himself to care about anything at all. He had not cried yet (this would come in the evening when he settled into bed) and then remembered Matilda and was shocked he had not thought of her sooner. He had loved his wife very much and did love his daughter but he had not wanted children whereas his wife was desperate for them. He loved Matilda because she was his wife’s favourite gift, a monument to the selflessness of his love. He had been pouring his sixth drink when his daughter returned and his seventh when he told her that her mother was dead.

In the following months William had found himself betting and drinking away all the money they had. Matilda had learned how to feed herself and dress herself and how to convince the gangsters at the door that her father was not home and would not be for some time. However as his debts grew this last task became harder to do as the debt reached truly unpayable levels. Any normal man in this situation would beg and promise anything to repay what he owed, yet when the two Peaky Blinders stood before him in his living room (the same room in which his wife had died and his life had collapsed) he did not feel the urge.

Matilda, stood in her bedroom doorway, watched as a man in a flat cap and a woman in a fur coat offered her father a way out of his debt in the form of his service to their ‘company’ and then watched as her father refused and chose the gun instead. The woman had fussed at the man and whispered something about ‘a child’ before turning and looking directly at Matilda.

Not that Matilda had seen this glance, as she was still focused on her dead father on the living room floor. She didn't cry and she would later on, she had already mourned her father.

The woman had then made her way over to Matilda, offered the girl her hand and smiled a warm but tight lipped smile. Despite being taught not to leave with strangers, Matilda did just that. There had been a kindness there, even after the violence, which made her not seem like a stranger at all.

This was the moment that had undoubtedly made Matilda who she was. Or maybe it was another in the months since her mothers death. But the point stood that when she let herself follow the woman (who introduced herself tentatively as Polly) she had made the choice to be a part of this world.

From that day on, Matilda Pond was raised among the bets and the bruises by a woman who had so vehemently wanted to keep her away from the business. Yet at 12, Matilda had taught herself to pick pockets and locks and had become rather good at it, a feat which had gained her some notoriety among the younger Peaky Blinders Polly frequently cared for. Polly had desperately tried to keep Matilda and the boys apart, hoping the young girl would bond with their sister, Ada. However the two had failed to fit together in the way Polly had hoped. Being a few years older Matilda had outgrown the youthful games that Ada was still so fond of, Matilda no longer wanted to play the kind of pretend where you cared for your own little family. She had already done that and had no intention of doing it again.

Polly had seen a ferocity in Matilda's eyes that threatened to tip over into real deviousness. She also knew that her boys were exactly the type to make that happen.

It was John who had befriended her first, the two were the same age and in the same class at school, he had approached her with a proposition- if she stole from the sweet stall in the market, he would sell it on and they could split the profit. A win for both of them. She gladly accepted and the plan had worked marvellously for the first few weeks with her and the boy quickly becoming fast friends. The whole scheme had come crashing down three weeks from its beginning when Polly had found the two of them in the alley beside the betting shop, eating the merchandise they were supposed to be selling. After interrogating them for no less than an hour Polly had unearthed the source of the stolen goods and had marched them to the market stall to apologise. However when they got there, the owner admitted that he had never noticed Matilda stealing from him and had blamed his stock discrepancies on his new apprentice.

It was at this moment Polly realised she had raised another Peaky Blinder.

After that there no longer seemed to be a point in keeping Matilda and the boys apart, they had sought each other out alone anyway- and who was Polly to argue with fate? As Matilda grew older her friendship with John had grown, the other boys had very different reactions to her.Arthur Shelby was almost scared of Matilda, who had become no less than a terror and one of the most cunning people he had ever met, all while having the face of an angel. He kept her at arm's length as if scared she’d bite yet utterly respected her.

Thomas was less of a fan. He did not fear nor respect her nor think anything of her at all. He avoided her daily and fought against her promotion in the gang at every turn. On her 14th birthday he had told her she wasn’t smart enough or strong enough or ruthless enough to be a Peaky Blinder. She had taken his own cap off his head and cut him with it. Neither apologised.

Only when the war came did things truly change for Matilda, she was needed then in the Shelby company to do the hard work while the boys were away. Polly could no longer protest when she handled the gang's affairs- they both knew she had a natural affinity for it and they could not afford to waste her talents. To the surprise of everyone but Polly and Ada the previously overlooked girl who quietly recorded the bets and doled out winnings had seamlessly stepped into the shoes of the now infamous Tommy Shelby.

With Polly to guide her she had quickly built a reputation for herself as thoroughly ruthless. Each time Matilda left to settle a debt she thought of her father and how she had to learn to fend for herself and each time she returned to the shop having been successful. She would not be taken advantage of, the people of Small Heath had learned to listen for the clack of her heels along the cobblestone and watch for a flash of her auburn hair on the street.

It was Matilda and Polly who had kept the Peaky Blinders afloat while the men were in France and neither had been pleased about surrendering the reins when they returned. Matilda had wanted to make Tommy beg her to hand back control, she wanted him to kneel and plead with her. Not long after he returned she had told him as much, the two stood chest to chest both utterly unflinching. She tipped her head back and looked him in the eye, noticing then that the blue seemed much colder than it had been when he had left and this fight would be harder than she had anticipated. Wholly emotionless he met her gave and uttered a simple ‘No.’

Matilda tilted her head and that was when Tommy saw it, the Matilda who had garnered herself this fearsome reputation, who had done his job while he was away and made it look easy. The one feared throughout his hometown. He wasn’t the only one the war had changed. He took a deep sigh before speaking again.

‘I will promote you though. How’s that?’ The question was smug and made her want to cut him again. But she had gotten this far because she knew when and how to act. She smiled a cat-like smile and turned on her heel and left, brushing past an amused Polly on the way out.

That was a year ago and true to his word Tommy had promoted her. He would have called her his advisor if he listened to her advice, she might have called herself his right-hand if she did what he asked of her. They shared a complex dynamic; Both of them worked for the same goal completely separately. While it frustrated Tommy to no end, he knew that even when she did not follow his orders, she had a plan and that the plan would almost certainly be successful.

Matilda had less confidence in the man than he did in her. Or maybe it was less patience about being told what to do. Truthfully she would have liked him taking orders from her more than she wanted to be at the helm. She didn’t just want his position, she wanted to take it from him.

[screechthemighty]

An Essay About Resident Evil: Village That No One Asked For But I’m Posting It Anyways

So, the Beneviento House is my favorite part of Village for two reasons. One: it’s the scariest part of the game, don’t @ me. Two: On a second play through, it actually reveals a lot about the issues in Ethan and Mia’s marriage. There’s a lot to unpack here with that, but the tl;dr of it is this: I believe what Ethan experiences in House Beneviento is trip into Ethan’s psyche rather than an actual, physical event, and this trip confirms that his arguments with Mia were made worse by a) him worrying about Rose more than he worries about himself, and b) him assuming that Mia is worried about the same things he is; thus, his hallucinations of her are more a reflection of himself than they are of reality.

All of my logic and evidence is under the cut. Fair warning, it’s very long, I am so sorry, I really am. Aso, please note this is NOT a Mia-bashing post. We do not engage in Mia-bashing on this blog. Please go to someone else’s blog if you want to engage in Mia-bashing. Thank you.

There’s two important things to establish here. First: I think that 99% of what Ethan experiences in House Beneviento isn’t real, and is at least partially a manifestation of Ethan’s inner psyche. The evidence is as follows:

It makes no sense that Ethan would lose his entire inventory within the space of 0.5 seconds after the lights shut off. It makes much more sense that mind control made him think he no longer had a gun.

Several of the items and information used in the puzzles are things that Donna, logically, shouldn’t have access to. The music box was still in their home when Chris arrived (which wasn’t that long ago, keep in mind), I doubt Miranda cared enough to find out Rose’s preferred toys and the identity of who gifted them the music box, and there’s no way Donna would be able to get that picture of “Mia’s” dead body. Mia’s wedding ring is tentatively on this list, too; Donna would have access to it, since Mia was being held captive at the time, but I can’t remember if Mia is still wearing it when Chris saves her, so put that one down as a “maybe.”

You stab Angie (or, more properly, stab Donna) for the final time in the back room by the elevator. However, right after stabbing and killing her, you are suddenly by the front door again, the main part of the house is in shambles in a way that suggests a struggle, and you’re not holding the scissors anymore. If you try to backtrack to check the elevator, the door leading to that part of the house is locked (presumably From The Other Side, as they often are in RE).

Additionally, your entire inventory is spontaneously back in your pockets. In Biohazard, if you had inventory taken off of you, it had to be retrieved from a box later. Not this time (though, granted, this game doesn’t HAVE inventory boxes, but it’s an interesting detail when combined with everything else).

All of this, to me, points to Ethan having probably never left the main foyer throughout the majority of that mind trip. As for the hallucinations being fueled mostly by his psyche, a diary entry from the gardener mentions that the plants made him hallucinate his deceased wife, and as mentioned above, a lot of the puzzle relates to things specific and personal to Ethan. While I don’t doubt that Donna could and probably did influence the hallucination a bit (she is a puppet master after all), the building blocks were all there in Ethan’s head.

Second Important Thing to Establish: Ethan was completely missing the point during his arguments with Mia in the lead up to Village.

I’m of the opinion that the fights Ethan mentions in his diary were not a constant thing. I think they only started, at the earliest, while Mia was pregnant, but for sure after Rose was born. This is because pretty much all the canon evidence we see about their fights circles back to Rose. The diary entry where Ethan describes the fight they had is dated four days before Ethan’s death; meanwhile, the flashback fight (which is most likely of that very fight) is triggered by a conversation about Rose’s doctor’s visit and uses language that implies a lot of their talks (and presumably arguments) about “staying positive” have to do specifically with Rose and the move.

It’s also worth keeping in mind how much of Ethan’s thoughts about Dulvey and moving past it are related to Rose. Like, yeah, I’m sure he wants Mia to heal for her own good and he’d like to heal for his own good. That’s to be expected. But whenever he talks about moving to Europe and healing from Dulvey, it’s also about doing it for Rose and for her benefit (“so we can live our lives with Rose without it hanging over our heads” in the diary, “We moved here so that she wouldn’t have to deal with any of that” in the argument with “Mia” at the start). Additionally, in the flashback he says, “[Rose]’s going to be fine, I just know it. What else matters?” Rose is Ethan’s #1 priority and much of his concern is focused on her.

But—and this is the important thing here—not all of Mia’s is. The end of the game reveals that Mia knew, most likely as a result of her pregnancy with Rose, that Ethan was a megamycete hybrid.  In the flashback fight, she says, “I keep telling you, it’s not Rose that I’m worried about”, and the one moment when she truly explodes on him is after he implies that the only thing that matters is Rose’s safety. “We matter, Ethan! YOU matter! You just won’t-” Her exact words. We never find out what the won’t is, but I have a feeling what she’s getting at is that Ethan is unwilling to look past his worries about Rose and always circles the argument back to her. Now, we don’t see this directly, as we’re only privy to one real argument of theirs (Miranda being bitchy doesn’t count), but there’s past evidence to suggest this was probably the case.

The thing about Ethan is that he can be single-minded in his protective instinct, and we’ve known this since the last game. There’s a little throwaway moment in Biohazard where Mia thanks Ethan for choosing to save her over Zoe. He responds “Who the hell else was I going to choose?” with like, zero hesitation, and she seems taken aback by the response. Now, of course, Mia being his choice makes sense, she’s the whole reason he came here, But Zoe did still help him out, and she is still a victim in all of this. She deserved to get out of there as much as Mia did. But Ethan chose Mia without any hesitation, would have chosen her every time, and while he did promise (and keep said promise) to help Zoe, Mia was his top priority. He lost a limb (or two, depending) and dragged himself through hell for Mia—and keep in mind, this is despite him being on some level aware of the fact that she was involved in all that mess (he POINT BLANK ASKS, “You had something to do with all of this, didn’t you?”) and after she’d behaved aggressively towards him (granted, that was while she was under mind control, but that would definitely give some people pause).

Ethan cares about other people in his life first and foremost. Ethan barely cares about himself. He focuses on saving Mia at the expense of his own safety and someone else’s, and when things start getting bad again after Dulvey, his sole focus is on how it could affect Rose. I have a feeling a big part of the reasons the disagreements happened, in addition to Mia keeping information from him, was Ethan focusing on Rose’s safety, as if it’s the only thing that they could have to be worried about, and how frustrating that must have been for the woman who has seen first hand what Ethan is like and how much trouble his intense protectiveness can get him in. (Note: this does not excuse Mia from not just like. Telling him the truth, but I have my own theories about that, so we’ll leave it at “they were both talking past each other in a big way and that wasn’t helping the marriage any” because my analysis of Mia as a character is WAY beyond the scope of this post.)

Now, you’d think, you’d think with Mia having repeatedly telegraphed that Rose isn’t the problem here, that Ethan would on some level be aware of the fact that something else is going on. But he isn’t, or at least, he isn’t aware of the right things, and Beneviento House proves it.

So, Ethan is having a hell of a bad trip based off of his own insecurities and fears: his unresolved issues with Mia and his daughter’s safety. We have established above that Ethan has completely been misreading his arguments, and with that in mind, everything that Hallucination!Mia says from the second you see her gets really interesting. Starting with:

“Rose feels different. Ethan, you have to fix her” and “That’s a kick. […] She’s so energetic, it’s crazy.” Mia most likely caught on during the pregnancy that something was different about Rose. They were already ordering medical reports, including fungal pathogen testing by the BSAA, and her health was a definite source of anxiety for Ethan (his response to reading her medical file being a relieved sigh). Mia notices something is different about Rose, probably works it out, and realizes what the wider implications are for the family. Ethan is just plain worried about his daughter’s health, assumes Mia’s worries match his own, and that assumption is reflected in both the memories that come to the surface and the words his psyche put in Mia’s mouth.

“I can’t tell Ethan anything about this”, “Everyone leaves me, even Rose. I don’t want to be alone” and “I didn’t want to keep it from you. I didn’t want to lose you again. I didn’t want to destroy this family. I love you both so much. I had to. I had to do it.” Now, I don’t think the last two are anything Mia has directly said, but they all could be Ethan’s interpretation of her recent behavior. As mentioned above, he’s already aware that she’s kept at least one secret from him, and seems to know something is going on with Rose. If Mia’s not telling me, it’s because she’s worried about both of us, and doesn’t want to break up the family.

This one is a bit of conjecture and my own personal interpretation of Mia, but you’ve come this far, so hear me out: through these hallucinations, Ethan reads the aggressive secret-keeping as an attempt to keep the family together so that Mia won’t be abandoned again. I think he’s probably at least partially correct in that assumption. However, I think it’s also partially a projection of his own desires and motivations (keeping his family together at any costs). On top of that, he’s definitely missing the fact that Mia knows something is up with him as well. Telling Ethan doesn’t just potentially mean wrecking the family; it could wreck him on a personal level, and put him in a lot of danger. So while Ethan assumes it’s just about the family, there’s a lot more on Mia’s mind. That a lot more just isn’t reflected because Ethan doesn’t know.

The final bits of audio you hear are Mia crying for Rose, then repeating to herself that everything is going to be fine. Again, we know that Mia was worried about more than Rose. Ethan doesn’t. Ethan is worried about Rose first and foremost, has misread Mia due to his singular focus and lack of vital information, and in misreading Mia has created this version of events where Rose is the one who’s really in danger. Despite Mia indicating there’s more to it, he still reads what’s going on as being Rose-centered, and the fact that Rose is now genuinely in serious danger doesn’t help with that.

At the end, when Ethan says “Mia. I’ll make things right”, he’s talking about the wrong thing. He’s saying he’ll protect Rose, he’ll save her, he’ll keep her safe in a way he hadn’t been able to with Mia.

What he’s missing is the fact that, while he might’ve been just worried about Rose, Mia never was. That’s one part he can’t make right. Mia would’ve had to; she just never got the chance.

(Sidebar no one asked for, but I personally think she would have, either of her own accord or because the BSAA fungal reports (which seem to be the test results the doctor wanted to talk to them about if I’m understanding the timeline right) would’ve blown the whole thing wide open for her. It was basically inevitable. Doesn’t excuse all the secret keeping up until that point, but I like to think she would’ve come clean. Freaking MIRANDA JUST HAD TO GO AND RUIN IT THOUGH - )

[tundrainafrica]

Hey so how does it feel to carry the entire Levihan fandom on your back? I absolutely love all your stories! I always look forward to when you update! I had an idea for a fic but I haven't seen anyone do it. Where past levi wakes ups ( when he only sees hange as a friend) in the future to find that he's happily married to hange or living domestically with her and just contemplates his feelings for her

Title: Unwritten

Summary:

“Hange Zoe. One of the reasons why she creates really quality works is because aside from writing the script, she’s very hands on with everything from the direction, to the design and just the overall production… And she knows how to do it. When I watch her movies, it feels like they're peering into my soul or something.”

“Peering into your soul…” It was a tacky choice of words and Levi could only repeat them with some level of disbelief.

“What makes Hange Zoe's writing special are those in betweens. The unwritten parts... if you know what I mean?" 

Levi is assigned to work with screenwriter Hange Zoe and he is left constantly wondering why the hell she's taking her work so seriously.

Link: AO3

Note: I conceptualized this long fic after looking through a some of the prompts in my inbox and playing with them.. TYSM to everyone who sent those. I won't be dropping all the prompts I used when making this now because it might end up spoiling the fic as a whole but I will be dropping the prompts with every chapter I updated.

This fic doesn't actually follow any prompt strictly, I twisted the prompts around them, tore them apart, put them together so they might seem unrecognizable for some.

Either way, I'm very grateful to readers who are sending me prompts. It keeps me writing and brainstorming even when life gets terribly busy.

So thank you for them :D. I'm trying to get back to posting my writing more regularly again and this fic has been sitting in my folder for a while, I was just a little nervous to post it. Thanks to itShailaAM for looking through it!

If neither of us remember anything… Then it’s like it never happened right?

The voice was nostalgic, heart wrenchingly nostalgic. It had a unique way of twisting at his gut, spidering up his spine then leaving an almost painful pang in his chest.

Despite the overwhelming sensations, Levi found himself still able to take control.

So he reached out.

Then he was chasing after her again.

Chasing… He then wondered. How long had he been chasing? How long had he been awake?

With the first light of morning, whatever message, whatever meaning he could have made up for himself dissipated.

Or maybe it was never there to begin with.

For the first time in years or even decades, Levi was wasting his early morning window before work. He wasn’t doing much of anything but staring up at the white ceiling in some feeble attempt to make sense of it again. He came up empty save for two things: a faint throbbing in his head and a half hearted conclusion that maybe it really was just some fevered dream.

“Good morning!"  Someone was right next to him. Her voice was higher, more mellow. A hairs breadth away from his ear though, it grated.

Levi narrowed his eyes and the blur cleared somewhat. “Petra?” He heard himself speak. He was in an unfamiliar in-between, completely in control of himself, yet strangely disconnected. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Petra put one hand on the back of her head and gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry about barging in like this…” She didn’t have to apologize. They were childhood friends and with all the family gatherings they had spent together growing up, they were more than comfortable just flitting in and out of each other’s apartments.

Levi didn’t respond. There were more important things to think about like the slow and almost painful process of sitting up. That morning, he was a little more careful than usual.

“Your mom told me to check on you.” Petra continued.

“Typical,” he muttered coldly. He turned towards the window, and took in the view of the blue sky, a few stories above ground. It should calm him if he stared at it long enough. “She always overreacts,” he added. At that point, the crankiness had started to subside and Levi realized he didn’t mind the doting too much. His mother had always been like that anyway. Growing up, a sprained ankle or an animal bite from a family pet had always been enough for Kuchel to insist on a visit to the doctor.

Petra let out a dry chuckle. “I don’t blame her though. Since the accident, she’s been asking about you every...”

Everyday. Levi completed it for her. He wouldn’t be surprised if his mother had asked about him every hour. “She can always ask me directly,” he said out loud before Petra could finish. He didn’t feel too bad about interrupting. Petra had been speaking particularly slowly since a while ago and if he let her speak like that for any longer, they might not get anything done.

As if she had read his mind or at least noticed the impatience, she immediately gathered herself. “You always downplay it,” she said, more clearly this time.

“She always exaggerates it.”

“That accident was pretty bad though.” Petra cocked her head to the side. “I’m sure you understand that, right?”

Levi averted his gaze for a brief second. He couldn’t deny that part. That accident had apparently been bad enough to merit a month long hospital stay, bad enough for Levi to not remember much of it aside from the phantom pains in his chest, And bad enough to take the brunt of the pain and the inconvenience of dealing with the symptomatic disorientation, the fatigue and the begrudging need for some support.

A few seconds of reflection later, Levi concluded maybe there was good reason for that overreaction. “But I can take care of myself.”

Ironically, his body chose that moment to teeter.

“Hey, you okay?” Petra put one warm hand on his shoulder. “You think you can make it to work today?”

The throbbing at the back of his head had dulled to a bearable ache but he could have sworn it had been worse in the hospital. “I don’t have enough leaves,” he said. He focused for a while longer on Petra’s eyes and saw reason.

Maybe I can take a longer break?

His body was probably silently begging for more leaves. On the contrary, another part of him had been yearning for normalcy for a while. Practicality had been the deciding factor. Although Levi had more than enough leaves, did he have more than he would have been comfortable giving up? Maybe not. He wouldn’t take it anyway. He had more than enough strength to push himself out of bed and pad lightly to the bathroom.

Unwillingly or willingly? He was too tired to tell.

“You were in the hospital just a week ago.” Petra was a voice of reason or a voice of temptation.

“I can’t take any more leaves,” Levi repeated again, as if saying it louder somehow made it more convincing. He made his way to his closet, keeping his strides purposeful, partially for himself, partially for her.

Even for a long time friend, Petra had always been shy and conservative. As soon as Levi motioned to pull his shirt up, she rushed out of the room in some characteristic gesture of modesty.

His bedroom door closed with a click and Levi started to slip his clothes off much faster. His head continued to throb. There was a strange ringing in his ears and the room was a little drafty, typical for early spring.

Levi didn’t have the mind space to prepare for that brush with icy wind. Fucking hell. Discomfort then the desperation that followed had him considering calling in sick again.

After using up three week’s worth though, vacation leaves were starting to feel more like a scam than an actual benefit of the job. He ran through the motions of his typical morning routine. Or at least, what had been typical a month ago. Since the accident, he hadn’t worn anything but loose shirts, pajamas and hospital gowns. Back in the hospital, he had been asleep a lot of that time.

He pulled his pants on, then sluggishly pulled his sweater over him, dolefully noting how snug fitting clothing seemed like strangers to his skin.

He didn’t feel like the same person anymore.

It looked like Petra did notice something was different. Over breakfast, she had pushed the plates closer to him. She did the honors of pouring the scrambled eggs onto his plate, then placing a loaf of bread right next to him. “Eat, we have a long day ahead.”

Levi mumbled something that could have been a ‘thanks’ or a ‘yes.’ He didn’t think too far about it either. There were more pressing things to deal with, like internally psyching himself up for his first day back at work and finding routine once again in the recovery process.

For a few minutes after, the two were silent in the small kitchen save for the sound of chewing and the sound of cutlery clacking on the plate.

“Hey Levi,” Petra hesitantly broke the silence. “You really don't remember what happened?” She had asked that question countless times before, back at the hospital, on his first day back at home and every single time she paid a visit.

He chalked it up to worry. In some semblance of a response, Levi downed the bread in his mouth in one painful gulp, then took a sip of tea. “I remember waking up in the hospital.”

“Before that.”

Levi dropped the half eaten bread on the plate and stared straight up at the ceiling for a second. “Leaving work,” he answered. It was too vague of an answer and Petra didn't seem satisfied.

Of course she wouldn’t be satisfied. He always walked the same route home and routine wouldn’t give too much of an answer to the question of how the hell more than a month ago, he had ended up with a severe concussion and a few contusions in the hospital emergency room, a few towns away from his own.

Past was past though. There was no use digging into it. At present, he had medical bills to pay and a career to salvage. No time for a personal investigation. He attempted to digress. “What did I miss?” Levi asked. “At work?” He noted Petra’s very disconcerting expression, a combination of pity and uncertainty. It was starting to get annoying.

Petra furrowed her brows, a little more hesitant to speak that time. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about...”

In protest, Levi put the bread down and stared at Petra, his stone cold expression unwavering. He wouldn’t be eating unless Petra continued. He wasn’t hungry anyway.

A few minutes of silence later and it seemed to work. Petra looked down at the bread then up at him. Whatever was plaguing her mind then had taken some control over her. “A lot has changed since the accident,” she started.

“With work?” Levi asked again. He dropped the bread on the plate, deliberately allowing the clatter, as if the loud jarring sound would be enough to drive away the disbelief. Three weeks or fifteen business days wasn’t supposed to be a long time taking into account the speed of office bureaucracy.

Petra nodded, a wry smile on her face. Her expression, her demeanor gave the uncertainty away before she spoke of it. “You’re probably going to have to talk to Mr. Zackley about it…”

Levi’s mind was racing. Despite the throbbing, Levi had managed to fill in the blanks for himself. Even before Petra expounded on it, Levi had started to accept already, going back to work was probably not going to be such an easy ride.

Being gone for weeks had done a number to his job.

Three weeks to be exact. It was just three weeks, fifteen business days. Despite Petra’s apparent discomfort, her incessant warnings not to ‘expect,’ Levi had expected some semblance of normalcy. When his hopes were dashed, Levi felt like he had been body slammed out of nowhere by an oncoming train.

“I’ve been working on their set for years…Since the pilot episode, ” Levi said slowly. Hell, since even before the pilot episode if you consider the preproduction stage. He didn’t want it to seem at all like it was an argument and he subdued his tone to something lighter, with the intention of reminding himself not to talk back at authority.

“And we’ve transferred you,” General Manager Darius Zackley said matter-of-factly. “Underground City has been garnering a lot of attention lately and we couldn’t afford to be undermanned at such a crucial point of production.”

“But was it necessary to transfer me?”

Mr. Zackley’s expression softened. He didn't have a natural expression that demanded authority but he made up for it with reason. “It’s a primetime show,” he explained. “One of our best, and given the uncertainty regarding your accident…” For some reason, he had hesitated at that word. “We couldn’t take a gamble. We had you immediately replaced after the first week.”

“And?” At face value, the new developments were starting to seem terribly, terribly disappointing. “I can still work there.” Levi was perfectly aware of where the conversation was going. Still, it didn’t hurt to try.

Mr. Zackley was surprisingly patient. “It’s not an issue of you not fitting in. But we want to properly and more efficiently distribute our labor. The production of Underground City is currently…” He cleared his throat. “Oversaturated.”

Oversaturated with budget, resources. Underground City was a crime and mystery drama, one of their more high budget productions. Levi wasn’t too surprised at that piece of information, having worked closely with the producers and the writers since the pilot.

With a boss a few reporting levels above his own though, Levi couldn’t do much but listen quietly. Disappointment and uncertainty loomed over him and he was tiring more quickly.

“We’ve made some arrangements, set you up with a new role.” Mr. Zackley was taking his sweet time, his painfully sweet time.

At the butt end of Mr. Zackley’s whims, Levi was a mess. He racked his brain for all possible outcomes of the ‘arrangements’, a painful process, hampered by the weight of too many possibilities. They were a medium sized network that produced most of their own TV shows on top of news coverage and documentaries, still too many for Levi to have cared enough about to count.

At that moment, he was determined to make up for lost time. Naturally, his mind first flew to the more well known productions, those that had been receiving the best ratings in prime time TV since he had started working there.

Underground City. Military Police.

Working at the set of the crime drama ‘Underground City’ had been a good run for Levi, one he would have liked to continue but Mr. Zackley said so himself, they replaced him. ‘Military Police,’ one of their more popular historical war dramas, also received one of the bigger chunks of their budget. With Zackley’s very sullen expression, it looked like he wasn’t at all there to give Levi a promotion.

He didn’t really mind not working on the ‘Military Police’ set anyway. Everyone there seemed like a lazy prick and that long running drama had always seemed overrated to him. What else would be waiting for him though? “To where?” Levi pressed.

The old man hummed for a second, leaned forward on his seat. “I talked to Erwin about this and we have an opening in one of our daytime shows.”

“Erwin?” Levi repeated. The name was more than just familiar and he allowed himself a brief moment to recall. Erwin Smith. One of the more prominent in-house directors. Just digging deep into his mind, riling up whatever was causing the headache in the first place. He sat still and waited for it to subside again.

Then he wondered if it had been physical or just an emotional reaction to the mess he found himself in. He was barely recovering, he was plunged into a new position and he was confused, utterly confused.

“Consider it a temporary position until something else opens up,” Mr. Zackley added. “Given that you just got back from the hospital, it would be better if you started small.” He shot Levi a placating look. “Either way, this is a good opportunity for you, Ackerman…” It didn’t seem so genuine. “To ease you back into the hustle and bustle of working in TV production.”

Zackley spoke for an eternity longer after that but it had done nothing to make the transfer any better.

Levi had been working with that same hustle and bustle for years and he was confident, a three week break at the height of production wouldn’t have been enough to throw him--- hell, most people off completely.

But he was being treated like some invalid. Zackley’s warm words yet his uninviting demeanor sent some alarm bells ringing inside Levi.Mr. Zackley was overly consoling, overly placating and Levi’s mind was racing.

Levi took a deep breath and dropped his shoulders, willing himself to relax and focus on the present. Whatever the catch was, he’d find out soon anyway.

To ease you back into the hustle and bustle of working in TV production.

What a magnificent fucking lie.

“Start small my ass.” With the stress just piling up and his body barely catching up, Levi was tempted to let it out as anything louder, accompanying it with the very dramatic motion of dropping the paper work on the floor and relishing the loud thud. He imagined scattering the pages on the table, spilling them onto the floor and maybe kicking them out onto some curb.

Then he brushed off that mental image completely.

That would only create an unnecessary mess, maybe even cause a scene in that small cafe. Although his life seemed like it was complete chaos, his fastidious side wouldn’t have allowed him to make it any more worse. Then and there, he deemed it the best option to just take a sip of his tea, allow it to warm him up slowly and create a comfortable distraction, somewhere convenient.

A minute or so later, Levi accepted, tea didn’t do too good of a job. After all, what could tea do, aside from supporting him through the long and painful two days of ‘adjustment’ and the journey to the very frustrating conclusion that the general manager of the studio, Mr. Zackley was too out of touch with the struggles of the average worker.

“Just for long enough to get back to the hustle and bustle of TV production? What a fucking liar,” Levi muttered again. He dropped the tea cup on the saucer with a clank.

“Well, technically you are starting small,” Petra said. “They don’t expect too much quality wise from a soap opera on a day time slot.” She flipped through the pages of scripts and the storyboards that formed an overwhelmingly thick pile of papers on the coffee table.

It wasn’t too thick. Levi stared for a while longer and he decided it was a manageable pile of documents. The soft copies on his laptop were also of a countable number.

The deadline to be completely functional in two days though wasn’t as reasonable.

In search of some semblance of a break, Levi shifted his gaze towards Petra.

Her familiar presence had made the job change bearable. A half hearted response with her attention mostly channelled towards the piles of scripts had still been enough to have Levi more at home in the middle of the coffee shop in the late afternoon. “You didn’t even need to transfer,” Levi said. The indignance and the bitterness of a while ago seemed to be mellowing into something almost sweet.

Petra turned a beet red and she put her hands up in defense. “No no… I wanted to. Besides, this type of set is always in need of more people.”

Levi raised one eyebrow in response. Soap opera sets? Or maybe just daytime soap operas in general. Or maybe just that particular soap opera set. He turned back to the pile of papers on the table then back to his laptop.

The pile of papers on the table was the script for that month alone. The folders in the USB were eight seasons worth of soap opera scripts and episodes. Levi was once again reminded why such a project could have been so undersaturated.

Scratch that, he had never forgotten and he didn’t think he would ever forget anyway.

The script for just that month was much larger than the piles Levi worked with at his previous production. By the second day, he was starting to conclude, working with daytime soap operas was turning out to be a grind, a seemingly thankless grind.

Soap operas ran with the expectation of producing five episodes a week with a shoestring budget. The pressing deadlines and just the amount of content that had to be produced meant vacations and holidays were few and far in between for the average employee. And the unreasonable demands usually meant that quality would naturally suffer.

Since he started assimilating into his job, he also started to wonder. What audience were they even producing soaps for in that day and age?

“Do you think you’ll even enjoy this?” Levi challenged.

“It’s too early to tell,” Petra said.

Levi didn’t want to admit it then, but he was convinced that she would even find a way to enjoy it. The question should have been for him. He was the one who could barely even get past the first page of the script.

Petra flashed him a knowing smile, flipping the pages a little faster. She wasn’t reading them and all attention was on Levi.

Her face could have been asking questions. Or Levi could have been projecting. He repeated the question to himself. What now? More specifically, what was he supposed to do?

Then he answered it. Get used to it? Or maybe just accept it as a job. The grind would eventually get less painful he was sure. But would he ever see the beauty in it?

Levi had never taken the time to watch that particular soap opera but he had seen too many in passing to know what he would be working with.

The stories didn’t make fucking sense. The sets were cheaply made. The lights, the cameras and the resources for special effects were far from what he was given when he was still working with the twenty-one-episodes-a-season, one-season-a-year ‘Underground City.”

According to Erwin, they just didn’t have the budget. Besides, the average viewer didn’t expect much else anyway from a soap opera.

Either way, he was still hired as the cinematographer. This is still your job. Levi took a deep breath then exhaled with a soft huff. First things first, he had to familiarize himself with ten to fifty episodes worth of scripts. That night, he would be watching the blocking, the lighting, the editing, the overall production.

That was the job of the fucking cinematographer anyway. Erwin had warned him though, they were severely undermanned in all facets of production, pre production, production proper and post production. And for shows that aired multiple times a week, that meant, the grind wouldn't end.

So he wouldn’t just be the cinematographer.

At the impending workload that followed his orientation phase, Levi closed his eyes tight. For a second there, his mind flew to other opportunities and just the process of editing his CV and applying elsewhere.

Maybe in a year he would reapply, or maybe even in months.

He wondered if Petra was thinking the same thing. If she were, she didn’t make it obvious. Petra enjoyed the production process just as much as he did and she had been the reason he had found a job there in the first place.

“Welcome back to the working world.” Petra chuckled.

Levi blinked back the surprise in his eyes as he was once again pulled back to reality. Admittedly, he was overwhelmed. The weak throbbing returned and after spending too many hours insisting to Petra that he was ready to go back to work, he didn’t think it right to take a break.

He sipped his tea and deemed that a quick break.

“God I miss our tea times,” Petra said, looking pointedly at Levi's tea caup. She flipped the script over and pulled her teacup towards her.

Levi noted the wistful expression on Petra’s face. “I was only out for a month,”

Petra shook her head. “But for a week or so, we thought you wouldn’t make it.” There was a subtle crack, not too noticeable if Levi hadn’t tensed up and watched her closely.

It was bringing up too many unwelcome emotions at once, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a haze of memories aggravated the throbbing in his head.

Levi turned back to the pile of papers. With the amount of work to do, he would never have the time to ponder what happened anyway. In an attempt at digression, he pulled the script towards him, and started to flip the pages, poring over words yet only taking in half of it.

A very boring half.

Eventually, he gave up. “Let’s go back home. We’re not getting anything done here.” He gathered the pages, and meticulously returned them to each envelope.

He was supposed to be reviewing the scripts to get some idea on how the TV show worked. They had chosen to work in the cafe to escape from the bustle of the sets and attempt some productivity. Yet, they had been in the cafe for a few hours already and he still didn’t remember what the story had been about in the first place.

Soap operas didn’t have logical plots anyway. Levi thought to himself. Maybe just accepting could make his work feel more unbearable. He watched as Petra gathered the pages on her end, stuffed them into her bag.

“Sorry, I thought you would have wanted tea. You always liked this place…” Petra was explaining herself. The not-so-eloquent way at which she did it was a distraction. In fact, everything at that point was either a distraction or even irritating. Levi took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let the throbbing take control for a second.

One step at a time. Levi slung his bag over his shoulder. “The tea was good,” he said, more for her than himself. That was a lie. In fact, the tea tasted underwhelming. Tea usually didn’t disappoint though and Levi was starting to suspect the fault was in him. “Just give me some time to get used to life again,” he added, his tone more apologetic that time.

A few seconds or even minutes of reflection later and Levi had to admit, he felt like he really had changed during that break.

Cinematography is visual storytelling. Or so, that was what he had been taught when he started working with TV shows years ago.

When there was no story he could follow, there was no essence or heart to portray. So, Levi naturally approached it like a cold hard science. The hard copies on folders lay abandoned on the coffee table. His laptop remained unopened.

Levi's attention was trained on the big screen. He had silently been sprawled on the sofa since they arrived back to his apartment hours ago. Bundled up in a sweatshirt, legs propped up on the coffee table, Levi was in that convenient trance between relaxing and analyzing.

He had no idea what the couple on the TV had been arguing about. He had no idea who had fathered the large overly tacky baby bump sticking out of the woman.

The latest episode was playing on repeat and Levi remembered two things happening in the past ten minutes. A pregnant woman entering the crappy set of their mansion, hand on her oversized belly and  man looked back at her then approached her, a look of abject horror on his face. He was shouting something, obscenities maybe?

By that point, Levi’s mind started to wander with too many other passing thoughts.

The horror at finding out the protagonist was pregnant was overly exaggerated. Were baby bumps really supposed to be that big? And why did it take them that many months to figure it out? How many pregnancies did the protagonist go through? How many love interests did she have?

Then the cinematographer and the photographer in him took over.

There were more important things to look into. The camera never moved. Levi was familiar with multi camera setups and he didn’t need to think too hard about it. Most of the scenes were filmed in the house, in the office, all conveniently made sets, the conveniently written scripts were written around the shitty budget.

And the high frame rate, in tandem with the inorganic lighting, the lack of special effects and just the lack of some careful camera movement, made the overall story and the overall view, underwhelming, not at all cinematic.

The soap opera effect.

Some wouldn’t see it. Others would probably notice it but not glaringly enough to complain. Levi had worked in film for years and when he would search for the characteristic motion blur, he would immediately find it. The culmination of a simple camera set up, a few sets, a cheap camera, and with a studio and network always in some hurry to cut the budget, the soap opera effect was very apparent.

And they would be expecting the same cooperation from him in putting together a cheaply made production. On the bright side, that meant that despite having to deal with some shitty soap opera plot that didn’t make any sense, he wouldn’t have to do too much thinking with lighting, blocking and editing. Planning sets and scenes would be a light stroll in the park at best, soul suckingly monotonous at worst.

Levi reached for the remote and started to rewind, his interest suddenly piqued.

“So what do you think happened to the baby?” Petra asked. She dropped a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

Levi wasn’t in any mood to eat. More importantly, he in the mood to speculate the cheap excuse for a plot. “Am I supposed to care?” He pulled his legs close to him and leaned further on the armrest of the sofa, giving Petra more than enough space to get herself comfortable.

“Well, you’re working on the set right? Better to at least know the major plot points of what you’re working with.”

“Spoil me,” Levi said.

Petra reached for the popcorn and grabbed a handful. She turned to him, a wry smile on her face. “You really don’t even wanna try to enjoy it?”

“This is a job. ”

Petra dropped her shoulders in defeat. “Well… Hanako gets kidnapped…”

“Hanako?”

“The baby…” Petra answered, looking pointedly at him. “They literally spent an episode discussing the baby’s name.” A laugh was very much evident in her voice.

And there are a hundred episodes to sift through. “I don’t have to know the baby’s name to do my job.”

“The baby will be the main character in the next season. If you have been reading the script--- Or even just following the story...” Petra put her hands out and pointed at the TV, starting to look more exasperated by the minute.

“Okay,” Levi responded firmly, not in any mood to stomach accusations. “Then I’ll learn her name when I start working. Just tell me what I need to know to do my job. ”

Petra sighed. “When we get back on air, there will be a time skip. Then the season post time skip picks up after Hanako’s first day of college. So before that she grew up with her adopted parents who found her abandoned in a box. They went through some tough times financially and in the latest pages of the script she gets a job in a coffee shop.” She turned towards the thick envelope on the table then glanced accusingly at him. “I could have sworn you were reading through that back in the cafe.”

Levi didn’t notice it. He had only half heartedly read the script. Still, he feigned a look of interest.

“Then a lot of the writers quit,” Petra continued. “So a lot of what happened hasn't been written yet.”

Levi flashed Petra a knowing look.

Petra sighed. "Apparently, people were overworked, the job didn't pay much so a lot of the crew, cinematographer, production designers, they all left which was most likely why they put you there.”

Levi only had to look back at his first day and his second day to understand the turnover rate. He had spent a little less than an hour familiarizing himself with systems that seemed to be put into place for show. Soon after that, he was bombarded with unreasonable deadlines, timelines, responsibilities outside his actual job title and a little less than two days to sift through eight seasons worth of scripts.

“And why they easily transferred me. We're really behind now.  Post production for the last few episodes should be completed this week, aired by next week.

"Then we have a hiatus at least," Levi said, repeating it with that same cold professional tone Erwin had used with him on their first day. Except he knew that was a scam too. They would be using that two week hiatus to start filing.

That reminder at least pulled Levi back into reality. He couldn’t flit mindlessly from side to side and clock it up as ‘learning the ropes’ forever. Eventually, they were going to ask him to actually know the ropes. “Erwin said something about me working with production proper and post production,” Levi mindlessly rewinded some of the scenes again. “But they can’t expect me to write the script right?”

Petra shook her head. “No, I don’t think you will,” she said. “I talked to a few of the crew. They said they were hiring a writer. A whole writing crew actually--- And you know, among them, there are rumors about a big name screenwriter.”

Levi raised one eyebrow in disbelief. “Joining the set of a daytime soap opera.”

She put her hands up in defense. “It’s just a rumor.”

“A stupid rumor. What kind of screenwriter in their right mind would want to work here?”

Petra paused for a second, deep in thought. “Fine, it might just be a rumor. Still, ask yourself, why would there be rumors circulating in the first place?"

Levi sighed. “Which screenwriter then?” he asked, mostly in an attempt to humor her. And himself. The fact that a big name screenwriter would work in soap operas, might actually make ‘soap operas’ work.

“Hange Zoe,” Petra said, a wry knowing look on her face. As if it was a name Levi was supposed to know.

“Hange Zoe?” And if he followed the same ups and downs of Petra’s tone, he could pretend it was familiar to his lips. “Hange Zoe,” he said again.

Petra nodded. “The writer of the Titan series? The final movie of `Advancing Titans’ is coming out in the fall.”

Advancing Titans. The name had seemingly come out of nowhere, especially when Levi had already run through a few possible names in his head. Hange Zoe hadn’t been one of them. Although she was a big name in the screenwriting industry for sure, the idea of Hange Zoe working with soap operas seemed almost preposterous.

“Hange Zoe…” Levi said it one more time, in surprise or in some attempt to practice saying it. “You’re seriously talking about that writer?” Levi looked to Petra for confirmation. Hange had only ever written one movie series from a completely different genre, which begged a question.“She has some experience in soap operas?”

Petra unlocked her phone, opened the browser and started typing and scrolling. “No… Just the movies…” she muttered a second later.

“Then why do you think she would suddenly want to work in a cheap ass day time soap opera?”

Petra looked back at him, a dumbfounded look in her face. “But the timing just fits too well. The final movie is about to be released. Apparently, she didn’t renew her contract with her studio. There are even rumors of her leaving the movie industry… And there were speculations and everything.”

“Retirement?” Levi suggested.

“Why retire in your thirties?” Petra said.

“Well, when you’re earning millions per script…” Levi trailed off. Thinking up an argument was too much of a tall order. He continued flipped through channels in silence and he had managed to pick out the movie ‘Advancing Titans’ by just a few seconds worth of a scene.

Speak of the devil.

But it wasn’t strange at all to come across the movies while flipping through channels. After all,  Advancing Titans had become a household name over the past few years.

A person in a green cloak was flying, killing some man eating a zombie. It was a familiar scene, Even Levi, who almost prided himself in never having watched the movies, was familiar enough with the iconic movements, the colors and the insignia on the back.

The wings of freedom. How the hell that was connected to the story, Levi never watched enough to find out. Nor was he interested. Science fiction and fantasy were just never his cup of tea.

If Levi had to guess, soap operas and crime dramas shouldn’t have been big wig screenwriter Hange Zoe’s cup of tea either, especially after dedicating years of her life into a production as complex as a science fiction, dark fantasy cinematic universe..

“Do you really think Hange Zoe can actually work with low budget soap operas?” Levi asked.

Petra shrugged and Levi wondered why he had even asked her in the first place. Of course, she wouldn’t know. Still, she spoke up. “Even if the rumors were wrong and it wasn’t Hange Zoe. The important thing is they get someone to pump out scripts right? And your job anyway is to make sure everything gets filmed.”

“I guess.” Levi kept his eyes trained on the screen. The scene shifted from a forest, to the cobblestoned streets in town. A parade of miserable soldiers entered the town within the walls. The camera focused on a father, who navigated through crowds of people, zooming in one of the shorter soldiers.

Captain, I wanted to talk to you about my daughter… She wrote me a letter… She’s too young to get married.

Something about the expression of the soldier pulled Levi in. For a moment, he was frozen on his seat, completely hypnotized.

Petra’s voice tore into his trance. “That’s one of the scenes I can never forget.”

In some desperate bout of retaliation, Levi switched the channel of the TV. “Let’s watch something else.”

“Why? You okay?” Petra asked.

“I’m fine. I’d rather watch something more productive.” Levi flipped more rapidly through channels. He was tempted to just turn off the TV and call it a night.

“There’s a lot to learn from watching that,” Petra started.

"Like what?" Levi asked, his grip on the remote was still firm.

Petra opened her mouth, then closed it again. She sighed. “It's hard to explain... but remember that scene just a while ago. The father approached the captain about his daughter… She died while fighting the titans and they had to empty the cart so they lost all the bodies..."

Levi kept his eyes glued to the screen, suddenly hyper aware that there might have been a judgemental or impatient look on his face. “Go on,” Levi said, as if that could do anything to placate the discomfort already apparent in her voice.

“I guess the point I wanted to make is…” Petra still seemed far from calm. “Hange Zoe. One of the reasons why she writes really quality works apparently is because aside from writing the script, she’s very hands on with everything from the blocking, to the screenwriting and just the overall production… Which makes the storyline and the movie so gripping. When I watch it, it feels like the movie is peering into my soul or something.”

“Peering into your soul…” It was a tacky choice of words and Levi could only repeat them with some level of disbelief.

“A lot of the novelty of Hange Zoe’s writing… The parts that make it special are those in betweens. The parts she left unwritten... if you know what I mean?"

“That’s cool,” Levi responded, only barely. He switched to their local channel, to the late night reruns of the soap opera. .

“They’re good movies. I don’t think they were overrated," Petra said, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

"I never said they weren’t good movies."

"You don't seem to want to hear about it at all."

"I'm just not interested. Besides, I'm too busy with work." That was the right moment to feign business. Levi held his phone in front of him, opened up the browser and wrote out a few familiar keywords. The movies of the titan series were all ranging from four to five star ratings. Whether it had been commended for cinematography or writing, he had been too lazy to check the more detailed reviews.

The reviews were most likely raving, sloppily made and potentially biased and Levi didn’t want to hear another synonym for ‘peers into your soul.’

His eyes were drooping, he was exhausted. Petra seemed to be ready to leave as well. But he had some space, he needed some break. And what better way to spend it than to do a little stalking? "Petra, could you send a file of the first movie? I think I might wanna watch it."

"You can stream the older ones on demand," Petra said.

Levi only had to open the menu on his TV to see the option for streaming. Right. Watching movies was starting to feel like a chore though and he was in no mood watching that night.

He didn’t say much else after that and the night ended with greetings exchanged. Petra only lived a few floors below him and it didn’t feel any different from being alone.

Before he knew it, he was half asleep already. He gave up, turned off the TV and allowed himself to doze off. When he came to his senses again, the sun was streaming through the window, and with work starting in an hour or so, he had little to no time to even start the movie.

The set was small. The budget was miniscule. The turnover rate was high.

And for projects that wanted to disguise themselves as official and corporate, it was utter chaos. One week into his job, Levi had to admit, he was reaching too widely, and he was spread out too thin.

There was a semblance of structure within his team. Petra and Eld worked with cinematography, filming and camera management and all he had to do was make sure the blocking looked good, limit the amount of retakes needed. Gunther and Oluo worked in post production and video editing.

But structure was an illusion.

The actors hadn’t arrived yet. Other new roles hadn't been finalized. The script was still unfinished. Yet, they were under the mercy of the vision of higher ups

"We're heavily delayed,’ or so that was what Erwin had explained. ‘Feedback of the higher ups.”

There were deadlines, unreasonable deadlines for the employees, yet a reasonable wait for the average audience. They had less than a month to finish filming and post production for the first few episodes of the new season, less than a week to produce everything for the old season.

When he was in a pseudo-management role, as a cinematographer, it was automatic. When filming, he should be going down to the set. But they weren't filming yet. In fact, there were people in the set not doing anything.

In the chaos, everything didn't seem to add up. So Levi forced one memorandum, one attempt at structure. He would finish the final editing by that night and start the next day with a blank slate. Even if he needed to, he would stay until midnight to make it work.

That new writing team should be coming soon. Levi repeated to himself. Erwin had said so himself, Petra had also mentioned it excitedly over lunch.

All Levi had to do was get the episodes ready for review by the higher ups, then ready for airing then he could start that new season with a healthier approach, maybe find some way to add more structure to his already hectic job.

“Petra, don’t wait for me. I’m working overtime today.”

Petra jumped on her seat.

Levi only realized then, he had come up from right behind her. And Petra had been busy reading through something in her laptop, a quick glance confirmed, it was the unfinished script.

Levi continued. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

Petra looked back at him, a worried look in her face. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Deadlines,” Levi answered.

“You need any help? You know Oluo and Gunther, they can stay too. Or even me.”

“I can finish it myself,” Levi said. He was completely aware either way that it was his job to review everything before anyone else reviewed and before it went on air.

There was an indignant look on Petra's face. But Petra never really imposed. She nagged, doted, argued but she never imposed.

And he managed to pacify her by requesting an espresso and a cup of tea from the tea shop right in front of the studio. Beverages were frowned upon in the video editing room. Levi though was particularly meticulous, he was tired and stressed and he allowed himself some leeway.

Just today. And when they start filming the new season, during the hiatus, Levi would reopen his work with a more organized approach, more suited for his personality. He constantly reassured himself of that as he continued to edit the videos, crosschecking with storyboards and scripts.

Most of the work had been done. Most of the work had been easy to scan through. Still it was hours of sifting through retakes, reviewing and setting them up for reviews and cuts. In the silence, completely alone, He gladly gave the task the required focus, more than enough not to have noticed the sound of the door click behind him.

“This is the coffee you asked for right?” The voice wasn’t Petra’s but still it didn’t seem at all hostile. In fact, the voice seemed friendly.

Friendly enough for Levi to feel obliged to respond.”Thanks.” A new hire maybe? In the one week he had been working there, three people had already quit.

It wasn’t worth a second thought. The important thing was he got his coffee and tea. So he didn’t bother looking up, only looking with his peripherals to see the paper white of the cup just a few inches away. He reached one hand towards the cup and surprisingly, his hand didn’t grasp for paper. It went for something a little softer, something a little cooler but still warm to the touch.

And it moved. A bug? A pest? That had been Levi’s first speculation, being the paranoid clean freak he was. Before his guesses could get anymore creative he looked at the cup and saw the cup was stable on his desk. He had a grip, not on the cup itself but on the other hand which held the cup. The movements were from a hand underneath his..

A wild hand. It slipped out of his grip, and before Levi could pull away, it gripped him in return, squeezing harder on his pointer finger and his middle finger.

For just a second. A painfully awkward second.

A second of realization was all Levi needed to pull away. “May I help you?” he asked. It took a lot more willpower not to curse at that strange invasion of privacy. A second later, reason took over and Levi realized that he was the one who had gripped her first.

He had planned to grip the coffee cup, he justified himself.

“They said… You needed some coffee.” The voice was nonchalant. Yet somehow, nonchalance had managed to make his blood boil. “So I came here to drop it and say hi,” she added, as if that was the most natural response.

‘Say hi’ didn’t usually involve two hands gripping one another, then interlocking. Her hands were still gripping the tip of his fingers and for a second they were frozen.. “Are you always this touchy then?” Levi pressed. Especially with a total stranger. Levi looked up, turned his head towards the voice and confirmed it, she was definitely a familiar face but they were barely even acquaintances.

Brown hair tied up in a ponytail, glasses propped comfortably on her nose and just underneath them, warm brown eyes that had no problem just staring, studying… And in their own way, leaving Levi very very jarred by the mundane gesture called ‘eye contact.’

“I was hoping to talk for a bit,” she said. “If you’re not too busy, we can---”

“I’m busy right now,” Levi said. He pulled the coffee closer to him, suddenly careful when awareness dawned on him abruptly. Suddenly, he was completely aware that the coffee cup was only a few inches away from the computer. “Can this wait?”

Those brown eyes were suddenly wider, a hint of surprise. Then they narrowed at him and Levi felt some pity blanket his already sluggish and aimless movements. Before he knew it, he was very very unproductive.

He had to do something. “My name is Levi by the way.” He was deliberately gentler that time and usually lowering his voice and slowing down did some magic to make him seem kinder than he usually seemed to new people. Or so, that had been what Petra had advised multiple times before.

Levi looked up, forced a subtle smile, a combination between a tightlipped line and crinkles at the edge of his mouth. The most he could manage for a courteous introduction.

Her reaction was unexpected to say the least. He noticed her eyes first, the way they widened. Her jaw dropped. She closed it again, a subtle twitch in her lip.

Did I say something wrong? Levi thought to himself. He looked back at the computer screen. “Levi… Levi Ackerman,” he added. Would that help ease the tension of the room?

Even when Levi started to make a game for himself, playing video edits again and again, he realized he was more focused on pretending to concentrate than in actually polishing the transitions between scenes.

Hange eventually spoke up. “Hello Levi. Nice to meet you.” Her voice was softer in that last sentence.

“Nice to meet you too.” That had been surprisingly difficult to say. He sensed the discomfort in her voice, and maybe he had unknowingly mirrored it.

“My name is Hange Zoe. I’m going to be working as a screenwriter here…”

Oh. Oh. So that’s Hange Zoe. For someone who spearheaded blockbuster hits, who had people talking like crazy over rumors, it turned out she was a very underwhelming presence.

“I’m the cinematographer here,” Levi said. Technically, that was his job title but at that point, he was doing everything. “So I guess we’re going to be working together a lot.”

“We will,” Hange responded. Her presence was underwhelming. So underwhelming that Levi felt no need to even be excited that they had a prodigy screenwriter in their midst. Her voice was soft when she spoke to him. Her eyes were some mix of disappointment, nervousness, uncertainty.

Levi suspected it was her demeanor, her approach towards him that had caused such tension to settle in such a tiny room. “Thank you for coffee,” Levi said. Any nice gesture seemed like a worthwhile attempt to ease it.

A wide smile played at Hange’s lips, still far from what Levi would have considered confident though. “Happy to help.”

That’s the award winning screenwriter? “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“I’m going to be working on a few scripts tonight, have Erwin look at them in a day or so,” she said. Her voice had shifted to something more professional, and her meekness was starting to feel more like a misinterpretation on Levi's end..

“Looking forward to them,” Levi said.

The door slammed behind him, a little louder than the click that followed. The room was dim, it was almost distracting. When Levi turned towards the lights, he considered turning it on, to save himself the discomfort of sore eyes.

He turned his chair, put enough wait into one leg only to notice the sluggishness, the numbness underneath. His legs were jelly. Her hands were trembling and his breaths weren’t coming out in predictable bouts. He turned back to the computer and prepared to review what he had already edited.

The video was playing and Levi was convincing himself that he was productive.

Halfway through the episode, or even a quarter through the episode (Levi wasn’t counting), his mind had wandered. When his surroundings just became a little too overwhelming, Levi let loose just a little bit. He let the heaviness in his chest and the stiffness of his limbs speak for him then.

That voice of a while ago, Hange Zoe’s voice. That voice was nostalgic, heart wrenchingly nostalgic.

[aperrywilliams]

New blurbs-series: 10 days to my birthday!! (Day 6)

(Not my gif)

Author Masterlist - Series Masterlist

My birthday will be in 6 days from now. So I’m going to celebrate myself with 10 Spencer Reid’s blurbs. Enjoy! (This one is longer too)

Day 10 | Day 09 | Day 08 | Day 07 | Day 06 | Day 05 | Day 04 | Day 03 | Day 02 | Day 01

Day 06: Spencer Reid dances with you for the first time.

David Rossi does indeed live in a mansion. When you joined to the BAU and Morgan told you that, you didn't believe it. You thought he was exaggerating. No, Derek wasn't exaggerating.

The first time you stepped foot in that house you were impressed. Now you already had several dinners and celebrations with the team and Rossi's was everyone's favorite place.

This time was no exception. You ended a long and exhausting case and you all deserved a good time. Rossi set the place and the time. But this time there was a difference. Rossi imposed a dress code: ‘I want my kids look gorgeous tonight. Pick your best outfit. I’ll provide everything else’, he told everyone. That was a change. But nobody complained.

You chose a black dress you like it and didn’t use in a time. Elegant but casual. It was comfortable. All you asked for.

When you got to Rossi's everyone was already there. You didn't want to be too punctual, you knew your co-workers weren't. Rossi opened the door and looked you from head to toe.

“Hey bella! You look amazing tonight! Welcome!, come in!”. Rossi told you, ushering you into the house and immediately handing you a glass of wine. As you enter the living room, you saw Penelope, JJ, and Prentiss talking. All three dressed as elegant as you.

“Look at you (Y/N)!, you look stunning!”. Penelope complimented you. Prentiss did the same and JJ agreed with your colleagues adding: ‘Spencer will be astonished when he see you’. At JJ's words, Emily and Penelope giggled nodding fervently. Your cheeks immediately reddened.

“What are you talking about?”. You asked trying to pretend you didn't understand, but knew exactly what it was about. You had been working at the BAU for over a year and a half and you definitely had a crush on Spencer. You thought it was temporary and that by being your best friend maybe you were confusing things. But your own dilemma didn’t go unnoticed by the group of profilers who worked with you.

It didn't help that just then Hotch, Morgan, and Spencer entered the living room. Seeing you, the young doctor almost suffered a heart attack. An impression he couldn’t hide either because Morgan immediately smirked. Your cheeks reddened even more when you saw him, in his suit he looked more handsome than he already was for you. The awkward moment was broken thanks to Rossi who announced that dinner was ready.

During dinner you couldn't help but exchange glances with Spencer. Maybe you were imagining things, but you could bet he was also impressed to see you in a different way than you both were used to.

After dinner, Rossi led you all to the patio where he had set up an improvised dance floor. As the music started playing, he was the first to start the dance, taking JJ's hand and leading her onto the dance floor. Prentiss followed Rossi and took Hotch's hand, leading him onto the dance floor as well. Penelope did the same with Derek.

That left you guys with Spencer. They both looked at each other, but neither wanted to make the move. On the contrary, seeing Spencer uncomfortable, you preferred to go into the house to get some more wine.

Spencer took that as the sign that you were uncomfortable and that you didn't want him to come close, so with his hands in his pockets, he started walking across the patio, away from the dance floor.

Everyone, realizing what happened, shook their heads in defeat. Obviously the whole dance thing had been orchestrated for you to dance with Spencer.

Without you guys in sight, Penelope told everyone: ‘okay, a little flaw in our initial plan, so now we will move on to attempt two. Emily, Derek, you know what to do’.

Before long, Emily was talking to you in the kitchen and trying to get you back to the patio. Meanwhile, Derek went in search of Spencer so that he wouldn’t even think about leaving the place.

“Let's go outside (Y/N), it's very hot here,” Prentiss told you, taking you by one arm and carrying a bottle of wine in the other. She thought if you wouldn’t give in to pressure sober, maybe drunk you would.

You both sat on one of the patio benches watching Penelope dance with Rossi and JJ with Hotch. A few minutes later, Rossi came up to you and held out his hand to you.

“Your turn, bella”. You let your glass on the table and followed Rossi to the dance floor. For his part, Derek had managed to bring Spencer back and JJ pulled him over to dance with him despite his protests.

While you were dancing with Rossi, you couldn't help but look at Spencer, he looked back at you. You gave him a smile and it made Spencer combust. JJ, seeing this interaction, whispered something in his ear and he shook his head negatively. Before you started thinking about what JJ and Spencer were talking about, Hotch came up to you to dance, while Rossi went looking for Prentiss. JJ left Spencer and Penelope took her place.

There was a pause where you left the dance floor and went looking for more wine. Prentiss again sat down next to you. Almost without disguising you kept looking at Spencer from a distance.

“C’mon (Y/N), why you don’t ask him to dance with you?,” she asked you directly.

“Uhm? Who?”

“Reid, of course”. You tried to play as ignorant but failed miserably. Emily knew. “(Y/N), you can’t take your eyes of him. And he can´t do it either”

“Nah, you’re seeing things Emily…,” you mumbled.

“Yeah. I’m seeing two idiots who can’t accept they like each other,” she scoffed.

“Stop it!. We are friends. That’s all”. You stated. But she was right. At least speaking for you. But, did Spencer like you?. You thought it can’t be possible.

Meanwhile, Derek was trying to convince Spencer about the same thing.

“Hey Pretty Boy, why don't you ask her to dance?,” he told to his friend.

“Who?”

“Are you kidding me?, (Y/N)! You've been gawking at her all night…,” Derek pointed out.

“That’s not true...”

“You like her. Admit it!”

“No! We are friends,” Spencer defended himself.

“You're not fooling me Reid. And now, even if it were, a dance does not hurt anyone, less if you are friends. I am right?”. Spencer thought for a few minutes. Maybe Derek was right. A dance was not harmful.

That's how Spencer took a sip of his beer, set it aside and started to walk over to where you were. Derek made a subtle gesture to Emily, who immediately got off the bench and entered the house leaving you alone. When you noticed that Prentiss was no longer by your side, Spencer was in front of you.

“Hey…,” he told you with his hands on his pockets.

“Hey Spencer…,” you replied.

“Tonight we hadn't been able to talk...,” he trailed off.

“Yeah, that’s right...”

“And I haven't had a chance to tell you that you look beautiful tonight,” he said clearing his throat. You blushed at the compliment.

“Well… you look very handsome tonight too”. Now it was his turn to blush.

Before chicken out and with a boost of confidence, Spencer continued speaking.

“Ehm... I was thinking if you want to dance with me?”.

“Oh. Well... if you want and doesn’t feel uncomfortable...”

“No, no. Why do you think so?,” he asked you.

“I don’t know. You told me once you don’t like dancing… despite tonight I saw you dancing anyway…”

“Yeah, right. But I think we all in the mood... and I’m the only one who hadn’t dancing with you tonight... I think I’m a bit jealous?,” he tried to joke but inside him, yeah, he was jealous.

“Don’t be. You know you’re my favorite in the team”. Smirking and feeling relieved, he reached out his hand to you and you took it, lifting you off the bench and walking with him onto the dance floor, both looking each other almost without blinking.

As if it had been planned - and indeed it was - Elvis's Can't help falling in love began to play. Spencer placed one of his hands on your waist, while with the other he linked the fingers of your hand. Your free hand resting on his chest. Thus you both started to move slowly to the rhythm of the music. At first you both felt a little tense, but as the seconds passed, you guys gave up on the song. You rested your head on Spencer's chest as he wrapped both arms around your lower back. You could feel his breath and his heart beat. So immersed in your own bubble you both didn't realize that you were the only ones on the dance floor and that the rest of the BAU was looking at you with a big grin.

That was the first time Spencer danced with you. It was a team effort, but it was worth it. And that was the first time you thought that maybe Spencer could feel the same way you felt for him.

[ahopelessromantic]

Making Moves ➳ S. Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 2,5k

Warnings: none, Spencer likes being called doctor but what else is new

Spencer and you have been floating around in your own bubble for a while now. Maybe it’s time to let other people in on it as well.

After a long day of lectures and studying, your shower’s steady stream of warm water felt heavenly. With a happy sigh you leaned further into the stream, when suddenly a pair of arms snuck around your naked waist. You jumped up in shock for a second, and only then remembered that you had given your boyfriend the spare key to your apartment. “Hi.” You giggled breathlessly, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin of yours. Instead of returning your greeting, Spencer just buried his head in the crook of your neck. “Long day?” While waiting for him to answer you reached back to play with his curls. “Hhm.” He groaned. “The worst.” It was only then that you decided to turn around, cupping his face in your hands to take a proper look at him. The shadows underneath his eyes looked darker and his cheekbones stood out even more than usual. You placed an innocent kiss on his lips. “Take as long as you need, I’ll go ahead and make us dinner, okay?”His eyes softened, and for a moment the tiredness in his face was gone. Spencer nodded and made room for you to leave the shower, but only after pressing a kiss to your hand.

“So, what you’re saying is that theoretically, a TARDIS is possible?” Spencer threw his head back in a laugh. “That’s not what I said!” You faked a pout, poking at his ribs. “Well, explain it to me then wonder boy!” The two of you were cuddled up on your tiny couch, a soft blanket thrown over you and a doctor who marathon playing on the tv. The only way you could both fit on the sofa was when you were basically laying on top of each other, but you couldn’t really find it in you to complain about that. Your boyfriend didn’t seem to mind, either. He slightly sat up and lifted your chin with his fingers, capturing your lips in a kiss that made your insides melt. “You still didn’t explain!” You mumbled into the kiss, coaxing another smile from his lips. In your living room’s dim lightning his eyes looked like honey and there was a warmth to them you didn’t get to witness every day. “Can you… shut up and let me kiss you?” He almost shyly asked, trapped between two of his favourite things in the world: geeking out without being judged for it and making out with his girlfriend. Today, he seemed to be in the mood for the latter.You hummed, leaning into him. “I can do that, I guess.”

Unfortunately, evenings like these weren’t the standard for the two of you. Spencer worked an incredibly demanding job, and even though your university didn’t send you to crime scenes with a gun strapped to your hip it still wasn’t exactly easy, either. You were a law student, in the middle of specialising on criminal law to hopefully one day go into law enforcement. It was only ironic that your own boyfriend had turned out to be an FBI-Agent a few dates in. But then again, you were a firm believer that everything happened for a reason. You had walked into that bar during orientation week last year for a reason, and the first thing your eyes had fallen upon had been Spencer for a reason.

“I bet I can destroy you in that game.” You had boldly told the handsome stranger while sitting down across from him. He had looked at you in confusion for a moment, his mouth slightly open, but then seemed to catch himself. “That is highly unlikely.” He had stated, is if it were a fact. You had looked him directly in the eyes, encouraged by the gin tonic coursing through your veins. “Let’s find out, shall we?” Somehow, one round of rummy had turned into four, and somehow, you had actually managed to win two times, one of which with a glorious full house. At some point the conversation between you two had began to flow freely, and you could still remember feeling so incredibly fascinated over everything this man had said. Something about his way of speaking, the way he chose his words, the intelligence in his eyes, had pulled you in to a point of no return. You had kissed him on the cheek that very night, not knowing how else to thank him for walking you home. He had even insisted on it, not expecting the short walk to your apartment off campus to turn into a full-blown mini hike. Afterwards the two of you had stood in front of your door, his cheeks red and his hands inexplicably trembling. Spencer had later told you that he had never felt the way he had felt around you before, and that in that moment his biggest fear had been to never see you again. But even though you had exchanged numbers before saying goodbye you had run into each other again much, much earlier than expected. The very next morning, to be precise. When you had innocently walked into your forensic linguistics elective class and met eyes with one certain Doctor Spencer Reid, the day’s guest lecturer.

“Maybe if you didn’t drink so much coffee and ate more breakfast you wouldn’t basically pass out whenever I take you running with me.” You playfully scolded your boyfriend the next morning, shoving a croissant in his direction. He barely even looked up from his notes, blindly reaching for the piece of pastry. After breakfast you watched him getting ready for work. Spencer long had his own drawer of clothes in your apartment, his own ties and jackets hanging in your closet. The transition from barely sleeping at each other’s places to basically living with each other had happened so slowly and naturally that one day you had just woken up in his arms and decided that neither of you wanted it any other way anymore. You were probably once and for all going to officially move in with each other soon as well, but before you did that you still needed to sort out some things in your relationship. “Let me help you, Doctor Reid.” You smiled seductively after seeing him struggle with the knot of his tie. He chuckled nervously, a slight blush blooming over his cheeks. “Honey, you know I’m trying to get going to work, not get going in another way.” Smiling, you pressed a kiss to his nose. “Whatever, Doctor Reid.” Behind closed doors you loved teasing him, riling him up just to see him get all smiley and flustered. You had been in love before, but in comparison to the way you felt about Spencer all the ones that had been there before him faded into a dull grey. A part of you was convinced that you had been in love with someone before but had never really loved them. In a way, you liked to think of Spencer as your first and hopefully last love. Trying to seize every moment you had with him you even accompanied him to your door, childishly trying to keep him from leaving by placing kisses all over his face. “Baby, I have to go.” Your rational side knew he was right, but it was very hard to let that side come to light when your emotional side was looking at Spencer with an empty head and heart eyes. “I love you.” He murmured and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. You beamed at him. “I love you more. I’ll see you later in your lecture?” He nodded, and with one last kiss he was out the door.

Technically, you had long collected all the credits you could in forensic linguistics. But that didn’t stop you from still visiting your boyfriend whenever he guest lectured for a friend, silently giving him the support he was always so grateful for. Knowing you were there in the audience always gave him an insane boost in confidence, up to a point where now a whole group of girls in the class swooned over him on the regular. You loved telling him about them and loved even more how shy he got over it, forever trying to help him feel surer of himself and his skills.

“JJ, you got something to do right now?” Morgan asked with a grin, leaning over her desk. “Loads. Why?” She asked with a suspicious tone to her voice. “We want to go visit pretty boy at his lecture, see how he does as a professor. Even Hotch is coming.” With a heavy sigh, JJ closed the file she had been looking into. Goddamnit, if she wasn’t interested in seeing Reid in action. “Let’s go.” She just said, getting up to join the rest of the team in the bullpen. They all carpooled to the lecture hall, surprised over how many people and especially girls were there in the audience to watch Reid. “Looks like Reid’s got some fans.” Hotch murmured, the tiniest of smiles playing around his lips.

At the end of the lecture you packed your things and walked up to Spencer, politely waiting for the people in front of you to finish asking their questions. You noticed the way your boyfriend’s glance kept on distractedly landing on you only to refocus on his students again and couldn’t help the smile on your face. What were you supposed to do? You loved him, after all. “Doctor Reid.” You finally greeted him once he was done answering questions. He visibly straightened up upon hearing his title, giving you a contained smile. Even though you weren’t technically his student the two of you still preferred to not openly flaunt your relationship on campus, just to avoid getting into any form of trouble. “Did you like today’s lecture, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” He asked while shoving his things into the old leather satchel he always carried with him. You grinned. “I loved it. But it was terribly difficult to concentrate today.” Spencer just nodded in mocked thoughtfulness. “And why is that?”

Looking at the two of you from afar must have just looked like an overly nice student asking her professor some questions, but something about the way Reid smiled at this girl set something off in Morgan. The usually so awkward genius seemed oddly comfortable around the pretty girl standing in front of him, something that didn’t really happen often. Never, actually, now that he thought of it. “Guys, do you think that’s his girlfriend?” He hushed. The rest of his team whipped their heads around to look at him. “His what?!” Emily asked. “Come on, think about it. We’ve all noticed that he’s been feeling himself more than usual lately. He even comes into work looking well rested sometimes, when has that ever happened before?” Garcia’s chin dropped in realisation. “I saw him drive the opposite way of his apartment after work sometimes. I just thought he’s taking a detour or something…” Before any of them could continue to speculate about Spencer Reid’s private life, Morgan had already made his way down the stairs to the lecturer’s podium.

“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Derek Morgan.” A handsome tall man suddenly interrupted yours and Spencer’s banter. You took his hand in confusion, looking over to your boyfriend for an answer to this situation. He just stood there frozen in place, eyes wandering between you and the stranger. So, he did know the man? “I’m (Y/N).” You hesitantly introduced yourself. That seemed to shake Spencer out of his stupor.“(Y/N), this is Morgan, part of the team at the BAU. Morgan, this is (Y/N), my uh…” He took a deep breath. “My girlfriend.” A wide grin spread across his colleague’s face, and a bright blush across yours. “I knew it!” He chuckled, clapping a hand against Spencer’s shoulder. “It is so nice to meet you.”

After that the rest of his team suddenly joined the three of you at the bottom of the stairs, attacking you with questions about their ‘pretty boy’. You set yourself a mental reminder to tease him about that later. “I hope you know that it’s our obligation to take the two of you to lunch now.” The extravagantly dressed woman that had introduced herself to you as Penelope told you determinedly. You grinned, your glance landing on Spencer. He looked like he had accepted his fate already and returned your gaze defeatedly. You had known that his team was close, a bond forged through danger and long nights of working on cases together, but you frankly hadn’t expected a bunch of professional fbi agents to be this close and warm.

“So, how did the two of you meet?” JJ, who was sitting across from you in the small Italian restaurant asked while cutting her saltimbocca romana. You looked down at your spaghetti shyly, feeling your ears grow hot under all the attention that was on you ever since Spencer’s team had basically ambushed the two of you. “I, uh… I tipsily thought I could beat him in rummy.” Morgan started laughing incredulously. “Okay, you’ve got balls. I respect that. Did he at least let you win once?” “I didn’t need to.” Spencer suddenly spoke up, slowly warming up to the situation. He liked how somehow, you seemed to fit right in with his team, and couldn’t help but wonder what it was going to be like when you one day joined the fbi yourself. “She won. Twice. One of which with the meanest full house I’ve ever seen.” His eyes met yours, and the look of respect and pure love in them made you feel all warm on the inside. A round of ‘oohs’ went through the team assembled around the table. From there on the ice seemed to be once and for all broken, and the more time passed the more comfortably you started sinking into your seat. You felt like maybe, this had been that one last step you had needed to go all the way in your relationship. Watching Spencer letting his guard down around his team, seeing him so happy around the people he loved, gave you an idea. You secretly started looking through your bag for a pen, scribbling a tiny note onto your napkin and shoving it to where he was sitting across from you. He didn’t even notice it at first, he only saw it laying in front of him after you shoved your foot against his under the table. You watched him read it in nervous anticipation, taking in the way his expression changed from confused to shocked to… happy? He leaned over the table to snatch the pen from you with a tiny smile, scribbled something onto the napkin and handed it back to you while mouthing ‘I love you’. With a beating heart you unfolded the note and felt the tiniest amount of happy tears prick at your eyes.

Move in with me?

Stood there in your writing, and underneath that in his:

Yes :)

[janekfan]

Chronic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802141

Thank you @taylortut for helping me!!!

Jon looked at the clock.

537.

The glowing numbers burned themselves into his retinas. How had it been less than an hour since last he’d checked? No use for it. Better to get himself up and ready for work. But he’d closed his eyes against the headache blaring like a klaxon and he’d have to open them again at some point.

Taking advantage of his lonely flat, Jon allowed himself to indulge the noise pushing its way through grit teeth as he maneuvered his sore legs from under the quilt. He sat a moment, pressing the bare soles of his feet on the cold floor and levering his heavy body upright with a shaking arm.

Exhausted.

And it’s only--a quick glance.

544.

The hell was wrong with him?

Since just before accepting the position as Head Archivist, and rightly pissing off both Sasha and Tim on her behalf, Jon felt like he’d been constantly coming down with something. Dizzy and nauseous and unable to eat, he was chronically exhausted and while he’d never slept well at the best of times, it was evading him more than ever.

And there were his mornings. Struggling to motivate himself out of bed, brushing his teeth with his eyes closed and leaning against the wall. Deciding he could forgo a shower just once more and choosing instead to make breakfast. Forcing himself to eat a piece of dry toast with his heart hammering away in his throat and half laying on the table, panting through his tea. Mentally, Jon prepared himself for the walk to the train, automatically going for his cane because lord knew he needed the support.

He’d get to the Institute hours early.

At least that made him look good?

Taking advantage of being a cane user, Jon opted for a reserved seat, the guilt at truly needing one eating away at his insides. But there were black spots at the corners of his vision and he had to sit down before he fell down and the guilt is a far sight better than causing a scene. The trip was too short. His chest ached from the constant pounding and he pressed the hand not holding his cane for dear life against his breastbone. It didn’t help but the pressure and touch grounded him enough to stand up. To head to the cross street. To wait for the lights to change. To stagger down the stairs and into his office, to drop into his desk chair and focus on every breath of air moving into his body and back out of it.

Jon put his head down. There was no one here. Wouldn’t be for a couple hours yet and he was exhausted, shaking from it. Nauseated. There wasn’t a fever. He’d gone as far as to purchase a thermometer to be certain when the strange symptoms refused to abate no matter how often he let himself rest, no matter the meals he tried his damndest to eat, the water he drank down. He was trying. Jon couldn’t remember ever taking such good care of himself and of course it refused to pay off. In Uni, he’d driven himself into the ground with little consequence. He’d maintained those habits until a few months ago and now--

Muffled voices drifted through his door, the rise and fall of easy conversation. The kind he’d once been allowed to partake in. Laughter filled the air and while Jon wished to join them he knew he wasn’t welcome.

Why had he done it?

Why hadn’t he refused Elias?

Because you’re selfish. You’ve always been selfish. Needy. Greedy, grasping, always striving to know answers and never satisfied with what you're given. You take what you don’t deserve.

Reluctantly, Jon stood, slowly, because doing anything quickly these days has him ducking his head between his legs or waking up on the floor without any recollection of how he came to be there. He could at least collect their research in person, greet them. Try to be the boss they deserved.

Sasha was the boss they deserved.

“Ah, g’good morning.”

“Jon!” Martin, smiling shyly. “You’re here so early!” He began to stammer and Jon’s legs began to ache. This wasn’t a good day. They seldom were anymore. “I m’mean, of course y’you are, you work very hard!” Martin was saved by Tim swinging an arm around his shoulders.

“You’ve broken ‘im, boss.” A flush rose in Jon’s cheeks. He could feel it. “No worries, Marto. He’s always been an early riser.” While it was said in jest, the tone settled heavy in Jon’s chest, directly beside the pain blossoming like a thorny rose. Luckily, he was rescued by Rosie, standing halfway down the stairs and informing him that Elias requested him in his office. Jon didn’t relish the climb, no matter how grateful he was to escape out from underneath Sash’s heavy gaze. She had every right and he would bear his punishment in silence until she chose, if she ever did, to forgive him.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Jon limped out of Elias’ office without any recollection of what they’d spoken about or if he’d even spoken at all. Thumping pain and panic and he knew he was rude to ignore Rosie at her desk but he wasn’t in any shape to hold a conversation, fairly certain that he wasn’t able to currently speak, far too focused on trying to hide how ill he was. But every sound was magnified tenfold in his ears and he could barely remember where the door to the archives was with the way his head reeled and spun. Jon wanted to sink to the ground once he had the door between himself and the lobby but he’d never make it to his feet again after that. Push through, he told himself. Get to your desk. He allowed himself a moment, two, just to put his head to rights, to try and breathe through the battering of his pulse.

And oh god he wasn’t going to make it and he wondered if somehow Elias knew. It was as though he’d kept him standing there talking about nothing until Jon hit his limit, knowing he wouldn’t have the strength to get back to his office.

But he had to try and he’d almost gotten down the ridiculously narrow stairwell before he forgot nearly entirely why he was there in the first place. Was he going up? Down? Meeting with someone? Just arriving? He could barely breathe and the panic welling in his throat was choking and the black was crawling over his eyes and the dizziness only increased and he needed...needed…

For a moment, Jon didn’t recognize where he was, the migraine, the fuzziness, conspiring against memory and reason. But he knew this color, the hideous lick of paint some contractor had splashed over the walls a lifetime ago.

Breakroom?

Wha--

“Jon!” He winced, his own name like broken glass shredding every sense to ribbons. “Christ, are you alright?” Martin, the sounds he made were shrill, grating, and if he’d been able to tell him to be silent, he would have. “We heard the noise--you’d, you fainted! On the stairs! Luckily it was only the last few.” Jon blinked, dull and dumb, forcing himself up, up, up, and through heavy mist and fog in his search for words. Weary to the marrow of his aching bones, Jon slumped on the cushions and tried to think of a way to stop Martin’s incessant chattering. Tim and Sasha, alerted most likely by all the commotion, stood over him and he craned his neck up to look at them. Tim especially looked furious.

“You could have been seriously hurt!”

“S’sorry…” And he was, between his rabbiting heartbeat, throbbing migraine, and difficulty drawing breath into his exhausted lungs, he wanted to cry with how sorry he was.

“This is ridiculous. You need to take better care of yourself.” Jon wasn’t sure why the sting from Tim’s accusation cut so deep and he hung his head, biting trembling lips to prevent the tears threatening to spring free.

It wasn’t fair.

By all accounts he was taking care of himself. More than ever!

“Did you even eat today? Drink anything?” He nodded, miserable, unwell, and equipped with no better answers than the truth.

“Tim. He’s just come to.” The understanding was the final straw, and Jon’s sight blurred with salt damp. “I’ll make sure he eats something before going back to work.”

“Alright, Martin. If he gives you any trouble, call.” At Jon, he pointed. “And you, no trouble.” And he nodded miserably.

“Okay, they’ve gone.” The familiar sounds of the kettle heating filled the room, the clink of a pair of ceramic mugs, the rustling of the tea bags, Martin’s distracted murmuring, all combined to calm him. “How long have you been feeling this way?” Jon looked up, surprised, and shrugged one shoulder, accepting the small plate of biscuits and nibbling slowly and when he finished those, Martin offered up the tea. Sitting with him in companionable quiet, he sipped on his own cup. Nothing more was exchanged and when Jon finished he thanked Martin for the company and locked himself away.

Jon was at wit’s end. Nothing he tried seemed to improve anything and the few times he did speak with a doctor, he was sent away with the same, useless advice, or worse, told he was imagining things, making it up, having panic attacks even though he was familiar with those and this was not that.

Work was a nightmare made even more miserable with the overwhelming amount of paperwork, statements, boxes, misfiled folders and envelopes and items and Jon missed the easy camaraderie and understanding he’d had with Sasha and Tim. Maybe he should resign, try and salvage what little of the relationship they still had, or, or invite them out for dinner, his treat, but Elias would never let him quit and the very idea of entertaining exhausted him. A cuppa appeared at his elbow filled with something new, something floral and slightly sweet, accompanied, as always, by a few biscuits.

“That’s a lot of work, Jon.” He sipped, grateful, lifting an eyebrow in response.

“I knew it would be when I accepted this position.” Undeterred, Martin stumbled forward.

“Y’yeah, I mean, you would have. Of course. I just--” A breath. “I’ve finished with my other assignments, ready for round, uh. Well, another round!”

“Ah. Alright, I’ll bring something over when I pick up your translations.” Martin took back the cup, nodding enthusiastically, and Jon appreciated that it was business as usual, selecting a few he’d been putting off and making his way toward his assistants ignoring inquiring looks in favor of taking the chair Martin offered up to go over his expectations. Short, succinct. A few notes on one translation, advice to remember for next time, and Jon felt reasonably confident Martin could handle himself. It wasn’t until he’d gotten back to his office that Jon realized that was the first time he’d been offered a chair. It was becoming apparent that Martin was good at noticing the little things about them. A blush heated his cheeks and he tried to rub it away, feeling ridiculous that such a small act of kindness made him feel so seen.

Jon pushed forward, ignoring the warnings his body was trying to give him in favor of plowing through his work like he’d always done, and by the time he made it home, was on the verge of collapse. Hot tears of frustration stung at the corners of his eyes, spilling over when Jon allowed himself to feel it. More than anything, he was used to having control over himself, working when he wanted, burying himself in the research, devouring knowledge. Now he was at the whim of his physical form. Paying more attention to it than ever before and never knowing if he was going to wake up and have a good day or a bad day and it was maddening. Managing whatever it was without knowing what it was, was impossible with no rhyme or reason he could discern.

So in the absence of both, Jon kept shoving his way through how difficult it was because if he could just be normal through pretending everything was normal, then it would be.

Jon knew Tim was cross with him and managed to avoid him for most of the day, taking breaks here and there like he’d promised Martin he would do. But his luck, while it had been holding steady, had just run out and he found himself cornered in the breakroom.

“What do you think you’re on about?” Frustration had long since turned to outrage, boiling over.

“Tim, I. I’m not sure what you mean--”

“Damn it, Jon! You’ve already taken on a job you aren’t fit for! You can’t keep heaping your work onto Martin and then swanning off!”

“That’s.” He balled his hands into fists, nails biting crescent moons into his palms. How could he explain when even the doctors thought he was making it all up? Heat rushed through him, top to toe, flushing his face and he wavered, legs threatening to buckle, vision threatening to go dark. He was going to pass out a second time today if he didn’t sit down. But that would mean walking away from Tim, and he didn’t think the man would let him. At least not until he was done telling him off. Better to be silent. Try not to pay attention to how erratic the persistent beating caged behind fragile ribs had become.

“Why didn’t you say no?” Because he wanted to be useful. Because Elias made him feel like he was capable even if he wasn’t. “Why didn’t you just let Sasha have this?” Because he was an awful, selfish person. “God, Jon. Why did you drag us all down here with you?”

Because he was lonely.

Because they’d been friends. Once.

Rather than remind Tim that he was free to go at any time, that he and Sash hadn’t been forced or coerced into accepting positions here in the archives, Jon pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Well?!” Sharp, strident, Tim’s shout echoed around in the space between his own hurting, agonal breaths in his ears.

“I. I, I need to si’down…” wanted to lay down. Wanted to sleep, trembling with exhaustion, about to go down.

“What?” Lashes fluttering as he gripped the thread of consciousness with both hands, he barely registered Tim’s hands around his shoulders, guiding him into a chair and pushing his head down between his knees. “Jon?”

“M’okay…”

“You are clearly not.” A wide palm settled on his back, keeping him folded over. It was helping.

“S’mm...been. S’fine.” The floor came back into focus, all the little cracks and imperfections and Jon counted the streaks in the pattern in an attempt to ground himself but kept losing track of the number. Neither moved until Jon attempted to sit up, slowly, accepting Tim’s help.

“Jon?” He looked spooked, pale. “Please, what’s going on?” His hand settled in the crux of shoulder and neck, thumb ghosting along his clammy skin, and Jon allowed himself to find a morsel of comfort in the familiar gesture, the threat of tears closer than ever. So he reached for him.

“I don’t know.” And Tim pulled away as if burned, the frustration and anger rising in his face again, and Jon was bereft. “T’truly! I--”

“Why won’t you be honest with me? Don’t you trust me?” Standing, he took a step backwards, away from him, the hurt in him a palpable thing. “We’re supposed to be friends!”

Yes. They were friends. It was most likely why for the first time in a long while, the pain in his chest wasn’t a physical ache.

“Tim, I.” Fingers folded to fists to rest on his knees. But he was already gone.

“Jon!” Tentative, Martin lifted his chin. “Oh, oh.” Having been crying, Jon figured his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and he didn’t bother attempting to hide the evidence. “Alright.” Martin went about making tea, chamomile, herbal and calming, placing it before him on the table with a chocolate digestive. “Drink this down and then go home. It’s half six.”

“Mm.”

“Sleep will help.”

“Mm.”

“I could speak to them for you. If--”

“No!” All but shouted. “No. That won’t be necessary, Martin.” Carefully he stood, paused. “Thank you.” And left.

Jon called off.

Called off again.

Again.

Apologized to Elias in a curt email requesting leave and was granted it.

He ignored his phone. His texts. The knock at the door and Martin’s voice behind it. He slept when he was tired and he was tired often and it was easier besides, to finally listen to the screaming of his body. It was after hours on his fifth day gone when Tim let himself in with the spare key to Jon’s flat.

“Hey.” Sheepish, he held up his hands in surrender, a bag of takeaway from Jon’s favorite place dangling from one. “Martin said you wouldn’t let him in.” Dressed in the most comfortable clothes he had, which were also the shabbiest, Jon glared at him from where he laid on the couch. “I was an arse.” Slowly, he sat up, making Tim wait on purpose, a powerful frown still aimed in his direction.

“You were.” He was aware he looked a mess, greasy hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, but he felt a sight better for the rest he’d gotten.

“Would you accept an apology?” Folding his arms, Jon leaned back into the cushions and fixed his stare at whatever rubbish was on the telly.

“Might do.” Silently, Tim scurried into the tiny kitchen and Jon listened to the familiar sounds of him rooting around for cutlery. It smelled delicious and comforting, a reminder of nights spent together laughing at nothing on this same couch and despite himself, Jon began to relax.

“I’m sorry.”

“Alright.” Tim’s face split in a wide, relieved grin, and he flopped down next to him, planting a loud kiss to his temple before urging him to eat. “Martin sent you here.”

“An angry Marto is not to be trifled with.” Through a mouthful of noodles, Tim chuffed in laughter. “Wouldn’t tell me anything, other than to stop being a prick.”

“He did not.”

“He did not. But it was more than implied!” He put his bowl on the low table in front of them, sitting forward with his hands dangling between his knees. “And he was right. I didn’t give you a fair shake and accused you of awful things. And I know you’re doing your best at this job.”

“Gertrude isn’t making it easy.”

“Neither is your health, I take it.” Jon set his own meal aside, curling into the padded arm.

“No. It isn’t.”

“And you don’t know what’s causing it?”

“I know some things that help. M’Martin has been invaluable.”

“Has he, now?”

“Leave off!”

“Okay, okay.” But he continued giggling as Jon felt his face go hot, muttering.

“He really has.” This time Tim pulled him gently into an embrace.

“Then Sash and I will just have to catch up.”

[hopevalley]

Season 8, Episode 5: What the Heart Wants

I was going to try to follow my scene-by-scene format for the entire season, but I’ve been getting a lot of migraines recently, presumably from staring at the computer too long, so I don’t want to spend all morning working on typing up the play-by-play for this episode.

Also, for what it’s worth I think this episode lends itself to plot discussion better than some of the previous episodes...at least in some sense.

And as another head’s up, it’s back to being critical for me. ;P

Storylines:

School Ends/Graduation/Parent-Teacher Conferences

The Dress Shop/Rachel

Postal Service, Ned

Bill’s Uniform, Nathan’s Vacation

Carson and Faith

Henry

Elizabeth and Lucas

Clara’s Dilemma

--

School Ends/Graduation/Parent-Teacher Conferences

This plot felt a little scattered, but for once it wasn’t the kind of storyline they foisted too much drama upon. After years of every single function possible being besieged by bullshittery, it’s a relief to see one go off without a real hitch.

The beginning scene with Robert hugging Elizabeth was sweet. I enjoyed the Canfields immensely and am intrigued by Angela’s role in the story long-term (PLEASE let her befriend Allie!). Nathan...eh, I have thoughts—but I’ll talk about that a bit soon. The actual ceremony was cute and kind of fun with the kids singing. 

Neat Thing I Noticed:

Continuity? Cat Montgomery is still listed as Emily’s mother. ♥♥♥ I don’t know why but this made me really happy???

-

Complaint Corner:

Parent-teacher conferences should have been in this show from a much earlier point, and so should graduation have been. If there was a point to this celebration (the first year in a while anyone was old enough to graduate) that would have been a nice touch, too. It just managed to feel sliiiightly out of place.

I’ll forgive the “everyone in town goes to the graduation” thing because this is 1918...something like this would be a whole-town affair IMO. Invite everyone and have a nice get-together/party, probably on a Sunday afternoon after church but Hope Valley does whatever it wants, so...eh.

The threat of merging Hope Valley with other schools doesn’t fit in this scenario and it feels like they ripped it directly out of Tales from Avonlea which was almost rage-inducing to me.

Look, school mergers happened a lot in the early 1900s, especially around the WWI mark, but it wouldn’t be hitting a rural western town just yet. They don’t have any way of getting these kids to other towns for schooling. Where would the next closest school be? It would have to be pretty large and modern to merge multiple schools together.

*Adjusts nerd glasses* This felt forced and completely unnecessary. If anything this guy could be telling Elizabeth that they’re working on building a modern school somewhat close by, and could even have her involved in some decision-making regarding layout. Then they could bring in a “merger” storyline next season without it feeling out of place.

It mostly just felt dramatic for the hell of it, and it was boring, as was this man’s threat that Elizabeth had no right to teach a blind student. As if they’d accept Angela at a better school? As if her parents could afford top tier education for her? PLEASE.

Now it’s time for Nathan. The man chose to go fishing instead of to the parent-teacher conference? It makes him look like a tool. This isn’t about him or about Elizabeth; it’s about Allie. I understand why he didn’t want to go, but he should have done it anyway. It would have taken five minutes of his time. 

His flippant attitude annoyed me because it went completely against his character as we know it, but Elizabeth’s lecturing was irritating, too. For a moment I thought we had Lorigail back on the show...

I think Elizabeth was well within her rights to warn Nathan about the effect his work has on his ward, but that inquiry took like a week AT MOST. Heck, let’s be generous and say TWO WEEKS. Allie’s concentration suffered for two weeks. There was no need to say more than, “Hey she worries about you and her work suffered for a bit during that time frame, just so you’re aware.” 

I think what annoyed me about the math program thing is that...Elizabeth being a teacher would probably be VERY WELL AWARE that MOST of the parents to her students aren’t good enough at schooling to assist their kids with their homework. I dunno, it just feels out of place for her to tell Nathan that she wants to put Allie in an accelerated “program” and that Allie might need his help with her homework. It’s even more out of place when he admits he used to bribe his sister to do his work for him. Like. It’s very possible he’s not that good at math and isn’t capable of helping. (But maybe that will be a plot down the road...?)

“Or a tutor...” BITCH WHERE IS HE GONNA FIND A TUTOR IN THIS TOWN?! It’s super annoying to see dialogue like this that feels completely out of touch with the reality these people would be living in...lol. But also if she needs a tutor to stay caught up in an advanced program, she probably...shouldn’t be in the advanced program.

I don’t know how to feel about this whole thing here: “Nathan, you are Allie’s world. You’re the only father she’s ever known, and as she grows up you will always be the measure of the quality she’ll look for in a man as she chooses who to marry.” 

On one hand, it does fit the situation (he seems to think everything is behind him but Elizabeth’s words are kind of a caution that 1) his actions still have an effect on Allie, and 2) every day he’s teaching her by example). On the other hand, it seems almost wildly inappropriate to bring up? At the same time, it’s probably not wrong that Allie will measure other men (friends, acquaintances, potential future romantic interests) against Nathan’s example.

I dunno. The conversation felt disjointed. 

I think what they were going for was Nathan just feeling too awkward and weird about being with Elizabeth to want to be there for the conference, but...he interacted with her quite normally after the inquiry and stuff (even after she’d broken things off with him), so...it feels out of place. Like maybe this should have taken place right after the breakup and not weeks later?

Anyone else have thoughts on this and why it doesn’t feel quite right?

--

The Dress Shop/Rachel

This plot wasn’t what I would call a waste of time (rather, it’s worth having it mentioned now), but part of it was completely pointless and stupid. The whole Rachel getting lost thing was tacked into the promos to stir up drama, but nothing happened and there was nothing worrisome even going on. YAWN.

Rosemary’s desire to do something meaningful and different with her life is super interesting. I’m very curious to see what they decide to do with her if Dottie does sell the dress shop.

Also, Rosemary finding the book under Rachel’s bed was pretty funny.

But yeah, I didn’t really find much in this plotline to care deeply about. I guess I am pretty interested in knowing who might be purchasing the dress shop and/or if this decision is to bring someone else onto the show (a female love interest for the man who doesn’t win Elizabeth’s heart in the end, or even to bring back an old character*) or to take the dress shop out of the equation entirely... It’s also just as possible that Rosemary/Lee or Clara/Jesse end up buying it themselves down the line... Thoughts?

*I can’t begin to imagine who would be the best fit for this in this case, though. Who would have the money to buy her out?

--

Postal Service, Ned

Ned is just honestly so cute and fun. I love him. He’s really been doing well this season and seeing him wander around town delivering mail door to door was kind of nice.

Also, he’s one SMOOTH operator! Look at him, talking about putting a bell on the door so that he and Florence won’t be caught off-guard if they’re in the middle of...something. 

Oh my, Ned. What might customers be...interrupting? :3

Continuity? Not only was the ulcer from last season brought up, but the horrid cabbage juice was, too. :’) It was a nice touch. And these two had just enough screentime to be kind of fun/interesting without also taking up too much time.

--

Bill’s Uniform, Nathan’s Vacation

Nathan got his vacation and Bill is in charge...again. This happens an awful lot. I wonder if it’ll actually impact the next few episodes or if it’s just here for the hell of it.

I love Bill a lot and I want to brag up his character in this episode a bit. I’ve complained many times in the past about him being written like a Grumpy Old Man Yelling at Clouds but this episode was super respectful. He got his scene with his uniform. Nobody interrupted it. There weren’t even any words. I quite liked it.

But it also felt kind of...pointless? I don’t want to judge it too harshly yet. Like the dress shop plotline, this could actually be going somewhere in the next couple of episodes. 

Plus, unrelated to the uniform, it was nice to see Bill acting fatherly toward Clara. While it sort of came out of nowhere for the wedding, I appreciate the attempt at continuity there. Plus, so far this season, I’ve felt like Bill’s almost been a father-figure to Clara, Fiona, and even Nathan, so I’m enjoying that a lot.

--

Carson and Faith

CONTINUITY? The show finally remembered that not only is Carson actually a surgeon, but that was his original passion. It’s not that they completely forgot (S5 had him performing surgery on his sister-in-law, after all), but giving Carson a PASSION makes him a way more interesting character to me. 

And also, finally, this feels like a REAL high-stakes plotline for him and for Faith.

I really liked Faith’s take on things. I know, I know, I’ve been rooting at them to break up, but the reason is mostly because they’re just so BORING together. I’d rather watch Henry twirl around in a chair for an hour than suffer through date scenes with these two.

It’s not that I’m against a doctor wife/husband team. I’m not. I just think Faith was a much more interesting and cool character on the show before Carson showed up and usurped her place (and completely overshadowed her for literal seasons). This plotline for Carson might actually be interesting. Like, a fellowship? For modern surgery? IN BALTIMORE?!

I hope this is Faith’s way of saying she wants a break and/or a break would be good for them. I can’t picture her leaving Hope Valley without any trained medical staff, let alone long enough for a fellowship... 

But if this goes through, what will they do with it? Would they really write Carson off the show? To be perfectly honest with y’all, I’d be fine with that. At least it’s the type of write-off that makes a lot of good sense (unlike some of the other ones we got). I guess this is just another “wait and see” plotline which is uhh...the theme of this episode, huh? Anyone have thoughts on this?

--

Henry

Henry barely had any screentime, but I do want to say he is #relateable. The man is back at work for ten seconds and already exhausted. SAME.

Also, I appreciate that he’s ready to be back in the oil business. At what cost? I know people were worried they were gonna kill him off, and I really doubted it, but now I’m starting to wonder where they’re going with this exactly. Yet another wait and see moment LOL!

--

Elizabeth and Lucas

Some damn fine scenes for Lucas and Elizabeth in this episode. Mostly the scenic ones. :P

I enjoyed the agreement to a date. The horseback riding stuff was pretty cute. 

Complaint corner? I don’t know. I have petty complaints. Even though the celebration for the kids was a town-wide event, and therefore Lucas was invited, it still felt out of place to see it brought up. Maybe it should have been mentioned as a town celebration from the start?

Then Lucas’s comment about not wanting to make things awkward for Nathan (who is actually a parent and there) makes a liiiittle more sense. I do think it was good of him to not go, even though he wanted to spend more time with Elizabeth, but it gave off a weird vibe, like, “Look at how good and wholesome Lucas is!” Is that intentional? I’m not...sure...?

For what it’s worth I already felt like Lucas was an honorable person in this regard. He loaned Nathan money, after all. Maybe he should have told Elizabeth he views Nathan as a friend and doesn’t want to hurt his feelings unnecessarily and/or if he was there he’d want to hog her all to himself or something cheesy. Hm.

My other complaints are:

Elizabeth running to the saloon would be WAY faster than all this getting set up at her house...?? Who thought this made sense?

Elizabeth’s dress looked like a nightie she bought at Kohls.

Too many damn candles.

Characters Do What Plot Dictates Even Though Plot Makes No Sense. More at 11:00!!

I have no further comments on the dress. It needed sleeves or something so it looked more like a dress and not like a nightgown/piece of lingerie.

I think the candles might have been on purpose to parallel Jack...but I hated it lol. Fire hazard? HAVEN’T ENOUGH THINGS IN TOWN BURNED DOWN/EXPLODED?!

I didn’t hate the date scene! But I never feel like Elizabeth has any meaningful conversations with Lucas and it’s starting to drive me batty. 

Could we get uhhh something of substance please? It has to be surface-level nonsense on purpose. Right? RIGHT?

(And no, discussing a book for ten seconds on-screen is not “intelligent conversation” okay...?)

It’s really a shame because I’m starting to actually warm up to Lucas a little bit in this season but it feels like the conversations are just...kind of stilted and she’s not really into dating him—just agreeing to it because he’s the only option. 

And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but...he deserves better than that. 

Don’t get me wrong, by the way. If it’s part of the story and it’s revealed as such down the road, I’ll be fine with it...but I always worry they’ll just skip important relationship milestones and/or important conversations and expect us all to just accept it.

Kiiiiiind of looking forward to the rainy date scene in the next episode, though. I’m Team Nathan mostly but I’m keeping an open mind and I think I might actually enjoy it. Hopefully they’ll get some good scenes together that don’t feel like this one did.

--

Clara's Dilemma

Clara’s fears about running the salon without Fiona...are legit. LOL.

Also, this little bit was funny (between Mike and Jesse and Bill):

Anyway, if Clara was that worried about it, she should have just...told Fiona no? I hope it comes up down the road. Poor Molly??

I genuinely don’t know how I feel about Clara and Jesse’s involvement in this episode. I guess it was okay. I liked Clara’s scenes with Bill. I thought the idea of Clara and Jesse buying into the cafe was a nice one. Jesse having “invested” their money and lost it all, though... They did a similar plot with other people in what...Season 5 was it? Or was that the start of S6? He didn’t even say what he invested it in? But he admits the money is all gone? 

I think that’s what was missing from that scene. “I invested it in X, hoping to make us more money, but it didn’t work out and we lost everything.”

I’m not going to criticize Jesse’s characterization, only because sometimes character "growth” doesn’t happen for the better of anyone involved. My biggest worry here is that it’ll be solved by the end of next episode....but I hope that’s not it.

Like, I think they did better with Frank and Abigail if we’re going to talk about a man who didn’t know how to live like he was in a committed relationship. It made more sense with Frank, too, being older and single most of his life. His bouts of selfishness felt realistic.

Jesse feels like he’s somehow getting worse and worse as a person as the show goes on. I’m kind of at a point where I hope he and Clara divorce, because he’s so damn selfish it’s embarrassing. He’s off having a beer while his wife works multiple jobs? And then he has the audacity to act like they should save money when he just blew all their savings? 

I’m sure it’ll work out fine but I hope Clara puts herself in charge of the finances at the very least.

As to investing failures, I liked how they did that with Henry and Abigail. That was the kind of tension and worry that felt natural to me—like she trusted him with her money after he’d proven himself untrustworthy ten million times throughout the years, and he failed and had to uhh admit that. 

Jesse straight up betrayed Clara. Which, if it’s dealt with in a satisfying way...I think can be a good plotline. I just worry about it actually being dealt with properly. That’s a huge stumbling block in a relationship. And why is he continually getting worse as a person? There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. 

Gasp... it’s almost like it’s just plot because they feel like they have to give someone something every damn episode.

--

Which brings me to THE FINAL

COMPLAINT CORNER (The Big Boy™ Complaints)

The show has really struggled with finding its footing. I wish they’d take notes from better shows with ensemble casts (cough cough Road to Avonlea cough) without also ripping off their storylines (cough school merges cough).

My #1 complaint at this point in Season 8 is the SHEER AMOUNT OF THINGS GOING ON EVERY EPISODE.

I want continuity, so I want to see things happen naturally over a season, but my God do we not need to have mindless pointless crap in the episode. Rachel getting “lost” for ten seconds wasted literal MINUTES of screen time that would have been MUCH better allocated to basically anyone else in this episode.

And I don’t think it would bother me so much if it wasn’t also shoved into the promo like it was supposed to matter. It didn’t matter. Nobody cares. Why was it allowed to stay in the episode alongside stuff like Clara and Bill’s conversation?

Or Lucas and Carson’s?

I think they want to appease all the fans in every episode by giving them scenes of their favorites, but what did Henry sitting in his chair accomplish in this episode? Rachel getting lost? Jack not sleeping well/missing his mom? The school superintendent?

Did Bill trying on his uniform have to be in this episode? Did Jesse and Clara’s problems have to come fully to light right now?

When every episode is formatted like this, with 10 plotlines all interconnected slightly and going on at the same time, I feel like...nobody gets the spotlight they deserve when they deserve it.

I cANNOT believe I’m saying this, but this plotline for Carson, especially if it will end with him leaving the show for a while or permanently should get the focus it deserves. But it won’t if we get tiny snips of it here and there and then BOOM decision made because Reasons.

And again, I know I’ve said before that I want more continuity throughout the season, but... the best way to do that is to tighten up the plots. Have fewer of them per season and give more screentime to the ones you choose to pursue. 

--

Anyway, I’m still enjoying the season, but I hope they keep some of this kind of stuff in mind for next season. They don’t need plotlines for everyone in every episode. They need the plotlines they choose to write to be worth their screentime.

Sorry this was sloppily written and all that. Hopefully it makes sense. Very curious to see y’alls thoughts. Feel free to make your own posts and @ me, or reblog this or comment!

[angelbaugh-writes]

The Three Times You Told Steve You Were In Love With Him And The One Time He Actually Understood (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Request: 13 and 20 with steeb please!

Warnings: description of injury at the end

Author’s Note: I’m a sucker for these types of fics. I hope you guys enjoy this one! It’s poorly edited because I wanted to get something out for you guys. I love all so much. Thanks for reading! Xox Angel Baugh

    Steve was oblivious. You'd spent the last few months trying to subtly confess your feelings for him, but the super-soldier never caught on. Everyone on the team had started a bet on when he would finally understand the hints you'd been giving to him. Some even bet that he'd never figure it out. It wasn't uncommon fo you to directly flirt with him to see his reaction, but you preferred the subtle route. It made room for error. If he didn't feel the same way, you could pass it off as platonic admiration. You just hoped luck was on your side if he ever came to his senses and listened to what you were actually saying, -     The team was resting in a hotel after a rough mission. After debating back and forth for a few minutes, everyone decided to spend the night in a hotel rather than take the long flight back home. Tony had called Pepper to let her know as he handed out the room keys. You'd been paired up with Natasha for a room, though that's not where you sat when the clock struck midnight.     Unable to sleep, you chose to relax in the indoor pool. Steve was already in the body of water when you arrived. This wasn't an unfamiliar situation; the two of you spent many nights after missions avoiding the nightmares that came with sleep. You held the towel close to your body as you made your way to the lounge chairs in the corner. A pile of clothes sat in on the left along with a red, white, and blue towel that caused you to hide a laugh.     The blonde watched your actions closely, completely immersed by how you moved. He found himself doing this a lot. Over the past year, you'd become one of his closest friends, and he loved every moment he spent with you.     "Look away," you ordered. Steve's laugh filled the room, echoing off the walls. The loud sound sent a shiver down your spine.     "You are about to be in the pool with the same swimsuit on. I'm going to see it anyways," he cocked his head to the side as he spoke.     "Please," you pouted. He sighed dramatically before turning around. You smiled as you pulled the cover over your head and threw it onto the unoccupied chair. Deftly hopping into the pool, you swam to your best friend, putting a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He turned to you with a big smile.     Within five minutes he'd already challenged you to a race. The first lap was close, but you began getting tired by the second. Steve had done ten laps by the time you finished your third.     "You're cheating!" you exclaimed.     "No, I'm not. It's not my fault that you don't have the same talents as me." He chuckled as he passed you again.     You shook your head, "You never fail to amaze me." -     Movie nights were common between you and Steve. He wanted to catch up with current day pop culture, and you loved watching movies. It made sense for the two of you to watch them together. Before watching, you always went to a nearby grocery store to get snacks. He would browse the shelves of candy, taking note of the nutritional values and calorie counts, while you held down the shopping cart. He was looking through the different m&m flavors when a boy, no older than six, approached him.     "Excuse me?" The little boy tugged on Steve's jeans. "Are you Captain America?"     "I am. What's your name?" He smiled as he crouched down.     "My name is Elliott. Can I have a picture with you?"     You watched as the mother took out her phone to take the photograph. The little boy smiled enthusiastically. After posing, he turns to look up at the hero, asking him about his shield. His eyes lit up as he explained, his inner history buff's excitement matching the child's as he spoke about the symbolism behind the colors of his suit. The sight warmed your heart. You loved watching Steve interact with fans.  He was always so kind and patient with the young ones.     "Okay, Elliott. We have to get going. Say goodbye."     "Bye, Mr. America!"     Steve looks elated when he turns back to you. "Sorry about that, doll."     "You are so perfect."     "Thank you. I was thinking that we get the regular m&ms so we can mix it in with the popcorn. Oh! And we still need to get a movie. I was thinking that we..." The tall man continues to ramble out his ideas as he guides you towards the dvds. -     You stood just outside the quinjet with Steve in front of you, clad in his blue hero suit. Nat, Tony, and Clint were rushing to get everything they needed, but Steve had been prepared since the day before. A mutual understanding stood between you two. When he wasn't on a mission that you were a part of, he would worry incessantly until you returned safely. It worked the other way around as well.     "Be safe, okay?" Your voice was raspy. In any other circumstance, you wouldn't be up this early in the morning. The cool, morning air blew past you, leaving goosebumps behind. You only wore your pajamas and one of Steve's sweaters you'd stolen previously.     "You know I'm going to be."     "Will you promise me?" He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around your shoulders. You relaxed into his embrace.     "I promise that I'll be safe." He pressed a small kill to your temple.     You whispered, "Come back to me safely. I can't risk losing you."     "You know I'll always come back to you."      "Hey, Mr. America! We're waiting on you, buddy," Tony called out. You laughed quietly to yourself. Steve's face turned a bright red as he pulled away. He gave you a peck on the cheek before walking towards the aircraft.     "We'll have another movie night when I get back, okay?"     "I can't wait." -     You waited outside the med bay as you waited for the doctor to come out. Your leg shook anxiously while Tony sat calmly next to you.     "Okay, Thumper. Take a deep breath. The old man is going to be okay. This is just a precaution," Tony spoke.      You groaned, "What even happened? No one has explained anything to me."     "During the mission, one of the big bad wolves shot too close to Cap. The bullet would've barely grazed him, but he moved too quickly. It's lodged into his arm. It's not going to hurt him. We just have to get it removed before his super healing starts. He's going to be okay, Y/N." You nodded at the explanation. It wasn't as bad as Clint made it out to be. You'd have to lecture him later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was Steve.     It took twenty minutes for the doctor to come out. You didn't listen to her words; the only thing you heard was the invitation into his room. Tony ushered you inside, claiming that he wanted to ask the doctors a few questions.     When you walked in, you spotted him. He sat on the edge of the bed, examining his bandaged bicep. He looked up when he heard your timid footsteps, a smile took over his features. It soon disappeared at the sight of your frown.     "What's wrong?" he asked.     "Don't ever scare me like that again, Stupid." You crossed your arms in an attempt to seem angry.     The smile returned. "I missed you. Come here and hug me."     "Stop making that face. I'm supposed to be mad at you." You pouted. He just laughed, causing you to pout harder. "It's not funny. I need you in my life, Steve."      He doesn't know what switched inside him but, in this very moment, he finally saw you. Maybe it was the "as close to death as Captain America could get to" moment. Maybe it was the way you looked in the dim light. His grin grew.     "I love you, too."

[bluenet13]

Brothers

Second prompt for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: 9-1-1.

Characters: Evan Buckley, Eddie Diaz, Christopher Diaz.

Prompt: Big Brother Instinct.

Summary:  Continuation to "Buck Begins." Revelations about his past and the actions of friends from the present teach Buck the real meaning of family and brotherly love. Or, after Buck has a bad day, Eddie and Christopher save the day.

Links: ff.net - AO3

Maddie and Chimney had insisted he stayed at their house for the night, but Buck had politely declined. He wanted to be alone, whether to wallow in his own misery or to try to gain some new perspective about the revelations about his life, he didn't know. He wasn’t even sure the two were mutually exclusive. But he just couldn’t see himself spending the night with anyone but himself. Coming face to face with Maddie was one thing, but spending the night at her house as if nothing had changed was above his current level of forgiveness.

So he had hugged his sister, asked if he could take the bag of mementos home, and walked out of the apartment as soon as she nodded. Not even waiting to wish Chimney a good night.

Now sitting alone in his car, in the parking lot of his apartment complex, his fingers trembled as he fumbled with the zipper of the bag. Drawing in a long breath, then blowing it out slowly, Buck decided this could wait until tomorrow. He told himself the parking lot around him was dark, the only light coming from a nearby street lamp, so he wouldn't be able to see anything anyway. But in reality, he just wanted to spend the night alone with a cold beer to stop his thoughts from wandering. So, with a grunt he got out of his car and gingerly walked to his building.

His simple plan however, came crashing down as soon as he reached the front steps. Sighing, Buck closed his eyes and wished he hadn’t gotten out of the car.

"Uncle Buck!" Christopher practically bounced off the steps as soon as he saw him, his little body crashing with Buck's legs a second later. "I missed you."

Barely able to suppress a whimper, Buck stumbled before he was able to gain his footing and kneel down in front of the boy. "Hi Chris,” he said, half-forcing a smile on his face, while he also did his best to ignore the adult now standing next to his son. This unexpected visit wasn't Christopher's fault. "I missed you too, buddy. Sorry work's been keeping me busy." He didn’t like to lie to Chris, but he couldn’t as well say what had really been keeping him busy.

"It’s okay, Buck. Daddy told me your parents came to visit. And my dad is always busy too when my abuela comes from Texas," Chris said simply.

Drawing back away from Christopher, Buck turned to look at Eddie. A shadow crossed Buck's eyes and Eddie just slightly shook his head as a response. He hadn’t shared anything else with Chris.

"What brings you guys here?" Buck wondered after the silence around them had become oppressive. "Isn't it a little late for a visit on a school night?" He hoped he wasn't sounding rude, for Chris' sake that is, with Eddie he would need to have a few choice words next time they were alone.

"There's an errand I need to run before work tomorrow, so I was hoping Chris could spend the night here before you drop him at school in the morning?" Eddie asked quickly, his eyes looking at anything but Buck.

Silence seemed to stretch around the three men. Christopher waited expectantly, his hand still on Buck's leg, even as the man rose to his feet and stared at Eddie with raised eyebrows.

For his part, Eddie did his best to look as innocent as possible, offering no additional words until the silence stretched for too long and he saw his son's smile turn into an uncertain frown. "If you're still busy with your guests, I can just call Hen or Chimney. Chris always says you're his favorite and must fun uncle, but I'm sure he understands. Right, Chris?" Eddie added eventually, the ex-Army Medic not missing a beat.

"Sure, Chris. You can stay with me," Buck said at the same time as Christopher nodded his agreement with his father. The boy's frown had turned into a sad smile, and just as quickly into a full on grin.

"Thanks, uncle Buck." Chris practically shouted, his bright, grey eyes shining even more than usual. "Daddy, can I have the keys to get my backpack?"

Buck hadn’t missed how Eddie was trying to avoid his gaze and he had to stop himself from asking what type of errand was so sudden. Eddie usually gave him a few days warning when he needed him to babysit Chris, unless it was some sort of emergency. Buck wouldn’t argue that most often than not he was a dumbass, but not as much as to not be able to read his best friend’s intentions. But Chris had already lost his mother and Buck didn't want him to think he wasn't wanted here, so he didn't say anything else and just bid his time. Turned out luck was on his side and he would be able to rip Eddie a new one right here and now.

But Edmundo Diaz was always a step ahead, so he put an innocent smile on his face and turned towards his car. "I can do it for you, Chris. You can stay here with uncle Buck. I will be right back."

Buck glared at his teammate, but Eddie still wasn't looking directly at him. So instead he grabbed Chris' hand and led him to the front steps. Sitting down as he asked Chris how school was going.

Eddie came back in the middle of Christopher's very excited and detailed explanation of the upcoming science fair. And how he was working on a presentation about climate change and natural disasters. Not like most kids who wanted something easy and chose a volcano, instead talking all about how his daddy had fought tsunamis, and mudslides, and even traveled back home to Texas to fight a real wildfire. If Buck hadn’t been there, he would have thought Eddie had grown wings and the magical ability to bend the elements, cause Chris' voice was full of awe and admiration, as if he was talking about Iron Man himself. But Buck guessed Christopher was right and they were all superheroes in their own way.

"Here you go, Chris. I will leave you to Buck so you can continue telling him all about your project." Eddie kneeled down, hugging his son after helping him with the straps of his backpack. "I will see you after shift tomorrow."

"Bendicion, daddy," Chris said in practiced ease.

"Dios te bendiga." Eddie kissed his son's disheveled locks and turned back towards his car.

Buck had been around the Diaz men enough to understand they were sharing both a blessing and a farewell. A wishful smile escaped his lips as he silently wondered what it would have been to share that type of relationship with his parents. And if maybe Daniel had, before everything had gone to hell.

Fingers wrapping around his own drew Buck back to the present and he looked down to find an expectant Chris staring back at him. His eyes settled on the boy for a minute, and not for the first time he marveled at Christopher's strength and cheerfulness, considering all he had been through in his short life. And again, not for the first time, he wished he could be more like him.

Looking back to the parking lot around him, Buck sighed as he saw that Eddie's car was gone. So he turned back to Chris and smiled. "Ready, buddy? Maybe we can play some rounds before we go to bed. How does that sound?"

Christopher nodded repeatedly, his hand tugging at Buck's as he pulled them both towards the door.

-x-x-x-

"Buck, can I have a cookie?" Christopher's voice came from beside him and Buck jumped slightly as if suddenly being woken up from a dream. Another grunt escaping his lips as the movement jarred his tender side. The doctors had given him a clean bill of health, but the fire had still caused a minor burn and his side was bruised from his hard landing during the explosion.

Turning his eyes to the tv, Buck grimaced seeing the score. He wished he could blame it on being distracted but Chris was just that good. Turning to the boy in question, Christopher's hopeful look reminded Buck of his question. Shaking his head to clear more unwanted thoughts, Buck set his controller down and raised from the couch. "Of course, Chris. But only one," Buck said easily, a faint smile gracing his lips as he remembered the one time he had ignored Eddie's warnings, giving Chris half a box of cookies, then regretting his decision with a passion as the boy had been on a sugar rush until three in the morning.

Walking into the kitchen, Buck went to the cupboard he had prepared for Chris once it had become a common occurrence for the boy to spend the night at his house. Peanut butter, grape jelly, Cheez-It crackers, and other snacks occupying every available inch of the small space. And at the back, the box of cookies he had come searching for.

Last Christmas, Chris had spent a Saturday at his house while Eddie secretly went shopping for presents. After dinner, Buck had offered Chris a white fudge covered Oreo and the boy had loved it. The previous morning, Buck had rushed to three grocery stores trying to find more boxes of the Holiday Edition cookies. Now he made a point to only eat them with Chris and it had become their special treat.

Tonight as he opened the box to grab two cookies and then walked back to his living room, Buck absentmindedly wondered if Daniel had been an Oreo guy, or if maybe he had preferred Chips Ahoy!, or something else entirely.

"Here you go," Buck said, moving closer to Chris and setting the cookie and a glass of milk in front of him. He then sat back down on his side of the couch and sadly stared at his own Oreo.

"Thank you, uncle Buck," Chris said cheerfully, instantly reaching for the fudge covered delicacy. "One more round?" He asked innocently.

"Yeah…" Buck knew he should have said no, but selfishly, he welcomed the distraction and dreaded the moment he would again be alone with his thoughts. He hated to admit Eddie’s instincts had been spot-on and Christopher had been the right kind of distraction he needed that night. A 6 pack would have been less of a compromise but also a lot more destructive.

One round then turned into three, Chris' eyes beginning to close by the end of it, before a barely suppressed sniff woke him up. Pausing the game, he turned to his right with inquisitive eyes. "Are you okay, Evan? Why are you crying?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His small hand moving to rest on Buck's knee.

Buck had been playing video games for years so the motion had become automatic even as his mind was a million miles away. Upon hearing Chris’ question, he shook his head, and for the first time noticed the blur of tears on his eyes. His fingers had continued to press the bottoms on the controller, following the game, but his mind had drifted back to Daniel as Buck wondered what it could have been like growing up with an older brother. One that introduced him to new games and fought the hard boss battles for him. Maddie had been great, but circumstances had turned her into more of a mother figure than a sister, and at that moment, Buck considered that he hadn’t just missed out on growing up with a big brother, but a real sister as well.

"Evan?" Christopher asked again, his eyes looking worried as the boy wondered if he should call his father.

Closing his eyes, and taking in a deep breath, Buck released it slowly as his eyes opened again. "Sorry, Chris. I'm alright. Didn't mean to worry you." Using the sleeve of his LAFD hoodie, Buck wiped the tears from his face and willed them to stop coming. "I just got some bad news recently."

Christopher nodded and moved to hug Buck, a steady hand drawing comforting circles on the firefighter's back, his head resting on his shoulder.

The pair stayed like that for a few minutes, until Buck pulled back, and just stared at Christopher. With a smile, Buck fixed Chris' glasses which had become crooked after the impromptu hug, then moved his hand to the boy's disheveled curls. "Thank you, Chris."

"You're welcome, Evan. When I got bad news about my mommy, all I wanted was a hug…” Chris began to explain awkwardly, his feet shuffling on the spot. “Just thought it could help you too." He finished matter-of-factly, even though no explanation was ever really necessary for such a declaration of affection.

Buck smiled and ruffled Chris' hair. "You're a very smart boy, do you know that?"

"My daddy says I'm too smart for my own good," Chris said simply, then scrunched his face. "I’m not sure I understand what that means, but daddy says it a lot."

Buck couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. "You will know soon enough, buddy. Don't worry about it. Now time to go to bed."

"Okay, Evan." Chris agreed easily, turning the game off as he stood to follow Buck. Then something came to him and he lifted his hand to stop Buck’s progress. “Wait here,” he said before he moved to the kitchen, coming back a few minutes later with an ice pack in his hand. Without saying anything else he carefully pressed it to Buck’s injured side and used his other hand to move Buck’s to hold it in place.

Buck sighed as soon as the cold began to alleviate the throbbing on his side, then raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

Chris shrugged. “Daddy never wants to use it, but I have learned to notice when he needs one.” He explained shily, looking up at Buck from under his glasses.

Buck smiled sheepishly, wondering who needed the other more, Christopher or Eddie. But who was he kidding, he needed the both of them even more. “Thanks bud. Now let's go.”

Fifteen minutes later, teeth brushed and pajamas on, Christopher was lying comfortably in Buck's guest room. "Good night, Evan. Thank you for letting me stay tonight."

"Thank you, Chris," Buck said emotionally, before a sudden thought occurred to him. "You never really call me Evan. Why now?"

"When my daddy and I have a serious conversation, he always calls me Christopher, and often when I overhear him talking to abuela, she calls him Edmundo. So Evan made sense for our serious talk. I..." Chris explained simply, the rest of his sentence ending in a yawn as his eyes finally closed and his breathing evened out.

Too smart for his own good, indeed. Buck thought to himself as he turned off the lights and walked out of the room with a sincere smile on his face. Chris’ ice pack still tightly pressed to his side.

Maybe life had taken a brother away, but fate had gifted him a teammate that had turned into an older brother and it had only taken a night with his nephew to remember. Eddie would never replace what Daniel could have been but Buck was still infinitely grateful to have him in his life.

-x-x-x-

The next morning Buck woke up feeling lighter than the days before.

After taking a quick shower, he went to his guest bedroom and woke Chris up, then made his way to the kitchen. By the time the boy sat down at the kitchen table, showered, dressed and ready for school, Buck already had two plates of eggs and toast ready for them. The two then ate in comfortable silence until Chris reached down to his pocket and slid his hand towards Buck. Setting two pills on the table and a tube of antibiotic cream. A determined and proud smile on his face.

Buck returned the smile and downed the two pills, but waited until he was alone to apply the cream. Chris didn’t need to see his wound, as minor as the burn had been, and worry about the same thing, or worse, happening to his dad.

When Chris went back to his room to pick up his school supplies, Buck did quick work of rubbing the cream and redressing the wound, then took it to his bathroom cabinet, where Chris had most likely taken it from. Or at least that’s what he thought. If he was being honest with himself, it had been quite a while since he last used it. Not that there hadn’t been injuries in between…

During the drive to school Chris resumed his conversation about the science fair, and Buck offered to help him finish his presentation this weekend. Chris gladly agreed and offered Buck to be a part of the stories he would share. After all, every superhero needed a sidekick.

Buck had to bite his lip not to argue that last statement, feeling lucky just to be included.

“Goodbye, uncle Buck.” Chris then said when Buck parked in front of his school. “I will see you this weekend.”

“Bye, buddy. Have a good day.” Buck replied with a smile, and, only when Chris had closed the door and was walking to the school’s front doors, he added to himself, And thank you. As it turned out, it wasn’t only Eddie who had good instincts.

-x-x-x-

Parking in his usual spot and walking towards LAFD Station 118, Buck could see Eddie standing at the front of the apparatus bay. His feet shuffling nervously, much like Christopher did when he was nervous.

“Morning,” Buck said as he came to stand next to his best friend.

“About last night, I can explain.” The words began rushing out of Eddie as soon as he parted his lips. “I didn’t mean to ambush you. Or well, I did. But...”

Lifting his hand in a placating gesture, Buck shook his head, then moved his arm over Eddie’s shoulder, engulfing him in an awkward side hug. “No need to explain. Thank you.”

“So it went well?” Eddie asked, feigning surprise.

“Better than well,” Buck admitted. “You’re one lucky dad, Christopher is a great kid.”

“We’re both lucky. And not only because we have each other,” Eddie said in a rare display of affection, his arm going over the shoulder of the best friend that had become his little brother.

Side-by-side Buck and Eddie then walked home.

Evan Buckley had been born a savior sibling, and even if life had made it that he couldn't save Daniel, that didn't mean he hadn’t saved many others along the way. And however broken his past was, it had led him here.

It also meant that now he had a big brother looking down on him from heaven, and one standing right by his side.

[harrystyleswatermelon-sugar]

Gas station encounter - Part I

I hate this day, I really hate it. It´s pouring, I got soaked on my way to my car this morning because my fucking umbrella broke due to the wind and I arrived late and very wet at the hospital. Luckily I have everything there to fix my appearance just in time for the big meeting with very famous doctors in our hospital.

It didn’t go well is the best I can say about it. I sigh and pull into the gas station. I would rather like to go home directly but I need to get gas.

I get out in London´s cold and wet weather, pulling my coat tighter around my body. I shut the door a bit too aggressive and turn around to get the pistol. As I move, I can feel a rip and the sound of ripping clothes. Oh no, please not my very expensive and very new coat, I think as I turn back around and look at what I ripped.

It is my coat that’s hanging in my closed door. Dangling in the wind and I growl frustrated as I look at my back, to see how much I destroyed my coat.

“Ma´am please hurry up, there are other people here too,” an elderly man says annoyed and I sigh, as I pull the gas pistol in my car. I hate humans and I definitely hate this day. I see a young man in short sports trousers, a T-Shirt and a beanie, who is talking on the phone while filling up his car. This is irresponsible and while the pump fills my car, I walk over to him and say:

“Not to be rude, but you are risking everybody´s lives here when you use your phone. That’s dangerous and most of all, forbidden” the guy turns around and I freeze. Holy shit, this is Harry Styles right in front of me. I look at the car and see a red sports car, probably very expensive. He smiles at me and says:

“I´ll call you back, Jeff” he hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket.

“You are right, I am sorry. Please forgive me” he says and I roll my eyes at him. I still have a bad day and I am not in the mood for an arrogant pop star.

“Fine, just please don’t light up a cigarette, when I turn around” I growl and head back to my car. I try to catch another glimpse of him, but he seems to be done and walks inside to pay. This is a bit odd, to see someone like him do totally normal things like getting gas. My tank seems to be full and I pull the pistol out, as Harry comes back out of the station. He winks at me and I shoot a half-smile in his direction.

He drives off and I sigh, as I walk in to pay.

“Number 4 please,” I say to the cashier and he nods, looking at his screen.

“Actually, it already has been paid. The young man with the red sports car took care of it” he says and I look confused. He paid for my gas? Why?

“Oh…okay then. Eh…have a nice day” I reply and get back to my car. No one will ever believe me, that Harry Styles paid my gas.

 A week later I stop at my usual gas station. Every day, when I drive along this road I watch out for his red sports car but I never see him. Maybe it was just a stop far away from home. Today has been a very nice day. I finished work early, the weather is nice and I have a date later tonight with my friends in a fancy bar. Becca is having a small birthday party there and because she just finished her dissertation, she invited us to this nice bar.

I get my gas, as I see a big black car with tinted windows stopping behind me. While I wait for my tank to be filled, I can see Harry exiting the car.

“Hello there,” he says and smirks at me. I turn a light shade of red and return the smile.

“Hello. Thank you for paying my gas last time, but how comes?” I ask and lean against my Audi.

“I figured you had a bad day and wanted to brighten it up. Did it work?” he asks and puts the pistol in his car.

“Sure did. I really had a bad day, I am sorry for scolding at you. That wasn’t very nice of me,” I say and look at him. Today he wears a normal pair of jeans and a white shirt. His hair is pulled back and put into a bun.

“That´s great. Had a better day today?” he asks and turns to face me. I nod and he comes closer, extending his hand.

“Great, I am Harry,” he says and I chuckle. Of course, I know who you are.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you. Don’t you have staff to get gas?” I ask and he raises an eyebrow.

“No, I don’t. I try to do as many normal things, as I can” he answers and I laugh a little.

“I am surprised you are not already swarmed by fans,”

“They don’t expect me here, like you. It´s kind of funny that we meet again at the same station” he giggles and I shrug my shoulders.

“I use this station every week because it is on my way home from work” my voice sounds a bit raspy and I cough, as my pistol clicks and tells me that my tank is full. I go inside and pay for the gas and on my way out, I meet Harry in the door again.

“Have a nice day, Y/N. Until next time” he winks at me and I laugh, doubting that I will meet him a third time. That would be way too much luck.

“Bye, you too,” I reply and walk back to my car to get home.

 I pull on the hem of my skirt and look in the mirror one last time. I chose a dark green skirt, which ends at my knees and a white shirt with some straps on the back. It is very flowy and I feel good in it, despite it showing skin from behind. I dressed up a bit, put more dramatic make-up on and chose a bit of jewellery to go along with my outfit. I am happy with my looks and grab my dark coat. I am still very sad that I ripped my new trenchcoat, but this one will do.

I arrive a bit late at the bar, but I already texted when I was on my way. My friends are waiting with a delicious margarita for me.

“Hey, I´m sorry for being late. Becca, all the best wishes for your birthday AND your dissertation. I am so proud of you, lawyer” I say to her and hug her very tightly.

“Oh thank you, lovie. I am so grateful you could make it today. Wouldn’t be the same without you,” she smiles at me as I kiss her cheek. After we hugged, I put down my coat and bag and greet the other girls warmly.

“This is really fancy, Becca. Do I need to behave here?” I ask and everybody laughs. We all know that I am very sassy, especially when I have been drinking.

“Isn´t this crazy? A few years ago we sat in a crappy bar and discussed If we could afford another drink and today we are here, all grown up and fancy. No more ugly clothes and horrible haircuts, what a glow-up” Lisa says and we all nod. She is right, this is amazing.

“Just look at Becca and Kate, our lawyers and Y/N our doctor, very successful. I own my own business and Lisa is managing her hotel. We really did it” I smile at the table and remember all those funny evenings in pubs around the corner of our university. It was a great time and I wouldn’t want to miss it for anything. And I love these girls, we grew really close and I am so glad to have these four girls in my life.

“To us and of course to our birthday girl Becca” I propose and hold up my glass. We salute each other and then we hand her our birthday present. We organized a full weekend at a spa outside of London with all of us. She loves it, I can see that before she even says anything. We always complain about not having enough time together and this was the first that shot through our minds.

The bar starts to fill a bit and around 10 pm every table is taken. We giggle, drink and snack on some of the food on our table.

“I really need a wee, who want to come?” asks Lisa and I get up.

“I do, I need to pee as well. You know where?” she nods and we walk next to each other.

“So, how has life been to you?” she asks me and I giggle.

“Pretty good actually. I am happy and no I haven’t met someone, I know you are going to ask,” she grins and opens the door to the restrooms.

“You are right, I was going to ask” she replies and I shake my head at her. Always the same question. When we stand next to each other at the sink and wash our hands I remember who I met today.

“Oh, I have met someone. Twice to be honest” I laugh and dry my hands, while Lisa stares at me very curious.

“Who? Tell me! Who is it you are interested in and how did you meet and is he nice and oh my god, this is crazy. You never meet men, you like. I am excited” she claps her hands and I roll my eyes at her.

“No, I am not interested in him. We ran into each other a week ago at the gas station and today again. I was rude to him the other day, so I apologized and he took it very well he tried to brighten up my day when we first met and paid for my gas while I was still outside” I smile at the thought of him being so nice.

“You like him. What´s his name?” she asks and I look around, to be sure no one hears what I say.

“It´s Harry Styles, I am not joking,” I say and she rolls her eyes at me, walking past me.

“I hate you, you always make fun of me. I just want you to be happy and you make fun of me” she scowls and leaves the restrooms.

“Lisa, I am serious. It really happened” I assure her but she just shakes her head. I never thought that she wouldn’t believe me. I didn’t even think of that, but I get it. I wouldn’t believe her either.

I sit down and feel someone staring at me. I see up and meet familiar eyes and a familiar smirk. I smile at him and feel my heartbeat fasten. What a weird coincidence that we meet again today. While everybody chats and laughs, I try to stay involved in the conversation but I catch myself several times looking at him. And he looks at me, smiles and looks away as if he is shy and insecure. My girls haven’t seen him yet and he seems to be unbothered by fans.

Sometime later we move our little group closer to the bar as other tables do the same. I stay between two of my friends as I feel a tap on my shoulder and I see Lisas and Beccas face staring in shock behind me. I know who it is without turning around and I smile, while I face him.

“Hello Harry, long time no see,” I laugh and he chuckles, while his eyes wander over my face. They are mesmerizing green and maybe they are a little bit clouded from the alcohol.

“Hey, Y/N. Told you, we would meet again. Hello, I´m Harry” he introduces himself with a slight wave at my friends and rests his eyes on me again.

“So is your day still good?” he asks and I nod.

“Yes and yours? You seem to have a good day every day” he laughs and shakes his head.

“Absolutely not but I try to make the best out of the bad days….Ladies, may I invite you all to a drink and to join us at our table?” he asks politely and my friends nod in excitement. He grins at me and we follow him to his friends. We introduce ourselves and everybody takes a seat, mine is next to Harry.

He orders some drinks for everybody and I feel Lisas eyes on me. She looks apologetically and I smile, it´s okay I am not mad at her. We smile at each other and I look at everybody chatting and having fun, when the drinks arrive.

“Cheers to new friends,” Harry says and we clink glasses with everybody.

“I can´t believe we ran into each other again,” he says and I smile at him, looking at his beautiful face.

“It´s kinda funny, right. With which of your cars are you here?” I ask him teasingly and he chuckles.

“With none. I came with a cab” he smiles and I can´t help it but the butterflies in my stomach erupt violently. Oh please don’t fall for a fucking superstar. I beg myself as Becca asks:

“How do you know each other?” the table falls silent and I look at Harry.

“We met at a gas station and she scowled at me for using my phone. Do you want to know, what she said after I apologized to her?” he asks and I turn red and shake my head, but surely everybody wants to know.

“She said quote: Please don’t light a cigarette when I turn around and I was so surprised how sassy she was. She obviously knew who I was but she just mocked me nevertheless. I liked that and surprisingly we met again today and she apologized, that’s how we met” he explains and leaves out, that he even paid for my gas.

“He paid for my gas the first time, because he thought it would brighten my day” I add and my friends say “aaaaaw” very unison.

“By the way, that is just Y/N. Always straight forward and sassy. We love her for being the way she is, she is the best” says Kate and the others agree.

“I like her too” Harry murmurs only so I can hear it and I redden again. Does he really like me? That’s insane.

“You are not bad yourself” I wink at him and he shoots me a crooked grin.

“So, why are you always at the same gas station?” he asks and I look a bit confused. Isn´t that obvious?

“It´s on my way home. I drive home every day so when I need to get gas, I stop there” I explain and he nods. Maybe the workday of a popstar looks more different than I thought. He probably hasn’t the same way home from work every day.

“Oh ok, that makes sense. What is your day job?” he looks at me and I turn my eyes down to my hands, which are nervously fiddling with each other. I am in fact a bit nervous, who wouldn’t be when Harry Styles is talking to you?

“I am a paediatrician” I reply and I can see his eyes light up.

Part II

Hello lovelies,

I hope you liked chapter 1 of this short story. It was planned as a usual OS but I think it has now over 30 pages in word. Sorry not sorry, leave me some replies so I know you wanna read it. I´m not really sure about this one tbh.

Love, xx

Julia