#my captions for everyone who struggles with his accent like me

[omg-hellgirl]

Mick Jagger talking about how much money goes into a show (1969).

[plague-of-insomnia]

what kind of accents do you think the cast has? im a dub main for various reasons (one of my friends had a reading/memory disability so i ended up watching dub w them) so im kinda used to everyones dub accents.

but bards defo got an american accent right? (not in the dub, but im thinking manga terms?)

and ik soma & agni have barely a trace of an accent but does that mean they sound basically british?

and does finny have a german accent? sieglinde? diedrich?

idk food for thought?

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(Sorry it’s been a rough couple days and I didn’t realize I hadn’t published this yet.)

Hey anon… so I’m a bit confused as to if you’re asking about the Japanese accents in the various anime, the English dub accents (or some other dub), or just my thoughts on what their various accents would be like based on the manga and independent of the anime.

Now I have only watched Kuro in English bc that’s the only thing that was available/that’s available on what I have at the moment (though I’m finally getting the blu rays for BoM and BoA so I’m hoping they’ll have the Japanese to try that out for once), so I can’t make judgements based on that. (And I’m not a good one to ask about Japanese accents anyway, lol.)

I also favor dubs bc of my disability. I love hearing the Japanese but it can be hard for me to follow sometimes, and even english alone without captions I can struggle with (please fix this, CR!!! Grr), so I feel you there.

Also not sure which characters you had in mind with this ask (other than the ones you specifically mentioned). Since kuro has so many, I guess I’ll just focus on a few. I want to make clear I am American and Latine, so I am not an expert on British regional accents by any stretch, or the historical accents of the Victorian period, so I’ll just do my best. Some may be partly inspired by how the characters are written in Japanese, since there’s a bit more… complexity to the Japanese language in regards to things like formality, rudeness, etc, that may not convert into English when translated in writing.

This is a long post so I’ll use a readmore to keep it a bit less chaotic. Below the break I’ve broken down my hypotheses on how some of the major players might talk:

Sebastian

As a high-ranking servant who regularly interacts with the nobility, Sebastian would have a high-class accent, and it is reflected in how his Japanese (and even his English) is written. It is a fairly neutral, polite manner of speaking. I’m sure the Victorians probably had a term for this accent (a high-class servant accent), but if they did, I don’t know it lol.

Ciel

Most nobles like him would be educated in a public school like Weston, like his father was, and those schools taught a standard accent that often varied slightly from school to school. So everyone who went to Weston would have a similar manner of speech. Ciel has been “home schooled” his entire life, aside from a short time at Weston for the investigation, so his accent might have been slightly different than his father’s. Nevertheless, especially under Sebastian’s tutelage, he would have learned how to speak properly (if he didn’t already). Still, unless Sebastian intentionally had him learn the Weston/public school accent, anyone who speaks to him would know he did not go to school, but was taught by tutors/governesses instead.

Bard

Yes, Bard is American despite his dub accent. We don’t know where he’s from exactly, but we can assume it was probably somewhere west of the Mississippi (that’s about 1/3 of the way west if you’re looking at the US map, going east to West, if you’re not familiar with our Geography).

I say that bc the river was the first real demarcation of the frontier. It’s likely he was living somewhere like Texas or Oklahoma. Ofc where he’s from would affect his accent, but I imagine it as a kind of cross between a more neutral southern midwestern accent (“no accent”) and a subtle Texas or OK one. Which that’s hard to explain unless you really know regional US accents, bc most of Texas doesn’t sound like most people think it does. The accents really change depending on what part of the state you’re in, since it’s such a big place. But basically not too heavy an accent but a bit lazy, definitely coarse and brutish since he was a soldier and a farmer. Lots of slang and not big on politeness. (Which he definitely is in Japanese.)

Mey Rin

She’s interesting because she’s one of the few characters who has a couple different ways of speaking. She has her “maid” voice and her “assassin” voice. The first one stutters a lot and uses imperfect grammar, as reflected in the English translation when she repeats things, like “I’m not one to talk badly about my betters, I am.” The second does not have this quirk. Not sure if the first is meant as an affectation as part of her idea of what a maid is, or if she just has such a divide he her personality/personas that she speaks differently when she’s wielding a gun. Since that wasn’t really mentioned in her subarc, I doubt we’ll get an explanation. We do know she was likely a child of immigrants from China, but not whether she was born there or in England before she was orphaned. But it is unlikely she has any hint of a Chinese accent since she was orphaned so young. She definitely has more of a working class accent, especially when compared to someone like Sebastian.

Finny

I had momentarily forgotten that Finny didn’t speak English when he first came to the manor. It’s likely that he would have had some kind of German accent, but I expect that Sebastian would have drilled it out of him, considering how strict he was with Sieglinde and Wolf, and Ciel didn’t blink an eye.

Finny’s accent in English never struck me as particularly high class, either in the manga or anime, but in one of the recent chapters, Theo makes a point to compliment his “upper-class accent.” It does seem highly probable that Sebastian played a hand in how he speaks, since he probably was the one who taught him English.

However, the fact that it came up in this sub arc could indicate his way of speaking is significant, somehow tying into what’s going on with Undertaker and the orphanage. Either way, his accent is apparently closer to Ciel than Mey.

Snake

Snake is tricky, because he almost never speaks as himself (I’m still not 100% sure what pronoun he would use for himself in Japanese, and even he doesn’t seem sure lol). He speaks via his snakes, and they all have different ways of speaking (which I think the dub does a decent job of, personally). So I can’t really say, but for the most part I would probably say his accent(s) would be closer to working-class, but he might have gotten some lessons on speaking from Sebastian, since, as a footman, he would have been expected to speak at a higher-class level than other, below-stairs servants would.

Undertaker

Like Mey, UT has two manners of speaking. He has his “humble old undertaker” accent, which is Cockney-esque (I don’t wanna do a disservice by saying it IS that), definitely a lower class accent. Then he has his “revealed” voice, or how he speaks after he reveals himself on the Campania. I have not read this arc in Japanese so I cannot base this judgement on how this shift is portrayed by Yana, only based on the translation. But it definitely seems to be a higher-class accent than the other one. It’s likely that it’s his “real” accent, while the other is part of his cover persona. However, we don’t know anything about him or his background from when he was alive, or even how old he is. For all we know, that accent could be an affectation too.

Agni & Soma

I know their dub accents annoy a lot of people, since Yana specifically mentions how they don’t have an Indian accent. I expect both of them would speak with a British accent, probably something close to how Ciel speaks, most likely, since Soma would have been educated by tutors and Agni probably was as well, since he came from a very high-caste family. I would expect that if their dub accents has been closer to Yana’s intent, they would sound more like Hakim in the dub of the anime Emma. That’s how I imagine them, anyway.

Sieglinde & Wolfram

I expect both would have German accents when they speak English, especially Wolf. Sieglinde might do a better job of working to improve and lose it, but I don’t think Wolf would, partly because of his animosity toward Sebastian. I like to imagine he sounds like Hans in the English dub of the anime Emma, and I really hope we eventually get the Green Witch Arc animated and dubbed so we can get a hot German English accent 🥺.

Diedrich

Dee, on the other hand, I think would not have a German accent in English, especially not in the present. I think he probably was educated in English before he went to Weston, likely by a private tutor, probably someone British, and then when he went there would have acclimated to the public school assent there. So probably he would sound like Vincent did, but I expect he’d throw in some German every now and then, especially when he gets irritated, lol.

Lau

Lau is originally from China, and his accent (as far as I know?) has never been remarked upon in the manga. We also know nothing about his background except that he rose quickly and at a young age to be head of Quin-Bang. I would assume that he speaks English very well, and the only hint at his origin that I’m aware of in the Japanese is the kanji (character) for the pronoun “I” he uses, though he doesn’t pronounce it as it’s normally done in Japanese nor does he with a Chinese pronunciation. I would take this to mean he probably has little if any hint of a Chinese accent when he speaks English, and since he keeps company with nobles and was able to pass as a doctor, he likely speaks in a high-class accent.

I hope that satisfied, anon. This was a fun and different ask. I apologize I didn’t publish it sooner.

[psych---ologically-deranged]

psych commentary 2x02

SF KK JRr DH, but I swear I'm hearing another voice that is too high for SF, not a big enough chest, & it doesn't have the same timbre/fry as JRr, & not even close to the tight yet smooth quality of DH, & the speech patterns/habits/accents are different. This person is not mentioned on the DVD. I don't think it's Andy Berman. The other likely one would be Chris Henze I think.

finally did a dinosaur

Every year we should do a feature film movie. This is jurassic park on our budget

1/1000th more scruff, he's at his wit's end

You can see why he's head detective.

Obscure lines from obscure movies. I love them

they upped the special effects for This One Episode

"how hard can it be to solve these things if the clues are lit up"

the shooting is in vancouver, the writer's room is in LA

"the pen is drawing for me, what's even going on"

there are minimum four things happening here

*getting caught watching* *laughing at their own show, good*

[gus] is so disappointed in his man...

they did like fifty different sketches of the dinosaur

Gus has a regular full-time job

"we are going to do a mini version of every one of my favourite 80s movies"

My man did so much research for this, & he knew the bite marks bc he'd taken a picture of himself in the jaws

"Hows the cast?" 'James will literally make up lines to entertain YOU'

hear them laughing when they see shawn "looking for the room"

City of talent

Doug DeVette, named after [his] friend, Dough DouVet

DH: I wasn't enjoying that cupcake

The wet bar is from the next episode bc psy vs psy was aired out of order

Smartest person ever, but has hoels in his knowledge

A wacked wombat

idc abt the controversy! I want Gus! He is smart!

four minute Dule scene they sadly sadly had to cut it down

Supposed to be almost pitch black & then the light in his eyes JRr: I played it for you man! Post: We'll colour correct this for you man!

SF: Steal his whole thing & you're expecting to give it to you just right there

SF: Any time you have to open something, it's always the most impossible thing to open. You have the bone density of a 90 year old grandmother

This was supposed to be the opposite of the university, all high tech, but it looks like someone's garden shed with spider webs, bones, & armadillos. (& ojai peaches)

KK: The giant lettering on the side that we had to light up just in case you missed it Me: How stupid do you think we are? (I'm very stupid, actually)

Great transition

THE NETWORK WANTED TO SUBTITLE THIS GUY!? I mean, as a hard of hearing person who also has adhd (audio processing issues), I do struggle to understand ppl with accents I'm unfamiliar with sometimes, (makes me feel so racist,) but I just have the captions on for everything.

This man gave them handmade greeting cards & SF a beaded bracelet? That is so nice!

Wrecked the car this episode : (

Once again, heaviest gate in the history of gates Network: Why so heavy?

*can't think of the movie* Dule Hill was in that one!

DH legit fell down that hill *everyone laughing* DH That hurt when I got up

Stunt driver, sound stage, stunt driver, hitting a tree, spin around (Gus doesn't do that later seasons, he does a nine point turn.)

Ernest Jackson

Arguing physics while being shot at

"this is what happens when you have a one year old while you're writing your script"

I like all the cops watching him on his streak

JRr: There was one take where Tim came in & got both Ethan AND Robinson wrong. He created a completely new nam, first & last. SF: Efirmsimolinus Junior was the name, oddly enough. I hate being hoh without captions

Exposition. "We're fooling you right here!"

SF: Who decided that if Corbin was going to sit in the purple chair & have the purple curtains, that he should be wearing the purple shirt, next to the purple painting? He's having a purple moment right there. He should be reading a Prince magazine.

HS: I know feelings Commenters: *cracking up*

Visual Effects! JRr's fave. Great job Tim.

*metal hitting metal sound effect* KK: What is it hitting? JRr: Watch & belt buckle? SF: Bone

The trex skull was paper maché, they had to NOT break it with the shovels & brushes

obviously fake smoke

SF: I guarantee if you watch csi, law & order, you're never going to see "I just discovered a dinosaur" *cut to the floor with clothing & tools scattered on it, panning up the bodies of Shawn & Gus* KK: This was another... controversy, a little bit, the Of Mice & Men run JRr: Well so was the post-coital positioning

Shawn has been carrying his Lenny forever. Finally! The opportunity to get it out!

Almonds too. SF: You actually learn something on this show every once in a while

SF: James, when I sent you the script, I remember this very clearly, you sent me an email back that simply said "Stop analyzing my threat" & I'm like "Thank you" [sweet voice]. & the thing that I do truly, truly love about you is you always pick out my favourite line from a script that I'm most proud of

keeps opening it like something different is going to be out there

SF: The rule is, Henry always has to call at the most inopportune moment CH: He's just down for a pleasant walk on the docks (thinking about an unsolved murder) SF: He thought he'd take the purple shirt out &... KK: give it a spin "He always calls to get something back or have Shawn pick something up" "We should have given him a fishing pole"

They just had so much rain that they wanted to film outside apparently SF: They called me like "Hey we want to film this on the pier" & I'm like "I don't care I'm fine"

KK: I think the girls are excited about going on this adventure

where WERE they hiding when Sullivan walked them out here!? "Clearly comes from the woods. Henry found it too"

First time someone interrupts the breakdown

One was Taupe & one was Grey

Roger Deacon btw is not the guy from queen buried here

JRr: After seventy four takes of this, I did one where I was a velociraptor, & that's the only thing that got printed SF: Matheson put it in his cut KK: I'm still trying to wrap my head around that JRr: & I touch Dulé & [Gus] becomes a velociraptor SF: It was six minutes of *velociraptor noises: Grauughgh, eaign, eaign!* & then he touched Dule & it's like *velociraptor noises: wroAGHghhhhh* *everyone laughing* JRr: & that was when we learned that we need to be more careful about what was being printed

DH: Between the locks, & the fence, & the raptors "this was our most controversial episode of the season"

*aren't sure if it's forcing the other to dig or etting credit*

Zippy the dinosaur Gus: His name would be Jerome

SF: There SHOULD be a reason for each episode to happen, somebody learns something, something changes in their life, & this is the moment where Lassiter can accept a hug from Juliet.

Lassiter: Oh what do I look like! (one of the commenters): ... Mr Bean

Undercut it with the walk away quickly

JRr, in a funny "sexy" voice: Oah! I must have ridden my ~motorcycle~ to the house

you didn't do a very good job of it because I didn't know for AGES that shawn had a motorcycle! Then again, I was only watching the occasional episode with my mom if I had time when she had it on.

JRr: & they never have a jacket filming, so it's always this mad dash & in this particular case I believe I ended up with something,,, suede

"You could take the motorcycle lessons we've been offering for years now" JRr: Oh yeah "I feel like the authenticity could be..."

Another controversy on the Shawn intervention

GET OUT!

The freak out dance at the end!

SF: gjiblin KK: *gkiblin SF: No he likes when I call him dgiblin

[laladellakang]

en- o'clock - eleven, twelve and thirteen

masterlist | wattpad 

italics dialogue = english | bold + [] = video captions

"Della got the lucky pouch but she doesn't like soda," the members laughed at Della holding up her bottle.

[ DELLA dislikes carbonated drinks ]

"Can't I switch with Della then?" Sunghoon held out his bottle to her.

"Noo," everyone protested.

"Specially for Della, we got her strawberry milk," the PD handed Della her milk.

[ DELLA's favourite: strawberry milk! ]

"Woahh!" the others cheered while Della had a large grin.

"Thank you!" she thanked with sparkly eyes.

✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄

"Guys, just go slowly," Della started off the perfect pitch game calm.

"GUYS! Just go slowly! Take your time!" but then she grew frustrated when they kept trying to rush and ultimately mess up.

"Can't we just start with Della?" Jay laughed when everyone was struggling except for her.

[ OK! ]

"We can? Okay," Della sat back on her seat again.

"Try doing Nishimura Riki," Niki challenged her.

[ Challenge for DELLA ]

After training so hard to be a rapper, Della has gone through this exercise countless of times, so she can do it with ease and quickly.

"Woah!" all the members eyes widened. "A true rapper!"

❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆

"You're really sleepy, aren't you?" Della noticed her seatmate, Jake, seem extra quiet and limp. The other guys were busy practicing the Whale Game.

"Mmm," he laid his head on her shoulder for a few seconds before straightening his head again.

"You can just keep laying on my shoulder," she brought his head back.

"No, it's not very nice on camera," he sighed and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

"Hang in there, yeah? They're definitely gonna let us sleep later," she pat his thigh.

"And you're gonna sleep on my shoulder?" he looked at her with a smirk.

"Nahh, you can sleep on my shoulder if you want though," she nudged him to cut off the expression. "Engenes have seen that already."

"I'm offering 'cause I want you to, not for the show, babes."

"Oppa," Della gave Heeseung a hug as he was concerned about the tower shaking. "It's okay. The tower can hold fifteen or so people up here. Even in the rain," she pat his back.

[ Baby comforting Heedeungi ]

"Fifteen people?! In the rain?!" Sunoo's eyes widened.

"Yeah, I think it was my school friends? They went here," she was partly lying, as it was Treasure and not her schoolmates.

[ DELLA calms the members ]

"Just take your time later on, oppa. It's okay," she ran her hands up and down Heeseung's biceps.

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"Are you going zip lining?" Della joked at Sunoo testing the harness.

[ Going zip lining! ]

"Zip lining!" Sunoo fell into her in laughter. "No, I was wondering if it can actually hold my weight," he pulled away and tried again.

"Even if you fall, an angel will come and rescue you," she smirked when she saw Sunoo's blush.

[ 100000% safe for SUNOO ]

"What is th-" he stood up while covering half his face. "So you'll come and rescue me?" he fired back, nudging her arm. He laughed in delight when she snorted and turned her head away in embarrassment.

[ ...What is this...... ]

"What is that?" Jake suddenly asked Della.

[ ENHYPEN's official translator ]

"What is what? Zip line? It's zip lining," all she did was say it in an American accent, but now he actually understood what it means.

"Ahh.. Zip line..." he mumbled to himself. Little did they know, the word gave him an idea for later on.

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"Della-yaa! Be careful, okay?! Take your time!" Heeseung screamed when he finally passed area one.

[ Back to protective oppa ]

"Yess!" she replied before seeing (and hearing) Heeseung reach the platform. "Poor oppa.. Why are tall people always scared of heights?" Della talked to herself as she entered the barrel, making the instructor and Sunoo laugh.

[ Tall people have to see things higher than everyone else ]

"That's right. The tall ones who come here are always the most scared," the instructor chuckled. "Alright, good luck."

"Yah! Della-ya! Aren't you scared?" Sunoo yelled when he realised that Della had almost caught on to Jake.

[ Baby is moving quickly! ]

"I'm actually shaking so bad but I want to impress the instructors!" she yelled back. The staff and instructors laughed while the members were either too scared to laugh or trying their best to hold it in.

[ DELLA's motivation ⭐️ ]

"YAH! Those at the front! Can you go quicker?! I'm starting to lose my pride and courage!"

[ Pride and courage running low already ]

"Yah! Niki!" Della called when the second round was over. "Do you still have bullets?!"

[ ???? ]

"I have like three left!" he yelled back. "Why?!"

"You want to get hit, huh?" Sunghoon came behind her.

"Yeah," Della laughed.

[ She's an interesting one... ]

"Can you hit this part of my back?! It's kinda sore!" she pointed at her lower back.

"What?!" some of the boys laughed out loud, especially Jay and Sunoo. Jay fell to the ground with how hard he laughed.

"There?!" Niki aimed and shot at Della.

[ Did it work?! ]

"Ack! Not really but thanks anyway!" Jay went over to give her hug, still somewhat laughing.

"Why are you so cute?!" he picked her up for a few seconds.

"We shouldn't have made her king," Sunghoon giggled.

[ Only Kang Della would ask for things like this ]

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"This is the least scariest?" Della asked Jungwon with a shaky voice.

"Yeah, they said it's the least," he turned to her. "It's not that scary once you get on."

"Then maybe I should get on this one?" she looked at the Ejection Seat.

"You're scared of all of them, yeah?" he held her hand that was fiddling with her necklace.

"I really hate things like this," she didn't intend to but she switched to her aegyo voice.

"Yah-" he pulled her in to his chest. "Don't get on any of them if you're scared. Don't do it just because we're filming."

"What happened?" Niki rushed to them and placed a hand on Della's back.

"She's terrified to ride any of them," Niki immediately said an 'eyy.'

"Lala, it's okay to be scared," Niki moved Della's head from Jungwon's chest to his, but half her body was still with Jungwon. "Honestly, forcing yourself won't do any good. It's really, really okay."

"Just explain to the viewers why you can't," Jungwon brushed through her hair.

"We're here to have fun," Niki kissed her head. "So don't do it when you're not gonna have fun."

❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆

"I'll do it if you do it," Sunghoon said to Della when they were supposed to be getting on the Big Swing.

[ Ice Prince will only stick with Ice Princess ]

"I don't think I can, honestly," she said nervously. "I'm really, really scared."

"Okay, we'll just stick together," he held her hand and eventually her waist.

[ Great chemistry ❤️ ]

✄✄✄✄✄✄✄✄

"Seeing the members enjoy it is more than enough fun," she smiled softly at how happy the guys look. 

[ Constant support from baby  ]

The next clip showed it for two seconds, but it was enough for fans to make lots of edits of Sunghoon look of adoration and love.

pls why does channel full moon's content always release subs +2 days after the release 😩���� but ngl it's kinda fun seeing the first timers get frustrated (and i've seen some people complain) because it reminds me of when i would check the videos every hour lmao

taglist! @afiaaaa19 @riikiblr @one16core @4sahii @toriluvsfics @i90snoo @danyxthirstae01 @seulgifted @clar-iii @hiqhkey @nichmeddar @jiwlys @duolingofanaccount [@studioreader @sarang-wonie @fairydosii @hoonstrology @jaetint]

[f1ct1onalplaces]

New to You

a/n: Hello everyone! This fic is a reader insert and takes place in Caption America: Civil War. It follows you and your significant other, Wanda. She has no romantic interest in Vision in this fic, but I leave hints that Vis likes her. I did this because I may or may not make this a series. We’ll see. Anyway, this is gender neutral so if you see anything that assumes a specific gender please let me know. Enjoy!

Summary: You try to cheer Wanda up but end up burning something in the process and when you try again you're interrupted by an unexpected guest.

TW: little bit of violence, mention of death, language, angst, self-doubt, kissing

"Oh m'god, oh m'god, oh m'god," I say as smoke seeps out from the oven. Quickly, I grab the oven mitts, open the oven, and grab the pan of burnt brownies while my eyes water from the intoxicating fumes. I drop them on the counter before using the mitts as a fan to try and disperse the smokey air before the smoke detector picks it up.

"What the hell is going on here," I hear a thick Sokovian accent say from down the hall. I pay little attention to her chuckles as I continue to fight the smoke. My peripheral vision makes out her outline leaning against the door frame. From just that I know she's dressed in a black long sleeve, a black jacket, a skirt that stops mid-thigh, knee-high socks, chunky black heel boots, and her layered jewelry. Wanda's usual style. I give a sheepish grin and shrug as she pushes off the wall to make her way towards me.

"Babe, you know cooking isn't your best skill." I laugh.

"You don't have to tell me twice," I respond continuing to fan the gray air around us. "I just thought I could do something nice. Guess not." Wanda rolls her eyes at my obvious attempt for pity. She grabs the makeshift fans from my hands, ignoring my grumbling protests, and proceeds to do her own thing. Her hands raise as red power flows throughout the room, gathering the smoke together. Once it's all encased within her power she releases it through an open window.

"Now that wasn't so hard." She croons to me. I huff and stare at my charred brownies.

"Say's the enhanced superhuman." Footsteps thud against the concrete and stop directly behind me. Hands slip around my waist, loosely grabbing my hips as a kiss is planted to the back of my neck.

"Your also an enhanced superhuman," She says with chin resting atop my shoulder. I shrug.

"Yeah, but all I can manage to do is turn invisible and conjure healing abilities." I place all my body weight on Wanda as I lean into her. She presses another kiss to my neck.

"Yes, that may be true but that doesn't mean your useless. Y/n your a valuable member of this team, plus you train with Nat and Cap, making you pretty skilled in combat." Her attempt to cheer me up does the exact opposite when she uses the word team. Since the UN meeting in Vienna, the "team" has divided, resulting in Cap, Sam, and Bucky being made fugitives. I decide to change the subject.

"How are you?" I ask my girlfriend. I feel the movement of her shoulders slump as she lets out a sigh.

"Guilty, horrified, ashamed." She doesn't need to say why. My body turns until our eyes meet.

"It wasn't your fault." Her head shoves into the crook of my neck.

"Yes, it was. Y/n, people are dead because of me" I shake my head and run my fingers through her hair, doing my best to comfort her.

"No, it was Cap's fault. I'm not saying it was on purpose, but he froze and didn't act quick enough. You were just cleaning up his mess." Wanda groans in my shoulder before looking back at me.

"What would I do without you." I glance over at my brownies.

"Well, you definitely wouldn't have to deal with burnt food all the time." At this, she giggles, a sound that makes me weak in the knees, before resting her forehead against mine.

"But actually, what would I do." Her green eyes peer into mine and my answer is simple.

"I could ask the same thing." Wanda smiles and leans in as close as possible without our lips touching.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" Warm air caresses my face, mixing our breaths. A smile spreads

across my face and then I'm rewarded with a smile of her own.

"Of course." Her lips press to mine. I tilt my head back, gasping at the feather-light contact. Our bodies press together, desperate to fill our minds with each other, riding the presence of our ghosts. My fingers weave into her soft locks and give a light tug, pulling a sigh from her lips. Wanda leans closer to my body, hands firmly grasping my back, causing the both of us to stumble back. We both come up for air before diving back in, rougher and heavier. My skin is searing with each touch, every graze of a fingertip against my neck or her nails following the shape of my spine are coals being thrown into a furnace. Hot and smokey. Soon her lips aren't on mine but on my neck. Her teeth skim the smooth skin below my ear, followed by kisses to soothe the sensitive area. I grip the hem of her shirt to ground my buckling knees and it isn't until my back hits the wall that I realize we never stopped moving. My hands finally loosen and slip beneath her shirt, digging into her waist. I'm not sure how far we would have gone if it weren't for the explosion. Jumping back from each other we peer out the window to see fire. Instantly, Vision appears behind us.

"What is it?" I ask, still breathless from a moment ago.

"Stay here please." Vision then goes right through the glass with his strange ghost abilities.

"Cool." I mummer under my breath as we watch him shrink with distance. Wanda tilts her head with a troubled expression.

"It's probably nothing," I say, "And if it is there's nothing Vision can't handle." Her expression stays the same. Browse furrowed, her swollen lips in a line, and blank eyes that show she isn't listening to me.

"Babe," I start but it's interrupted when Wanda spins on her heels, hands in motion with a knife. The knife is ripped from its original position by magic and shoots at a man. It stops mere inches from their face once we both recognize him. Barton flicks the knife to the ground, not a flinch insight.

“Guess I should have knocked” Wanda walks up to him with me right behind.

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?” His elbow bends behind him grabbing an arrow.

“Disappointing my kids,” he says as he shoots one arrow to the right, spinning around and then one to the left. “I’m supposed to go water skiing.” Quickly, Barton grabs both our hands leading us out. “Cap needs our help.” He gives a tug to my arm, properly sensing my hesitation. “Come on.” I glance over at Wanda, raising my eyebrows in question. Suddenly a voice behind us speaks.

“Clint.” We all freeze. “You should not be here.” Slowly, we all turn around to see Vision, who looks as intimidating as I’ve ever seen him. My mind races to find a way to convince Vis on letting us leave and a way to do it without anything getting physical. Barton though goes a completely different route.

“Really? I retire what, for like five minutes and it all goes to shit.” My mouth makes an O shape as I watch carefully. Though Vision would never severely hurt us I can’t help but think of what he’s capable of. To be fair, I’m dating maybe the one person that can overpower Vision.

“Please consider the consequences of your actions.” Barton doesn’t even think about his response.

“Okay, there considered.” Then from the two arrows, he shot electricity comes out, holding Vision in his grasp, for the time being. “Okay, we gotta go.” Barton and I start jogging away, but it only takes seconds for us to realize Wanda isn’t following. “It’s this way.” She stands there looking down at her feet and tugging at the sleeve of her jacket.

“I’ve caused enough problems.” My heart breaks, remembering our previous conversation. We both turn back and I’m prepared to beg her to come with us. Even if she decides not to fight, just to get out of here. But, once Barton decides to speak I leave it to him to do all the talking and instead decide to grab her hand, letting her decide.

“You gotta help me, Wanda. You wanna mope you can go to high school. You wanna make amend you get off your ass.” Then it goes to hell. His face goes blank as we both look back to see Vision our of the electricity. I pull Wanda and me out of the way as Vis goes for Clint. I grab her shoulders, making her look me in the eyes.

“Wand, you have to make a decision. I don’t want you to feel pressured, but I’m going. You need to know that whatever you decide I’ll support you, but I can’t stay here and do nothing.” Her eyes are on me though I don’t think she sees me. The look that occupies her face has changed from doubtful to perfectly poised and I don’t think it was me who got to her. I finally turn my attention back to the other two and am not surprised to see Barton in a headlock.

“Clint, you can’t overpower me,” says Vision, and that’s when I realize the plan.

"I know," he pronounces, pausing to look at Wanda. "But she can." Wanda circles in front of Vision.

“Vision that’s enough, let him go, I’m leaving” Her magic is a sphere in between her hands, fingers constantly moving to keep it alive.

“I can’t let you,” he responds. Then, vision lets go of Barton As he loses control of his ghost abilities and is forced to his knees by red magic. Vision struggles to get up and the eye contact they hold leaves an ugly feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“I’m sorry.” He sinks closer and closer to the floor.

"If you do this they will never stop being afraid of you." The words come out in between breaths that betray how close he is to losing. His words cause my fists to ball up, angry at the way Vision chooses to say this to Wanda. Trying to insert fear within her bones in order to keep her locked up. The only reason my fist doesn't find a place in his face is partially due to his impenetrable skin, but mostly because of the way Wanda responds.

"I can't control their fear, only my own." She pushes her hands down and with that motion goes Vision. Vision’s shoved down multiple floors, creating giant holes throughout the compound. Once she stops the house is silent with the eagerness to escape before Vision recovers.

“Oh.” Barton looks down. “Come on, we got one more stop.” I grab Wanda's hand, tugging her away from what she just did, and peck her on the lips.

"You did the right thing, no one is going to blame you." I decide to leave out the part about how skeptical I am about everything, but I know Cap would never start something he knew was wrong. So, if he needs help that's what I'll do. She nods in understanding and kisses me again to show she's with me. Our little bubble is popped when we both catch Barton staring.

"So, you two are, umm." I let out a snicker at his helpless confusion. Wanda smiles before answering his incomplete sentence.

"Dating. Yes." This time he laughs.

"Good for you guys. I presume it's pretty new?" We start to jog our way out of the building and to a van pulled just outside the gates.

"New to you," I say elongating the last word.

"Shit," I hear as we get into the van and buckle ourselves in. "I owe Nat twenty bucks."

[naturaldisasterfanfiction]

33.

I went alone for the walk today, doesn’t bother me but Robyn woke up late and also Fenty is being a little pain with her crying, so she stayed at home and I am alone. Being off social media has been a blessing, but I do find myself checking my phone and have nothing there to look on. I did try twitter, but I am not feeling it like that, it’s boring but Mijo has told me that I need to come back and take care of the business I left, Ant wants me back. I did like run off here, but I don’t want. to go back, I just want to stay here now. I am comfortable with the peace, the open fields and it’s a weird feeling to be spoken too like I am only normal, it’s calm “hi there” some older gentleman waved at me “you remember me? We met at the pharmacy” squinted my eyes at him yanking Zeus back as he tried to sniff him “oh yes, you told me you seen me around and you live around here. We meet again” getting my hand out to him “we do, I saw you yesterday, but you had your Rihanna with you, I didn’t want to harass you now” I chuckled “it’s ok, she won’t mind. She says I need to make friends; I am sure she won’t mind you now unless you’re a bad influence on me” he just laughed “maybe back in my youth but I have the missus at home, she is driving me crazy, so I walked out. You should come over and visit, I told the grandchildren I met a gentleman named Chris and they said Brown, I goes possibly. He is just a nice young man, and what a beautiful dog” looking down at Zeus “yeah, I bought him with me from Cali, I couldn’t’ leave him behind. I have so many other dogs but he made the cut” watching him pat Zeus’ head, Zeus is staring like he is about to give him treats “nice seeing you, we will meet again I am sure of it” nodding my head “and I will visit your home of course, I need to know my friend now” I chuckled “you do that son” he has such a weird and funny accent, it’s so strong too and I like it.

Throwing Zeus leash to the side, this home has been more entertaining and loud too like now. Taking off my jacket and making my way to where the commotion is, Robyn has been ever so happy with everything, like we are all getting along just the weakest link left the chat so who cares. I hope they ain’t annoying my daughter with all the loud noises and shit, they have music on too. I stopped midway just looking at Noella, Majesty and Robyn in the kitchen “you’re back!” Robyn half shouted over the music “clearly yes, y’all singing or cooking?” I questioned; Robyn stuck her tongue out at me as she made her way around the kitchen counter “I could stay awake just to hear you breathing” Robyn sang to me “Watch you smile while you are sleeping, while you're far away and dreaming” I laughed at Robyn being stupid “I could spend my life in this sweet surrender, I could stay lost in this moment forever. Where every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure. Sing with me!” Robyn placed the pan at the side before she came into me, wrapping her arms around my neck “Don't want to close my eyes, I don't want to fall asleep cause I'd miss you, baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing” Robyn sang to me “you’re stupid” laughing at her “we are singing and cooking, I love you” Robyn pressed a kiss to my lips “I love you too” mushing her forehead “also your boyfriend is back, he is his bedroom, Dennis that is” oh yes, Dennis is back “I will go and seen him, and Robyn” moving back from her “keep that smile, I love you” I am excited that Dennis is here.

Knocking on his bedroom door “it’s the maid” I said outside his door “I hope the maid bought snacks, come in!” he shouted, opening his bedroom door “my man, welcome the fuck back with extra luggage!?” his room is filled with cases “I am moving in, come here. I actually missed you” Dennis climbed over the case “Robyn calls you my boyfriend now” hugging Dennis “she is jealous, I was going to tag you in a post, and I see you deleted the page. I wrote such a beautiful post too” I chuckled “you can tell me in person, I been bored without you. What did you post!?” Dennis got his phone out of his pocket “I saw you struggling on Instagram, I felt really upset for you. Everyone was getting at you for nothing, innocent man I say. Yes here, I posted it anyways” he turned his phone to me, taking his phone from him “wow, look at that smile! Too many teeth showing” I laughed, this was taken on the wedding day in Mexico “the sparkle in your eye, the happiness on your face and I captured that. I mean nobody can see much but a white background from the wall but read it friend” looking at the caption “He is a friend which I have known longer then just the months I have spent time with, he is a good man and a good heart. Misunderstood to many but not to me, here is to more memories with this man, love looks good on you, the look of happiness and nobody will take that from you” I read out, that got me choked up “wow, thank you Dennis. Robyn made me get rid of it but it’s the best thing to do, clear my mind” Dennis nodded his head “not just me, when you deleted it many people were worried about you, I have messages under this post from fans” Dennis took his phone from me “oh please tell me Chris is ok but you are loved, but we have some more things to do. We have got more footage to do, voiceovers also, so work is not done” I can tell Dennis has his work cut out for him.

It sucks so bad that I can only smoke in the games room because it’s classed as my own room, Robyn said I can do it in other rooms but like what if Fenty is there, so I have to be good. A blunt a day keeps the stress away, and also I am having to facetime that bitch, when I say that bitch I mean Amikka but this time she said she will let me see Aeko on his own, the facetime connected and I can just see my son stood there looking “champ! What’s good my boy?” Aeko ran over to the phone “dad” he waved at me “you look so grown, look at your ginger hair” he touched his head “yes, your hair. I miss you; I really do. I love you” Aeko ran off “I play ball, look” he ran out of the camera, god knows where he is going to get “you’re getting ball, showing dad your skills?” I can hear Amikka say “tell him how you have been doing so good at practice” Aeko is staring at his mom ad he walked back to the camera with the ball in hand “my ball, you say it” he said to his mom “tell him, say daddy I did good” my son speak so well, proud of him “I did good” he dropped the ball “show him your award, go on. Get it” Aeko ran off again, my son is just everywhere right now “you don’t need to hide, if we have to speak it had to be about him and you don’t like that” I said to her “I rather not, go on show him your award” I grinned down at the phone as Aeko placed the paper all up in the camera “awwww, I am so proud of you son” he is doing well “I come dad house now” Aeko asked, the thing is Aeko hasn’t asked that unlike Royalty that does that a lot “you will be, we just need to sort some things out and you will see me” I am taking her ass to court.

Robyn held her hand out to me, holding her hand as I sat next to her “how is Aeko?” she asked, I didn’t think she would ask about my son in front of her family but she did “he is good, showed me his awards he got from football practice, super proud of him. He looks so grown, happy I would say and then he asked about coming to me which he never has asked that before. I am guessing she has been putting it in his mind, so I am like I need to take her to court quick. She didn’t come into the camera at all, she stayed away. I think she is getting it but like, I want to feel more towards my son. I see his happiness and he does make me happy but like, I need more” Robyn squeezed my hand “that will come once you remove the toxic bitch, he can come here, and we will help get you to feel more for him. He deserves to see your love too, things will happen. Don’t worry” Robyn is such a good woman to me “thank you, you think I could have them both here?” Robyn smiled “yes of course, I mean it’s a big thing, but I married you for everything around it, including the kids. I see us being happy, hopefully this Christmas. I would like Fenty to see them as their older siblings, to know them. I feel like Royalty is fine, but your son is a little I don’t know but we shall see, don’t worry” I sighed out “thank you” Robyn shook her head “so we are going bowling, just a little time out. Well mommy said it, Noella booked a place for us” nodding my head “that is dope, I am down for it. It will be nice to do something together” we can have some fun.

Fenty is not happy at all, she keeps on having these crying performances, but she is ok once she is picked up “you want me to put her in the car seat?” I asked Noella, Robyn is still upstairs but is coming down “we will wait until Robyn is down” she has a point, god knows how long she will be, my phone started ringing in my pocket “first family outing” Dennis said, his camera is out so he is working “and it’s a disaster, we are late” answering the call from Ant “what’s up nigga?” walking around Dennis “did you get the gifts I sent?” he asked, I paused thinking “no, when did you send them? You know the UK mail can be long” walking into the second living room “Zeus, come on boy” let me put him away while we’re out “should be there soon, I got the little princess some clothes and dresses. I wanted to actually ask you, when are you planning on coming back. We need to go through some things with you, being your manager I need to be in the know and I feel like I am not” opening the garage door for Zeus to go down “that is the thing, I am literally under Robyn. Like whatever Robyn want me to do, I will do it” closing the door and walking off to see what they are doing “Robyn’ bitch then?” he laughed “not exactly, it’s called being there for your other half. Ant, if I needed to hear you just be a dickhead to me I would have asked, I am doing just fine here. I don’t think I need to be going back to Cali when there is nothing for me there, just Royalty but I will be back for her” I was expecting Robyn to dress up but she stole my sweatshirt and made it look cute, she has put minimal makeup on, she just dressed up a little bit “we ready? I have packed it all” nodding my head “I heard that you are going under Roc Nation, you can deny it all you want but you will fall under that umbrella. Fenty Brown entertainment? That has been popping up, if you don’t need me then say it, I won’t be offended” I have no idea what is happening “Ant, I don’t know. There is a lot of things in the air. Once a special project is being done then it will be back to me” I mean what else does he want “well I will be waiting” I know a lot of people are.

Climbing into back of the car next to Fenty in the car seat “it’s the longest I have heard her silent you know” she is asleep “I know, she has been just wanting nothing but snuggles and kisses. I adore her so much Chris, she even smiled at me, but I am excited to be going out, well not out out but just something, you know” nodding head “yeah, it’s a change. You know what, I don’t get why people are angry that I am with you, like you are helping me. They are calling me your bitch, it’s like they want me to be in a dark place. They want me back in Cali” I thought I would tell Robyn this, she deserves to hear it “of course they do, we will go there Chris” squinting my eyes at Robyn “would you trust me to go back there alone?” I mean that is the real question, I am sure she doesn’t “honestly, probably not. And that is not because of you but what is around you. There is a lot of temptation around and I still think you are healing from the abuse you put yourself through, I feel like your friends are pieces of shit that want you back for their own gain, that is the truth. If you want to go Chris then, I mean who am I to stop you, I say that and I am your wife, but I feel like you are an adult, but I am just on the fence. If you want to go back then” Robyn drifted off “as your wife I will let you but deep down I don’t want you too, and I know it will be stupid shit. I know there will be something like Rihanna’ baby daddy seen out with another female you just was walking with, do I need that when I am trying to build an empire with us both and trying to push away my record label and telling everyone he is a changed man. Yes fuck their opinion but I can’t hide you, you need to be an adult too. But I think you at times have lose that sense, you have your moments” I couldn’t help but laugh, I don’t know why but it’s Robyn knows me “I have a lot of things there still, if England is my home then I do need to go there” Robyn is looking at me in fear, I mean it’s scary “not now but like maybe sooner then you will be going” Robyn is not impressed.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Falling From Grace- Part 2: Deleted Scenes

Calum, Ashton, Luke, and Michael have a prophecy to fulfill. They might not have always been Calum, Ashton, Luke, and Michael but they have always been brothers in the fight. Mythology!sos. Each guy is a God reincarnated from various mythologies. 

See the full story. 

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No one has my permission to repost this fic, including translations. All rights reserved. Copyright © be-ready-when-i-say-go.

_____________________________

He’s known the museum sitting there for years now. He’s just never step foot into it. Felt way too close to home knowing that statues of people he actually knows sit about. But Ashton walts in this time. It could be fun he figures. It’s not like anyone knows him, knows his connection. So with his hair tied back for the moment, Ashton pays admission and starts about the exhibits. Most of the place is way too pristine. The white walls look more like a hospital and it feels like one too but much less sorrowful. He keeps his hands tucked into the pocket of his pants, restricting the yearning to touch some of the frames. 

He misses the frill, the extravagant gold accents on his usual robes. The frames are the closet he’s going to get right now. Ashton follows the line down before rounding the corner and finding him at the door of another exhibit. Busts line the walls and he grins to himself. He recognizes these faces, knows them all too well, even if they are in white marble. Some are chipped, the wear and tear of time never being the most merciful force in the universe. 

Ashton poses in front of the first statue, mimicking the facial expression. He sends the photo to the group chat. This guy was a dick. Or is a dick, still, I guess is more correct. He moves down to the second bust, pulling a face similar to the one sculpted. Less of a dick, he types, grinning to himself. He takes a photo with the last bust, furrowing his brows, and pulling down the corner of his lips. Less of a dick than the first two. Guy’s still not my favorite. 

A couple of minutes later his phone buzzes. Michael’s replied, I’m saving these for evidence. You’ve been warned. 

They hate me anyway, so good luck with that.

Damn it. Why do all the Greek Gods hate each other so fucking much?

Because we do. It’s our Brand™. 

Alright Meme Lord. 

Ashton chuckles, pocketing his phone. As he walks through the rest of the museum he ponders what else to do with the photos? Should they just sit forever in the groupchat? What’s the real harm in posting them? He doesn’t have to put a caption. If he’s going to live in this life then he’s going to live it to its fullest. 

As Ashton settles back onto the cushions of his house, he hovers over the post button. He’s had the pictures sitting for ages in the post. Nothing’s going to happen to him. The Gods aren’t going to smite him, for all their seriousness, humor is not lost on them. Just post it, he thinks to himself. It is not the end of the world. He’s all acquainted with how that goes. His thumb twitches, the posts loads before the screen changes. There, staring back up at him, is his own face next to faces he’s always seen in the flesh. 

Maybe it’s a bad idea. Panic starts to hits his chest. His phone buzzes. It’s Calum. I know you, mate. Saw the photos. They’re funny. Don’t worry. Ashton starts to draft his response, tell them how he needs to delete the photos before another messages comes in. If you delete them, it’s more suspicious. Leave them be. We are human right now. What’s the point of having this humanity and not using it.

Calum is right. Ashton exhales, deleting all the panicked message and replacing it with a simple, Thanks. 

_________

Michael finds himself as the next one in a museum. This time not as accidental as Ashton’s trip. He decided to go out for the day, see some sights, to get away. They need a break. Recording and writing, more writing, more recording. He just wants to shut his brain off for a moment, just enjoy his time while it’s still mostly his. As he’s walking through the exhibits, awestruck by the use of colors and the line work that’s still incorporated into the final details of the piece, he jokingly poses in front of some pieces. He’s only doing it for the jokes, the giggle behind the camera. 

But at the conclusion of his journey through art, he realizes that some of those poses were pretty spot on. He posts the set of recreations with the caption, Immerse yourself. Become art. He wants to add more. You are art. Everyone is art. Everything is art. There’s an art in just existing, in just breathing when everything feels like it’s telling you not to breathe, to not exist. However he figures it best to stay positive, to keep it light and funny. He’s becoming art and that reminds him, even in all the struggle of making this album he still has a duty to himself. 

So he leaves it at just that. Become art. Becoming is the best part of existence. He can become anyone. He can become anything, even if in some ways he is still restricted by another’s diction. He will always becoming something in this human form. He hopes he never stops becoming either, even in the old age when bones are more brittle. 

__ Everyone’s buzzing about Marvel. It’s always somewhere in the corners of the internet the correct way to watch the movies. Calum’s never been one to delve head first into this. But Michael enjoys it and rather than tune out his friend’s interest, he suspends all he knows and finds the action scenes and the comradery admirable. Even if people are robots made out of blue scraps, and someone’s a purple giant, and there’s two green people. But only one’s technically the alien and the other deems himself an abomination.

It’s not very amusing when the interviewer jokes about potentially spoiling the movie. Calum can tell Michael’s a little on edge. So he jokes, “Is Spiderman in it?”

“Yeah, I haven’t even watched the trailer because I don’t wanna spoil it,” Michael replies, looking down at the slight furrowed brow of the brown man slouched, picking at his nails. 

“Is Spiderman in it?” Ashton echoes. 

Calum speaks up again, “Is it Toby?” HIs face in deadpanned. He knows Michael will think he is serious. 

Michael for a second is shocked, voice dripping with disbelief. “What? No.” He watches the very faint smile that overtakes Calum’s face and then laughs. Of course Calum would ask that. He knows it’s not Toby but it got a chuckle out of Michael. 

Calum faces forward, staring directly into the camera, like in The Office. Not too many people will catch onto the joke, the play that just happened. But it’s fine. It’s for Michael anyway. The stab about spoilers wasn’t funny to anyone and rather than let that tension grow, Calum knew he had to break it somehow. This then spurs Ashton onto a rant about how Toby is better. 

Calum interjects, mostly at Michael, “I like Tom, but I like Toby more.”

Later on, after all the interviews are done, they settle into the dark of the theater. They laugh, they gasp, they admittedly cry. Though it only maybe only a couple of tears and no one would admit it, it’s still a shock. Calum pulls out his phone, Why is Gamora? He decides to focus on the positive, on the laughs. Though the question itself is still a very valid one. Why is anyone? Why the question purpose, and sometimes the most difficult one to ask. Why anything? Why the four of them? Why is it so humid in Singapore? The t-shirt, that Calum figured would be thin enough, does not provide much circulation. His pits feel like a swamp, the leather to the couch they’ve been sat on for the last two days takes no prisoners either. 

Calum has learned, however, that he can question why until he turns blue in the face? He could analyze every interaction, every word in existence and it would still only lead him to more questions. He doesn’t let that stop him from question some things but he tries not to question too many things. There is some, while it is scary, serenity in knowing that one does not have all the answers. He is allowed to question Why is Gamora and it is nothing more than a funny piece of dialogue from a widely accepted heart wrenching movie and it will provide answers of its own accord, at its own pace. All he simply must do is walk into a dark theater. 

________

“So we can see, Calum out there has had a long day,” Luke starts, shirtless, watching out onto the balcony where Calum, “on the treacherous waters.”

“He was fishing for Tilapia,” Ashton interjects. 

“Catch Calum on the newest season of Deadliest Catch,” Luke concludes. He doesn’t find himself to be the funniest guy, but every so often he likes to get in a joke. 

Ashton opens the door, “You okay, buddy?” Calum’s earnest glance back makes all three men laugh on camera, including a small chuckle from Andy, who’s behind the camera. It makes Luke happy, that just for a moment, they aren’t too serious. Even though this is work, steaming his voice before a show, and he’s currently unsure of what he’s going to wear tonight, there is some play. 

Later on, after the adventure in Cream Soda, venturing down the dark streets, Luke pulls Michael to the back of the group for an ‘interview’. It quickly goes down south. They continue on down the street. The saying all work and no play makes Jack dull is right. So they make sure to have fun, even if it’s in the backseat of the car, shakily hitting a falsetto about Shake Shack. It reminds them all, but Luke especially to try and shake the bad times off. 

The whole year creating the album broke, and maybe in some ways, created chains and burdens. Expectations is the worst thing they’ve ever faced. They’re always expected to restore balance to the cosmos. That is an old cross they bear. But it is strange now to be so far into the limelight, to be told that they are expected to work almost endlessly day in and day out without allowing themselves the truth of the situation. They grow tired. They grow weary. 

They sing in falsetto though. They make sure to have these small moments to be strange and to be weird to remind themselves they are bound to humanness. They are not exempt from doubt even with the expectation to be superheros in the eye of the music world, even though they know normally they are able in deity form do miracles things, that are incredibly human right now. And it’s okay to have this tender moments. They’ve earned them. 

[wistfulcynic]

On What They Fall 2/4

So let me start by saying how much I hate @thisonesatellite. I mean obviously I don't hate her, I love her even though she has been HOGGING THE BRAIN, but I hate that EVERY TIME she says I’m going to need more chapters to tell my story I DO. I DO NEED THEM. Curse her. 

The upside of her eerie genius is that there are now three chapters in this fic. ONLY THREE, DAMMIT. 

I’d like to say that this one is less angsty than the first but that would be a LIE. 

The first angsty chapter can be found here on Tumblr or here on AO3. 

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is an angry young man. He has no family and few friends, and he’s stuck in a small town where everyone views him with fear and suspicion.

Everyone but Emma Swan.

She’s everything he wants in life and everything he can’t have. What he doesn’t know is that she wants him too.

Part 9 of Secret Things.

Rated: T

On AO3

Tagging some folks who might enjoy it: @kmomof4, @stahlop, @mariakov81, @teamhook, @resident-of-storybrooke, @darkcolinodonorgasm, @shireness-says, @thejollyroger-writer, @ohmightydevviepuu @jennjenn615 @superchocovian (Give me a shout if you’d like a tag for Chapter 3 THE REALLY VERY FINAL CHAPTER I MEAN IT THIS TIME)

Chapter 2: 

Killian doesn’t write and he doesn’t call. He doesn’t contact anyone except Belle, and she gets nothing but the odd text message sent at irregular intervals. She never tells anyone what the messages say and Emma can’t bear to ask. 

She googles him, though, in moments of weakness— when Graham pushes a bit too hard or when her parents smile at him too fondly, when Emma’s had a drink or two too many she gives in to the longing that is never not a part of her and searches for any scrap of information about him that she can find. 

Her searches come up empty, at first. She expects little else —he’s off on a boat after all— but then one day about a year after he left she searches for his name and finds an Instagram account. She holds her breath as she clicks on it, wondering if after so long it could possibly, actually be him. All the pictures are of landscapes and cityscapes and food and people— so many people, and though none of them are him she knows instinctively that this account is his. These are photographs he’s taken of his travels. 

She makes a second account for herself with a meaningless username and follows him. She checks his page daily, marking off all the places he visits on a globe she buys expressly for the purpose, charting his progress as he travels around the world. His photographs are gorgeous, full of colour and life, and they capture the spirit and the essence of each location. He’s a fantastic photographer, and it turns out an even better writer. 

One day when she checks his Instagram she sees a link to a blog. With shaking hands she clicks on it and finds a single post—a story, complete with pictures, of a day he spent in Vietnam. It was a hot day, he recounted, edging towards 50 Celsius (122 Fahrenheit, Emma learns from Google, and her jaw drops) and Killian spent it in a place called Hoi An, visiting an elderly couple who breed silkworms for the local trade and taking photographs in their un-air-conditioned house. By the late afternoon he was bathed in sweat, thirsty and grumpy and wanting nothing more than to get back to his boat and have a beer, sail out to sea to catch a cool breeze. When he returned to where he’d moored her, however, he discovered that some local children had cut his line and set his boat adrift off the coast. The children thought this was a hilarious joke, and Killian, despite his mood and the sweat pouring off him, found himself laughing along with them. With no other practical options available, he put his camera bag on his head, secured the strap under his chin, and carefully swam out to his boat. The water was warm, he wrote, like a tepid bath, bright blue and gentle, and it washed the sweat away and refreshed him. When he reached the boat he tossed the camera bag aboard along with the wet clothes he simply stripped off and then floated in the water, watching a thunderstorm roll in over the mountains behind the town. 

Emma devours the story eagerly, then goes back to the beginning and reads it again. His writing style is eloquent and engaging, his descriptions of the locations and people vivid and funny, and she feels like she’s there with him. She feels a pang at that realisation. If only she were there with him. 

The story ends with a final photograph, clearly taken from the deck of his boat. A stormy grey sky lit up by a flash of lighting arcing down over the tops of lush green mountains. The brown roofs of houses dotted around the lower elevations and down to the white sandy beach fronted by clear azure water. The caption reads: I had never known such contentment or such peace.

That he had to go to the other side of the world to find those things breaks her heart. 

She checks his blog daily and he updates it often, and soon she is only one of his regular readers. He gets dozens, then hundreds of comments on each post and he replies to them with charm and humour, and before too long advertisers begin to take notice. As do editors. 

His first professional article appears in Wanderlust about two and a half years after his departure from Storybrooke. More soon follow, and his blog is updated with less and less frequency. And then, four years after he left, he makes the cover of National Geographic. 

Emma cries as she reads it, huge, silent tears that leave tracks down her face, and with her fingertip she traces the small picture of him next to the article. His beard is thicker, she thinks, though he still hasn’t learned how to use a comb. 

Six months later he announces that he’s shutting down his blog because he’s written a book, a novel that will be published the following year. Emma is thrilled, and so proud of him. He always was good with words, as his impressive career in travel journalism proves, and she’s delighted he’s found an even more creative way to use that talent. But then she thinks about how, once, he would have given her this news himself, and her tears fall again. 

She thinks about how things were between them, so long ago now. How from the very beginning he fascinated her, that sullen, beautiful boy with his soft accent and his furious pain, the wary disbelief in his eyes when she brought him a blanket and the shock of intense connection when she shook his hand. Her persistent campaign to break through the bastion of his anger and discover the person beneath, her joy when she succeeded. The long, hot days of his first summer in Storybrooke, walking in the woods or sitting by the docks together, reading, listening to music, talking about everything. How in love with him she was and how she thought, in odd moments and snatches of glances that he might feel the same. 

Then autumn came and Killian turned eighteen. The morning of his birthday he dropped out of school, telling Emma without looking at her that with the chaos of his parents’ deaths and the struggle to find someone to take custody of him he missed his exams in England and here in the US everything was too different. He wouldn’t be able to graduate in the spring and he didn’t see the point of staying in school when he should be earning money. Now that there were no more funds from the state to support him, he said, he couldn’t be a burden on Belle. 

He got a job at the docks, working such long hours she barely ever saw him. When she did he was exhausted, worn in a way that worried her, though he always had a smile for her and a new book he discovered for her to read. His mind was so active, so curious, but when she tried to talk him into going back to school he refused to listen, withdrawing into himself if she even brought it up. 

Emma thinks about how he began to pull away from her, subtly at first, allowing the circumstances of their lives to do most of the work. She thinks of the gossip she began to hear about him, stories of sleeping with older women who would buy him alcohol, drinking until he passed out. She confronted him about it and he stonewalled her, telling her to go back to her high school boys and leave him in peace.  

Man whore, she hissed at him. 

Princess, he snarled back, turning the word into an insult.  

Emma cried herself to sleep that night, and the next day agreed to go to her senior prom with Neal Cassidy. 

--

 When word of Killian’s book gets out Storybrooke goes insane. Everyone seems to have forgotten the way they once treated him, the suspicion and distrust, the whispering behind his back, always waiting for him to explode in violence or do something that would get him locked up for good. All they remember now is that he’s a ‘local boy’—one born on a different continent, but that is also forgotten— and there is pride in their voices when they speak of him. There is speculation on when he’s going to ‘come home.’ 

Emma wants nothing more than for him to come home, but not like this, not into the clutches of these vultures, she thinks viciously, these people who made him feel like less than nothing and who now just want to trade on his acclaim. Yet she wants so badly to see him, to hear his voice again. He’s been gone five years and the wound is still open, still gaping and raw. By now she knows it will never heal, and if she lives to be a hundred she will never stop missing him. 

Graham knows it too. They’re still dating, sort of, in the sense that they go out together sometimes and they sleep together sometimes but Emma has never been able to fully commit to the relationship. She loves Graham but she’s not in love with him, as the cliché goes, and when Killian becomes the focus of eager conversation throughout the town Graham thinks he may finally know the reason why. 

“It’s Killian, isn’t it?” he asks her out of nowhere one day. They’re in the sheriff’s station where Emma now works alongside him, having graduated with her criminal justice degree and joined the force as a deputy. “You’re in love with him.” 

“What? How do you know?” She stares at him, too astonished to dissemble. 

“Emma, you should see your face whenever anyone mentions his name.” Graham smiles sadly. “I didn’t notice at first because— well, no one talked about him, but now his name’s getting thrown around all over the place and every time you hear it you look like your heart is breaking.” 

“Graham.” She has no idea what to say to him. 

“At least now I know why you couldn’t ever fall for me.”

“I’m so sorry.” Emma feels terrible. “I probably shouldn’t have— It’s just my dad was so—” 

“I know. I probably shouldn’t have pushed so hard. With hindsight it’s always been pretty obvious your heart wasn’t in it.” 

“I wish it could have been,” she says with a flare of anger. “Killian never wanted me, he left without even saying goodbye. I haven’t heard a word from him in five years, so why can’t I stop loving him?”

“What is it they say? True love never dies?” 

“I’ll have to find a way to kill it then, because I can’t live the rest of my life like this.” 

Graham stares at his hands for a long moment, and then he speaks. “You might not have to.” 

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t think— I don’t think Killian didn’t want you.” 

“What?” Emma glares at him but he doesn’t look up. 

“It’s not something we ever spoke of, but looking back.. hindsight and all, I see some things now that I didn’t want to see back then. He was always so tense when you were around, and his face when anyone said your name— well, it was a lot like yours is now when someone says his.”

She shakes her head. “You’re imagining things, Graham. Projecting—” 

“No, I don’t think I am,” he interrupts firmly, finally looking at her. “I think Killian loved you but thought he couldn’t give you what you needed and that’s why he left.” 

“And what exactly did he think I needed?” 

“Maybe you should ask him that.” 

Emma throws up her hands. “I just told you he hasn’t spoken to me in half a decade. I’ve got no idea where he even is.” 

“You’re a cop,” says Graham. “You have resources.” 

“Graham Humbert, are you suggesting I misappropriate—” 

“I’m not suggesting anything, Emma, other than that it seems you and Killian have a conversation that’s at least five years overdue, and maybe it’s time you finally had it.”

--

Two weeks later Killian’s book comes out. It’s an instant sensation, shooting to the top of the bestseller lists. All his Instagram followers and blog readers and travel magazine subscribers buy it and so do their friends and family. Emma buys a copy and stares for a long time at his name on the cover before she begins to read. 

The book is not a love story. It’s a story of love frustrated by life. It’s the story of a boy and a girl, the classic star-crossed lovers, who end up not dying in each other’s arms or living happily ever after but just… living. Ever after. 

It’s the story of bad timing and bad choices and circumstances that grind away at love until nothing remains but the ghost of it, and of two people who would once have done anything for each other but by the end barely speak. It’s beautifully written and it’s heartbreaking, and for Emma it hits her straight in her soul. Because she is the girl, and Killian is the boy, and she doesn’t even have to read the interview he gives to the New York Times Book Review, confessing that the woman he wrote about is based on a real person, to know that this is them. This is how Killian imagined the path their lives would take, if they got together all those years ago. This is why he left. 

Emma takes the book with her everywhere, rereading it in every spare moment, searching for something to convince her she’s wrong, that she’s imagining what isn’t there. She forgets to eat and barely sleeps, and finally she goes to see Belle, knocking on her door with the book clutched tightly to her chest. Belle hugs her, the minute she opens it. She’s read the book too. 

“He’s never coming back, is he?” Emma whispers. 

Belle shakes her head. “No.” 

She ushers Emma inside, sits her down on the sofa. Waits. 

Emma stares at the book, ruffling its pages and toying with its dust jacket. “Isn’t there anything that might make him— any reason he might want to— to come to Storybrooke again? Doesn’t he at least want to see you?”

Belle chooses her words carefully. “I visited him last Christmas,” she says gently. “In his new place, at his request. He doesn’t want to come back here. I— believe there are some things he thinks would hurt too much to revisit.” 

“The woman in his book.” 

“Yes.” 

Emma takes a deep breath, looks Belle straight in the eye. “Is it me?” She holds up the book. “Is she— me?”

Belle sighs, but there’s no point in lying. The woman in the book is so obviously Emma. She’s kept Killian’s secret as long as she could, but if he’s going to put his heart on display in the pages of an international bestseller there’s only so much that she can do to protect it for him. 

“Yes,” she says. “It’s you.” 

“Then he… he loved me?” 

Belle nods, and Emma’s fingers grip the book tightly. “Did he leave town because of me?”

“He did. He loved you deeply, Emma, but he never acted on it because he believed you didn’t feel the same, and even if you did he couldn’t give you the life you deserved. Then you started dating Graham and couldn’t bear to watch you fall in love with someone else.” 

“He’s such an idiot,” hisses Emma, and Belle does rather agree. Yet she’s not sorry Killian left Storybrooke; he’d never have made anything of himself had he stayed. He’s got the life he deserves now, and he’s stable, if not quite happy. He’s been seeing a therapist and working through the scars from his past. For the first time in all the years she’s known him anger isn’t his defining feature, and while she does think his book takes rather too pessimistic a view of the life they might have had together, she’s certain none of the progress he’s made would have been possible if he’d remained here in this town with Emma, however much he loved her. 

“Tell me something, Emma,” she says. “If Killian had told you he loved you before he left, what would you have done?” 

“Gone with him,” says Emma, without a second’s hesitation. 

Belle gives her a hard look. “You would have given up everything —your education, your family, your home— to live with him on a boat, scraping by on his savings?” 

“Yes.” Emma thinks about the picture from his first blog post, the calm and contentment he’d found floating off the coast of Vietnam. She would have given up anything to experience that with him. Just to be with him. “All I’ve ever really wanted is to have a life with him. The details of that life don’t really matter. I mean, they do, but— we could have worked them out together.”

Belle smiles and gives her head a little shake. One of these days, she thinks, she’ll stop underestimating Emma Swan. “He’s living in New York now,” she says casually. “In a neighbourhood called the Bowery. Bought himself a nice little flat there. Apparently the advance on his next book was a generous one.” 

Emma swallows hard before she speaks. “Is he planning to stay there?” she asks. 

“I think so,” says Belle. “I think he’s ready to stop wandering and find his place.” 

--

Emma has been with the sheriff’s department for three years and she’s never once abused the power that comes with her position. She doesn’t speed or park where she shouldn’t, or even cut in line at Granny’s as even Graham has been known to do. She’s never even jaywalked. But when she learns where Killian lives, his very neighbourhood in fact, she busts out every cop trick she knows to find his address. 

When she has it she sits for a long time, thinking. Then she opens Google Street View. She feels a bit like a stalker, looking online at the very building where he lives, but she can’t help herself. And if she goes through with her plan then she will quite literally be stalking him and via not-quite-legal means as well. 

But she can’t get Graham’s words out of her head. A conversation at least five years overdue. She wants to know why he left, why he pushed her away even before that, why he didn’t trust her to love him enough to make everything else irrelevant. She needs to hear it from his own mouth, not from Graham’s or Belle’s or anyone else’s. She needs to know.  

She doesn’t tell anyone where she’s going or what she intends to do. Her dad is surprised when she asks for two weeks off work— she’s not had so much as a sick day since she started— but when he and her mother ask about her plans she tells them she just needs some time away after her breakup with Graham. Her father’s mouth goes grim; he’s not happy about that breakup. But he says nothing and her mother hugs her and tells her to take all the time she needs. 

--

The next morning finds her at Killian’s door, trying to calm her racing heartbeat as she stares at the number on it, gathers her courage, and rings the bell. When he appears her breath stops. Her world stops. He looks good, is all she can think. Older, of course, filled out and more solid, with thick scruff along his jaw and his hair neatly trimmed if less than neatly combed. He’s always been good looking, but in the past the anger and defiance that so often marred his features made it hard to see. But now… now the anger is nowhere to be seen and he is beautiful, his smile shining as brilliantly as she remembers until he recognises her and it fades away. 

“Swan,” he gasps, staring at her with wide eyes. “What— why are you—” 

“I read your book,” she says breathlessly. 

“Ah.” 

“I loved it. You’re an incredible writer.” 

He drops his eyes and rubs his neck, a pink flush spreading over his cheekbones. Some things haven’t changed, she thinks. He never could handle praise.

“Erm, well, yes. Thank you,” he says. “Um. Come in, Swan.” 

He steps back to allow her entrance and she feels breathless again as she takes in his apartment. It’s plainly furnished but everywhere there are things, all manner of them, clearly souvenirs of his travels. Sculptures and paintings and knickknacks and other little touches of the life he’s lived without her. She spins slowly around, wide-eyed. 

“This is amazing.” 

“Aye, well, I’ve done some travelling.” 

“I know. I read your blog too, and your Instagram.” 

“You— really?” 

She turns to look at him. “Yeah. I’ve been following you for a while. On the internet at least.” 

“That’s— well, I don’t really know. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think you—” I didn’t think you cared. She hears the words he doesn’t say. 

The urge to touch him is so strong she digs her fingernails into her palms to stop herself from reaching out, wrapping him in her arms and never letting go. She notices that he seems to be doing the same, one hand stuffed deep in his pocket and the other a tight fist at his side. The tension Graham spoke of is there as well. It radiates from him, belying his casual posture. He was always tense around her in those later years, she remembers. Now she has some new ideas about why. 

She doesn’t know what to say, though, how to start the conversation she needs them to have. 

He starts it for her. “Why are you here, Swan?” he asks. 

“Belle told me where you live.” 

“That’s a how, not a why,” he says, with a small smile.  

“I just wanted to see you.” 

“Why?”

She tries to sort through all the reasons: because she still loves him and always will, because she missed him every second he was gone and she’s so angry at him for leaving without even a goodbye but also she’s proud of him for what he’s accomplished, for pulling himself out of the life he hated and finding success through his talent and hard work and sheer stubbornness. She tries to sort through the chaos of her thoughts but before she can the door opens and a woman rushes in. 

“Sorry I’m late, I— oh. I didn’t know you were expecting any visitors.” 

“I wasn’t.” Killian smiles at the woman as she approaches them. She’s tall and elegant with dark hair that tumbles in wild curls down her back. Emma feels small and dowdy next to her, and when she kisses Killian in greeting Emma can’t suppress a flinch. 

“This is Emma,” says Killian. “A friend from Storybrooke.” 

The woman looks at her with sharp interest. “I thought you didn’t have any friends there.” 

“I believe I said I didn’t have many,” Killian replies with a grin. “She’s one.” He turns back to Emma and the smile slips away. “This is Milah, my agent,” he tells her. “And, ah, my girlfriend.” 

Emma doesn’t flinch this time, she’s frozen by the stab of pain through her heart, though she knew this was coming from the moment the woman came through his door. Of course he has a girlfriend, she thinks, he’s moved on with his life. He’s been moving on, for the past five years. She’s the one who can’t let go. 

She feels like she’s watching herself from outside her body as she summons a smile from God knows where and shakes Milah’s hand. She says all the right things— nice to meet you and yes, here on vacation and just in the neighbourhood, thought I’d look him up. From the expression in Milah’s pale eyes she doesn’t believe a word of it. 

“Well, I’m sorry to cut your reunion short, Emma, but I’m afraid Killian has an appointment and we’re already running late,” she says briskly. 

“Yes, of course,” Emma, replies, leaping to her feet and grabbing her things. “I’ll just… it was nice to meet you Milah, and to see you Killian. I’ll, uh, find my way out.” She forces herself not to run. 

Killian catches up to her as she’s waiting at the elevator. “Swan!” he calls, and Emma wills the elevator to come faster, wishes she’d just taken the stairs. She tries not to turn around, but he calls her name again she can’t resist the entreaty in his voice. 

“Where are you staying?” he asks, all in a rush. “For how long? Can I— can we—” he takes a deep breath and tries again. “I’d love to see you before you go. If you like, that is. Can I take you for coffee or something?” 

The elevator doors open and she steps inside, turns to look at him almost against her will.

“Swan,” he says again, and his voice is so soft. 

She gives him the name of her hotel, forces herself not to be thrilled by the warmth of his smile. The first smile he’s directed at her in five years. “I’ll come by tomorrow morning,” he says, and she nods as the doors slide shut. It’s just a platitude, she tells herself, just something people say. She won’t get her hopes up. 

She won’t. 

--

Killian returns to his apartment where Milah is waiting, actually tapping her toe on the floor as she stares at her phone with a stony expression. He ignores her mood, grabs his jacket and his satchel and holds open the door. 

“Are you coming?” he asks. 

She sweeps by him without a word and he follows her downstairs to where a town car is waiting. There is no sign of Emma in the street.

They sit in silence as the car navigates the heavy traffic. Killian is lost in his thoughts, unnerved by the way his skin is tingling, his blood pounding hot in his veins. This reaction is insane, he thinks, they didn’t even touch. Just seeing Emma again has shaken him to his core and he can’t work out how he feels about it. He never expected to see her anywhere but in his dreams. 

“That was her, wasn’t it?” says Milah, interrupting his reverie. “The woman from your book.” 

“Aye.” He regrets Emma’s presence in his book, resents it a bit. He tried to write the woman differently but no matter what he did she refused to be anyone but Emma. In the end he gave in, hoping that writing about her might excise her from his heart. It didn’t. Nothing ever could. 

Milah is silent for several streets. When she speaks again her voice is carefully neutral. “Are you going to tell her you’re still in love with her?” she asks. “That you’ve never stopped?”

“Milah—” he begins, but she cuts him off with a short, sharp gesture of her hand.

“It’s okay, Killian. Well, it’s not okay, but I’ve always known you didn’t love me the way you love her.” She gives a wry smile. “I just never imagined she’d show up at your door.” 

“No, nor I.” 

“What are you going to do about it?”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know.” 

Milah pauses again, chooses her words carefully. “You know you’ll never be completely happy without her, right?” 

He nods. “I know. But—” He hesitates, and she steps in.

“But you don’t think you deserve to be.” She gives him a probing look. “You do, you know.”

Killian stares at his hands, fighting against the memories that are starting to engulf him, things he hasn’t allowed himself to think about for years. Emma’s laugh, the way she smiled at him, the sunlight in her hair. Her father’s face whenever he saw them together. The way people in Storybrooke used to watch them, resentfully, as though his mere presence in her orbit would despoil their princess. 

He shakes his head.“You don’t understand. Emma, she’s perfect—” 

“She’s not,” snorts Milah, and meets his glare with a calm stare of her own. “She’s just a woman. A lovely one, yes, and by your account a remarkable one. But still just a woman. One who loves you.” 

His heart squeezes at that thought, one his brain refuses to entertain. “She doesn’t,” he insists, “she’s just being—” 

“Oh, stop it!” snaps Milah. “Stop making excuses. It’s fucking obvious to anyone with eyes. She’s as bad at hiding her feelings as you are. That woman is crazy in love with you and the only reason you can’t see it is because you think you don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t deserve her,” insists Killian, his jaw set stubbornly. 

Milah rolls her eyes, huffs out a breath. “You know what, maybe this is for the best,” she says. “Your moods were driving me crazy anyway.” 

“What, are you breaking up with me?”

“Yes. Yes I am. I can do better than a self-loathing nomad who’s in love with someone else.” 

They glare at each other. “You probably can,” says Killian. 

“Damn straight,” says Milah. 

“You will still be my agent, right?” 

“Of course I will. You’re my fucking cash cow, love.” 

Their glares fade into grins and they laugh. “Maybe it is for the best,” he concedes. “I like you too much to impose myself on you.” 

“Stop that,” says Milah. “That self deprecation gets really bloody tiresome. Just tell Blondie you love her, the rest will sort itself out. And quit holding her up in your mind like some sort of goddess. She’s just a woman.” 

Killian doesn’t reply. 

--

He calls Belle late that night. She answers after many rings with a sleepy “Hello?” He’s woken her up. He expects he should be sorry for that but he isn’t; he’s too mad at her for telling Emma where to find him. For destroying the peace he’s worked so hard to achieve. 

“Why,” he chokes out. He’s been sitting alone for hours fighting the urge to drink, unable to sleep, thinking about Emma and remembering and trying not to tumble back into feelings he thought he’d escaped. “Why would you tell her where I was?”

“What?” says Belle, and there is genuine confusion in her voice. “Killian? Who did I tell what to?” She must be tired, thinks Killian, if she’s dangling prepositions. 

“Emma,” he snarls. “You told her where I live. Why? Why, when you know how I—” 

“Hold on,” Belle is awake now, and there’s a snap in her tone. “I told Emma you live in New York but I didn’t give her your address. Why? Is she there?” 

“Aye.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “She appeared at my door this afternoon.” 

“Ah.” Belle sounds satisfied. 

“What the hell does that mean?” 

“Killian. Please think about this. She tracked you down. She went to a lot of trouble to find you. Why do you think she would do that?” 

“I’ve no bloody clue.” 

“You do,” says Belle sharply. “You’re just being obtuse. What did she say?” 

“Not much. The timing was complicated.” 

“Well, talk to her. Just talk. See what comes out.” There’s a pause as Belle sighs. “You’ve spent so long thinking you can’t have good things, Killian, I suppose it must be difficult to change that mindset. But you have to. You can have the things you want. You are allowed to be happy.” 

“I—” He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Get some sleep,” Belle tells him. “Talk to Emma in the morning. And keep me informed.” 

“Aye.” 

He hangs up the phone and drops onto his sofa, letting his head fall into his hands. Belle’s words ring in his ears. 

You are allowed to be happy. 

[stormypaint]

okay rewatching earlier snanders snides, i'm noticing things

-where each side stood was not too consistent -thomas used to physically step up for the "PEACE OUT!" (he also doesn't do the wink at "nonbinary pals" and i hate it) -SECONDHAND EMBARRASSMENT. -roman started with an accent of sorts (i can't place it exactly) -the lighting is much brighter. -patton was the one who was bad at internet (youtube) slang -logan gave his emotions to patton in exchange for all sense -patton seemed to develop the more intense arachnophobia we see from him AFTER virgil appeared (p:"can you handle disposing bugs, spiders, or creatures you may find in your house?" t:"c'mon." p:"yeah, that's a no.") -thomas talked to US, not the sides, for more than the beginning & end -thomas could leave his area too -their voices were very very similar. (nowadays you can pick them out even as background noise) -virgil was a fuckin bastard. he did NOT give a fuck. he was so sarcastic and CHILL? -*virgil voice* k i d -CHARACTER THOMAS ONCE KNEW WHAT WAS GOING ON -virgil has very spindly legs -the first videos were more one-on-one (chr thomas & a side) -the earliest episodes (2016) were around the same time of moana's release. feel old? -nobody fucking liked each other -virgil seems to be taking better care of himself -virgil's opinion on deception is more "haha go on lie to yourself coward" than "HISS" -virgil: YOU SICKEN ME. you can't always rely on a catchy tune to solve your problems! (YOU ONCE KNEW ME AS REAL GLOOMY-) -roman did a little dance in A New Year of Lying to Myself and i'm dying -logan made the others leave for the outro so it was still "his video". literally everyone was confused, i don't even know if logan knew what was going on -virgil had self-confidence once -he's also like "bitch i'm here to help shut up i'm not leaving" vs the Self-Doubt and questioning of now -I FINALLY FOUND WHERE THOMAS SAYS HE HATES CARROTS -roman pops up twice in a row with the line "did someone say prince??" -okay i know i said chr thomas knows what's going on but he's still so clueless -virgil has grown less cynical about frozen. roman grew MORE cynical. he was hesitant then, he's a flat-out critic now -thomas loves aladdin -"merlawyer" -logan: clickbait works -roman: you're the STORYTIME GUY. -patton physically stole some of thomas' pizza wtf -wholesome endcards. so wholesome. -roman's so excited and a mood -someone find the thomas-dressing-up-as-an-old-man-for-comiccon thing -"anxiety leave him alone, he gets excited." says patton. who also gets super excited. -logan was BOUNCING, guys, he, "emotionless", bouncing in place from excitement. -closed captions said "princie" and i don't know what to think of it -once, chr thomathy didn't have weekly crisises -again. they didn't really like each other. -virgil's the only one who seems to know thomas' limits -logan: one more clickbait idea? "I KILLED THE ENTIRE CAST OF A DISNEY SHOW??!" -patton: misleading comments are just insults to clickbait -thomas pronounces it "pajah-mas" -patton @ logan about thommy boy: our little guy -chr thomas, in tMvtH: "sides arguing is bad." chr thomas, in LNTAO: *sips juice as everyone screeches* -patton @ logan: wHAT DO Y O U KNOW ABOUT LOVE?? -thomas about himself: the child -THOMAS. THOMAS USED TO SOLVE/NEGOTIATE PROBLEMS. WOW. -virgil: moralityyyyy, don't LIE to him~ -virgil: i've got an idea. DON'T. DON'T EVEN TRY. -thomas: that's not how people work. -AEYO ZIPPITZ TU PLARP. -meepso globay.   -OH, WABSO, SAL PLOPLANOOOOO -valerie, clearly struggling to not laugh: wow, this is horrible! i never realized how stupid and untalented you are! -(he never really was good at art.) -the dragon witch has a masculine voice and two lines (F*CK YOU VALERIE/my sPLEEN) -next to thomas, valerie is TINY. talyn-sized. -VIRGIL DOES SAY "weddings are outdated, expensive pageantry"... 19 episodes before SVS! valerietine's day . . i'm going to bed

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 44) "Don't Talk Shit Around Nix."

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

@lovemythsworld

"Who EVEN is she though?? I mean, WHAT is this? She's this underground thing and in a week she's everywhere? With everyone? Like she's the new coming of Diddy. Featuring people all up in her video. Singing with MGK on stage. She's nothing without these people."

It's Monday morning in NY and BeBe Rexah is rattling off to Charlemagne on The Breakfast Club.

Nikki Minaj is sitting next to her, on her phone, sending out a text to Luna before she speaks. "Hold up. Hold up. Hold up." She starts, waving a long, hot pink, manicured finger in the air. NY accent THICK. "I know you ain't tawking bout That Brooklyn Bitch needing people." Nikki laughs as she leans back and glares at BeBe, arms crossed.

"I am. Who the fuck is she without them?" She cocks her head at Nikki.

Charlemagne is watching the women.

"Yous a dumb hoe." She clicks her nails at her. "How da fuck you gonna be from BROOKLYN, or even in da music industry and not know who da fuck she is?" Nikki looks over at Charlemagne, appalled. "What they say, Char?" She asks him.

Charlemagne laughs, reciting with Nikki.

"You ain't shit until you been shot by a LunaTic."

She points in his direction, sucking her teeth. "Word. You know what it is." She then looks BeBe up and down, with pursed lips, saying "Obviously YOU don't and ain't shit, you..." She stops herself. "You know what. Link me up real quick. You wanna know about That Bitch. Imma call That Bitch." She hands her phone to Charlemagne.

He takes it leerily "She gonna be HOT, Nikki." He tells her.

Nikki shrugs knowing Luna. "You know she'd be hotter wit somebody speaking on her name."

"Wait, wait, wait!!" BeBe interrupts "You're calling her?"

"YUP." Nikki pops her lips, irritated as she sits back in her chair again.

*********************************************

It's 7A in LA when Luna's phone rings.

"It is early as fuck, Nix. What's going on?" Nikki is going off on the other line. Sleepy and confused, Luna asks "BeBe who?"

Colson pops his head up, her phone had woken him up too. They're both on their stomachs, but she's facing away. He nudges her so she'll look at him. "Bleta." He says with half open eyes.

She gives him a look of 'What the Fuck?'

********************************************

Luna answers the phone thinking she's only talking to Nikki as she starts in, hype. "Yo, Loons!! There's this chick, BeBe Rexha, runnin' her mouf bout you, tryin' to be all Sug Knight, comparing you to Diddy and shit."

"BeBe who?" She groans. Looking at Colson, it clicks to her annoyance.

"Morning, Bitch. Nikki forgot to tell you you're On Air" Charlemagne chimes in.

"NIIKKII!! Seriously!?" Luna asks, recognizing Charlemagne's voice immediately. Rolling over quickly onto her back, whacking her shoulder into Colson, both of them jerk from it as she sits straight up. "It's 7A!! Why am I On Air???" She groans again. This time in pain.

In the studio, Charlemagne gives Nikki an 'I told you so' look to which she flips him the middle finger. "Because Loons, this bitch got questions and wanna run her mouf..."

"I'm not running my mouth. I just said she popped..." BeBe interrupts Nikki.

"BITCH!! You is too!!" Nikki snaps.

"This can't be fucking happening. How is this ShitShow my fucking life." Luna thinks to herself in disbelief. Rubbing her face, she looks over at Colson. Making a decision.

"YO." Luna interrupts them both. "Chill. Charlemagne, you got it, My Dude. Official statement. Yes. That Brooklyn Bitch and Machine Gun Kelly are EXCLUSIVELY" She looks over at Colson again. He kisses her elbow. "Dating. Each other. And only each other."

Nikki let's out a whoop and a clap.

"Shut up, Nix." Luna laughs continuing more seriously "Bleta. I don't know you. I don't speak on you. BUT, you know, that you been known. He told you. Respect that. And keep my names out cha mouth."

BeBe starts in but Luna interrupts her.

"I don't wanna fucking hear it." She stops the stranger before continuing. "Char, since you got the official word... Y'all listening out there, check out Nightmare, it's fighting for our rights as women. Bad Things, banging a little love story. Both are streaming now. MGK, Hotel Diablo drops July 5th. Make sure you check that out. It's gnarly as hell..... Nix call me when you're done. Char always a pleasure. Bleta..... Take care. See you guys." Luna hangs up without waiting for any responses.

Charlemagne and Nikki laugh knowing Luna all too well. "I think that's the first time she's ever been on here." He says to Nikki.

"Probably. You know she don't roll like dat."

BeBe sits silently. Pissed as hell. Deciding she wants THAT song.

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

Walking out of the studio, Nikki calls Luna. She's not surprised when she doesn't answer, it's still early for her friend. Nikki had met Luna years ago back in Manhattan. Rapping on the corner across from The Apollo, she had caught Luna's ear and eye. Finding the woman mesmerizing, Luna started to shoot her. Nikki got pissed, causing an all out brawl between Luna and herself right in the middle of West 125th. Nikki breaking Luna's camera and busting her bottom lip WIDE open. Luna breaking Nikki's nose in return. Luna left, spitting blood, stating Nikki would regret her actions. Nikki blew the tiny white girl off. Later, they had found themselves both in Queens General, waiting for their injuries to be treated. After mean mugging each other for a bit. Nikki asked her why she was taking her picture anyway. Luna had told her that it was because Nikki was really good at her craft and she wanted to capture her still raw before she broke into the world. That she had thought it was a beautiful moment. Until Nikki had been a cunt. That broke the ice. Nikki moved to sit next to Luna as they continued waiting, loving her candor and unflinching hardness. Talking about music and life. Creating a friendship. They had walked home together sharing a blunt. Both laughing at Luna struggling with the 7 stitches in her lip. She has a scar to this day and Nikki regrets wrecking the photo.

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

Still sitting up, Luna looks at Colson.

"What the fuck was THAT?" He asks, passing her the joint he has lit. She shrugs her shoulder, putting her arms out like 'I don't know'.

Taking it from him, she lays back on the bed beside him to enjoy it. Sighing, she really doesn't know. "We're gonna have to pull it up later. Nix was on The Breakfast Club and so was Bleta? BeBe? Whatever the fuck her name is...I don't know. Nix said she was talking shit. You heard what I said." She hits the joint again.

He laughs "Yeah, free, killer fucking plugs. For someone on an independent lable, you sure as fuck know how to promote, Kitten." He laughs again, rolling over to kiss her.

"You're welcome." She teases, passing him the joint.

"Thank you." He's still laughing, looking over at Luna. She's staring off. "Hey, she's just mad....." He tells her softly, still smoking the joint.

"She can be mad. She can also keep my name outta her fucking mouth." She says kissing Colson.

It's not even 8A and they were up late as usual. She pops 2 percs. He puts the joint out. Climbing into him, he kisses her head.

"You outed us on The Breakfast Club." He chuckles.

"I knoooowwww." She whines into his neck before they both drift off to sleep.

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

Luna wakes back up, buried underneath Colson's naked body. Wiggling her ass into him, she stretches. He stirs in her hair, moaning her name. She wakes him up further, rubbing her soft feet along his legs, feeling his dick start to grow hard against her. She reaches for him, stroking it firmly as he slides his finger inside of her.

"You're always so wet."

He moans into her ear. His finger making her wetter. He slides into her from behind, lazily laying on his right side. He pulls her into him by the hips.

A moan escapes as she feels him fully enter her. He reaches around, playing with her tits and piercings as she slowly shifts back and forth on his dick.

"You feel so fucking good." She tells him as he slides his right hand under her and around her throat, pushing himself into her harder. She props up on her right side slightly to give herself more leverage as she slides along him harder.

Holding her by one hip and her throat. Colson is pumping into her faster, getting ready to cum. He stops suddenly, deep inside of her. He holds her tightly in place as he feels her body quiver and cum from his girth.

"Oh FUCK, Colson." She moans. With her body shaking in his arms, he gives her a few more deep thrusts before cumming hard. They lay there, wrapped in each other, tingly and sweaty. He kisses the back of her neck. "I love you, Kitten."

Sighing happily, she replies "I love you too, Bunny."

He slides out of her and the bed to find a joint before they take a shower.

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

Colson's in the kitchen with Slim and Rook. Luna hasn't made it down stairs yet. "This cunt is FUCKING retarded!!" He says in amazement, opening his Insta. The first post is by BeBe Rexha. It's an old selfie of them. The caption under reads:

To the hardest working man in the industry. You do everything, Boo. Couldn't be more proud. You'll always be my #MCM 💕

"Yoooo... LunaTic is gonna SNAP." Slim says, agreeing with Colson that this girl has to be slow.

"Why would she do that?" Rook asks.

"I don't know." Colson responds, running his hands through his hair "There was some big thing between her and Nikki on The Breakfast Club this morning. It was so bad Nikki put Luna On-Air without her knowing."

"WHAAAAT!??" Slim is shocked.

Colson puts his face in his hands. "Bleta's jealous and taking it too far. Luna's gonna fucking kill somebody when she sees this." He says.

"I already fucking seen it." Luna says walking into the kitchen. She walks over to grab a cup of coffee.

"You ok?" Colson asks her. She has on a long green, army style jacket. She holds her arms out straight, the back of it stating 'I HATE EVERYONE" making Colson laugh.

"Am I in that group?" He asks as she climbs into his lap.

"Nooooo...." She sighs, "I'm just tired and hate the world." She looks down at Colson's phone on the table, seeing the post again. "This girl is dumb. Like, so dumb, I'm not even mad at her." She rolls her eyes as she lights a joint.

Rook and Slim agree in unison.

Knowing she doesn't have an Instagram, Colson asks how she saw it.

She shows him her phone. There's texts and copies of the post from Nikki, Ashley and Bella. She hadn't responded.

"Your bitches don't play!" He laughs.

"Nope." She replies kissing him. She then asks "Can we turn The World OFF today and do something fun?" Overwhelmed by all of the exposure.

Kissing her back with a smile, he tells her "Absolutely." An excited Rook bounces around the kitchen asking what they're gonna do.

"Vegas?" Luna asks.

"I fucking love you." Colson chuckles into her hair, making her smile.

Rook and Slim's excitement solidify her idea.

"Let's figure out what we're doing so we can BE OUT!" Colson tells them.

"I'd be jealous too...." She thinks to herself honestly of the Bleta girl before kissing Colson.

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

To be continued.....

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Truth Pt. 13

Master List @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Request:

What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)

Warnings: Everything. Seriously. Feels, angst, violence, death, smut, fluff, trauma, literally everything.

A/N: The moment this crazy story ran away with me I knew so much of this was coming. It’s partially why I wrote the last chapter just to put off writing this one. I don’t want to say anything more because I just can’t but yeah. 

Also HUGE thanks to @wonderlandmind4 and @courtmr for betaing this monster. 

OH! And there is another chapter after this.

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauderconvos –harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @andreagf956 @marvelousmeggi @jewelofwinter @fairislesheets  @animegirlgeeky @lydklein1 @katecolleen @siriuslycloudy2 @zannemes

Tony insisted everyone meet for brunch on Sunday around 11am. While you appreciate the gesture, after the late-night surrounded by so many people you’re kind of dreading it.

“We should make an appearance.” Bucky insists, slipping into his jeans while you’re still in one of his tee’s and your underwear in bed.

“Who even are you?”

“What?”

“Since when are you so keen on socializing?”

He laughs, “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Yeah,” begrudgingly you crawl from the bed.

“It’s a low bar babe.” As you walk to the closet he grabs you and places a nipping playful kiss on the back of your neck.

“Mmm, sure you wanna go?” You purr, reaching back and pulling his hips close.

“Yep,” he slaps your ass hard. “Get dressed.”

Just about everyone is lounging in the common space save for Hill, who you saw leave the party last night with a knockout blonde.

“Morning!” Steve booms from the kitchen, pouring himself some OJ. From across the room, a blueberry hits Steve right between the eyes.

“We talked about this Rogers. Inside voices,” Clint groans, head falling back on the couch.

“Go a little hard last night Clint?” You pat his forehead as you walk by, he grunts in response.

Tony rounds the corner, “Oh the IT couple is here finally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony laughs and plucks the paper Sam holds up from his hands.

“Check out who’s gracing the front of the Styles section.” He presses the Times into your hands and you stare down at a picture of you and Bucky from the night before.

The story is just a general overview of the gala but there, big and in color, are you and Bucky on the dance floor. It must have been just after the song ended. His hands are on your waist, the smile on his face brighter than the sun, your head is tossed back in a laugh. You look like any happy couple… Save for the fact that you weren’t just any couple.

“You’re on the website too,” Nat walks up and hands you her tablet.

There’s a gallery from the evening featuring everyone but there are quite a few candid photos of you and Bucky. One your head is resting on his chest, his lips pressed to your forehead. The caption reads: “Avenger team members, Barnes and Michaels, share a tender moment.” You aren’t sure how you feel about it. From the tension in Bucky’s jaw, he doesn’t know either.

“You can’t buy good PR like that,” Pepper says making herself and Natasha mimosas. “The two of you were just perfect.”

You both only stay for a bit. Unsettled by your images being so widely shared after living your lives in shadow for so long. It was a very abrupt change…

Back in the apartment, you pick up the paper that was always left by the door, Bucky liked doing the crossword. You look at the picture again. Shaking your head.

“You ok?” Bucky comes up behind you, gently rubbing your back.

“Yeah… just… my mom is definitely turning in her grave right now.”

“Good or bad way?”

“Good,” you laugh a small hollow sound. “Her daughter in the society pages. She’d be beside herself. I can hear her now,” your accent tries to echo your mom’s soft German accent. “Finally you got it right my little firefly.”

“Firefly?” His expression is achingly soft.

“Mhm. I used to be obsessed with them when I was little. Always chasing them and catching them for her. So it became a nickname.”

“I bet they’re both very proud of you, doll.”

You shrug. “I’m… I’m gonna hop in the shower.”

Two days later you go into the office for a pen to keep score in Scrabble and notice something new on the wall. The picture of you two from the paper beautifully framed. Your breath catches in your throat. It’s placed next to a picture of a young you with your parents, all three of you smiling and happy and a photo of him with his sisters and Steve, all of them smiling. Happy moments spanning almost a century, the two of you connecting them…

“Ich liebe euch beide,” (I love you both.) you whisper to your parents’ photo. “Sorry, it took me so long to get it together… I wish you could meet him… you’d like him.” Your eyes slide to the picture of you both.

You kiss your fingers and press them to the picture of your little family before wiping your eyes and heading out.

-

Bucky’s leg is bouncing at a ridiculous rate until you set your hand on his knee, giving it a squeeze. He looks at you, knowing he looks like he’s about to burst open. It’s taking everything in him to shut up.

“So,” your voice is so steady, he can’t understand how you’re not as nervous as he is right now. “You’re sure this one is legit?”

Tony sighs, “Yeah. After the last two, we figured if we came across something similar to your signature again we’d monitor the area for a bit longer, see if or how the readings change.”

He runs a hand over his face as he looks over the images floating over the table. “The readings are strong… really strong. The draw on the power grid is insane. And… well, we’ve picked up all the variations of your energy signature… it’s not coincidence.”

The fact that the chances of them finding assets similar to you are incredibly high isn’t what has him on edge. It’s that the industrial complex the readings are emitting from is just outside of Odessa in Ukraine… It’s too close to what was once Hydra’s hotbed… It’s very possible that this is the facility you were made at, he knows you have to realize this.

The last place with a matching energy signature had been a place they’d housed you for a while. That alone wrecked you. To go back to where it all started… who knew what that may do to you emotionally.

“How volatile is this, Tony?” Steve’s tone is gravel.

Tony just stares a bit and Bruce answers, “Very. The emissions have been steadily climbing over the past couple of weeks. Only thing is we can’t really get a lock on how many are running the place… no way to know what we may run into.”

“But we can’t ignore it,” Sam’s gaze is locked on the screen’s, determination setting his features.

“No,” Tony agrees in a solemn voice. “We absolutely can’t.”

They head out tomorrow evening so they’ll land in Ukraine in the early morning hours. The hope being that the cover of darkness will give them a tactical advantage, the last thing they want is for them to abandon ship and set up elsewhere again. With any luck, this will be how they put an end to this particular project once and for all. He knows that will bring you peace of some kind.

Once the tactical brief is over and you’re back in the safety of your apartment Bucky wordlessly pulls you toward the bedroom. He needs to feel your skin against his. He needs to touch you, set you alight in the best way possible, see the sparkles in your eyes.

“Buck-” he cuts you off with a kiss, his hands sliding under your hoodie. Your body responds to his touch the way he hoped it would goosebumps rising, heart rate increasing, your hands grasping the waist of his jeans to hold him close.

At this point, you’ve learned the ins and outs of the other’s body. Even so every time he feels your touch it feels like the first time. He still is amazed you want him. He’s still so goddamn thankful.

He pulls your hoodie over your head and slides your leggings down your powerful thighs. Holding you by your hips he lifts you just a touch and gently tosses you back on the bed. Your small giggle fills him with warmth.

Once you’re free of your leggings entirely he runs kisses down your thighs, letting his stubble rub against the tender skin in that way that makes you shudder. His tongue flits across your clit causing you to let out a low sensual sound. He’s aching, throbbing against the confines of his jeans. He ignores it. Right now he wants to make you feel good. To chase away any thoughts that aren’t pleasure.

After he’s lost count of the number of times he’s made you come you pant, “No more, please. I… you, I need to feel you, Bucky, please.” He smiles. It’s cute how you said please as if he’d ever say no.

Morning comes too quickly for his liking.

You shower together and it’s not until you’re drying your hair he finally says something about the mission, “If you can’t handle this, Y/N it’s ok. No one would judge you.”

Turning you give him a weak smile, “Are you really worried that I can’t handle it, babe? Or can you not…”

He traces your brow with his metal fingers, “I just don’t want this to get to you like the last one or… the first one… with the woman…” You take his hand in yours, studying his face.

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know that, Y/N.”

“I do.” This time your smile is full, lighting up your features. “I have you. Nothing will ever be like it was before.” You look away, your brow knitting before meeting his gaze once more, “Bucky… I… you… I don’t feel broken anymore. Because of you.”

His chest constricts. Immediately he pulls you to him, crushing you to his chest. “You were never broken, Y/N. Never.”

-

As soon as the jet lands a mile away from the facility, you steel yourself. The fizzing in your head and a sick feeling in your stomach that began the moment you saw the shots Tony pulled up told you everything your own memories couldn’t really touch.

You had done your best to relay what information you could in today’s briefing. Everything from writing and drawing to miming, like some weird party game, was utilized. Hydra was smart, they knew it was always best for their dogs to know where home was but to never be able to lead anyone to it.

For what it was worth they knew the three-story building in the center of the complex was the main hub. The others were just storage, additional offices, nothing worth too much note and as best they could tell they weren’t being used at the moment. Underneath that building and snaking under the complex were at least four stories of labs, R & D facilities, medical facilities, training areas, holding cells, etc.

Since Tony and Bruce’s scans had revealed the same shifting energy signature that you emitted it was safe to assume they had, at least somewhat successfully, created another asset with abilities like your own if not multiple. The team is aware there’s a chance these people will likely be similar to the one you Nat, Steve, and Bucky faced all those months ago. Because of this the general consensus was to put them down, they couldn’t save them and they would be too big of a risk otherwise.

The main goal is to remove the possibility of these assets being sent out to wreak whatever havoc Hydra had planned. After that, they would get any intel they possibly could hard copy or otherwise and destroy any means they used to create you. With any luck, this would be the end of this branch of Hydra’s research. And you could close this chapter of your story once and for all.

“Alright,” Steve gets everyone’s attention, standing near the front of the jet. “We’re all clear on what we’re facing? And that Y/N has point here?”

A resounding Yes sends chills up your spine. No one knew what they were walking into, not really, and the idea of being the lead… You weren’t a leader. You were an asset. Trained to infiltrate, kill, obey. You didn’t lead you were led… led until you’d finally tell someone to go fuck themselves. Then they just reset you… a machine made, for one thing, destruction.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice is soothing next to you.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m good.” Bucky’s metal hand gives yours a gentle squeeze.

Sighing heavily you release Bucky’s hand and stand next to Steve. “Like Tony said earlier, Jarvis can scan for energy signatures and alert everyone if something is about to go haywire but it’s not perfect. If you feel your skin begin to prickle, the temperature drop, or anything that’s remotely odd move on quickly. You engage with someone like me one shot to the head or the heart is the best course of action,” the tension around this point is palpable. “Physically attack as little as possible because it could trigger them to blow and if they’re good enough they can kill you on contact.”

You feel the energy shift under your own skin, “And if I say run, get the fuck out. We’re not losing anyone over this.”  Your fist flexes by your side, thin tendrils of static glowing around it.

“Let’s end this.” Steve plants a heavy reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Everyone knows what their role is. Sam and Clint are covering the perimeter and outbuildings, taking out anyone they see and being their eyes on any suspicious activity that may indicate something going wrong inside. Tony is with Natasha and Hill while you’re with Steve and Bucky, the idea being that each grouping had someone who could lock in on energy signatures quickly. They would take the upper levels while your team would take the lower.

Though energy made it hard to scan for movement and heat signatures Tony was able to modify the coms to work. They had tested it over and over with your own power thrumming nearby and you were both confident he had it sorted. At the very least, you’d all be able to communicate what was happening.

Sam stops the van just outside the first building in the complex and you all file out before he tucks it away somewhere.

No one engages with you all on the first floor. It’s eerily quiet but you can feel that low pulse of power coming from somewhere below you, generators and something far more familiar. Bile rises in your throat and you struggle to force it down.

Tony’s group splits to head up while Steve and Bucky look for an access point down. You can’t seem to move. After a minute Bucky realizes you’re stuck.

“Baby,” his arms encircle you, the feeling of his touch and his familiar scent grounding you. “If you can’t do this-”

You shake your head. When you open your mouth at first nothing comes out, some part of your brain screaming that you aren’t supposed to speak here. “I w… want t… to.” You stutter but manage it. Small as it is it feels like a victory.

Steve lays a warm hand on your upper back, it's comforting to have both of them with you. “I got nothin’ but there’s gotta be a way down.”

There’s a ringing in your ears as you try to think, you press your forehead into Bucky’s chest squeezing your eyes closed trying your best to focus. It hits you, no stairs from here, an elevator hidden. Without a word you pull away from the both of them and walk robotically toward an office to the right.

The walls are wood paneling, a desk and chairs and books sit as though they’re just waiting for someone to come back from lunch. You know they’ve been in the same position for near 30 years. Automatically your hand reaches for the pencil cup, fingers effortlessly locating the one pen that doesn’t move. The innocuous sound of a pen clicking is followed by the whooshing of an elevator.

You all exchange a glance. An elevator was risky but… it would be faster.

“Y/N found an access point down. Elevator, fifth office door on the right, click the red pen in the cup. We’ll take it to the bottom and work our way up.” Steve updates the rest of the team.

“Be careful,” Natasha responds.

“We’ve cleared the second level, no one here. Once we’re done we’ll head down too.” Tony sounds tense. Someone should be here. Likely they were all downstairs… waiting.

Steve presses the fourth button, at least you were right about that. The doors close and each of the men takes one of your hands. From the corner of your eye, you see Bucky cast Steve a small but appreciative smile. As the elevator slows Steve releases your hand and moves in front of you both, shield out.

The doors open and there’s silence for a moment. All three of your heads swivel to the left, enhanced ears picking up on the slightest sounds. It’s over quickly. Steve shields you all from the bullets. One asset is like you, but like the other their attacks are unrefined. Steve manages to block a bolt with the shield.

“Down!” You command Steve and Bucky.

They hit the ground and a second later you send a white-hot bolt of energy slicing through the group. Some dodge of course but none save for the asset is fast enough to avoid your next volley. The asset lunges at you, hands sparkling. Bucky plants a bullet between their eyes in an instant and they’re down, energy dissipating.

As you make your way through the level you’re met with two other factions, neither have another asset like you though. There are a couple of muzzled assets but they go down like all the rest. This is not, after all, a mission where mercy can be afforded.

You’re picking your way through the medical ward. The pulsating energy from the generators makes your skin tingle, small sparks rising from you every now and then. A couple of computers are still running and you wipe them clean, hoping there’s something useful there. Once you take what you need you fry them to a pile of bubbling metal and plastic.

The underground levels are expansive, and after almost two hours of fighting and searching, you’re still not done here. Every passing minute seems to bring a new fragment of memory shooting through your skull. You keep them to yourself though, it’s not the time for them.

Tony’s voice crackles in through the coms. “Nat’s down. Entered what looked like a room with a boxing ring, it was electrified or something. Her vitals are steady but she’s unconscious.”

You grasp your head in your hands, trying to convince yourself that your skull isn’t going to fly apart. “T… training,” is all you can get out.

“Didn’t copy,” Hill’s voice chimes in.

“Y/N says those are training areas,” Steve looks to you for confirmation and you nod. “Avoid any room like that you see.”

You shake your head redirecting your mind to thoughts that weren’t about the facility so your tongue would obey you. “Go help them.” Steve looks like he’s going to argue, “We’ve got this. With Nat down, they’re down a person up there and someone needs to have an eye on her while she comes too since we can’t just leave her in the jet.”

“She’s right Steve. And in charge,” he throws his friend a wink. “We can handle ourselves. Go.”

Steve nods, “I’m heading to you, hold your position.”

You think this area is almost clear. At least until you cautiously you open two double doors that lead into a viewing area. Chairs are aligned in rows, bolted to the ground. Maybe enough for 20-30 people However they don’t face a screen.

In the corner of the room is a clear wall of what seems to be some kind of reinforced glass set between steel beams. Beyond that wall is a decently sized room. The only entry from where you stand is a door made out of the same clear material lined in metal supports. The two other walls of the room are stark white save for a window revealing a dark space beyond.

Your breath hisses out of you, Bucky turns concerned. “What is it?” Like a fish dropped on dry land your mouth opens and closes, nothing but small noises escaping, your brain screaming to tell him but your body unable to comply. “It’s ok baby,” the fingers of his right hand caress your cheek. “It’s ok.” Quickly he leans down and kisses you softly.

His touch. That’s what you focus on. Grabbing his hand you think about how good it feels when his skin is against yours, how good it felt last night to be with him. This seems to work, to allow you to take back some authority.

“There’s more.” Your voice is low but steady. “Through there.” You point toward the glass. “Research I think.” Bucky nods and you both proceed.

As you get closer though the energy levels rise higher. This room is like the one that zapped Nat… His hand goes for the handle.

“Wait!” He freezes. “Let me go first. I think it… it’s…” Fuck them for taking your words. You hold up your hand and let the power lash out in mini lightning bolts to demonstrate.

“Got it. Then we leave it.”

“No.”

His expression is exasperated when he turns to you. “Y/N you said-”

“It won’t hurt me. We have to clear everything.”

“Fine, if it goes too far back though.”

“I won’t proceed. There’s gotta be a way to shut it off close by anyway. I’ll look for that first.” He’s clearly not thrilled and honestly, you’re not either but you want to do this right. You kiss his cheek before opening the door.

The door and the walls are at least ten inches thick, the space around the door reinforced to a ridiculous amount and clearly only meant to be opened from the outside. Immediately you’re flooded with that energy, pure power, electric and hot flowing into you. After a few steps, you stop, having to take a moment to gather yourself.

“Doll?” Bucky calls after you, his voice dripping with concern.

“I’m ok,” you hold your right arm out thin strands of energy flowing from you to the ground. To your surprise the feeling clears your head a bit, you feel more in control than you have this whole time.

“I think… I think there’s one more level.” You turn to him. “Down. Where this,” you hold open your hand and light pulses so bright it’s almost blinding, “comes from. “Where I-”

“Y/N!” Bucky bellows moving to enter the room despite the risk. You’re incredibly thankful the door slams, preventing him from killing himself in here. You hear him fire his gun at the glass to no avail as you turn.

The room to the back is lit all the sudden, the power around you beginning to dissipate.  A comm seems to switch on and you can hear Bucky’s voice screaming.

“Goddamnit! Steve, we have a situation back and left of where we split. Double doors. Backup now!”

You’re about to turn to tell him there’s gotta be another entrance and that you can hear him when a panel in the wall opens. You brace yourself for a fight, light coursing up your arms, lashing out ready to be released. A smirk plays on your face, they charged these rooms to trap people but only managed to give you a boost, unfortunate for them.

Instead of an asset or an agent though, a dignified older woman walks out. Her hair white and pulled into a familiar high bun. The set of her shoulders, the way her head is held, the way her eyes settle on you…

“Y/N!” Bucky screams, pounding on the door, trying in vain to get it open.

“Please, Sargeant Barnes, don’t make a fool of yourself,” the woman looks at him in disgust her accent softly Germanic. “This room was built to contain someone far more powerful than a recycled grunt like you could ever be.” She looks back to you, “Hello my little firefly.”

“Hurry!” Bucky bellows into the com. “Y/N! Baby doll, look at me.” He sounds like he’s a world away.

“M… mom?” You’re going to be sick you can feel it.

“Yes liebling,” she keeps her distance but gives you a smile. “It’s been too long. Longer to you I know. I wish that wasn’t the case but-”

You press the heels of your hands to your forehead as images flash. She was here… she had been… everywhere? What-

“This was not my preferred way my firefly but as always you have forced my hand.”

“I don’t-” you manage to breathe out. She takes a step toward you and you step back. Bucky is still pounding at the door with his metal fist, determined.

“You were born to be a wunderkind.” You can hear Steve in your crackling com, trying to find you but her voice cuts through everything. “My wunderkind. The honor to be chosen to be your mother…” She places her hand over her heart, “You were going to be the beginning of a new order for Hydra. A child raised in power-”

“W... what?!” This doesn’t make sense.

“Do you think you just happened to be stronger, faster, smarter all around better than your peers. No, my firefly.”

Suddenly you remember doctors visits throughout your childhood always with her. Your mother giving you injections telling you not to worry your dad because he was already so busy… The pushing the requirement to be perfect, it all takes on a sinister air.

“No, we made you better, all so you could become who you were meant to be. But instead, you threw it all away.” She sighs, a sound you grew familiar with as a teenager. “You forced my hand then, you’ve done so now.”

Steve is there, pounding with his shield, it’s not doing much, they call for Tony but you just can’t seem to care.

“It was one thing to work with trash like that,” she gestures to Bucky and Steve. “We could, I could, tolerate it while we got things sorted but to be with it. To debase yourself with Zola’s dog. I couldn’t stand by.”

“What did you say…” You growl, power once more pulsing.

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N!” Bucky calls out.

“I created you to surpass everyone, to stand above humanity. I made you-”

“You made me into a monster!” A bolt crashes just in front of her. Unimpressed she looks down.

“I made you into a god!” She sneers, “You made yourself into a disappointment.” That word hits you like a bullet to the chest. “Filling your body with filth. Associating with low lives. I did what any mother would do when it was clear there was no hope. I saved you from yourself!”

She takes a deep breath and composes herself. “We would have brought you back home in a gentler fashion. But when I saw those photos… I knew I had to extract you sooner.”

“Home,” you spit the word.

“Yes. This is your home, Y/N. With me.” You hear Tony in the com he’s coming. Once more she sighs, “No matter, soon you’ll remember who you are, what you were born to be. Doch’,” the Russian word for daughter zings through you.

Immediately you lift a glowing hand in threat, “Don’t.”

“Ubegay,” a smirk lifts her lips.

Your hand shakes as does your voice, “Mama, don’t.” Even after everything… the thought of killing your mother…

“Boginya,” you try to shoot her but you miss. “Rassvet.”

“Bucky!” You scream, power slipping away from you in response to the words. Frantically you run to the glass by the door.

“Y/N! Tony hurry!”

“Vybrannyy.”

He presses close as Steve keeps pounding at the handle, “Look at me baby,” his voice echoes over the com. “Stay-”

“Zashchishchat’.” You scream and fall to your knees holding your head. He kneels mouth moving but you can’t really understand the words. “Pod’yem.” Your body feels so heavy your head filled with humming, static, pain.

“Y/N!” He screams your name over and over. This man…

“Dvadtsat’,” another man outside, metal man. You rise slowly and turn toward the woman speaking. The woman with the words. “Dtanovit’sya.”

She smiles broadly, “Svetlyak.” Everything in you... freezes. “There’s my firefly.”

There’s a loud noise behind you. You don’t think to look, haven’t been told to. No orders. Just wait.

Something circular swooshes through the air hitting the woman with the words in the stomach, she crumples to the ground. You don’t care, she didn’t give you orders to protect her.

“Y/N! Baby!” A man with a metal arm takes you by the shoulders, shakes you. “Y/N?! Come on, fight it! Come back to me.” He looks so upset… did he give you orders? He seems familiar…

“Soldat?” That’s right, the arm. The Soldier. Not a handler but he sometimes was like one. He looks at you horrified. The other men just watch.

Would he know what you were to do? “Kakovy nashi zakazy?” (What are our orders?)

“Oh god.” He runs a hand over his face and through his hair, turning away. When he turns back he strikes you, hard, with his metal hand.

You hit your knees. Head reeling from the blow. From Bucky’s blow.

“Barnes!” Tony bellows.

Bucky ignores him collapsing next to you. “I’m so sorry baby,” he pulls you to him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so-”

He’s pressed your face to his chest, rocking you a little, “Thank you,” you croak.

He holds you at arm's length, “Y/N?!”

You nod, “Thank you. You kept your promise.”

His face collapses. For a minute you hold one another both knowing that the end had just come so close.

There’s a wheezing, a cough, before, “Pathetic.”

That bitch. You release Bucky and stand, pushing past Steve and Tony who are dumbfounded at everything they’ve seen. Standing over your mother you feel power pulse up your spine.

“I thought you’d be my biggest victory, you’re nothing. Too weak for greatness like your father.” She forces herself up coughing once more, blood at the edges of her mouth. “I should have put you both down.”

“Fuck you,” you growl. About to blast a hole through her chest.

“Hail, Hydra.” Immediately she begins to foam at the mouth.

“No you don’t get to-” A wild feral scream tears through you and you blast her straight to the chest once, twice, before you let loose a third Bucky wraps you in his arms turning you away from your mother's corpse.

You break. Screaming and screaming until it doesn’t even seem to be coming from you. Body pulsing bright all over. Your whole life… everything you thought you had known or that you had tried to draw peace from was a lie. Your own mother… Had she killed your dad… All because you…

Bucky’s lips are next to your ear, softly he begins to sing. Fly Me To The Moon. “In other words, hold my hand,” his hands slide over your own, sparking with energy. “In other words, baby, kiss me…” Slowly you both sink to the floor, your screams giving way to sobs. “You are all I long for, All I worship and adore,” he rocks you gently your back to his chest. “In other words, I love you.”

As he finishes you’re able to get a hold of yourself, body no longer glowing dangerously. Breathe a little normally.

“It’s clear back there,” you hear Hill’s voice say softly to Steve and Tony. “Got some data from the computer. I don’t think she expected to lose, there’s a lot there.”

“Great,” Tony whispers. He kneels in front of you, “Sparks,” his gauntleted hand rests gently on your thigh, “let’s get you outta here.”

Bucky releases you and you stand on shaky legs. “Natasha?” You ask looking to Hill.

“She’s ok,” she gives you a warm smile.

The relief from that statement is short lived. A massive pulse of energy thrums somewhere beneath your feet.

Your eyes shoot to Tony’s as Jarvis pipes over the com, “There seems to be some sort of anomaly, I cannot get a lock on it but I suggest immediate evacuation.” You nod agreeing.

The elevators are down, likely an automatic shut off when there’s a breach like the one you’re feeling. You know that somewhere there have to be stairs but no one had found them yet. Tony blasts through the doors without a thought.

“We could climb up,” Steve says.

“Too slow.” He steps in and rips a hole through the roof, “Get in, I can pull it up.” You do as he says and Tony pulls the car up at the first-floor doors Steve pulls them open. The three of you let Hill out first before crawling out yourselves. Once everyone is clear he releases the car and it plummets to the ground.

Another pulse of energy rattles the windows on the building. It’s so like your own for a moment you’re scared it’s coming from you.

“Sir, I believe the facility is set to demolish itself,” Jarvis’ unfazed tone rings in your ear.

“Right. Let’s get going. Wilson, get that van ready we need to get the hell out now,” Steve calls out as he starts for the exit.

Hill is fast but she's not enhanced and the distance between the main building and the van is about 150 yards. Tony scoops her up and the three of you run at full speed. Almost to the van, you feel a massive pulse vibrate the ground under your feet, curling up your burning legs you freeze.

Bucky looks at you from the door, “Y/N, come on baby.” Another wave, this time you hear the buildings around you groan.

It’s not just the building that’s set to blow… You realize with a sick feeling… it wasn’t that your mother didn’t think she’d lose… she just knew it wouldn’t matter either way. When this detonates, you don’t know if it’s an asset or multiple or what… but the blast will be devastating. If it’s even fractionally as powerful as it feels Odessa will be in the bottom of a crater in the coming minutes… All those innocent people…

Bucky’s approaching you, to drag you to the van. Tony hovers close by, you look to him as you start to back up, “Remember that promise, Tony?”

“Yeah…”

“Time to cash in.” Bucky is almost to you and you shoot a light shock toward him to slow him down before you bolt back to the main building.

“Y/N!”/“Goddamnit!” You hear Tony and Bucky exclaim simultaneously. There are the sounds of a scuffle.

“Tell me what’s happening Sparky!” Tony grunts, the sound of metal on metal ringing in your com.

“It’s bad, the blast, the energy, real bad. I can stop it just get him!” You look over and see Bucky in hot pursuit before Tony grabs him.

You don’t look back again. You can’t. Despite hearing Bucky call out over and over.

Unable to stand it you rip the com out of your ear, crushing it in your hand. Even without it, even with the rumble of the earth, you can make out the fight. Should have told them to go, get away… But you can keep them safe. You will keep them safe.

At the face of the building, you take a deep breath and jump, releasing a blast from your palms to propel you up. This wasn’t something you did often, and sometimes it didn’t work but right now you have no choice, you’ve got to get to the roof. From there you can channel the energy through the building pull it up, focus it into something concentrated rather than an uncontrollable destructive blast. It will be unlike anything you had ever done but… you had to try.

It gets you about halfway. You grab a window ledge with both hands, using everything you have you push yourself up, releasing your grip and letting out more energy. Another wave of force almost causes you to lose your grip on the edge of the roof but you hang on and get there.

Kneeling at the edge you place your hands flat on the concrete, much as you had that day you thought of killing Bucky in the field you send your sense out to find your target down, down, down using the metal supports of the building itself to guide you. There.

It feels like people, three of them, assets, just like you… all about to blow…  

Looking out you can see them still. Bucky and Tony are struggling, the whisper of Bucky’s screams echoing through the abandoned buildings. Everyone else standing unsure of what to do. All these people you… love.

You focus with all your might to draw the power of the three hopeless souls into something you can control. As you do so your heart shatters in your chest because now you know you aren’t getting through this, not if you want to save them all… and you never fucking said it.

Not to any of them and not to the one person who really needed to hear it… You told him with your body, with your concern, in every subtle sweet way a person can but those three words… words you knew with all your being were true… you never let them fall from your lips… and now…

Your own power, coursing through the frame of the building, begins to act like a sort of intangible conduit as it harnesses that of the three assets. Strangely it’s easy, their force so undisciplined, seems almost happy to find a path to flow into. The building groans, smoke emitting from it here and there, windows blowing from the rising heat. White streaks of light are beginning to become visible, like concentrated lightning, running straight for you.

As this overload flows into your body it takes everything in you to not scream, the pain is so blinding. You don’t want them… him to hear that though. Raising your other arm to the pink early dawn sky you pray to anything that will hear you that this plan will work… that you’re strong enough to contain this force. Like some bizarre lightning rod, the power thrums through you crackling from your fingertips, your body glowing bright…

“Like a firefly,” you think.

“Straight up, straight down, not out, not out, contain this contain it.” You focus on those words, determined. The power is about to break, you can feel it. The light almost blotting out everything, taking away your view of them.

“I love you,” you whisper wishing he could hear.

Then there’s nothing but light, and pain, and surrender.

[arckook]

oh no - three

one - two

pairing: jung jaehyun x reader

au: high school

warnings: none

word count: 2.1k

description: you accidentally snapchat the gorgeous Jung Jaehyun instead of your drunk friend, and now things are a little more complicated than you’d have liked.

You get off work at nine pm, and that's your nearest opportunity to open the snapchat Jaehyun sent you. You have others you need to open too, blue boxes you're assuming are commentary on your eventful story containing a picture of CVS with the caption: ready to kms at work as per usual!!! But those are less important. Because Jung Jaehyun actually snapchatted you.

You're out the doors of CVS the second the clock turns to nine, calling out a bye to Seungkwan and your manager before you practically sprint to your car, jumping in and turning the engine on for some heating as you pull your phone out from your bag.

You ignore the text, twitter, and instagram notications, reminders you set to finish that essay for English, missed call from your mom who probably forgot you had work and wanted to know where you are. You open snapchat and swipe to the chat page, practically shaking with a mix of nerves and excitement to see what Jaehyun sent you.

Your friend feeling any better this morning?

You break out into a fit of nervous giggles after reading the caption. Or maybe they were caused by yet another selfie– his light brown hair sweeping flawlessly over his forehead, eyebrows raised with a slightly questioning smile. Jesus, how can someone be that handsome? It doesn't make sense.

Do you take the risk of sending a selfie back? Is it weird that he's sent you three and you've only replied with black screens? It's just past nine right now, so a black screen would probably make sense given that it's dark out, but is that unfriendly?

You consult the group chat, and Joy tells you that you should obviously send a very flattering selfie. Lisa says to show only a part of your face so it doesn't look like you're trying that hard. That seems smart.

You retake the picture seven times before it looks appropriately careless, captioning it with a response.

haha he was passed out in his bathtub this morning but im sure hes alright

You send it before you can have second thoughts about any part of the picture, and finally pull out of the CVS parking lot to get home.

You don't check your phone while you're driving, but you do have bluetooth connected to it, so when Johnny calls you as you're about to turn into your neighborhood, you answer.

"What?" you say aloud, reaching over and clicking up the volume on your phone so you can hear him through the car speakers. "You should sleep over at my place tonight," he says simply, sounding significantly better than he did this morning. "Why?" you ask, rolling your eyes. "...Because why not?"

You sigh deeply. "Johnny, I have work tomorrow and I don't think my parents will want me to sleep over at a college guy's apartment. Regardless of if I've known him since I was twelve." "Hey, listen," Johnny says, his tone indicating that he's about to try to convince you. "Seulgi and Jisoo are coming over too, so you won't be the only girl, and Mark is coming so you won't be the only one in high school. It'll be fun, I promise!"

You pull into your driveway next to your mom's car, parking and grabbing your stuff quickly before you get out, pressing your phone to your ear so you can respond to your friend while you open your front door.

"That does not mean my parents will be okay with it," you argue, stepping into your house and shutting the door behind you. "Hey little sister," you say to your younger sister, who is sitting on the couch playing some sort of video game.

"Hey," she says back. "Mom and Dad went out." "Did I just hear Naeun say your parents are out of the house?" Johnny asks mischievously. "That means you can come!" "Come on, Y/N!" you hear Ten shout from faraway on Johnny's end of the phone call. You sigh. "Nobody's here to watch Naeun, I can't leave." "I'm thirteen, you don't need to 'watch' me," your sister snaps, death glaring at you from the couch. 

Eighth graders, man.

"Everyone'll be here in like an hour, so get going if you're gonna come," Johnny says.

You sigh, dropping your stuff on the counter and rolling your eyes. "Fine," you say, and you hear Ten cheering in the background. "Yes!" exclaims Johnny. "See you soon!" "See you," you reply, and hang up. "Tell mom I'm sleeping over at Rose's if she asks, kay?" you instruct Naeun, and she brazenly nods.

You forgot to see if Jaehyun ever replied to your snapchat. You realize this as you're sitting in a circle waiting for the bottle you've just spun to land on someone. Yeah, you can't believe college kids play spin the bottle on weekends either, but here you are surrounded by them, doing just that.

You probably should've understood that when Jisoo, Seulgi, and Mark were all mentioned to be 'sleeping over' as well, that Johnny was actually just having a small party, and that things were not going to be simple and sweet. But you hadn't. So that's why you're playing spin the bottle, hoping it doesn't land on Mark (he is like sixteen and you're pretty sure Yeri is into him), Johnny (you have kissed him before and it was regrettable), or Taeyong (because he's a scarily gorgeous man and you are not prepared for that emotionally).

You haven't checked to see if Jaehyun replied to your snapchat. But you guess that doesn't really matter, because the bottle lands on Taeyong, and you think you might pass out as he leans out from behind Seulgi who's sitting to your left and sends you a somewhat apologetic smile.

"Record this, she's gonna flip her shit," you hear Johnny say, laughing, and someone picks up your phone that you'd unlocked a minute prior when you realized you needed to see if Jaehyun replied.

Taeyong scoots over, his dark eyes seeming much more friendly than they had in the past when you'd briefly seen him over here, and he leans in closer to you so that nobody else can hear you talk. "You can back out if you want," he offers, shrugging lightheartedly. You glance over at Ten and Johnny who are cracking up at your obvious internal struggle, and then at Seulgi who gives you an encouraging smile, and you shrug back. "Nah, let's just do it so they don't nag," you say, and Taeyong nods.

He reaches up and places one hand on the back of your head, thumb in front of your ear, and tugs you a little closer. You shut your eyes because he's just really, really handsome, and even if you have no feelings for Taeyong at all, your heart is racing at his proximity. You hear the sound of multiple iPhone cameras start recording, and then his lips are pressing onto yours, his fingers wrapping slightly into your hair to keep you from leaning too far back. It's short, just that few seconds, before he's pulling away and you immediately drop your face into your knees, groaning in embarrassment as you hear the others laugh.

"That was too good," Johnny laughs through his words. You lift your head up and Yuta, the guy who's sitting to your right, hands you back your phone, off and locked this time. Seulgi to your other side laughs (a pretty smile and sound) and rubs your back comfortingly. "You and Taeyong look good together," she comments, still smiling almost in a motherly way at you. You shake your head adamantly, knowing you're probably blushing. "I don't know about that," you say, waving the statement off. Seulgi raises her eyebrows. "Really," she says, tilting her head ever so slightly to her left to indicate to Taeyong, who'd returned to his place over there. "I think he has a soft spot for you. He seemed glad when Johnny said you were coming."

You find that hard to believe, but just nod, giving in before Seulgi looks away, it being her turn to spin. You unlock your phone, returning to the task of checking snapchat. Sure enough, when you swipe to the right, there is a filled box by Jaehyun's name, which you promptly tap on.

It's another selfie, where he is looking perfect as usual.

Your friend leads an interesting life.

But the box is still full when the timer runs out, so you open the second snap too.

How about you? Feeling okay?

He asked about you? He actually asked about you? But why? You hadn't been the one drunk and wondering about the functions of life. You should've actually gone to Rose's so she could have helped you figure this out.

You snap another 'careless' looking selfie, trying to avoid showing too much of your location in the background.

im ok i guess, how are you jjh?

That's what you call him in class when you say hi to each other every day. Your name for him is JJH, and he calls you sunshine, so he can say "Mornin', Sunshine!" in a terribly cringey southern accent every morning.

Not a full minute passes before he replies, and you completely tune out what's going on around you to focus on the conversation at hand.

A picture of the wall, and a caption.

Sure you're okay? You looked pretty stressed on your story, lol

What? What does he mean by that? All you have on your story is the picture of CVS.

Nonetheless, you swipe over twice on the app to tap on your story, watching the picture from this morning last a few seconds, and then– And then the video of Taeyong kissing you playing.

Yuta (who you're guessing took this since he's the one who handed you your phone back) must've started it a bit late, because Taeyong is only close to you for a half a second before he pulls away from the kiss and sits back on his heels, smiling shyly as you duck your head down and groan, everyone else laughing heartily in the background before the video ends.

Jaehyun saw you kissing someone else. He saw, and he wasn't upset, which means he doesn't care, but either way, he saw you kissing someone else– It's the only thing you're thinking, and suddenly the party feels too loud and your head is hurting and your heart is tugging in an aching way, and you have to get out.

You stand abruptly, muttering an 'I have to go' to Seulgi before you pivot and stride towards the door, ignoring Johnny calling after you to ask where you're going. You feel your eyes watering, and hastily swipe at them with the back of your hand as you open the front door and shut it behind you, sitting on the carpeted ground to it as you breathe in deep. You rest your face in your knees once again, trying to keep yourself from crying so you don't embarrass yourself if you decide to go back in there. It feels like a while has passed when you hear the door click open and someone settle down next to you.

"I dont feel like listening to your bullshit, Johnny," you mutter, knowing your friend had to have come out here to try and tease you into a better mood. "It's me, actually," You snap your head up to meet Taeyong's dark eyes. He chuckles lightly, turning his face away and resting the back of his head on the wall, letting his eyes shut. "Oh," you say, cringing at yourself. "Sorry." "You alright?" he asks. "You know we're not friends, right?" you say, then bite your lip as you realize how harsh that sounds. Taeyong chuckles again. "Yeah, sorry," he says. "I kind of like you, though, so I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

The fact that he phrased it that way bothers you because its just the same way Jaehyun asked you if you were okay. You try to remind yourself that it's not his fault, though.

"I'm okay," you say simply, sighing. "Good," Taeyong replies. "Want to come back in, or should I let Johnny know you went home?" You think on it. If you go home, you'll just stress about whether or not to reply to Jaehyun, probably end up crying, call one of your friends and try hopelessly to explain why you're upset. If you stay here, you can force yourself to have fun and forget about the issue currently at hand. And maybe distract yourself with how handsome Taeyong is. You like Seulgi, too.

You get to your feet, extending a hand to Taeyong as he opens his eyes. "Come on then," you say, and he smiles.

[softforimjaebum]

true love, self destruction

Oneshot

Word Count: 2.3k

Genre: Angst

Summary: I thought that I would always be his. And that he would always be mine.

Warnings: Mentions of drug use

Author’s Note: …..I don’t even know where this came from. I was in a rut, couldn’t write a word so I forced myself to work on something tonight and this is just the end result of that. Also, this has been left open ended, so it’s up to you to choose what happens next, I didn’t want to make the choice so. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!

I thought that I would always be his.

And that he would always be mine.

But I suppose I did not account for life not working out the way we want it to. I thought I would always be with him, no matter what life threw at us, but some things are harder to overcome than others. Especially when they are things that are so ingrained in us that they become a part of us, regardless of how toxic they might be.

Running away had become a part of who he was somewhere along the line, and begging him to come back every time had become a part of mine.

But this time he walked out the door, and I couldn’t bring myself to do it; no matter how much it hurt. I couldn’t bring myself to message he, to call him, to beg him to come back to me, to beg him to not take away the love of my life.

I wanted him to fight, just for once. I wanted to know how it felt to be him, to be in that powerful position of having someone begging for you to come back to them. Was it the power trip that made him always walk out on me? I wondered that a lot. But I never called.

I always told myself he is happier without you, so why can’t you even be okay without him? It drove me insane the first few nights he was gone. Why couldn’t I do what he did? Why was it so seemingly difficult to me and not to him?

The next few days were a little easier, I forced myself to go out more than usual. Temporarily distracting myself from what was left of our relationship was handy, and it helped me sleep undisturbed by dreams of him just a while longer.

People always asked me what happened, what led to this. And come to think of it, what do I tell them? Where do I start?

Do I start at the very beginning when things were so romantically cheesy that it would make everyone root for both of us? Do I start at the first fight that led to that breakup that lasted two weeks? Do I start at the first day of therapy when I was terrified beyond words and he was right there with me? Do I start at that small issue that led to an ugly fight and then another breakup, the number to which was long forgotten?

I could never figure out where to start. There was so much history, so much joy and so much pain. I figured I simply cannot explain those emotions of the past with words in the present.

And no matter what I told people, they would tell me to move on. They would tell me that he isn’t worth my time, that I deserve better. Well, guess what? I already knew that. I knew I deserved better, but I wanted better from him. I didn’t want a cheesy romance if it didn’t involve him. And coming to terms with that was difficult.

See he were out there, somewhere, moving on with life without these thoughts haunting him down. What if I was losing the person I was meant to be with? What if I was letting my ego come in the way of being with my true love? But I was struggling to breathe every time his song came on the radio. I stopped listening to the radio on my way back home, I stuck to playing my own songs instead. I switched coffee shops in the fear of bumping into him. But he didn’t have a care in the world and it made me angry; it made me so angry but more than anything it made me sad.

God I wanted to always be his.

I often questioned myself if I lost myself when I was with him. What other possible explanation could there be to how things turned out. I felt lost, directionless, constantly in a free fall.

He left and took four years of my life with him. Four years of our life; the same life we build together, piece by piece, one photo frame after another. He was scattered everywhere in my life. His memories were everywhere; in the forgotten clothing scattered around the house, in the inside jokes in songs we listened to together, in habits we picked up from each other. His toothbrush still rested in its place, right next to mine; as did his shampoo and his cologne. His clothes were still in the closet next to mine. He didn’t technically live in my apartment, but it felt that way anyway. His things were all next to mine, how I figured he would be too. Next to me, always, forever, until I died.

Two months and 16 days. That is what it took for him to get over four years of our relationship.

I had been dragged to a friend’s birthday party, where I shoved a couple of shots of vodka down my throat regardless of how revolting I found it. The club was playing his song, a new song that I hadn’t heard, but that voice was his. I had no doubt about it. I let out a dry chuckle at my sheer luck, drowning more alcohol; whatever I could get my hands on.

When his song finally ended, I stumbled onto the dance floor with my friends. That is when I saw him. And her. Wrapped in the embrace I remember being in just a little over two months ago. The same loving look on her face as mine, him reciprocating it. Maybe he would actually stop running with her, because fuck knows I didn’t measure up to being enough.

God I wanted him to always be mine. So badly.

I turned away, there had to be at least one man in that club who could make me forget his touch for a night, right? Right you are. I don’t remember his name, I just remember he was tall. Really tall. He towered over me as I danced with him, and when he leaned down to kiss me. He took me back to his apartment, undressed me, touched me everywhere I would let him; but my heart was still somewhere out there. Lost, directionless, constantly in a free fall.

He had a tattoo on his lower abdomen, something I noticed when I was on my knees. His skin was velvety soft. His eyes more doe-like than the ones I was used to staring into. His touch spoke a different language even when his words didn’t.

But in the back of my mind, if I concentrated just hard enough, I could feel the one I truly yearned for. The one who would be in bed with another the very night, speaking words of love into the ears of another.

I left in the morning before he woke up; he looked a lot more peaceful in his sleep than he had looked in the club, parts of his body decorated with marks I had left. I never saw him again, not that I even wanted to.

The next weekend I met up with an old college friend. I handed him the money, he handed me a beaded box. I didn’t need to check if it contained what he said it would; I was the only client who he ever considered a friend. It was evident in the hefty discounts I got from him, and the many dinners he let me buy him.

Things changed when I graduated, got a job. But I still got the birthday texts from him every year, along with the texts asking me how I was doing when he thought my Instagram captions for a little too depressing.

I drove back to my place, picking up munchies on my way back. I was about to get really hungry. I dug out my old pipe, hidden somewhere beneath college sweatshirts I no longer wore, in his side of the closet. His clothes were still there. His bucket hat too. And his new pair of grandpa shoes that he never got a chance to wear out.

If he didn’t want to contact me for his belongings, they could just stay there.

I sat in the middle of my living room, the pipe lit, the now unfamiliar pungent smoke filling the room. All kinds of foods and drinks surrounded me, the T.V played some drama I wasn’t really interested in.

My mind made an unnecessary visit to what date it was. Clearly not high enough, I thought as I dug around for the box. Today was the first time he took me out on a date four years ago, exactly 10 months after the first time we met.

On our first anniversary, he told me of the song he had written for me in his next album. The napkin he had first scribbled the lyrics onto, on some odd double date we went to with Jackson and a friend of mine, still hung in the frame somewhere in the hallway leading up to my bedroom. On our second anniversary, we took a secret vacation where he gave me the promise ring I still wore on my little finger. He knew my love for little finger rings all too well, and he got one made specifically for me, the date of our anniversary and his initials engraved on the inside of it. I wondered if he still wore his, I wondered if his girlfriend ever asked about it.

Jaebum.

His name burned my heart, the all familiar knot in my throat reappearing. I had stopped saying his name somewhere along the line. Just his name brought along with it memories that were better left suppressed in a dark corner of my mind.

I didn’t need to remember the first time he introduced himself to me, the way he liked how his name rolled off my tongue with the slightest accent, how he hated to be called Jaebummie by everyone but me. I didn’t need to remember the times I begged him to stay, just by calling out his name, the desperation clear in my voice. Or the way I shouted his name in the middle of a heated argument.

Everything about him had memories attached to it. Like I said, so much joy and so much pain. Too much joy, too much pain.

My mind was in a haze, all memories blurred, all pain and all joy too. All my mind could feel was the high. But there my heart was; still lost, directionless, still in free fall.

The room soon turned into a deep orange hue as the sun started to set over another day, before the clouds blocked it away. The room turned grey, the only source of light was from the T.V, still playing a programme I wasn’t interested in. I reached for the box kept next to me again, I had enough to last me the whole night. I needed to get high enough for my heart to stop hurting, even if just for an hour. Even if just for one minute.

True love, self destruction, its all one in the same thing.

Higher I flew, into cloud of haze, losing myself. It begun raining at some point in the evening, but I was far too gone to notice. I dozed off, the sounds of rain being the only thing on my mind, thinking about rainy days were Jaebum’s favourite days to sleep in on. He loved the sound of the rain.

Jaebum.

His name was still my favourite word.

I wasn’t entirely sure how long I had slept, but I was woken to a loud pounding on my front door. The scene outside my apartment had turned dark, the city lights twinkling in the night sky. The pounding continued.

I stood up in a haste, causing a dizzy spell to make me stumble right back onto my couch. I realised I was still a little high. But I didn’t care. I just wanted the pounding to stop, and to then eat something only to continue getting high. The sudden roar of the thunder startled me as I let out a small yelp, my hands flying to my chest. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, only to be interrupted by another road on pounding on the door.

At this rate whoever was outside would break my door down.

I moved towards the front door, switching on a few dim lights on my way so as to be able to see a little better in my dark room, and yanked the door open.

Drenched in rain, hair a mess and nose red from crying; Jaebum stood in front of my apartment. At my sight he fell to the floor, on his knees, beginning to sob. The other time I had seen him crying like this was when his grandmother had passed away and he didn’t get permission from the company to go to her funeral, and his father had called him a disappointment for not being able to make it.

I stood there, numb. Why was he here? Is this what I looked like when I always showed up on his doorstep after a breakup?

Neither of us spoke for a couple of minutes, the sound of the rain mixed with his sobs being the only sounds that kept us both company. He then looked up at me, his eyes swollen and pleading.

“Please, take me back. I can’t do this anymore”

[brimfulofwispa]

17 reasons why fuck the Daily Mail: Linguistics edition

If you want a read of the full article, follow this link. Once you’re done reading a prime example of Daily Mail “journalism”, feel free to have a read of my brutal lambasting analysis of the damn thing.

Fuck This Article #1: It isn’t a Mail article if it’s not xenophobic from the headline on! Not only does this headline assume that Jamaican patois is somewhat worse than more standardised dialects, but it also creates an “us vs. them” rhetoric with the author’s own daughter from the get-go. Also, if you’re taking on the role as a “linguist” (It’s a stretch to call you that), use the phrase “Jamaican Creole” instead. Patois tends to be used locally by Jamaicans or people already using Jamaican Creole in their language.

I know I have an AGA cooker so I can’t really speak on this, but if you’re writing with the assumption that jam is an everyday thing to make, you’re going to have judgements made about you.

Anyways, I digress.

Fuck This Article #2: This was written in 2013 when everyone said yolo and lol unironically, but it’s likely that this conversation never happened. I was 12 years old when these slang words were a thing, but I’d never heard someone use DW and yolo in the same sentence.

#3: WHO CARES ABOUT WHERE THE ACCENT COMES FROM? Dialects and language features like the one (pretty terribly) discussed here tend to travel from place to place. If one person spoke in a Russian accent to another, over time the other person might pick up that Russian accent depending on how long they’re exposed to it. It’s likely that darling Millie has heard her friends talk and she’s picked up their accents and therefore sounds similar to them. 

#4: Next on Things That Never Happened... Also, Received Pronunciation is often mistaken for Estuary English which is a catchall term for your average English accent. If you want to hear Received Pronunciation then listen to the Queen or Jacob Rees-Mogg, two figures the Mail happens to worship!

#5: This is a (sort of) clever tactic used to basically say, “Are you a middle class parent and disgusted by your children sounding more like foreigners since they started year 7? Fear not, this is a struggle we ALL face!” 

#6: It’s still called Multicultural London English (MLE), there’s nothing bizarre about it and it’s moving from urban to suburban to rural locations like it’s supposed to. On account of the “superbug”, I haven’t seen anyone contract a horrific illness from speaking in a new dialect so stop with your deficit-focused language. Oh wait, you can’t. You’re already rife with a disease called Working For The Daily Mail and I’m afraid it’s terminal.

This entire section of text deserved its own section for Fuck This Articles.

#7: “vowels stretched to breaking point” Great use of superlatives there! What better way to convince your readership that their children are regressing linguistically thanks to their new surroundings than to make the situation sound as dire as possible! Good job!

#8: Constantly correcting your kids on the way they speak is not going to help them. It’s not your job to be a (for lack of a better name) Grammar Nazi towards your child. Don’t be that guy who insists on calling a fridge a refrigerator at all times.

#9: I’m crying with laughter at the assumption that Millie didn’t mean lasagne, and actually meant to say cannelloni or moussaka. Whatever school you’re sending your child to, tell the catering staff I want to sample all their Mediterranean-inspired dishes. 

#10: Again, nothing is being ruined here, the English language isn’t dying otherwise we wouldn’t be using it the way we are today. Stop exaggerating to pander to your readers who have the same opinion as you.

#11: So what if everything’s “epic” or deserves a celebratory “oosh” or “lol”? Surely using a superlative (which you seem to love using yourself) to describe something you liked should be celebrated. Again, there is nothing to be ruined here.

 #12: This is probably the most aggressive paragraph so far. Why are you so scared of a DIALECT? What’s so scary about a new-sounding accent that you fear for how your daughter’s going to sound everyday? And what’s so hideous about “Jafaican” (which is essentially a variant of MLE) that you hope to God she never picks it up?

#13: MLE has influences from African countries and (most frequently) the Caribbean, and has spread throughout London. It’s wrong to confine the origin of an accent to just one place, since it’s likely that it’s a collection of other accents as a result of people speaking to each other. Not so random then, is it?

#14: This coming from the paper that profits off paparazzi photos with sexist captions. 

#15: David Crystal is basically the Messiah of linguistics. Don’t insult his work like this by putting his quotations in a Mail article. My English teacher would be astonished.

#16: Classic Daily Mail, inciting fear of change into all those who read of it. There was a time when people hated the way Cockney sounded the same way you do MLE now. Language changes all the time but clearly some attitudes do not.

#17: I’m sure she’ll grow out of it anyway without your pestering. Kids grow out of habits as they get older anyway. Don’t fret if she sounds “alien” to you now (Side note: this was written in 2013 so Millie would probably be in year 11 now, so she’s most likely to have adopted new habits as she’s grown up).

There’s even more in the article for me to rip to shreds, but I felt that I’d be boring you with each individual paragraph. Still, 17 instances the author of this glorified shitpost has fucked up is pretty impressive.

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/therapy-winchester-style-supernatural-big-empty/

Therapy, Winchester Style – 'Supernatural' ‘The Big Empty’

There are two stories running in Supernatural's ‘The Big Empty,' both of them dealing with emptiness, either literal or metaphorical. There’s Dean and Sam, struggling with the emptiness left behind by too many losses and taking it out on each other (and Jack – who is also struggling with the emptiness of being orphaned and now knowing who you are). And there’s the literal Big Empty, where Castiel awakened at the end of last episode to find himself alone. When this episode starts, however, Cas finds himself alone no longer. There’s an entity there with him that has his face and form, but it’s not exactly good company. In fact, it’s pissed as hell that when Cas woke up, he did too. The Empty is apparently the place where angels and demons go when they die, and they pretty much just slumber there, which means the Entity can slumber too. He loves sleep almost as much as I do, and that’s really saying something. That Castiel is now keeping him from his cherished sleep is making the Entity very cranky – which he takes out on Cas with a lot of physical abuse. Ouch. Supernatural has played with characters confronting different versions of themselves before – Dean confronting future!Dean in ‘The End’ memorably comes to mind – so Cas confronting Entity!Cas isn’t unprecedented. I was caught off guard, though, by the way Misha Collins plays the other version. Because he’s very very different! I wasn’t sure whether to laugh at Entity!Cas or be chilled by him, or maybe a little bit of both. He seemed to have a little bit of Alastair and a little bit of Zachariah and possibly a little bit of Balthazar in him too. He almost seems friendly, or at least amusing, until he punches you in the stomach. Again, ouch. I feel like Misha probably had a field day playing Entity!Cas, who’s different than any other version. Misha has had a lot of opportunity to stretch himself as an actor even though he’s been playing the same character for so many seasons, because there have been so many versions of Castiel. Human Cas (one of my favorites), original badass Cas (my absolute favorite), Leviathan!Cas, Lucifer!Cas aka Casifer, powered down Cas, etc etc. And now Entity!Cas. Misha has a gift for accents, and this one is just over the top enough to be creepy. I had to admire Castiel’s courage and his refusal to just lay down and go back to sleep, even when the Entity tries to convince him that his life on earth basically sucked. He’s determined to hold out and keep trying, for both the Winchesters’ sake and I’m assuming also for Jack, who he promised to take care of. And I have to admire Misha’s ability to portray two characters who both look like him, and yet he makes them easy to tell apart, even without sound – they have different expressions, different mannerisms, convey different emotions. Even in a screencap, you can tell. And that’s good acting. I can’t wait to hear the behind the scenes tales of filming those scenes because it’s got to be challenging to be playing off “yourself.” So there’s Castiel, dealing with The Big Empty and trying to get back to help Sam and Dean. The other aching emptiness in the episode is psychological. And what do you do when you’ve got aching psychological emptiness to deal with? Why you go to a psychologist, of course! I always worry a little when Show goes there, since in real life I’m a psychologist – but in this episode, I kinda loved the therapist they chose. They chose her because two of her clients have turned up dead, seemingly killed by their deceased loved ones – or something that looked like them. Turns out the doc is indeed a shapeshifter, but she’s also a pretty damn good therapist. It doesn’t take a PhD at this point to figure out that Sam and Dean aren’t exactly getting along, or that Jack (their “younger brother”) is depressed and longing for his “big brothers” approval. She calls Dean on his B.S. – and so does Sam. The therapy session is fascinating because, while the Winchesters are ostensibly playing a part, nevertheless there’s a great deal of truth that makes its way into that room. The therapist immediately knows that they’ve lost someone. Jack: My mom. Oh Jack, sweetie. Dean admonishes him to be quiet unless spoken to, calling him “Mr. Spock” – which only served to emphasize his similarity to Castiel – but Jack’s loss is so uppermost in his mind, he couldn’t help but blurt it out. Doc: You lost your mom suddenly? Sam: Yeah. And ain’t that the truth! Both times. Doc: Did you ever journal? Sam: (telling the truth again) Our dad did. Doc: Dean? Dean: (snidely, defenses all up) Ever since I was a little girl… Dean’s response is so telling, pure defensiveness and trying to deflect by being obnoxious on top of it. Sam however, is not having it. Sam: My brother, he’s not processing his grief. Dean: (looking shocked that Sam actually went there, because it’s clear he’s no longer play acting) Really? No, I’m good -- with death, closure, the whole friggen bottle of Jack… Sam: Are you? Dean: (lashing out) Yeah, because I know that mom’s dead and I know that she’s not coming back! Sam: Ok I hear what you’re saying, I just wish… The doc cuts him off, but it’s fairly clear to the viewer that Sam was once again about to say something real. Maybe even ask his brother for what he needs from him. Dean can hear it too, and he full on panics, lashing out again. Dean: My brother’s delusional. (To Sam’s shocked look) You said you wanted to give this a shot, right? He won’t even admit that mom’s dead! Sam: (clearly hurt) Stop. Dean: Because if he admits it, then it’s real and he’ll have to deal. And he can’t handle that! Sam:  Oh, because this is so easy for you right? Dean: No, it’s not easy… Sam: (barreling on) Because at least you had a relationship with Mom! I mean, who did she always call? Who did she look to for everything? Dean: Okay… Sam: You had something with her that I never had! And now I’m just supposed to accept that I never will have it?! Sam storms out, and I reach for my box of tissues. Oh, Sam. It’s so true. He has gotten the raw end of the deal when it comes to his mother, every single time. I feel so much for Sam Winchester in that moment. Dean turns to his flask, but the doctor doesn’t cut him a break either. She tells him she can see that he’s angry, and that’s his business if he wants to hang onto it. But meanwhile, he’s taking it out on everyone around him. Jack, who she points out is terrified of him. And most of all, Sam. As much as Dean doesn’t want to hear it, he needs to. She’s a damn good therapist, and Dean starts to get a clue.  When Sam asks him to take Jack with him to go check out a suspect, Dean only protests a little, and then gives in. But before that, Sam realizes the therapist really is a shapeshifter, thanks to the bloody mess in the upstairs bathroom, which means we get to see badass Winchesters pull their guns. While Dean and Jack are gone, Sam chats with the shapeshifting doc and figures out who the bad shifter is. He leaves to go confront him without even calling his brother. Dean: Sam didn’t call me? Doc: Can you blame him? Ouch. Are you getting a clue now, Dean? Rukiya Bernard did an amazing job as the shapeshifting doctor.  Even though we only met her in this episode, Bernard invested her with so much emotion and so much passion that I was rooting for her, screaming at the Winchesters not to shoot her. She was a noble character, an example of a “monster” who is not only trying not to do “bad” but actively trying to do “good.” And Bernard sold that 1000%.  And another person of color and another heroic kickass woman added to the Show. I hope somebody out there is giving Supernatural some credit, because they are clearly trying – and giving us amazing characters in the process! The other great thing about the doc being a shapeshifter is it allows Jack some closure, and some of the understanding about himself that he’s so desperate for. She helps people with complicated grief, who didn’t get closure after a loved one’s death, finally say goodbye – even if it’s actually to the shapeshifter in the form of their lost loved one. Jack asks her to do that for him, which gives us the return of Kelly Kline (sorta – of Courtney Ford at any rate). She holds Jack, gives him that hug and that reassurance that he so needs. She mothers him, and it makes me cry to see it, because he needs it so desperately. She also doesn’t placate him with “you’re not a monster” – instead she reassures him that it’s not what you are, it’s what you DO. Kelly Shifter: And even monsters can do good in this world. We’ve heard Sam Winchester tell this to “monsters” before, that it’s their choice – just like it was Sam’s choice too. Demon blood didn’t define him; he’s a big damn hero because he chose that. Kelly tells Jack that he too has a choice. Courtney Ford tweeted a behind the scenes photo of her and Alex and said that the “Kelly part of my heart” needed that. I love that all the actors on this show are so invested in their characters, that she also felt she needed that bit of closure.   [caption id="attachment_50778" align="aligncenter" width="606"] Photo: Courtney Ford[/caption]   Alex Calvert once again did a bang up job portraying Jack’s longing for Sam and Dean’s (especially Dean’s) approval, and his intense grief over the loss of his mother. Thanks to Calvert’s acting and the amazing writing this season (this time by Meredith Glynn), we see Jack as quintessentially human. He shows us Jack’s emotions so vividly that there can be no doubt – and thus he has all my empathy. ‘The Big Empty’ was all about loss, especially mother loss. Jack and Kelly, Sam and Dean and Mary. Samantha Smith (Mary) was not in this episode, but it was all about her anyway. The ways in which she shaped her sons’ lives, by her loss when they were young and by her interaction with them when she came back, and by her loss once again. Interestingly, the episode aired on the anniversary of the night that Mary Winchester died, burnt to death on the ceiling of Sam’s nursery. How fitting that it was the night Sam started to come to terms with all he’s lost – and all he’s never had – when it comes to his mother. And Dean for the first time started to understand the depth of his little brother’s loss and longing. I have gushed over Meredith Glynn’s writing before (including in person because she came to the book launch party for Family Don’t End With Blood and I sorta fangirled over her – okay, not sorta…)  But I have to gush some more here. What I’m loving so much about this season, and what was so very evident in this episode, is that Sam and Dean are back to being Sam and Dean. Brothers. They’re talking, and not just about the weather or if the bunker needs supplies. They’re expressing their feelings to each other, and they’re prioritizing each other in the way that Sam and Dean do, the way that made me fall for this show in the first place. Their argument about Mary being dead in the beginning of the episode was so hard to watch. Especially Sam’s soft spoken “So you want to move on from Mom?” And Dean can’t even say it, can’t even let himself go there. He’s caged in, cut off by his defenses, as this brilliant shot shows. Dean: Right now I wanna go kill some guy’s dead wife. When Sam suggests they take Jack along, at first Dean is adamant that the answer is no. Then Sam pulls out the big guns. Sam: Do it for me? Dean’s utter inability to say no when Sam says “for me,” this is the show I fell in love with. You can see the effect that has on Dean. He can’t not say yes, not when Sam is asking that way. And Sam KNOWS it. That special bond that they have is right there on my tv screen, and god damn that makes me happy. This episode showed a great deal of evolution in Dean’s relationship with Jack, which I welcomed because it’s been breaking my heart to see Dean keep hurting Jack. We also got more of Sam being absolutely wonderful as a father figure to Jack. Instead of secrets and lies, we get Jack telling Sam that he heard Dean’s accusation that Sam is just using him (thank you Meredith Glynn!) And miracle of miracles, Sam does not get defensive or try to deflect. Instead, he sits down and explains to Jack that what Dean said is partly true, and confesses that he should have been more honest with Jack about that part. He explains that they are trying to save their mom, and if there’s one thing that Jack understands, it’s the pain of losing your mother. Sam’s honesty and his willingness to actually talk it through with Jack make all the difference. Jack understands and believes that Sam can both care about him and also hope that Jack can be useful in saving Mary. It’s amazing what can be accomplished with actual open communication, isn’t it, Show? I love that Sam once again has the guts to actually apologize to Jack. And it just about broke my heart how hopeful Jack looked when Sam said that the way to impress Dean is with effort - and how crestfallen he is every time it doesn’t work. Dean and Sam take Jack along, and though Dean gruffly tells him to ‘Sit. Stay’ ie wait in the car; Jack is eager to help and disobeys. That gives Sam an opportunity to instruct him in the ways of EMF meters while Dean rolls his eyes, which is all kinds of adorable. Even Dean has to admit that Jack’s helpful in digging up graves. Did they really let him do that all by himself?? Jack also helpfully fetches the boys’ lunch, which gave Jensen Ackles a chance to mess with him as they filmed the hotdog eating scene. How Alex and Jared didn’t break repeatedly is a mystery to me – actually, they probably did. Repeatedly. Jack, following Sam’s example (A+ parent, that Sam Winchester!) then tells Dean that he and Sam talked, and that he understands that they need him to try to save their mother. Dean may not be ready to get on board, but it’s clear he’s both surprised by all that honesty and starting to question his snap judgment of Jack just a little. The real evolution comes after Buddy the bad shifter almost kills Dean and Jack – and then almost kills Sam.  First, we get a moment with Shifter!Dean, which gives Jensen Ackles a chance to play bad guy for a minute, and it’s probably a lot hotter than it should be. Like a glimpse of Demon!Dean that I didn’t get anywhere near enough of. Shifter dean: Well that was too friggen easy. With Dean tied up and helpless and the bad guy’s gun aimed at his unsuspecting “baby brother,” Dean is frantic and asks Jack to help. Dean: Sam believes in you. And when he believes, he’ll go hell for leather. I don’t even know what that means, but it sounded really good in that moment. Dean also gets to see the Shifter Doc offer to sacrifice herself to save him and Jack, another emphasis to the “it’s not what you are, but what you do” idea that contributes to Dean’s eventual change of heart about Jack. Or at least the first glimmer of one. When Jack manages to tap into his powers and Sam is saved, that’s the turning point for Dean. (Also, how awesome was it that the shifter had been Dean, so he calls Sam ‘baby brother’? Very. Thank you, Meredith Glynn!)  Jack saving Sam? There is nothing in the world that Dean Winchester values more. Save his little brother, and you just gained about a billion brownie points in Dean’s book. I sobbed through the scene in the kitchen at the end, Jack not even daring to look at Dean, just a quiet and not-even-hopeful ‘hey.' Dean watching Jack out of the corner of his eye, some internal struggle, and then he finally relents. “You did good today, Jack.” Jack’s face, OMG. The camera stays on it as Dean leaves the kitchen, the smile that slowly brightens Jack’s entire expression. It means so much to him, that Dean complimented him. That Dean, even a little bit, accepted him. It’s what every child longs to hear from their parent, some affirmation of their goodness, of their effort, of their success. Jack drinks it up like it’s the sweetest life-giving nectar. And actually? Back to that psychologist thing again, it really really is. Have I thanked you often enough, Meredith? One more time then. Thank you for all that psychological complexity and realism, and all that Sam and Dean emotional interaction. Sam and Dean’s relationship has also undergone some evolution in this episode. Eager to put their disagreements aside after almost losing each other (again…), Sam and Dean both try to come over to the other’s way of thinking. Sam admits that he’s having a hard time accepting that Mary is dead, and Dean does an about face and tells Sam to hang onto his hope and optimism. For the first time since the season began – for the first time since the loss of Mary and Cas – Dean admits that he’s broken. Dean brings his brother a beer, Winchester for “I’m sorry.” Dean: I was outta line. I’m sorry for being a dick lately. Sam thanks him, but then both brothers question their stance and try to understand where the other is coming from. Sam questions that maybe Dean is right about their mother being dead. Dean: Don’t say that. Sam: That’s what you’ve been trying to get me to say. Dean admits that he needs Sam to hold onto hope and faith for the both of them, because right now he’s having a hard time believing in anything. Oh, Dean. Oh, Sam. And yet, I’m a contented fangirl because they’re having this amazing, open, honest, undefended conversation with each other. And  that’s mostly what I ask of this show. Wait, did I thank Meredith enough?? The episode ends on an intriguing note. Cas falls to Earth, gets up and turns his face to the sun, soaking it in. But is it Cas??? Or is it Entity!Cas, finding another way to escape the annoyance of having Castiel awake in the Empty?? I guess we’ll find out. In just a few days!

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The Ghana Saga / Revealed.

LONG POST* you’ve been warned :). 

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On May 12th, 2016, I travelled to Ghana with Projects Abroad for my internship for the Child and Youth program at Humber. I was there for 14 weeks and spent my time at an orphanage/school called Trinity Home Academy, working with pre-school kindergarten aged children. I had a strong desire to go to Ghana because since I had begun college, I had a secret hope to one day work in Ghana with their children, and implement a care system there (for orphans, children who lacked care) after I graduated. I was hoping that with this experience, it would open my eyes to my future work field, and give me ideas as to how I would go about it.

It was not what I expected.  At all. It was hard. It was challenging. But not because of the work necessarily - but how I was treated. And having my eyes opened to some ugly, unfortunate truths. 

Coming back home after 91 days, what I found most challenging was responding to everyone’s “So.....how was it?!” questions. It’s funny, because just before I went, I had a friend who travelled to Thailand for 4 months and explained how coming back was slightly odd, to see how everyone had moved on, while she had this amazing experience. I have another friend who lived in New Zealand for an entire YEAR at 16, and she explained a similar struggle - of coming back to everything being the exact same while she was this completely different person. While I feared this for myself, this was far from my actual reality. I have great (but also problematic) defence mechanisms that help to prevent me from feeling sad or “left out” I guess... but coming back, I wanted everyone to forget as though I had even gone. I didn’t want people to ask about it, I just wanted to seamlessly come back, with my experiences muted in the back of my mind. 

I guess I should start describing what I was anticipating for the trip, I suppose. To begin, I was super anxious. I had never traveled this far, yet alone by myself. I had never been away for so long. I had no idea what to expect and I had low, low confidence in my ability to make effective change. However, I was really hoping that I would be going to Ghana with the advantage that I’m first generation Ghanaian, and that would make me relatable. I knew that I was going there humbled - I wasn’t going there to save lives and have this incredible life changing experience... I was going to help. I was going to be an extra set of hands. I was going to learn more of where my parents grew up; my background, more of another culture I was raised by, and the Ghanaians would be giving me more than I could ever give them. 

When I had arrived, naturally, I felt pretty welcomed. I was living in the Akuapem Region, in a small town called Mamfe. My host family was initially very friendly. The Project’s Abroad staff; also friendly. Once I set foot into the school I was working in, I was shocked at the lack of structure and overwhelmed with how I alone was going to make much of a difference. (Regardless of this, highly commendable school, since the headmistress had opened it in an area that is difficult to access school otherwise. HUGE kudos to her). Moving forward, there were a bunch of 3-5-year-olds running around, and even a couple of 1-year-olds hanging out. Me being the novelty volunteer that the children get every now and then, so that caught their attention and their obedience. For a short. Time. 

Moving forward though, the novelty that I had was a lot different from what the other volunteers had to offer. It took me a few weeks to realize that. And what had set me apart from a majority of the volunteers was that I was not white. The children and even a few adults had a hard time understanding what I was. I looked like them, but sounded nothing like them. I didn’t walk like them, I didn’t dress like them, I didn’t have their mannerisms. So while I was not Ghanaian... I wasn’t white either. So really, I quickly became nothing: to both the children and even teachers. While I was at the school for 40 hours a week, I steadily declined from novelty to for lack of a better word, lackey. My efforts - even extended efforts were grossly overlooked and even expected at times. This was not the same for my white counterpart. And my days looked a lot different when she was not around.

In regards to the staff, (with exclusion to one I made friends with), they all would disregard my presence, unless my friend and co-volunteer from Denmark were around. All of a sudden, I was visible. It became hurtful, and hard not to take personally. The kids never really listened to no one other than their teachers (which is understandable, they are of the same culture and they would hold more trust in them than these revolving strangers), but what became hurtful was when I actively advocated for these kids and I still received loads of disrespect. I know they’re young, but I still had felt very hurt. 

When I was outside of the school, I had similar reactions from locals. Taxi drivers wouldn’t look twice at me until they heard my Canadian accent (but then, of course, I was charged twice the amount of the original cost). Store owners heard my accent and didn’t understand what I was and dismissively passed me off. When I finally received attention from one, she had asked me desperately “those white people you walk around with...how do I get them to be my friend??” and I was heartbroken. For her. I told her to just say hi, and that they are humans like us, but she wasn’t hearing it.  On top of this, it most definitely did not help seeing bleaching/lightening cream and hair perm advertisements virtually EVERYWHERE, continuously perpetuating a European standard of beauty. 

While I maintained a positive, perseverant spirit, by late July I had officially burnt out. I could no longer hide how I felt, and I grew to be sad, exhausted, angry, bitter. Not with the Ghanaians, not with the kids, but with white people. I am aware of the fact that in the 1830s, Britain colonized Ghana, as well as many African countries. With colonization came a heavy imparting of their values, their traditions, their practices. These were the same people involved with trading Ghanaians as slaves to North America. Mind you, this invasion of Britain was not welcomed by the Ghanaians, as their traditional rulers didn’t passively watch their culture and sovereignty being trampled upon (Boahen, 2004).

While Ghana finally became emancipated of this by 1957, the centuries of their hostile takeover had left a lasting impact that continues today - including the perspective that white people are better/superior. Considering the driving force behind colonization includes the belief that the countries being colonized lack civilization, are savages and are culturally inferior (Donkor, 2005). That mentality cannot be shaken off in 60 years of Ghanaian independence, ESPECIALLY when voluntourism groups like Projects Abroad continue to funnel a majority of white volunteers who are imparting their “wisdom” and “better practices,” which for the most part are Western methods of doing things. Furthermore, the volunteers I was with were there for 2-3 weeks on average. In implementing effective change, long-term assistance is far more beneficial, especially when there are attempts to reform education, to see improvements in the children’s reading and identifying shapes and colours and numbers... 

To me, it appeared that the experience advantaged the volunteers FAR more than the Ghanaians. They got to explore “Africa” and try different foods and take pictures of little black babies and go home while doing very little to no change, especially since follow-up on how the children are progressing is extremely poor, and this cycle continues. There were efforts to follow up on the progress of the kids on computer databases, but they were poorly kept up with. While YES, they have good intentions of teachings that should be heeded to globally (like sanitation, literacy, etc.), but what is far more important is who is teaching these things. 

Hear me out. Give me a few moments before I explain.

When I came home a year ago TODAY, I had no idea how to swallow all of this. I was returning to a white family who I love and adore - but... how? I was left with the resolution that these programs reinforce colonization essentially and that I’m not in love with white people travelling to these countries to “impact others and be impacted themselves,” when REALLY, they just wanted a cute Instagram caption to show their “worldliness”. Super harsh, super judgemental... I know. It’s how I felt though. I was very raw, very angry, and with that realization (and other life factors), I fell into a pretty deep depression. 

I had come to realize that my dream job is going up against hundreds of years of a mentality that views me as less as much as they may view themselves. I am not escaping this reality in my home country either - since black people here are still treated as such! Overt AND covert racism is still here and CAN stand in my way towards future professions. The reality is that white people still prevail in a majority of upper management/higher level education jobs, and my race is a barrier to achieving that - no matter HOW hard I work. Yes, obviously there are exceptions, but that doesn’t change the fact that there are possibilities that they either had to work incredulously hard or are privileged to a sort. 

It didn’t help that this was the summer of the fatal shootings of Philando Castile and Alton Sterling either. 

http://www.cnn.com/2017/06/20/us/philando-castile-shooting-dashcam/index.html 

http://www.cnn.com/2017/05/03/us/alton-sterling-doj-death-investigation/index.html

On top of that, an INCREDIBLE documentary called 13TH by Ava DuVernay documents essentially how the US economy benefits from imprisoning black men. (a definite watch... it’s available on Netflix).

A year later though, finally, I am not as angry. Still angry, just not as aggressively. Through conversations with my mother figure (who as aforementioned, is white), and faculty from school who have been teaching me about colonization and globalization and such, I’ve come to an understanding that yes, voluntourism does reinforce colonization. Does that mean white people should stop travelling to these countries to help people? Not necessarily. 

Intentions do count. They’re not enough, but they count, So if non-people of colour and even black Canadians/Americans who want to do these opportunities (because being born in the Western-hemisphere, we still do uphold a privilege), I recommend the following to prevent reconstituting a process that continues to undermine the race of people: 

Research into the organizations that you want to travel with. 

Who created them? (Yes, it matters). The people who they wish to help... have they even requested this need? Where is your money going to? How is it being spent?? If you can’t find a linear answer to this, reconsider the organization. 

It is worthwhile to keep searching.

Reading blog posts like mine - it’s natural to want to be defensive. Don’t be. 

It is not about you. The reality is that there are a group of people on the planet that are highly advantaged as opposed to the rest of us. It is what it is. If you really want to make a difference? Listen to the voices of those who are oppressed. Look at it from theirs and from my point of view. And follow suit. 

It’s nice that you want to help, but your actions in helping can be more detrimental. Still don't understand? Reread my colonization bit, or look up what colonization is

The immediate video below has disturbing images and language. Minimize and listen if the images might bother you. 

Are you a proactive ally about the black people/people of colour in this country?

Do you understand the premise of Black Lives Matter? Do you fully understand the struggles of Black Canadians/Black Americans/people of colour? If not, learn about it - or reconsider going to a country that’s full of coloured people. 

Allyship is about recognizing your own privilege, listening to the voices of the oppressed and advocating WITH and not FOR them. Again, I myself in that trip upheld a PRIVILEGE coming from a Western Country. I recognize that and I am aware of the error of my mistakes. 

Learn. The name. Of the country. You’re going to. 

unless you’re spending like a year in 56 countries because you’re bout that money, I doubt you’re going to “Africa”. When you go to the United States, you’re not going to “North America”. 

In using the blanket statement “I’m going to Africa”, there is the underhanded connotation that this continent is full of a homogenous group of people. This is false and prejudices because 56 different nations couldn’t all possibly be the same. Or even similar. We’re a diverse group of people. Assuming that we’re all the same is wrong. 

In going to Europe, Italy and Spain are NOT the same. It’s the same with Africa. Nigeria and Ghana... not. the. same. 

At the root of it all, it’s about love. 

patient 

kind 

not envious, boastful, arrogant or rude

does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in TRUTH

bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things

it never fails (1 Corinthians 13:4-13) 

it’s not self-serving, but rather it wishes to serve others. really delve into truth and make sure your intentions are in their best interests. 

I do not have all the answers! I really don’t. I’ve only been back a year and I’m still learning. If you took this as a white-bashing post, please re-read everything again. And hit me up for follow-up discussion. This is 100% not done with that intention. 

I mean everything that I’ve said with the utmost respect. While this trip wasn’t what I expected, I know it was not done in vain. I hope that my experiences are eye-opening to someone and that we can stop recolonizing and actually make effective and positive change. 

It includes me. It includes you. 

- danielle.

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Boahen, A. A., & BOAHEN, A. A. (2004). Ghana (Republic of): Colonization and resistance, 1875-1901. In K. Shillington (Ed.), Encyclopedia of African history. London, UK: Routledge. Retrieved from http://ezproxy.humber.ca/login?url=http://search.credoreference.com/content/entry/routafricanhistory/ghana_republic_of_colonization_and_resistance_1875_1901/0?institutionId=1430 

Donkor, M. (2005). Marching to the tune: Colonization, globalization, immigration, and the ghanaian diaspora. Africa Today, 52(1), 26-145. doi:10.2979/AFT.2005.52.1.26