#not even “never talk about the usa” but... like. challenge yourself. ask WHY the usa is always the first country to come up.

[mangled-by-disuse]

talking to friends about The Horrors, specifically the Trumpian Horrors, and, like

the more I consider it, the more I think that the best thing we outside the US can do - for ourselves, for the world, and for America as well - is to just holler to the fucking rooftops that AMERICA IS NOT THE WORLD.

By which I mean:

we do not let politicians, media, and our own social circles convince us that American issues are the only issues worth discussing;

we challenge politicians, media, and our own social circles on the politics of appeasement;

we challenge ourselves on the assumption that laws passed in the US affect us directly, and we do not place ourselves in American shoes;

we focus on our own shit. Not because it's more important, but because we need to remember that it still exists. Our eyes cannot be on the USA while the legislative and political rights in our own countries are eroded from under us.

we look to the rest of the world. We get used to viewing people who don't look like us, talk like us, or even like us as an equal and crucial part of the political landscape.

WE ARE LOUD ABOUT THIS. In politics, in activism, in social contexts, in our own assessment of our own politics, we remember and hold up that America is NOT the centre of the world, and that American hegemony is NOT inevitable.

This is not because I'm trying to undermine American struggles. This is because the Trump administration is strengthened and bolstered by every other country that chooses to suck the cock of American supremacy in the desperate attempt to maintain the last remnants of the old imperial order.

It is up to everyone in the world to challenge that, and to say: yeah, this fucking sucks, and we want America to be better, but we don't need America.

There are other markets. There are other allies and potential allies. There are other global powers (Personally I think we should try to dismantle global powers entirely, but, you know, one battle at a time) and there are other political shifts.

So much of the current rightward swing in the UK, at least, is directly modelled on MAGA to the point that it's the same movement, to the point where the branches of that movement feed power and influence to one another. You know what has consistently been one of the more successful tactics? Fucking reminding people that they are not, in fact, offering solutions to the problems Britain faces, because these are American solutions and we are not America.

idk it feels stupid to say this. it feels stupid to have to point out that Not Everywhere Is America, and it feels even stupider to think that this is something that needs pointing out to the systems of power. But the more I think about it, the surer I am that one of the tentpoles of American power, and therefore of Trump's power (in the US as well as beyond it!) is just... the willingness of so much of the world to say: yeah, sure, everything is America.

WE ARE NOT AMERICA.

AMERICA DOES NOT HAVE TO CONTROL US.

idk. maybe it won't change shit. but maybe yelling that at international power structures loudly enough - making noise about issues that are not American, focusing our efforts outside America, challenging American supremacy on the global stage - is, in fact, the most useful thing we can do.

[cybrwrld]

𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗪: 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘵.

- " please introduce yourself for the record. " - " why're you acting like this is an interrogation ? weirdo. whatever — candy delgado, twenty-two. my favorite color is blue and my tamagotchi is named twilight; i have two chihuahuas; i've been thinking of dying my hair to match one of them. is that what you wanted ? " - " ... moving on. "

describe   your   first   race.   was   it   a   formal   challenge   or   a   traffic   light   chase?   how   did   it   feel?

the  edges  of  her  lips  quirk  up;  candy’s  first  race  will  always  be  a  fond  memory  for  her,  if  a  bit  of  an  embarrassing  one.  she  chooses  to  look  at  it  glass  half  full  and  say  it’s  symbolic  of  how  far  she’s  come.  “  i  had  just  started  getting  into  the  scene.  my  cousin  was  taking  me  to  her  races,  it  was  starting  to  feel  more  familiar,  and  she’s  good,  so  —  me  being  a  cocky  eighteen  year  old,  of  course  i  challenged  her.  “  candy  cringes  at  herself  over  it  now  —  really,  how  in  over  her  head  could  she  have  been?  even  she,  prone  to  dramatics  and  delusions  of  grandeur,  could  tell  you  she  was  being  stupid.  “  she  said  yes  to  humor  me.  smoked  me,  of  course,  but  it  was  one  of  the  most  fun  races  i’ve  ever  been  in.  we’d  yell  at  each  other  through  the  wind,  zig-zag  along,  talk  shit  when  we  could.  it  was  exhilirating  …  and  taught  me  to  respect  my  elders,  or  whatever  the  old  people  say.  guess  you  could  say  i’m  always  chasing  that  high,  even  now.  can’t  help  it.  ”

when   did   your   first   realize   you   had   a   passion   for   cars   /   racing?

candelaria  gets  asked  this  at  least  once  every  time  she  meets  a  new  person  —  after  all,  why  would  she  be  there?  “  okay,  y’know  those  games  in  the  arcade?  if  not,  start  with  the  daytona  usa  one,  ‘cause  that’s  what  drew  me  in.  that’s  what  they’ve  got  in  most  arcades,  but  king  coin  added  the  2001  version  a  while  ago,  and  i’ve  stayed  on  the  leaderboard  ever  since.  nobody  can  even  touch  me  —  ”  she  catches  herself  rambling,  a  rare  occurrence  for  the  girl;  suddenly  she  realizes  she’s  nearly  off  her  seat  and  sits  back  down.  “  whatever.  it’s  exhilarating,  and  i  figured,  okay,  if  it’s  that  fun  just  pretending,  what’s  the  real  thing  like?  i  got  kinda  bored.  so  i  talked  to  one  of  my  friends  about  it  —  “  ‘friends’  is  used  loosely  with  candy,  everyone  is  her  friend,  “  —  and  after  my  first  race  …  safe  to  say,  there’s  no  comparison.  ”  a  content  smile  as  she  finishes  her  story,  hands  clasped  in  her  lap.  “  still  hold  the  top  spot  at  the  arcade,  though.  undefeatable.  ”  alright,  candy. 

have   you   found   a   ‘family'   within   your   crew?   (if   not,   would   you   ever   consider   swapping?)

for  what  seems  like  the  first  time  in  her  entire  life,  candy  looks  nervous.  her  face  contorts  for  a  fraction  of  a  second,  nearly  imperceptible.  quickly,  she  smooths  it  out,  the  lithe  fingers  that  have  begun  wringing  together  the  only  indication  she  was  ever  anxious.  “  i  stay  where  the  fun  is.  rodani  —  it’s  fun,  established.  i  know  people  here.  ”  the  word  ‘family’  will  never  leave  her  lips  —  cowardice  shines  in  her  tone  instead,  “  i  don’t  feel  the  need  to  leave.  i  show  up,  i  win,  i  talk  to  my  friends,  and  then  i  go  back  to  my  other  life.  if  i  thought  i’d  have  more  fun  somewhere  else?  ”  she  trails  off,  eyes  far  off  and  looking  …  somewhere.  “  i  guess  i  could  rethink  some  things.  ” 

tell   the   story   behind   your   alias.

now  she’s  sheepish  —  bright  red  heat  floods  her  cheeks  and  she  looks  down  to  the  ground.  never  does  candy  get  so  embarrassed  unless  she  knows  she’s  being  a  bit  dumb,  “  well  —  okay,  genesis  is  my  middle  name,  and  i  use  that  for  all  my  leaderboard  entries  at  the  arcade.  and  when  I  started  racing,  someone  recognized  me  at  the  arcade,  and  asked  if  that  was  my  name,  and  —  i  guess  it  just  kind  of  …  stuck?  which  kind  of  sucks,  now,  because  i  feel  like  it’s  kinda  easy  to  realize  who  i  am,  but  …  ”  a  shrug,  compensation  for  the  burning  embarrassment  in  her  cheeks,  “  we  can’t  all  be  smart  all  the  time!  and  it’s  cute,  so  —  whatever!  ” 

what   does   losing   a   race   feel   like   to   you?

“  honest?  usually  not  bad.  but  it  depends.  “  candy’s  excited  as  she  speaks,  eager  to  explain  the  method  to  whatever  madness  she’s  got  going  on,  “  if  it  feels  like  a  game,  m’never  upset.  like  i’m  on  the  daytona  sim  at  kc.  ”  her  beloved  arcade  —  she  thinks  she  should  make  a  donation  soon,  they  deserve  it.  “  i  only  get  upset  if  people  make  it  boring.  too  safe,  too  slow,  too  bleh.  i  feel  like  my  time  is  wasted!  and  if  i  lose  to  a  square?  even  worse!  ”  she’s  being  melodramatic  again;  it  will  continue. 

what   does   winning   a   race   feel   like   to   you?

“  oh  —  easy  money.  winning  a  race  feels  like  finally  getting  the  top  score  in  dk  ‘81,  or  reminding  everyone  I’m  way  better  than  them  at  guitar  hero.  praise,  smiles,  my  heart  beating  out  of  my  chest  …  you  know?  like  i’m  a  kid  again  and  my  family  thinks  everything  i  do  is  cool.  ”  an  almost  melancholy  smile,  nostalgic  but  happy.  her  fingers  tap  on  the  table  in  front  of  her,  “  i’m  getting  all  excited.  can  i  go  show  you  my  car?  my  baby’s  so  pretty,  she’s  got  the  best  interior  i’ve  ever  seen  —  cmon!  ” 

is   street   racing   a   long   term   plan   or   a   short   lived   hobby   for   you?

“  it’s  more  like  a  …  however  long  till  i  get  bored  type-sitch,  y’know?  “  candy  fishes  in  her  bag,  pulls  out  a  pack  of  xtreme  sour  belts.  she  holds  it  out,  “  want  some?  ”  the  lack  of  response  makes  her  shrug,  “  suit  yourself.  more  for  me.  anyway—  “  a  quick  chomp,  “  i  do  it  because  it’s  fun!  i  know,  whatever,  i  keep  saying  that  word,  but  it’s  true!  i  don’t  for  one  second  want  to  be  anywhere  i’m  bored.  so,  if  it  ever  happens,  then  I  leave.  that  being  said  …  ”  her  voice  takes  on  a  more  sentimental  tone,  lip  jutting  out  in  a  soft  pout,  “  i’d  be  really  sad  if  that  happened.  it  is  kind  of  …  a  really  big  part  of  my  life  now,  you  know?  so  …  don’t  make  me  think  of  that!  ‘cause  if  I  start  crying  then  it’s  everyone’s  problem.  ”

how   do   you   feel   about   the   establishment   of   the   nariza   bois,   particularly   in   relation   to   their   split   from   the   rodani   prowlers?

“  didn’t  really  concern  me  much.  ”  a  lie,  practiced  so  often  it  comes  out  like  nothing.  candy  doesn’t  think  about  how  that  split  went,  words  said  between  her  and  who  she  may  have  called  family.  the  emotional  vulnerability  has  her  feeling  like  she  may  just  break  into  hives,  avoidant  shell  strong  like  chitin  —,  “  like  i  said,  y’know  —  i  show  up,  i  have  fun,  i  go  home.  none  of  my  business  what  drama  anyone  has  going  on.  ”  very  rich  coming  from  a  self-proclaimed  snoop,  but  whatever. 

what   car   do   you   drive?   how   have   your   made   your   car   your   own?

“  i’ve  got  a  few,  but  i  usually  drive  my  ‘89  supra  mk4  —  it  used  to  be  my  dad’s,  actually!  he  got  it  custom  made  so  it  would  be  baby  blue.  ”  a  bright  grin,  chunky  shoes  swinging  where  they  don’t  quite  hit  the  ground  &  hands  braced  on  either  side  of  her  chair.  “  the  rest  of  mine  get  taken  out  for  special  occasions  so  they  still  get  some  love  —  i  added  eyelashes  on  my  miata  yesterday!  ”  candy  blinks,  shakes  her  head  to  bring  herself  back  on  topic,  “  anyway  —  i  add  mods  to  my  car  all  the  time,  like  my  sound  system,  or  more  aesthetic  ones,  like  my  cloud  rims.  my  favorite  thing  ever,  though,  is  my  gear  shift  —  it  looks  like  a  joystick!  i  feel  like  im  playing  a  racing  sim  just,  like,  all  the  time  —  i  love  it!  ” 

you’re  often   seen   around   king  coin  arcade  –   what   does   a   typical   visit   look   like   for   you?

“  oh  —  i  go  to  the  arcade  every  day.  ”  something  in  candy’s  features  goes  a  bit  soft  and  she’s  got  her  big,  dopey  smile  on;  she  considers  the  place  home,  second  only  to  rodani  headquarters  (and  arguably  sharing  the  top  spot.  her  actual  home  is  ranked  third).  “  i’m  not  penny  pinching,  so  most  of  whatever  i  get  from  my  parents  goes  there,  to  the  prowlers,  or  my  car.  i  go  every  day,  play  whatever  i  feel  like  —  i’ve  been  on  a  really  big  guitar  hero  kick  lately,  oddly  enough.  space  invaders,  too.  but  i  shine  at  the  racing  games…obviously.  most  people  there  know  me  now,  and  since  i  started  posting  my  videos  i  draw  somewhat  of  a  crowd.  it’s  just  like  when  im  racing,  but  way  less  movement  and  almost  zero  chance  of  a  cop  being  around.  i  get  a  good  amount  of  content  for  my  channel  when  im  there,  and  i  don’t  leave  until  i  make  sure  im  top  score  on  the  machines  i  like.  ”  she  gives  an  almost  sheepish  smile,  though  her  excitement  shines  in  her  eyes,  “  it’s  not  uncommon  for  me  to  waste  a  day  there.  who  knew  people  love  to  watch  a  pretty  girl  play  arcade  games?  ” 

do   you   ever   have   the   urge   to   swap   positions?

her  fingers  tap  against  the  table  again  and  she  nods,  a  bite  taken  out  of  the  sour  belt  candy  in  her  hand.  the  remnants  of  a  bubblegum  lollipop  in  the  other  hand  revealing  a  somewhat  debilitating  candy  addiction,  “  yeah.  i  like  to  tinker  a  lot,  i  keep  a  little  toolkit  in  my  bag  for  when  the  machines  are  acting  up  or  i  need  something  quick  for  my  car.  i’m  kind  of  particular  —  “  another  mindless  bite,  she  speaks  through  it,  “  i’ve  thought  about  asking  one  of  the  mechanics  to  teach  me  about  what  they  do.  we  don’t  really  do  the  kind  of  mods  i’d  like,  though,  not  like  —“  she  cuts  herself  off,  doesn’t  say  the  word  nariza,  “  not  like  i’d  want.  y’know.  fun  stuff.  next  question?  ”  if  only  candy  was  as  good  at  being  nonchalant  as  she  is  at  driving  cars. 

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Spotlight: A Life Of A Troubled Celebrity Heartthrob Ch 3

Word Count 5,033

The first leg of the tour in the USA and Canada was complete and the next stop was Europe. Y/N had avoided Colson as much as possible and they had one or two brief run-ins but there were always people around. She had stayed at the penthouse with the others until they left for London.

So many times he had tried to call her, to talk to her, to try and get her attention but he always got cold feet. He had tried to get Jax to go and speak to her on his behalf, threatened him even but Jax wouldn't budge.

"She's a good girl and you're not worthy of her yet.. Leave her be." Jax said, causing him to become more frustrated.

"I always get what I want and I want Y/N. I'm going to get her with or without your help." He vowed.

"Why do you want her Colson? So you can hurt her? To ruin her? Just to stroke your ego?" Jax challenged. "Why would you want to pursue her when you have no good intentions towards her? You know you will go back to your old ways once you get what you want from her and ruin her for the next guy!"

"She's different from all the other girls I've been with.. I don't know okay??! I know I can't be faithful but I just want her!" He pulled his hair in frustration. "It may be for selfish reasons but -"

"Then what Colson?! After you promised to keep your distance you do a 360 and your hormones are taking over as usual." Jax bellowed, as he came face to face with Colson.

Daring him to say the wrong thing. He was ready for anything at this point. He couldn't understand why Colson would want to ruin a sweet, innocent girl like Y/N. Colson would never change for her-for anyone for that matter. It would take a miracle for that to happen.

Colson stared at him with his icy blue eyes and walked towards the window. He couldn't explain it but he wanted Y/N like he never wanted anyone before. Maybe it was in the way she looked at him, her melodic laughter, her natural beauty or her child like innocence. He couldn't quite place his finger on it but all he knew was that he had to have her. He was tired of being with shallow-minded, pea-brained girls that just wanted him for his fame and fortune-for his body. Y/N was just content with cuddling and talking or just sitting in a comfortable silence. He had never been with a woman that just wanted him for just him. They always had some hidden agenda-their career, money, sex-but Y/N had never exploited their relationship for personal gain.

From the first time he laid his eyes on her something inside him shifted. He had offered to drive her home although he knew that Jax was waiting outside. She was a mystery to him and he wanted to spend more time with her to try and unravel it. He had made sure to keep the music low so that they could talk-once again in his life he wanted to just talk to another person with no hidden motives.

"So tell me about yourself Bambi?" He had asked with genuine interest.

"Ummm..there's nothing much to tell." She twisted her fingers on nervously in her lap. She was shy. He decided there and then he would help her to break her out of her shell. He wanted to know everything about her but the ride was so short. There wasn't enough time.

"Then tell me a little?" He urged on.

"I-I..I'm a student at-uh- Cleveland State University..and I-want to major in music." She stumbled over her words and it made her even more appealing to him. Her long lashes brushed her cheeks as she blinked rapidly.

"My Dad-he died..three years ago and I live with my Mom."She said out of breath.

"Sorry..about your Dad. Mine is as good as dead." He frowned deeply. "But-your Mom? She's cool?"

"Yes-she's the best." She still wouldn't look at him and he wanted her to. More than anything he wanted to look into those big brown eyes.

He had pulled up outside her house and as she made a jump out he thought quickly.

"Hey, smile." He said as he put up his phone and snapped a selfie. It took her completely by surprise and she looked like a frightened deer in the photo.

"Let's try again?" She relaxed slightly and the next photo was definitely a Kodak moment.

"Do I make you uncomfortable??" His hand tightened on the steering wheel as he stole a glance at her. She was standing outside the car and boring a hole into the ground with her eyes.

"Yes." She squeaked. .

"Then we're going to have to do something about that Bambi." He chuckled as he stepped on the accelerator and turned up the music. She was going to be a challenge and Colson Baker always loved a challenge.

"Byron." He spoke through the phone. "I've changed my mind..I need you to set up that thing with Y/F/N Y/L/N."

"Sure thing Colson. I'm on it." Byron replied.

"One more thing-as soon as we get to London, make sure Y/N and I live separately from the rest. You think you can manage that?" It was more like an order and not a question.

"Consider it done." Byron said.

"Thanks Byron." He cut the call and smiled to himself. His plan was starting to come together. Byron could convince an Eskimo to by an ice-machine. Y/N wouldn't be able to say no once he worked his magic on her.

Colson went to take a shower with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He was Colson-fuckin'-Baker after all. No one could say no to him.

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

When they arrived in London their luggage was taken care of as usual and they were ushered to the waiting limo. By this time everyone was suffering from a mixture jet-lag, exhaustion, hangover and a dash of homesickness.

"Hey guys! Great to see you again." Byron was waiting to meet them outside. "I see you're all tired and stuff so I've instructed the driver to take you straight to Eaton Place. You will be staying at that penthouse for the next three days-then we leave for Paris. However, Colson will not be joining you this time he will be living at an undisclosed location-for security reasons."

"Any questions? Great. Go home and rest guys tonight will be a busy night." He turned to face Y/J. "Miss Y/L/N, you have to come with me. We have that meeting remember? This way please."

"Oh yeah, sure." Y/N turned to Ashleigh. "I'll see you later."

"Good luck. Call me okay?" They embraced quickly before Y/N went after Byron.

Not wasting a single minute, Byron dove right into it as soon as the car started moving.

"Y/N, you already know what this is about right? We spoke about it before and also last night on the phone." Byron asked.

"Yes but I'm not sure it's a good idea.." She said skeptically.

"I don't want to insult you-but what if I threw in some money to make it worth your while? Name your price."

"What? No! What do you take me for?" She cried out.

"Okay. Okay. Calm down," He raised both his hands. "What about an internship and a guaranteed job at XX Entertainment once you graduate? Sounds good huh?"

"Byron, I don't want to feel like you've bought me..Whatever job or post I get, I want to earn it. Not to get it because.." She felt so dirty right now and insulted. Was Colson behind this? She couldn't help but wonder if he was the one that put Byron up to this.

"Okay let's do this your way." He sighed and massaged his temple. "What't it going to take for you to go along with our plan? If not money then..should I appeal to your humanity?"

"Look..it's fine I will help-"

"Yes!" He threw his fist in the air in triumph.

"But on my own terms." She said firmly.

"Whatever you want Y/N. Name it and it's yours." Byron looked at her earnestly.

"I will only agree to this if you will allow me to call it off anytime." She swallowed hard.

"What? What do you mean?" Byron asked, confused.

"If I feel it's becoming to much for me to handle then I will pull the plug on this..thing-anytime-without notice. Any questions? Great." She opened the door and jumped out without waiting for a response.

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

The penthouse One Hyde Park in London was were Colson and Y/N would be co-habitating. Only she wasn't aware of this yet. She thought they were just coming here for a meeting to finalize their "deal", although she didn't want anything out of it. The house was a contemporary and modern property, sitting on over an acre with a large garden, set back, screened and secluded with automatic solid sliding gates. It had a roof terrace and jacuzzi. 5 bedrooms that overlooked the garden, 4 bathrooms, 4 reception rooms. The servants quarters were on the first floor along with a stunning spiral wine cellar. The property had under floor-heating, surround sound and electronic sliding curtains.

"Wow!" Was all Y/N could say as she twirled around the house in awe. Jax showed her to her room and turned to leave.

"Wait...am I going to be staying here? Where's everyone else?" She asked.

"I'm sure Byron will fill you in soon." Jax responded.

"Oh." Her face fell.

"Don't worry about your luggage Miss Y/L/N. I will send someone with it shortly." Jax assured Y/N. "Welcome to Colson's humble abode."

She felt like Belle in Beauty and the Beast at this precise moment. Surrounded by so much luxury and yet she felt so unhappy. She kicked off her shoes and threw herself onto the bed, where she fell into a fitful sleep.

Meanwhile Colson was pacing up and down his bedroom floor, trying to think of how to approach Y/N. He had never had to make a move on a girl, it was always the other way round. He was clueless when it came to girls.

"Byron! Jax! Get in here." He hollered as he leaned over the banister.

They came up to his room promptly and sat on the chaise lounge waiting for him to speak first. He was in a plain white t-shirt and sweat pants but still looked like he stepped out of a magazine. He sat at the edge of the bed and looked on them.

"Byron, any progress with OGB?" They had labeled it Operation Get Bambi.

"She's on board." He pursed his lips into a thin line.

"But..? He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"She wants it on her own terms..which she will discuss with you. But she's taking a nap now." He bounced his knee.

"Cool. I can handle that." He pushed his hair back and let out a sigh of relief.

He never expected her to agree but then again Byron could be very persuasive. He wondered what Byron had offered her in exchange for her help. She never struck him as a girl that could be bought but maybe he was wrong-maybe everyone had a price. His heart sank the more he thought about it. She was probably just like the rest he thought.

"So why the long face? I thought you would be glad-" Byron stated.

"How much?" He gulped and stared at the floor, not meeting Byron's eyes.

"She doesn't want anything. I offered her-" Byron sat forward and tried to explain.

"What??" He looked up in surprise, his blue eyes startled.

"I could have offered her all the money in the world but she would have still turned me down." He said dryly.

"That's my girl!" Jax grinned widely as he clapped his hands dramatically.

"Shut up Jax." Colson scowled but inwardly he was just about to burst with happiness. So he was right about her after all. He didn't know why but, he felt relieved beyond comprehension.

"Now you can see that I was right about her." Jax shot back.

"Whatever-is everything set for the concert tonight? What time is sound check?" His heart was racing at the thought of seeing her again, that she was under the same roof, sound asleep in the next room.

"Yes but I'm about to head over to Wembley Stadium now to check if everything is in order..so if there's nothing else..?" He stood up and straightened his suit.

"Nah, that will be all." He said with a wave of his hand. "Jax you can stay."

"Still up for the after party?" Byron asked as he stood at the door. They always had one after every concert at a five star hotel, but only the who's who of show business in the city were invited. It was strictly by invitation.

"What else do I have to live for?" Colson rolled his eyes. "But I'll just make a brief appearance for an hour or so, I really need to rest."

"See you in a bit." Byron saluted and left.

"So what's your game plan?" Jax pursed his lips.

"I thought maybe you could help me with that?" For once he looked uncertain. Jax's heart melted.

"If and a big if- if we going to do this then you going to have to change Colson. Otherwise I won't be a part of it." Jax said with seriousness written all over his face.

"Yeah, yeah spare me the lecture Jax." He gave himself a face-palm.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, I'm being very serious right now." Jax said.

"Jax nothing in life is guaranteed man. People make up to break up and so on. You need to chill out man." Colson replied.

"Look I'm not expecting you to marry Y/N, ride off into the sunset, have adorable twin babies and live happily ever after. But if you don't have good intentions then let's drop it. You can have any girl you want Colson. Young and old, short or tall, they're yours for the taking. Just don't go and ruin an innocent girl just for kicks. That's just plain downright cruel."

"Why do you care so much anyway?? You don't even know her man!" Colson burst out.

"That doesn't make it right. You know what forget it. I'm out." Jax stood up but Colson pulled him back.

"Listen Jax, don't get your knickers in a twist..I hear you man. Now let's discuss this like adults? How do I get my girl?" Colson cocked his head to the side and smiled.

"Thought you would never ask." Jaxs' face broke into a grin as he sat down again.

Y/N's phone was vibrating somewhere on the bed and she finally heard it.

"Hello." She said, half awake.

"Hi sweetie. Sorry did I wake you?" Mrs Y/M/L/N asked.

"Hi Mom," She propped a pillow behind her back, "Don't worry I'm awake now. Is everything okay?"

"Yes. I just miss you that's all." She said wistfully.

"I miss you too Mom." All of a sudden she broke down and started crying. She was overwhelmed by a cocktail of feelings right now and she couldn't keep the tears back any longer. Hearing her mother's voice made her homesick and emotional.

"Hey honey? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Ye-yes." She tried to compose herself. "I guess I'm just tired. Haven't slept properly you know.." She sniffled.

"I thought you were having a great time? Did something happen? Is it Colson?" Her mother rained questions Y/N couldn't quite answer herself.

"No-yes I am Mom. It's been great. Colson's been great Mom." She reached out for a Kleenex and wiped her face and nose. There was a soft knock on the door and she asked her mother to hold.

"Come in." Y/N called out and immediately regretted it. Well kind off..

"Hey-is this a bad time? You're crying? Why? Is it me? Did I do this??" He rushed to her side and held her at arms length.

"No-wait.." She held up a finger to her lips. "Mom, can I call you back? Colson is here."

"Put him on the phone. I need to have a word with him." She demanded. Y/N was sure Colson heard that and her fears were confirmed when he held out his hand for the phone. She looked at him hesitantly then handed it over to him with resigned sigh.

"Hi Mrs Y/M/L/N. Colson Baker here." He turned on the Baker charm and there was no female on planet earth that was immune to it, so far anyway.

"Oh hi there-um-Colson." Y/N imagined her Mom fluffing her hair like she usually did. She had already fallen for the trap.

"I just wanted to thank you personally for allowing Y/N to come on this tour. She is such a breath of fresh air. You raised her well." He smiled at Y/N as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Oh thank you Colson. You don't have to say that." Mrs Y/M/L/N gushed.

"Anyway we got to run now, I promised to take Y/N for lunch and I'm a man of my word." Y/N gasped and he turned his back on her to keep from laughing.

"Really?? You don't have to! Surely you're too busy for that?" She asked.

"Anything for my Bambi." He said sweetly.

"Awww you even have a cute pet name for her?? You know they used to call her that in kindergarten?" She laughed.

"Really?? Why don't you tell me all about it when we visit this weekend?" He turned to face Y/N, her mouth almost hit the ground.

"You're coming over? Y/N didn't say.."

"It was a surprise but now it's out there." He shrugged.

"Okay let me not keep you then. See you then." He rang off.

"Explain Baker." Y/N crossed her arms and pushed her tongue in her cheek.

"Can we eat first sweets? I'm starved." He said with exaggeration. "Can we call a truce? No more mind games. No more ping-pong with feelings and let's learn how to communicate okay?" He held out his hand and she shook it. He would have preferred them to seal it with a kiss but he didn't want to get ahead of himself.

"So we're good?" He asked.

"Yes." She said with a smile.

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

Colson was lying on his bed but for the life of him he couldn't fall asleep. It was 3:00 am. He had sang his heart out at the concert, stayed very briefly at the after party and tried to get drunk but failed. Women had tried to entice him but he just wasn't interested. He kept his eyes on his prize all night. He even got jealous when a dark-haired guy approached her and engaged her in conversation. She seemed taken with him-they laughed, they smiled and even flirted. The guy kept her entertained most of the night and he saw them dance a couple of times. Finally, when he couldn't take it anymore he walked over and cut in. After the dance he faked a headache and asked Y/N if they could go home.

"Bambi? Can I come in?" Colson knocked softly on the door and got no response. He had a serious case of insomnia and this was his only remedy. All the alcohol that he had didn't seem to do the trick, even some stronger stuff-he was wide awake.

Colson opened Y/N's door slowly and found her fast asleep on top of the covers, her long legs overlapping each other and her flat stomach exposed. She was in shorts and a sports bra, her smooth, milky skin glistening in the moonlight, her hair fanned all over her pillow and her face looked so serene. He sat on the edge of the bed and lightly traced his fingers across her stomach and then up to her face. If it were possible, he could sit here and just watch her sleep all night but she would freak out when she woke up and found him staring at her.

Common sense told him to leave the room but he found himself jumping on the bed and snuggling behind her. Taking in her scent, nuzzling her neck and just reveling in being close to her. She was completely out because she never once moved. He gave a contented sigh as he put his arms around her and fell asleep almost immediately..

Y/N woke up an hour later feeling thirsty and tried to move but she was firmly secured in a grip. She woke up with a start and turned to see Colson sleeping like a baby. Just watching him sleep made her heart melt into a puddle. Her hand reached out on its own accord, to stroke his hair and his beautiful face.

A smile lit her face as she reached out for the glass of water on the nightstand. Colson Baker was lying in her bed in his bare necessities. He was right here with her and not some floozy or flavor of the night. This was the stuff dreams were made of. Her heart fluttered as she took in the sight before her again as she assumed her position once more. Their bodies fit so perfectly together when they were like this, if only it could apply in every area of their relationship. That's if you could even call it that. But a girl could only hope...

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

"Y/N!" Ashleigh barged into the room, "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry-I didn't know-sorry!" She covered her face and quickly backed out. The said couple were deep in sleep and were oblivious to the intrusion, fortunately for Ashleigh.

"There is such a thing as knocking you know?" Jax stood at the foot of the stairs, with his hands behind his back, as she descended in a hurry.

"I didn't know-" She said, her face beet red.

"You should learn to expect the unexpected when it comes to those two." Jax said with a knowing look. He had learned that the hard way.

"I didn't expect them to be..you know..Gosh I wish I could unsee that!" She covered her face, trying to hide her embarrassment.

She didn't anticipate walking into Y/N's room to find her and Colson half-naked and glued to each others bodies. After all how could Y/N get with him after everything he had done to her? She just couldn't understand it. But then again this was Colson Baker and he was beyond irresistible. I mean who could say no to that hot body? If Ashleigh was in the same position then they definitely were not going to be sleeping.

"May I interest you in breakfast per chance?" Jax asked as he led her to the sitting room, drawing her out of her nasty thoughts. "What brings you here so early anyway?"

"It's way after 9 Jax." She flopped onto the couch. "I need to talk to Y/N..about something.."

"Well, you just have to wait or come back later?" Jax suggested. "When ever they sleep together they have been known to wake up way past noon..and we had a pretty late night coupled with the heavy hangover.." He perched on the armrest.

"What do you mean "when they sleep together?" She looked at him suspiciously.

"I think I've already said too much-breakfast?" He stood hastily and retreated to the kitchen.

"I think I'm going to go then!" She shouted after him and followed him to the kitchen.

"Slow your roll there little lady. I'm sure they will be up and about in no time." He said. "What would you like the chef to prepare for you?"

"An omelette and toast-he can be creative but I don't eat mushroom." She slid onto the stool by the kitchen island.

Y/N began to stir when she heard a murmuring of voices coming from downstairs. She tried to turn but Colson's arms-and legs were tightly wrapped around her. Why would anyone want to ever wake up from this, she thought as she tried to sleep again but Colson had other plans.

"Good morning sweets." He said, his voice still husky.

"Hey." She said nervously as his arms tightened around her waist

"I could get used to this." He buried his face into her hair and groaned.

"What? Waking up in someone else's bed?" She turned onto her back and faced him.

"Your bed you mean?" He smiled and pushed her messy hair back so he could look at her face. Never had he wanted the female specie as much as he wanted her right now. Never had he slept in a bed with a woman and just traded war stories. He knew that if he made a move she would comply but he couldn't. There was more to him agreeing to keep from jumping her bones but she was clueless, and he hoped it stayed that way until he had dealt with the issue. He would take that secret with him to the grave.

"No ping-pong remember?" She was saying to him. Maybe dreams do come true, she thought. Maybe he was really into her? But then again there was no telling with Colson Baker. He was just to complex and she didn't have the energy to try and figure him out.

"Yeah, yeah I get it but-I think we've already crossed that line Bambi.." He looked pointedly at their tangled limbs. Not to mention her undergarments left very little to the imagination. She looked at their entwined bodies and fell silent for a moment. They were in quite a predicament-it was clear as the light of day.

"Well..you decided to invite yourself into my bed Baker. After you promised to keep your distance." She said in defense mode.

"..and you were purring like a contented cat next to me. You never really put up any form of resistance sweets." His blue eyes twinkled like the sea when they were hit with the rays of the sun. The liquid courage had worn off and both of them were now completely aware of their actions. She felt her cheeks redden as she looked at Colson's inviting body . Fortunately, Y/N's phone broke the awkward moment.

"Hey Mom." Nice save Mrs Y/M/L/N.

"Hey sweetie. I'm sorry to disturb you but the press has been camped outside my house for two days now and-"

"What do they want? Why didn't you say something?" She sat up and Colson looked at her with concern.

"I'm sorry sweetie I just didn't want to worry you. Plus they have been blowing up my phone and my practice has been overwhelmed. I know I'm a good therapist but this has just been ridiculous. I have had people make appointments just so they can ask me questions about your relationship with Colson. Even your friends Liv and Lisa are being stalked-it's a nightmare. Urrgh.." She screamed in frustration.

"I'm so sorry Mom. This is all my fault. How can I fix it?" Y/N said with determination.

"No, no honey, don't do anything hasty. I think I'll just take a well needed vacation to Bora Bora or something and I think I have a conference coming soon-" She sighed.

"Should I come with you? I can-"

"No. You stay put. Besides, that will do more harm than good." She murmured.

"So what can I do?" Y/N raked her hair with her fingers. Colson motioned for her to hand over the phone and she gave it to him.

"Mrs Y/M/L/N. I'm sorry to hear about your little inconvenience but not to worry I got it handled." Colson said confidently. Y/N looked at him in disbelief-who did he think he was? Ethan Hunt?

"Oh really?" Mrs Y/M/L/N was equally shocked.

"I'll get my team to come and get you out of there and set you up in a place where you will be secured and- where you can enjoy your privacy once again." He assured her.

"Oh no Colson, you don't have to do that sweetie." She protested.

"I want to. Please let me? It would mean so much to me." The Baker Charm was turned on.

"Okay sure." Mrs Y/M/L/N caved in.

"Great." His face lit up. "One of my assistants will be in touch shortly."

"Am I still going to see you guys on the weekend?" She asked.

"Yes. We will be there sooner actually." Colson confirmed.

"I can't wait." She squealed in delight.

"Okay speak soon." Colson rang off.

"Colson Baker did you just lie to my mother?" Y/N said in bewilderment. There was no way they would go back to Ohio and back again to Paris in time for his show.

"FYI sweets my Paris Show has been cancelled because of the bombing at Ariana Grande's concert. I'm not taking any chances and my security team has advised against it. So..we can fly to Minnesota then straight to Norway after the weekend. Easy." He gestured with his hands.

"You're too sweet. I could kiss you right now." Y/N said without thinking.

"Then what's stopping you sweets?" He leveled his face with hers.

"I- we-can't." She hopped of the bed and grabbed a robe. "So what you got planned for today?" His heart sagged, he expected her to be all over him. Most girls would have jumped at the opportunity-but not Y/N.

"Pack your bags Bambi. We're going to Ohio." He said as he left the room, his shoulders sagged. She really wanted to kiss him but she wanted to tread carefully. Things between them were complicated enough.

Tagged: @kellysimagines

[conorxoblivion]

{ B A S I C S }

LEGAL NAME: Dorothea Craven Unknown

NICKNAMES: Thea None

ALIAS: Conor

GENDER / PRONOUNS: Female / She/Her

AGE: 28 years old

DOB: January 25th, 1893 Unknown

PLACE OF BIRTH: New Orleans, Louisiana, USA Unknown

YEARS ON MERIDIUM: 99 years

ATTUNEMENT: Air

NATIONALITY: American Unknown

ETHNICITY: African-American, African-Haitian, & white ( English, Irish, French, & German ) Unknown

OCCUPATION: Pilot Unknown

LANGUAGES: English (fluent), French (fluent), Creole (conversational), ASL (elementary proficiency/conversational)

RELIGION: Agnostic 

ORIENTATION: Demisexual Biromantic

DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS: OCCASIONALLY | NO | NO

{ P H Y S I C A L  A T T R I B U T E S }

HAIR COLOR: Black

EYE COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5′-6″

WEIGHT: 134 lbs

TATTOOS: --

SCARS: --

{ P E R S O N A L I T Y }

TRAITS

+ spunky, daring, witty, charming, bold, dedicated

- challenging, outspoken, impulsive, reactive, skeptical

MBTI: ESFP

ALIGNMENT: True Neutral

LIKES: TBD

DISLIKES: TBD

GOALS/DREAMS: TBD

FEARS: TBD

{ R E L A T I O N S H I P S }

PARENTS

Unknown (mother) - Deceased

Unknown (father) - Deceased

SIBLINGS

Unknown

ROMANTIC

Unknown

{ B I O G R A P H Y }

trigger/content warnings: none

OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

You were born to a small family, or at least you think you were. You might have been married judging by the tan line from a ring on your finger, but the ring is long gone along with any other kinds of belongings or items to indicate who you are. You can’t be too sure these days and it’s not because of the years that have passed on this island. The only thing you remember are the waves, the salty air, and the sand. When you woke up, everything was fuzzy and your head ached. How you got there, why you were there, and when you got there. You don’t even know when you’re from. Most importantly, you don’t even know yourself or who you’ve left behind.

When you first woke up, you were floating on a piece of wood and you just couldn’t seem to drown. When you woke up a second time, you were somewhere on an island, far away from anyone. You lived on the island for some time without having contact with anyone, hiding whenever you heard a strange noise, thinking you were alone on this island. You were scared because you don’t know who or where you are. Somehow though, you have enough sense and skill to take care of yourself. Eventually, someone finds you as you talk to yourself and mark the days you’ve spent on the island on a tree. You don’t know how they heard you, but they did. Once they told you everything was okay, all the dust settled and the breeze stopped blowing.

You choose a new name for yourself because you don’t remember your real one. You are shy at first, but soon take on a new personality. You aren’t too sure about how “new” your personality is, but no one on the island knows you or has even heard of you. The tan line on your ring finger slowly fades away and you begin to forget about who may be missing you. And as the years go by, you can’t even be sure what year you are from. You call yourself the woman out of time as you lose track and learn new things from new castaways. You live among the survivors unattached to people and you act indifferent and carefree, claiming you’ve moved on and live in the now. Still, you can only hope though that eventually, the next survivor will have some information as to who you are.

PRE-MERIDIUM

Dorothea “Thea” Craven, was born in 1893 and grew up in the early 1900s during the height of aviation. She became interested in flying at a young age and was very determined and adventurous. She eventually learned to fly and made it her life and a career. 

Her family traveled quite a bit when she was younger and learning to speak, so she developed an interest in adventure and languages. Because of this, her accent is difficult to pinpoint. Some may call it a Transatlantic or Mid-Atlantic accent. Her free spirit never changed and she ultimately became a pilot. It is unknown what she was a pilot for whether it was for military, expeditionary, or show purposes.

When Dorothea wanted to become a pilot, she was not allowed to obtain a license at that time in the United States. She ultimately ended up moving to France for a time to take lessons and earn her license.

MERIDIUM

She crash landed in the water around Meridium while she was on a solo flying expedition. It is unknown how and why the plane crashed and whether it was a strange malfunction, pilot error, or sabotage. She has been unable to recover the wreckage of the plane and is unable to determine what really happened to her. 

When Thea landed in the water, she hit her head and when she woke up, she had no memory of who she was or how she got there. She didn’t even know she was flying the plane that crashed. She woke up on a piece of wreckage from the plane and soon floated until she hit land. It is suspected her air attunement manifested shortly after landing in the water as she never drowned.

She landed on a side of the island where no one saw her and she thought she was alone. She survived on the island for a few days until she was found by the rest of the survivors on Meridium. Before she was found, she hid from any slight noise that was made, even if it was far away, which she didn’t realize was far away.

Since she didn’t know her name, she chose a new one for herself. She settled on the name Conor, but she wasn’t entirely sure why she chose it. It just spoke to her. 

Conor doesn’t remember anything about where she was from, who her family was, or even what year she’s from. She remembers skills and some historical facts, but gets things confused, especially since she’s learned so much about current events from newer survivors. 

More will be updated as Conor learns more about herself / as I figure out stuff.

{ A M N E S I A }

THE BASICS

Long story short, Conor remembers things about the outside world and basic things, but she doesn’t remember personal details about them or her own personal memories. It is unknown why she doesn’t remember anything and whether it is mental or physical trauma or something else.

Conor hasn’t made much of an effort to try and recover her memories because she finds it better to not remember what she’s lost than to remember everyone and everything she’s left behind. She’s seen what it’s like for other survivors to cope with the loss of their homes, families, friends, and their old lives. 

Conor still gets easily confused about details mainly because over time she’s learned more about the outside world in more modern ways and gets them confused with what she knows and what she’s learned.

At times, remembering things or thinking about what she does know feels like an out of body experience. She remembers things but they feel so far away.

She thinks she must have been married or at least engaged because when she was found, she had a ring tan line on her finger, but has never figured out what happened. Conor does feel sad sometimes like she’s missing someone and may sometimes cry in private, but she’s learned to repress those feelings over time as she’s given up on remembering who they are. 

She obviously knows she’s not from modern times or really any time after the 1940s, but she can’t pinpoint her actual birth year and when she grew up. With so much time on the island and spending so much time with more castaways from modern times, she feels much more modern. 

EXAMPLES

Conor knows what a car is and how it operates and that the cars she knew were different than they are now, but she doesn’t know if she had a car, who taught her how to drive, or how cars look different than they do now.

Conor knows films exist and has seen older films such as A Trip To The Moon (1902), but she doesn’t remember that she knows about them because she saw them when she was ten years old and not because some film major crash landed on the island and told her about it. 

Conor loves and misses music and listened to it a lot. She knows she listened to music on records, but couldn’t tell you specifically what her favorite song was (she does know of specific artists and songs) or if she ever went to parties where they played music.

{ I N T E R V I E W }

What do you remember last before landing here?

The woman looked at the person in front of her, searching for any words that made sense. She couldn’t think of a damn thing. It’d been a few days since she landed on the island and this was the first time she’d seen anyone. She was still surprised that anyone heard her when she spoke to herself. She was sure that she was alone. “I just remember…sand and water. The sun and the sky. I woke up on a piece of driftwood or something. There was some kind of fabric on it and when I thought I was going to drown because I was so exhausted and there wasn’t any kind of land in sight. When I woke up again, I was on sand and that was it.” She bounced her knee up and down as she stared at the person. “I can’t remember anything else. I-I don’t even remember my own name."

Have you ever killed? If so: why? If not: could you?

“I just told you that I don’t even remember my own name,” the woman replied. She knitted her eyebrows in frustration. Did they even hear what she just said? How could they even ask her something like this now. She looked around at the trees blowing over their heads and she let out a heavy sigh. The woman leaned forward and spoke in a low tone. “If I did, would you kick me off the island? Send me back to sea so I can die of heat stroke? Wouldn’t that make you a murderer too?” She raised her eyebrows. She leaned back. “Or did you want to know if I’ve killed someone so I can kill someone else so you don’t have to get your hands dirty?” The person in front of her didn’t seem amused. The woman bit the inside of her cheek. “Let’s just go with no. I haven’t killed someone. And if I did have to kill someone, it’s going to be because of self defense. If you want someone dead, you’ll have to do it yourself or find someone else."

What is your greatest achievement? Biggest regret?

The woman shook her head, laughing without humor. “Greatest achievement? Not dying on the open ocean,” she replied. Considering she didn’t remember anything, surviving a few days on an island by herself seemed like a pretty big achievement. “Biggest regret?” On the other hand, she couldn’t think of what she regretted. She came on the island by herself and couldn’t even say what year it was, which seemed awfully sad. She had a watch, so at least she could tell them what time it was, but there was nothing on it to indicate a year. “I guess I regret not having a calendar on me,” she told them.

[wavesmp3]

i, spy; hansol x fem!reader spy au wc. 1.8k

a/n: another piece that was originally meant for sha’s lost for words challenge, i had so many ideas for where this was gonna go, but this wip has been collecting dust for two years now lol

--

NEW YORK, USA END OF JULY, 2018

And with three shaky knocks on the frame of your door, you’re pulled from the comfort of your sofa and plush pillows to peer out of the peephole. And by the time your eyes register whom the messy, chestnut colored hair belongs to, the air has already left your lungs. You swing the oak door open, and pull the boy inside. 

“What are you doing here?” You whisper as if they could hear you, perhaps they could. 

“It’s okay,” he says holding on to your arms, “I’m okay.” 

“Why the fuck aren’t you in Seoul right now?” 

“How do you know, I’m supposed to be in Seoul?” A smirk fights its way onto the curve of his lips. 

You shift uncomfortably and mutter something about being better at hacking than you were before. And when his eyes do that dumb sparkle thing that would’ve had you weak in the knees two years ago, you shrug his arms off yours. 

“You should leave.” 

“But you don’t even know why I’m here.” He whines, and if it wasn’t for the way you missed the gruff of his voice and the touch of his hands, you would’ve kicked him out long ago. But despite the empty promises you’ve made to your bosses and clients alike, you do. You miss Hansol. More than anything. 

“Fine,” you huff giving in to the temptation dancing under your goosebumps, “why are you here?”

He smiles then, a free smile, that reminds you of the winter you spent roaming around South America ignoring calls and texts from everyone but him. 

“I left them,” he says as if it’s a simple mundane thing, “I left the agency,” he repeats letting the weight of his words sink into the ends of your nerves. 

And you can only utter one thing: 

“You fucking idiot.” 

MANILA, PHILIPPINES SEPTEMBER, 2016

Your phone buzzes with a text. 

Remember why you’re here

You scoff and shove your phone back into your purse, pulling the straps of your heels over your ankles. You quickly fit some last minute equipment to the inside of your thighs, and leave the hotel room. When you reach the elevators, you press the down button although it’s already been pressed presumably by the boy near the wall fumbling with his tie.   

He lets out a frustrated groan, and walks closer to where you’re standing, waiting for an elevator to appear. “Would you happen to know how to tie a tie?” 

And because you think he looks cute with his thick brows furrowed in frustration, you say yes and take up his tie in your hands. He tilts his head down, and watches your fingers tie the tie around his neck. You take note of the way your stomach flutters when his breath hits the ends of your fingers. You finish, smoothing out the ends of his tie, and meet his eyes which are already settled on you.

He opens his mouth. You expect a thank you, but instead he says, “You look beautiful.” And with the way his words leave his lips, it sounds like a compliment that should've been given by your best friend who has been secretly harboring feelings for you instead of some guy you just met. So you chuckle, and mutter a small thank you stepping into the dinging elevator which had just appeared. 

You press the second floor, and he follows in behind you pressing the floor above the one you were headed to. 

“Ah,” he mutters noticing which floor you had pressed, “you headed to that party, huh?”

You decide you like entertaining the naive boy, and respond with, “Sadly, yes.” 

He laughs at that, the sound filling the elevator like smoke. 

“Can I just suggest one thing?” He asks, brushing an imaginary piece of lint off your shoulder. And with the way his eyes gleam back at yours, the naiveness from just moments before suddenly gone, you think he might want to give something more than just a suggestion. 

Silence is the only thing that escapes from your parted lips. He takes it as a yes. You had meant to say no. 

He leans in so that his lips are nearly touching your ear and whispers, “Next time,” his hands flutter over the leg of your dress, then tap the spot where the holster fitted around your thigh holds your gun, “choose a better dress to hide your gun.” 

To say you’re flustered, is more than just an understatement.

You flick his hand away from your leg and pull the holster up your thigh yourself. 

“There,” he mutters, observing the new holster placement as if it's his job “much better.” The smile on his face signals that he likes the way confidence escapes you from your pores. So you stand up a little straighter, and push your shoulders back. You should’ve made some mindless threat to ensure the seemingly harmless boy kept quiet, but instead your curiosity acts against your better judgement, and you hear yourself asking, “how?”

The elevator dings, the sliding doors opening to his floor. He leans in close one last time and whispers, “Takes one to know one.” 

He saunters out of the elevator, and walks as if in a hurry to someplace else, but when the doors close, his eyes find yours, a shining sparkle in a sea of brown and beige. 

When the doors finally shut, you want to melt into the cold metal of the elevator floor.

So much for harmless and naive. 

When your phone buzzes from inside your purse, you’re bitterly reminded of how they’re watching. You read the text.

You know better

And they’re right. You do. 

So when you can’t shake the feeling on his hands against your thigh and his lips next to your ear later that night in the middle of your mission, you’re ashamed more than anything else. 

MEXICO CITY, MEXICO  END OF OCTOBER, 2016

You take a seat at the bar. You shake your head, and Carl, the bartender who you’ve become familiar with in the past two weeks, moves away to attend to other customers. 

“So you travel?” Asks a voice behind you. And when you turn to look at the person, you’re bitterly reminded of the odd turn of events in Manila which ended with lingering thoughts of a boy whose name you didn’t even know. Thoughts of the boy who was now standing in front of you in a bar in the center of Mexico City. 

You scoff, “Spare me the bullshit, please.”

He laughs taking a seat on the barstool next to you. You think the way he brushes his leg against yours might be intentional. “So how did Manila go?” He asks leaning dangerously close to you. 

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know,” you say wishing you had a drink in front of you to wash down the silence. 

“Actually,” he begins, his tone sounding more like the boy who asked you to tie his tie for him, innocent, boyish, mundane even, “I wanted to say sorry. I think I might’ve overstepped myself back in Manila,” you only hum in response, so he tries again, tentatively asking, “did you mind?”

You spare him a side-eyed glance, “Only a little.” You answer more truthfully than you had intended. You don’t miss the small smile painted on his face by the color of your words. “So what brings you to Mexico then?” You ask. 

“Work,” he replies with a smirk looking over your shoulder. “You?”

“Break,” you say bored. “So, I never got your name.” 

He turns his head towards you, “Well, you never asked.” 

So you do. 

“Vernon,” he says. You tell him yours except that it’s not your real name, and you presume the name he gave you isn’t his either. 

“So Vernon, what do you like to drink?” 

He thinks for a moment before saying, “Scotch.” 

“Carl,” you call who nods already starting to fix your drinks. You clink your glass against Vernon’s, “To Manila,” You both down the drink. And then a couple more. 

And with each rush of alcohol against your throat, the goosebumps on your skin seem to grow. You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol or him brushing his knee against yours. But either way both you and the alcohol in your veins are enjoying it. 

And by the time you start feeling the effect of the scotch, Vernon’s thigh is almost flush against yours. You could’ve sworn there was more space between each barstool. He turns his stool around so that his back is leaning against the bar. You don’t miss the way his eyes narrow at something or rather someone else in the bar. The methodical tapping of his finger against his empty glass seems too calculated for the laid back nature of each gulp of scotch. 

You feel a little foolish. You aren’t sure if that’s because of the alcohol or because of the way your stomach still churns when his thigh ghosts against yours. You take another large gulp of scotch and follow Vernon’s gaze across the bar. You tell yourself you do so because you’re curious instead of something as pathetic as jealous. 

You expect his gaze to be laid upon someone pretty, easy to pick up and take home, and as misogynistic as that sounds, you don’t blame him. With the life the two of you live there isn’t much time for something as idealistic as relationships. So imagine your surprise when you follow his gaze across the bar to two English looking men talking in hushed tones and paranoid glances over their shoulders over an open laptop and a locked briefcase. 

You chuckle, “When you said work, I didn’t think you meant in the bar.” 

He only responds with an absent-minded hum, too focused on observing the two men. 

“This entire thing,” he mutters, “it’s off-radar.” 

Now, this peaks your interest. 

He turns back around to face the bar. “And those two men are the reason why.” 

You think it’s all too easy. You don’t tell him, but you think it’s fake. So you continue to obviously observe the two men. When the men leave, you turn back around to the bar. 

“No, no,” Vernon says, shaking his head, “keep watching them for me.” 

“Oh, well it’s kinda late for that,” you pause, Vernon stares at you working out what you mean, “they already left.” 

“Wait what?” He doubles around at the now empty booth. 

“You kinda suck at this,” you note, taking a sip of your drink. 

“Shit,” he grabs your hand and drags you away with him to the obscure hallway in which the two men left through.

--

[wherepoetswentodie]

BOM 10 Day Challenge - Day 7!

Write an interaction between the Mormon boys and villagers

Okay so this is techincally a day late on UK time but it’s on the right day USA time soooooo I get a pass k. 

-------

“Elder Price, is there a reason you are sitting on my step?”

Kevin looks up at Kimbay and then shrugs. The reason he’s there seems really stupid now, and he doesn’t want to say it outloud. She stares down at him, clearly expecting an answer and when she doesn’t get one, she sighs and nudges him with her foot until he moves out of the way.

“Are you going to sit there for the rest of the afternoon?” she asks.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” he says.

She frowns, “Don’t you have baptisms?”

Kevin shakes his head, “I don’t like preaching anymore. Or organised religion,”

Kimbay scoffs, “Don’t flatter yourself. There is nothing organised about what we do here,”

Kevin cracks a smile and wraps his arms around his legs, resting his chin on his knees. He feels Kimbay’s gaze on him for a few seconds before she sits next to him, gently bumping their shoulders together.

“What is the matter with you, boy?” she asks, “Where is Elder Cunningham?”

“With Nabulungi,”

“Where is Elder McKinley, then?”

Kevin shrugs, “I don’t know. I left the hut early this morning. I didn’t see anyone,” 

Kimbay turns to look at him, “Do you not think Elder McKinley will be worried about you?”

“He said he was going to be in his office all day, anyway,” Kevin says, “Probably doesn’t even know I’m not at home...”

“Okay...” she says, “So...why don’t you go home?”

Kevin mumbles something into his knees, hoping that Kimbay will get fed up with him not talking and leave him alone. He isn’t so lucky and she flicks his ear to get him speaking again.

“Come on. I haven’t got all day,”

“I miss my mom,” he mutters.

This is met with silence and Kevin groans, putting his head in his hands. It is moments like this that remind Kevin why he doesn’t like talking about his feelings, because no one ever seems to know how to react. He himself doesn’t even know how to react to how he feels. 

“Never mind, it doesn’t matter,”

“It does matter. I have just never heard you talk about your family before,”

“They disowned me,” he says quietly, nails digging into his palms, “My mom and my dad and I...I don’t - my dad he’s always been strict and always expected me to be the best and I didn’t - I didn’t think that he’d be okay with everything that has happened but I thought that maybe my mom would be but she...she wasn’t,” he feels his throat tighten and tears boil behind his eyes, “And it was her birthday yesterday so I - I called home but when she - when she realised that it was me, she - she told me to not call home again and hung up on me but I just - I want to speak to her...I just - I want my mom...”

Kimbay clears her throat a little, “I am sorry, Elder Price. I did not realise that your parents would be like that,”

“Yeah,” Kevin says, “I didn’t think they’d be like that, either. I mean, I thought - I thought my dad would but I - my mom she - I thought she’d be better...” he trails off and looks back up at her, “‘m sorry. I don’t - I don’t really know why I’m here. I thought you’d - I thought you’d...I don’t know. I think I’m just gonna - I think I’m just gonna go back to the hut,”

“No,” Kimbay says, standing up and pulling him with her, “Come on. I’ll make you coffee,”

Kevin sits at her rickety kitchen table with his head on his arms whilst Kimbay brews his coffee. She places the mug in front of him and gently nudges him until he sits up.

“I’m not crying,” he says, despite the tears streaming down his face.

“No, you’re not,” she agrees, gently wiping his eyes.

“I just want my mom,” he says, despite how childish it makes him sound, “an’ I feel - I feel bad...”

Kimbay frowns at him, “You feel...bad?”

“Cause I - I don’t really have anything to complain about, do I? When I’m - When I’m done here I can just - I can go home and leave here but you - you can’t,” he mumbles. He groans and puts his face in his hands, “Sorry. That was - I don’t know what I’m saying. I just - I don’t have anything to complain about, really but I - I still complain all the time about - about everything but I - I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t,”

“You’ve been through a lot for such a young person,” Kimbay says quietly, running her hand up and down his back, “You’re allowed to complain,”

“I - I know but I don’t want to talk to Connor either because he - I don’t want to - his parents have been terrible. They won’t - they didn’t even call him to disown him they’ve just - they’ve not spoken to him. They just sent him a letter telling him to never come home again and I - I still have my siblings but I’m - I’m acting like I’ve got it worse than anyone in this fucking village,”

“You are allowed to be angry at the world, Elder Price,”

Kevin digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, “I just want to - I want to...I want to be able to go to my mom and have her solve all my problems for me like she did when I was a kid but she - she doesn’t l-love me anymore,” he trails off in a sob, “she doesn’t - she doesn’t give a shit. I could - I could drop dead tomorrow and she wouldn’t care,”

Kimbay sighs and puts her arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer to her.

“She might not, but there are plenty of people here who do,” she says quietly, “and that should count for something,”

“But none of them - none of them are my mom,”

“Your problem, Elder Price, is that your glass is always half empty. There are always going to be things we don’t have in life, and there are always people who are going to leave us, but there is also always things we do have and people who don’t leave us,” she says, “You might not have your mother, but you have your own little family here, don’t you? However weird we might be,”

Kevin sniffles and nods, “Y-Yeah. I guess,” he looks up at her and smiles a little, “Sorry for - for dropping this on you. I just - I didn’t know where else to go. Arnold wasn’t around and I - I don’t like Connor worrying more than he has to. He’s got - He’s got so much to worry about and I don’t - I don’t want to drop this on him,”

“He doesn’t know they’ve disowned you?”

Kevin shakes his head, “N-No. I just - I told him that I haven’t heard off them because he just - he worries so much,”

“I know he does. Remember when we took that picture of us all? He started hyperventilating because you and Elder Church had the same tie on and he was worried it would ruin the entire picture,”

Kevin can’t help it and laughs. Just last night, Connor had woken Kevin up at around 3 AM, worrying that they might have gotten everything wrong and that God was indeed real and he was leading them all to Hell. It had taken almost three hours for Kevin to calm Connor down enough so he would fall asleep again, by which point it was almost time for them to wake up and start the day.

“You are allowed to be angry at the world,” she says again, “No matter who you are or where you come from,”

“I still feel like a dick,” Kevin mutters.

“You are a dick,” Kimbay says kindly, “but you’re a dick that has been through a lot and is allowed to complain about it. There is always going to be people who have it harder than you, but that doesn’t mean you’re not having a hard time, as well,”

“I know but I still feel guilty. Like I don’t deserve to be moping around all the time and-”

Kimbay tuts and puts her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her.

“You are allowed to be upset. You are allowed to be angry. You are allowed to feel pissed off at God and your parents and whoever else you want to be pissed off at,” she says firmly.

“I - yeah. Sure.” Kevin mumbles.

“Say it, then,” Kimbay says, “Say you’re allowed to be pissed off,”

Kevin laughs, “I’m allowed to be pissed off,”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Kimbay says, brushing her fingers through his hair, “Stop being so hard on yourself, please. You don’t deserve it,”

Kevin nods and wipes his eyes, “Sorry. I don’t - I don’t know why I came and bothered you. You probably - You probably have better things to worry about,”

“It is okay,” she says, “It is better than you wandering around on your own. Come on, I’ll walk you back to the hut. I’m sure Elder McKinley is worrying himself sick,”

“I can walk by myself,” Kevin grumbles, getting to his feet, “I’m an adult,”

“Barely,” she says, pinching his cheeks.

They walk to the hut in a comfortable silence. Kevin isn’t sure if seeing Kimbay as a maternal figure is strange or not, but decides that he isn’t going to think about it too much, or say that to her. Though if the way she ruffles his hair when they get to the hut is anything to go by, she might know exactly what is going on in his brain.

“Thanks for listening to me moan,” he says, not quite meeting her eyes.

Kimbay presses a kiss to his forehead, “I don’t mind-”

“Kevin!” a panicked voice yells, cutting her off, “Where on Earth have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”

“Sorry,” Kevin mumbles, turning to face Connor, “I was - I went for a walk,”

“All day? And without telling me? I thought you were - I thought you were being strangled by a snake or - or being eaten by lions or both and I - have you been crying? What’s wrong?” He cups his face in both hands, “What’s happened? Is everything okay?”

Kevin feels his bottom lip tremble and he pulls Connor in for a hug, squeezing his eyes shut, “Thank-you for caring about me,”

Connor frowns and pulls away, giving him a searching look, “Um..I - obviously I care about you, darling. I - you don’t need to thank me, Kevin,”

“I know. I just - thank-you,” he whispers before turning around to face Kimbay again, “I’m overly dramatic, I know. I’m sorry. I won’t - I won’t bother you again,”

Kimbay rolls her eyes, “What, and miss out on our coffee date tomorrow? What sort of son are you?”

Kevin somehow manages to hold back his tears until she is gone.

[hyunsracha]

roman holiday — lee felix

word count: 2k

summary: we’ll be lacing the same shoes that we’ve worn through to the bottom of the line.

do you remember the taste of my lips

that night i stole a bit of my mother's perfume?

‘cause i remember when my father put his fist

through the wall that separated the dining room.

you sat on your bed, knees pulled up to your chest as you rocked back and forth. you were wearing your mother’s old prom dress, except you diy-ed it to make it special for you. this would be your first (and probably last) high school dance, and you wanted it to be special. you were wearing your mother’s perfume too. it smelled too mature for your 17 year old self, but it was all you had. you had music playing loudly in your room in an attempt to mask the screams from downstairs. your parents were going at it...again. this was the daily routine at this point, but you wanted this night to be special.

you stopped your rocking when you realized. 

fuck.

felix would be here any minute now. he could probably hear the shouts from down the street. you grabbed your phone, pulling up your texts with felix to send him a message.

“don’t come to my house. i’ll meet you on the end of the street.”

you didn’t bother waiting for a reply; felix was a horrible texter. you grabbed your shoes and slipped your phone into a small purse.

you didn’t want to get in the middle of your parent’s argument, so the window was the only option. not like it was a big deal; you snuck out that window a million times before. there was a tree conveniently placed outside, and the branches were sturdy enough to hold your body for the few seconds you needed to brace yourself for the jump. once on the ground, you slipped on your heels and made your way down the street.

your relationship with lee felix was...complicated. he was your best friend - and your only friend - but he wasn’t just your friend. you didn’t know what to call it, and you were too nervous to ask. you knew that friends didn’t sneak their friends into their room just to make out. but boyfriends didn’t cancel plans just to go on a date with someone else.

homecoming was a weird grey area. he asked you to go with him, but did your best friend felix ask? or did your boyfriend felix ask?

felix sat in his father’s car on the end of your street, nervously checking himself out in the mirror. to be honest, he didn’t know if this was a date or not. did you even like him like that? did he even like you like that? he didn’t know. he did know that he liked kissing you. and you were his best friend. so...maybe he did like you? but he also saw you drink a milkshake with two straws, so maybe he didn’t.

while he was thinking himself into a headache, he failed to notice you standing in front of his car until you smacked your hand on the hood. his eyes snapped toward the sound, widening at the sight of you, lit up by his headlights. 

you were...stunning.

oh no.

his heart was in trouble. 

and i remember the fear in your eyes

the very first time we snuck into the city pool

late december with my heart in my chest and the clouds of my breath

didn't know where we were running to

but don't look back.

felix was used to sneaking you in places, but he wasn’t used to sneaking in places himself. so when you suggested breaking into the city pool, he was terrified. but you were giving him puppy dog eyes, and felix would probably take any chance to see you in your underwear.

“fucking perv.” you had laughed when he explained this to you on the walk over. he laughed too, taking your hand in his and swinging your arms. you looked just like any other couple out on a late night date. except you weren’t a couple. it had been two months since homecoming. two months since you spent the night at felix’s house, kissing and talking about the universe until the sun came up. he took you home in the morning, grabbing your wrist when you tried to get out of the car.

“uh,” he had stuttered, refusing to look you in the eye, “you’re pretty cool.”

“...you’re pretty cool too, felix.” you smiled, peeling his fingers off your wrist before opening the car door. you had turned and waved at felix’s car from your front door before going inside, leaving a fluttery feeling in his chest for the whole drive home.

“it’s probably locked. how are we gonna get in?” felix let go of your hand, placing his hands on his hips as he stared up at the tall building that held your city’s public pool. you snickered, walking up to the front door and opening it.

“no one locks their doors around here, dummy.” 

you and felix lived in a small town, where everybody knew everybody. if you were caught sneaking into felix’s house, you would be recognized immediately and they would tell your parents. so you learned to be very cautious.

you wasted no time running into the pool area, peeling off your clothes and jumping in the water. it was cold, due to the fact that it was almost january, but it felt nice. felix stood at the edge, watching the smile grow on your face as you pushed your wet hair back.

“come on, loser! don’t be a coward!” you yelled, smirking up at him. you knew that he saw the word ‘coward’ as a challenge, and you were right. the boy scoffed, taking off his shirt and jeans and jumping in. 

he screamed as he came back to the surface, “it’s so FUCKING COLD oh my GOD!” 

you couldn’t stop laughing. even after his body got used to the water. even when he was staring at you, his eyes softening as his heart swelled. he swam towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist. you yelped, pushing away from him because you thought he was going to dunk you. but he was stronger than you, and he pulled you closer, repeating your name to try to get you to stop laughing and pushing him away. when you finally calmed down, you rested your arms on his shoulders.

“you’re pretty cool, y/n.”

“you’re pretty cool too, felix.” you smiled, the light underwater casting a blue glow onto your face.

felix felt his heart leap up into his throat. you were so beautiful.

“i want you, y/n.”

“wh- huh?”

“i want you. i wanna...be with you. i want you to be mine.” his words were spoken with a seriousness that you weren’t used to with felix. he always had a smile on his face, so seeing him look so serious sent a shiver down your spine. your smile only widened, and you leaned forward to kiss him.

and you were his.

and he was yours.

could you imagine the taste of your lips

if we never tried to kiss on the drive to queens?

'cause i imagine the weight of your ribs

if you lied between my hips in the backseat.

you and felix skipped town the day after graduation. a cross country trip to new york is what you two wanted, so it’s what you two were going to get. felix stole his dad’s car, claiming that, “that dick never drove it anyway, so he won’t notice.” 

no jobs, no plans, and hardly any money. but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

nights were the scary part, though. felix would park the car at a random rest stop, and you two would sleep in the big backseat/trunk area, as you couldn’t afford motels. you would lay in felix’s arms, unable to sleep, and just think. 

oh god, what are you going to do?

you had hardly any money, how the hell were you two gonna afford to live in new york of all places? where would you work? what could you even Do? 

you brought up these concerns over breakfast the next morning, sharing a bag of chips and a bott;e of gatorade. felix just chuckled, reaching across the bench you two were sitting at and grabbing your hand.

“we’ll figure it out. there’s nothing we can’t do together, yeah?” his eyes were so hopeful, you couldn’t help but nod and stutter out a soft reply. he kissed you then, filling you with confidence and optimism.

and i imagine the tears in your eyes

the very first night i'll sleep without you.

and when it happens i'll be miles away

and a few months late

didn't know where i was running to

but i won't look back.

hope didn’t last very long.

4 months, to be exact.

you hate new york. you hate your job at a shitty little hole-in-the-wall cafe where your boss doesn’t even remember your name. you hate your crummy little apartment with the cracks in the walls and no heat. 

but you don’t hate felix. you could never hate felix. 

you hate the person he’s become. 

he’s cold, and at first you thought it was just from stress, but he’s cold even after sleeping for 12 hours and being awoken by breakfast in bed from the only person he’s ever loved. he’s cold on holidays, and yeah he doesn’t like the 4th of july very much but why can’t he just light a sparkler with you and obnoxiously scream the lyrics to party in the usa like he’s done every year before?

he has his moments though, like when he finds you crying in the living room over some tv show he’s never heard of. and he’ll pull you into his grip, rocking you gently and softly singing in your ear. like he used to.

but it’s not enough. fleeting moments every few weeks isn’t enough to make you stay.

you get home that night, well aware that you have a few hours before felix comes back. you don’t have much to pack, it only takes a few minutes. you think you’re crying, but you’re not really sure. you don’t want to look in the mirror to check, because the edges of your bathroom mirror are covered in polaroids of you and your angel from high school. and maybe seeing the felix you fell in love with will make you want to stay with this felix you no longer know. 

so you keep going. 

you zip up your backpack, taking a $20 out from your wallet and placing it down on the kitchen counter. you take out an old, crumpled-up receipt, smoothing it out on the counter before writing. 

and that’s the last thing you do before you head out the door, placing your set of keys under the mat. 

felix gets home late. his boss hates him and makes him do extra paperwork all the time with no overtime. he opens the door, expecting to see you curled up on the couch, watching your shows. 

you’re not here.

the apartment feels cold.

he enters your shared bedroom. maybe you’re taking a nap, waiting for him to come home.

you’re not. 

the closet is open. half of the clothes are gone.

oh, god.

felix realizes what’s happening. 

this can’t be happening.

he runs into the kitchen, seeing a $20 and a receipt with your handwriting, written in your favorite sharpie. he reads it:

i love you.

but i don’t know who you are anymore. 

i had to leave.

i’m sorry. please don’t come looking for me.

his eyes well up with tears.

how is he supposed to do this without you? 

he crumples up the receipt, throwing it at the wall. he knows he’ll come back for it later. he goes into the - his - bedroom, flopping down on the bed, shoving his face into the pillow as he begins to sob.

he loves you. oh, he loves you so much. how could you do this? how could you leave him like this?

he can’t really blame you. he would leave him, too. 

it takes felix a long time to fall asleep, clutching onto your pillow. it smells like you, and maybe that’ll trick his brain into having happy dreams about you.

and when the sun rises, felix ignores it. and when his alarm rings, he ignores it. he holds your pillow even closer. 

he hopes that maybe, just maybe, he can sleep this pain away.

[am-imagines]

Legendary pt. 2.5 Morgan!Reader

This is the angst route, it wrecked me while writing it so I hope y’all enjoy it. You’re the ones that asked for this after all.

Warnings: Grief and light swearing. Italic paragraphs is from the broadcast. R can’t hear them but I thought it was a nice touch.

Legacy, what does it truly mean?

You’ve heard that word a thousand times over the last three years, but it erupted like a volcano when you touched land in Australia. They say you’re Alex Morgan’s legacy and it’s on your shoulders to keep the legend alive.

They don’t see -or care-, the side of you still grieving after losing the most important person in your life. They don’t see the anger or the pain. And honestly, you’re not surprised.

There are things that your mother left with you. She taught you how to work hard every single day. She taught you discipline, dedication, control and perseverance. But the passion you feel while on the field is only yours.

The fire burning in your eyes and the need to prove yourself drive you forward even when the match hasn’t started yet. You’re a chess player, and by the beginning of the game, you’ve ten steps ahead.

The National Anthem is loud and clear in your ears, but you take the moment to send a prayer to the heavens above with the only hope she can hear you. You ask her to watch over you on your first match in this World Cup and the nerves you felt on the tunnel, leave when you open your eyes again.

You said it before, USWNT number thirteen is your biggest inspiration but also your shield. She’s with you; always. And you can feel her presence as you take your place for kickoff.

“Come on, team! It’s showtime!” You shout.

You meet the eyes of each member of your team and you find the same fire that fuels you burning there. It’s time to prove to the world what you’re capable of.

        “Number thirteen returns to the field for the USA and I’m sure everybody is          waiting to see if she follows the steps of the great Alex Morgan. Only time           will tell, and it’s time for the first 90 minutes on this World Cup for the dream         team.”

You’re on the Group of Death, but there’s no fear within you. Germany is a challenge; one you’ve trained to tackle one minute at a time.

The kickout starts the match; you move flawlessly in your element. Passing the ball and filling the gaps the defense doesn’t notice. You are the bridge connection Harry Long to Press, then you’re at the front; pointed spears as you launch yourself to the attack.

It’s almost impossible to crack Germany’s defensive line. Not a single ball makes it through them for the first twenty-five minutes or so, but that doesn’t stop you.

It’s a constant pick and roll with Press and Long following your silent lead. An instruction from the bench and then O’Hara is there; joining the attack with sharp passes and precise plays. In that moment you show the world why you’re the best team.

You’re unstoppable; playing harder when Germany refuses to let you through. You play better and find their goalie as a brick wall. Still, there’s no time to give up, to stop and as the first time starts to wind down; you play faster.

A terrific pass from O’Hara opens the doors and Press doesn’t disappoint when she nutmegs a defense to clear the rest of the path. You follow even your muscles hurt; your lungs burn with the exertion as you push even more.

The goalie comes out to try and block press, and that’s exactly when she passes to you. With a solid contact, you send the ball straight into the net.

      “That’s a goal! Oh, what an amazing goal from Y/N Morgan to open the                score! An incredible play by the USA finished with a delightful shot. Buckle          your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen! Morgan is back in the building, and            she brought pure magic with her.”

You never really stop running and make it to Press in no time. Jumping into her arms you fist-bump the air as some other players join your celebration.

“Let’s fucking go!” You shout over the crowd.

The first goal for your team in the World Cup is yours, but you still have a million things to prove. Not just to the crowd cheering for you, or the ones following the match through their screens. You want to prove it to yourself; you want to earn every minute you play.

In your opinion, there’s no time to stop. Even when halftime arrives, you keep thinking about how to do things better once you go back.

One goal is not enough against a team like Germany. A single mistake here can cost you an important victory, and this is the match you’ve been waiting for the last three years. This is the even you’ve dreamed of all your life.

You’re insistent; nagging every player when they have the ball. You press, and press and press. You’ve run a marathon and if you’re exhausted, the adrenaline doesn’t let you tell.

Nothing can stop you as you make it to the box...except maybe an elbow to the face.

A penalty kick is called while your team protest earnestly for a red card.

You’re nailed and you can feel your mouth fill with blood when you hit the ground. Instead of waiting for the medical team, you go back to your feet and to the sideline where you promptly ask for a towel to clean your face after spitting out the blood. A sip of water and that’s all you need.

Harry Long is your designated player to take penalty kicks, but the blonde takes the ball and shoves it into your hands. There’s a delicious glint in her eyes that you’ve seen in Allie. Like mother like daughter, you think. Both of them could be Bond villains.

“Make them pay,” she says.

“I will.”

You put the ball down on the penalty spot, then take a couple of steps back; hands on your waist while the ref talks to the German goalie.

            “This is a great chance for the U.S.A to extend the lead, will Morgan be                able to score?”

This is a one-on-one battle where your biggest enemy is yourself. 

Eleven meters separate you from your destiny; this is your chance to make an impression. This is your opportunity to start a career with a bang and make everyone see beyond your last name. You aren’t your mother, that much is true, but you’re something special too.

You face yourself with this penalty kick and all the doubts that appear when you’re about to give up. The truth is, you’re still fighting and you earned your spot on the USWNT despite the press assuming Rapinoe made you a favor.

Your last name has weight; it keeps you grounded for another second as your eyes focus solely on the ball. Your mind is set in a sole objective when the ref blows the whistle.

Your name carries a punch like lightning and you hit the ball with a thunderous strike.

           “Goal for the USA! Morgan with her second goal of the match with only a             few minutes to spare on this encounter. The dream of America is more                 alive than ever, and I’m sure this game feels like a dream to Y/N.”

Your demons are buried on the left corner; the same one where you sent the ball.

The pain behind your fierceness comes to the surface for a second, but you refuse to cry where everyone can see you. Instead, you point to the sky and dedicate the goal to your biggest hero. Wherever she is.

This is the beginning of a long road and you know the comparisons, talks about you and your mother won’t end with this match. The press will ask the same questions after the world cup and they will follow you as your professional career progresses.

You wish Alex Morgan could be there with you; to help you paddle through a sea of skepticism. It’s hard to do this on your own, but nothing has stopped you before.

For the last three years you’ve worked yourself to the limit without taking a break. Stopping is not an option because you’re not sure you have enough strength to keep going afterwards. Bottling up you feelings; all the hurt, the pain and anger, was your strategy. It’s worked so far.

You’ve trained and fought through every day in hopes your mom is proud of you.

When the match ends, you’re confident there’s nothing else you could have done on those 90 minutes.

Leaving the pitch is bittersweet because that’s where you feel closer to Alex; wearing her number and doing everything she taught you. But when you stop running the myriad of feelings catch up to you and every time it’s harder to keep them at bay.

When you make it to the locker room is when the exhaustion finally hits, but it’s not just the aftermath of the game. You’re tired of holding it all in.

You wish your mom could be there in that moment. She always knew what to say to comfort you. She always knew what to do when the world seemed to spin a little too fast for your liking. But there’s nothing she can say right now, because she isn’t there. She can’t. She won’t. And your broken heart bleeds more than ever before.

Pretending to forget doesn’t help. How could you ever forget her?

The pain shows in your eyes as you stare blankly at your locker. You’re frozen; overwhelmed, because she won’t call you after the game to congratulate you. She won’t be there to pick you up and take you home.

Sonnett forces you to turn around, to face her, before wrapping her arms around you. She holds you so tight that the walls you’ve built crumble around you. She makes you stop to a halt and the lack of inertia moving you forward shatters your resolution.

You break even when you try your hardest not to.

And oh how much you try; you grasp Emily’s shirt desperately as you try to keep the pieces together. It’s useless.

The first gasp coming from your lips brings your feelings to the surface; no barriers to hold them back this time, and the hurt you’ve tried to deny for so long comes barreling in. A strangled sob wrecks your body, so you let Sonnett hold you while the storm hits.

“She would be so proud of you, Y/N.”

Sonnet and Rapinoe share a small fraction of your pain.

You saw their reactions to the news from the safety of your room. You watched how their gazes showed the grief when they lost a friend.

Kelley had been your rock through the funeral, and yet you were made of stone. You stood like a statue; strong but immovable. Shock didn’t let you cry but time eroded your facade and the gentle breeze of Emily’s words turned the rock to dust.

“I miss her,” you whisper against her shoulder.

It’s true that the world cup brings you closer to your mother in many ways, but it doesn’t give you a moment to forget she’s gone. Even after three years, you don’t know how to deal with the empty space she left in your life. Nobody does.

So, you cry on Sonnett’s shoulder for what feels like hours and yet the team is still there when you finally pull back. Their eyes hold no pity or shame, they look at you with the same love and pride, and that helps you find your ground again.

They pick a piece of your shattered soul each and make it part of themselves.

Ali “Krash” Harris finds your courage. Janice O’Hara takes your determination. Harriette “Harry” Long goes for the perseverance and T. Press your hunger for victory. They have you covered and when you feel like caving on your way back to the hotel, they carry you through.

Alex P. Morgan is gone, but the people around you are family too.

With them by your side you’ll bring the fucking World Cup home.

For her. For you. For a new beginning.

[ciarawritesmarvel]

wanderlust [1] - steve rogers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k (yayyyy)

Warnings: Mutual pining to the max? Lots of secretly loving Steve. Minimal language. 

A/N: Eeeee I know I know, I have a Bucky series ongoing what am I doing but I’m in such a Steve mood at the moment, and I have to do this! A little mini series following Steve and the reader’s trip around the world, just a little one, full of pining and love and fluff and sunsets and intimacy but not smut. This has really sparked something in me and I can’t stop writing it. I love you guys and please do let me know what you think of this if you have time! <3

Summary: Your best friend and colleague Steve Rogers only really wants to make you happy, even if that means taking you around the world to do so. Will you satisfy your wanderlust or somehow wander into love?

Prompt: I love you. And I’m sorry if that scares you but it won’t change. I love you. I have for a while now. [written for Attie’s 4K Challenge Challenge! @barnesrogersvstheworld]

I’m going to start tagging in reblogs and my masterlist is in my bio if you want to find it! Enjoy! 

---

new york city - usa

Your bright smile and smart dress were the only thing keeping the fact that you were sleep-deprived and exhausted a secret. The black skirt suit was too hot and you felt yourself pulling at your neckerchief whenever you thought no one was looking.

“Hello and welcome to Gaia Airlines! Could you place your luggage on the conveyor belt for me?”

Over and over and over, that sentence was seared onto your mind like a brand, so natural were the words that fell from your lips that it felt as if you were on autopilot, not really thinking about anything as you asked the typical questions and ripped tickets with the mechanical movements of a bored human being.

You cast a glance down the line of people on the night shift alongside you and saw the similar subtle signs that lack of sleep adds to your features. Sam was rubbing his face, Bucky’s shoulders had sagged, Nat’s heels lay strewn on the floor under the desk and Steve beside you had dark circles under his eyes and a slightly more worn smile than usual.

He’d caught you stealing a glance at him between customers and inclined his head towards you just slightly with a small tilt as if to ask if you were doing okay. You gave him a soft smile and a tiny, almost imperceptible nod that you knew he would pick up on. Not only was he good at reading others in the first place, but you two had gotten to know each other rather well over the past five and a half years. Calling him a best friend, calling all four of them best friends, didn’t feel out of place.

He turned back to his next customer, satisfied with your answer, and began to serve them, you continuing with your own line. Why people couldn’t just get flights in the daytime like a normal person would baffled you. But not really.

You’d take any flight you could get if it meant you’d get to go out and see the world.

Working at an airport and watching people flying away on magical adventures every single night whilst also being someone who had never left the United States and had a serious case of wanderlust was an interesting situation to say the least. The irony was certainly not lost on you.

Almost a whole night of the same old, same old checking in had gone by and if it was even possible, everyone appeared to be flagging so much more. You’d lost your own heels a few hours previous, secretly reaching down to massage your aching feet every couple of minutes. It wasn’t as if you even got a decent break in your 12 hour shift, just two half hour ones that were just used for a much needed sit down, a run to the bathroom and a quick snack.

With just an hour left, it was Steve’s turn for a break and as soon as the clock struck the hour he put a rope across his station and stepped back from the podium with a stretched out sigh. He walked behind you to make his way to the break room and squeezed your shoulder on the way past with a pitying smile and you brought your hand up to cover his for only a second, meeting his glance with grateful eyes.

“I’ll grab you a coffee,” he whispered on his way.

“Thank you!” you mumbled, even though he was already gone and you could hear his shoes clicking on the floor, quieter and quieter as he travelled down the corridor.

There was a part of you, your heart most likely, that seemed to warm at the thought of Steve offering to get you a coffee and none of the others, however selfish it may have sounded. But in reality, it reaffirmed your belief that the relationship the two of you held went a little beyond the rest of your work relationships. Steve was a little more than that to you than a mere best friend and it was nice to know that feeling was reciprocated.

There were other feelings in the back of your mind for Steve, ones that used to be right at the forefront, begging to be set free, but it had been a long time since you had properly listened to those. They just happened to lurk there, completely unwanted and unreciprocated, of that you were sure, and so you cast them away in fear that they may one day interfere in the best friendship of your adult life.

You heard a mini beep from your computer screen that indicated a chat message. You continued to talk through the protocol safety questions with the customer you were currently serving but clicked on the little bell icon to open up the chat window at the same time. Sam had set up the chat about a year ago, installed it on the five workstation computers only and done it in a certain way you didn’t quite understand to ensure that the airline wouldn’t see it and that the day shifters couldn’t access it either.

You were added to a chat with Badass, Princess and Birdman.

Nat: Sorry, am I mistaken or did somebody just offer just one singular person a coffee?

Bucky: No Nat, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what just happened.

Sam: What would possibly cause such unabashed favouritism?

Your brow furrowed at the messages but you ignored them for a second as you ripped the tickets you’d just printed from the mini printer and handed them to the customer in front of you as you told them to have a wonderful flight. There was no one left in the queue for the time being, though you knew it wouldn’t last, so you turned your attention back to the messages.

Y/N: If you guys ever want to stop being children, just let me know.

Bucky: Someone’s tetchy. It’s as if we haven’t all just done 11 hours of a 12 hour shift.

Y/N: Less of the sass, Barnes.

Nat: You’re willingly blind, Y/N.

Sam: Willingly ignorant, blind isn’t a strong enough word.

You have left the chat.

You could feel a couple of glances at the side of your head as the others noticed your exit but you ignored them, focusing on the person that had arrived in front of you to be checked in. Your colleagues, as you currently felt compelled to call them just colleagues, had been alluding to a crush from a certain other colleague for a good few months now, but it was something you wouldn’t even consider a possibility. It wasn’t up for discussion. Not anymore. Not when you’d had to spend months locking away every thought of Steve that you couldn’t have, months boxing up every inappropriate feeling you found in your brain.

Steve returned and you felt his arm just brush your side lightly as he placed a steaming hot mug on your desk, not stopping to talk to you but just returning to his station. You glanced at him and he was already looking at you, a weird glimmer in his eye and a grin adorning his features. You shot him a quick puzzled look but he shook his head lightly, the grin only growing.

And then he did something completely new. He winked at you.

It was playful and excitable and he was like a puppy that had just been given a new home. He looked revitalised, a different man to the one that had trudged away to the break room half an hour ago. Completely bewildered, and just slightly more flustered than you’d like to admit, you hurriedly dropped your gaze away from him and towards your work instead, silently wracking your brain for anything that could have happened to him to have made him so cheerful so suddenly. The others were looking confused too, with Bucky and Sam shaking their heads at each other and rolling their eyes and Nat mouthing expletives at you. You resolved to ask him about it as soon as your shift ended.

You had never seen such a sudden change in Steve’s mood. And he had never sent you a wink that made you shiver.

30 minutes earlier

Steve struggled through the corridor, desperately trying to keep his feet moving, one after the other, even though it was difficult to keep it going. He was so tired. He’d taken the early and late break this evening, so that the others could have the middle ones that they really needed. Especially you, since you’d been secretly signing yourself up for the early and late breaks for the past week in order to help the others.

He’d now signed himself up for the coming week. It was the absolute least he could do.

As was grabbing you a coffee.

In the break room, there were a myriad of other airport employees, flight attendants, duty free salespersons and even a few pilots scattered around. Steve’s ears automatically tuned in to a familiar voice and his lips turned up in a knowing smile.

“...so I told him, look Rhodey, just because you’re my co-pilot doesn’t mean I’ll hesitate to send you out the door with a parachute!”

A few of his colleagues laughed at his clearly exaggerated tale as Steve walked over and tapped him on the shoulder, watching his face break into a grin when he turned around.

“Steve Rogers!” he exclaimed, cupping his face with both hands and planting a kiss on each cheek, something Steve had grown somewhat accustomed to.

“Tony Stark,” he replied, clapping a hand on his arm, “It’s been a little while. How was South Korea?”

“Wonderful. How’s Y/N?”

Steve’s whole face seemed to slump into one of a grumpy teenager although there was the faintest hint of a blush forming on his cheeks that told Tony his teasing wasn’t unwarranted. He’d been teasing him as such for about four years, however, so it was beginning to become tiresome.

“Wonderful,” Steve mumbled reluctantly, “But you could really ask her yourself.”

“Where would the fun be in that?”

Tony grinned and Steve glowered at him, but still he sat opposite him at one of the tables in the break room when Tony indicated to do so. Tony may have been a pain in the ass, but he was an old friend and one of the only people Steve would willingly endure such teasing from. The other was Bucky, and sometimes Nat but never Sam. He had his limits.

“Seriously, have you still not said anything to her? You know she-”

“Tony,” he warned, sounding exasperated, “Move on. Was Pepper on your flight to Korea?”

“No,” Tony grumbled, “They don’t let us on the same flights more than once a month now, something about not trusting us to keep the plane...sanitary.” Steve’s nose wrinkled in light disgust.

“You know how gross that is, right?”

“We most certainly do!”

“Pepper’s such a lucky woman,” Steve said sarcastically and Tony laughed, Steve congratulating himself on successfully changing the subject, even if it was just for now.

“That she is. She’s back from Thailand tomorrow so best to stay out of our way for at least 6 hours, then feel free to stop by the apartment and say hello!”

“I’ll give you 12 hours, but I will pop over, I haven’t seen Pep in such a long time!”

“Chief flight attendants don’t get too much free time.”

“Neither do pilots, Tony. How do you two manage it?” Steve asked, curious and a soft, genuine smile played with Tony’s lips as he shrugged lightly.

“We get by. Cherish the time we do spend together. It helps that we’ve known each other for ten years. Though five and a half is probably enough too.”

“Tony-”

“Oh come on Steve! It’s been four years of you being in love with this girl and four years of being too scared to anything about it. Do you realise how long that is? Four years!” he insisted and Steve felt a small anger building in his stomach.

“I’m not too scared to do anything about it, Stark,” Tony looked slightly taken aback by the bite in Steve’s words and knew that he was only referred to as Stark when he’d gone just a little too far, “I’m not doing anything about it because, above everything, I count myself lucky to have Y/N in my life and I refuse to do anything that might jeopardise that. Period.”

Tony blinked a couple of times.

“Okay, fine. That makes sense, I guess,” it almost sounded as if Tony was being serious but Steve knew him better than that, “Or at least, it would if I wasn’t 100% sure without a doubt that Y/N is head over heels for you.”

“She isn’t.”

“I’ve known her for just as long as you, Stevie, and I know that she does.”

“You don’t see her everyday like I do. We’re best friends; I would know. Drop it.”

Tony sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He couldn’t count how many times the two men had had this conversation. It was growing unbearably annoying. Steve was forthright about his feelings about you and had been for a very long time and whilst you wouldn’t dream of admitting anything to Tony, who was little more than a friendly face that you saw around sometimes, Tony had seen the way you looked at Steve. He knew that look. It was the look he got when Pepper was around.

It was that of a lovesick puppy.

And whilst you weren’t much of the puppy type and that was far more Steve’s game, he knew what he’d seen. You were smitten. Steve was smitten. Why neither of you were brave enough to take this further was beyond him. Though this was coming from the man who had showered his wife with bouquets upon bouquets of flowers and one ill-begotten batch of strawberries before she agreed to date him, so subtlety wasn’t exactly his strongest suit.

“She means that much to you, huh?”

A pause. Full of weight. Meaning.

“You know she does, Tony,” he said softly, looking down at his hands which had starting wringing together nervously without him even noticing, “I’d do pretty much anything for her. Which reminds me, I should really be getting her coffee so-”

Steve pushed himself up from the chair with his hands on his thighs, not noticing the look on Tony’s face and the clear fact that he’d just had what he thought was a genius idea. As Steve wandered over to the coffee machine in the kitchenette area, Tony bounded up from his chair and over to his friend, taking off his pilot cap and tugging it over Steve’s head.

“I’ve just had an incredible idea!”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” Tony pouted as Steve waiting for the coffee to brew, having put your favourite pod in the machine. He turned from the counter and leaned back against it, hands pressing into it on either side of him. He nodded reluctantly for Tony to continue, “Why don’t you and Y/N take a trip? All expenses paid by yours truly, a holiday from the night shift, a chance to spend some quality time together. It would be perfect!”

“Are you out of your mind?” Steve scoffed, shaking his head, “I am not going on a trip with Y/N.”

“Why not? You said it yourself, you’re best friends. Best friends go on vacations together.”

“Yeah but-” he floundered for some other excuse, “I can’t let you pay for it!”

Tony laughed at that. Steve could admit that was a pretty weak point. What with Tony’s air miles and his ridiculous amount inherited from his father, he wouldn’t even notice if somebody stole from him, Steve was sure. And he was a generous man at heart, so accepting such a huge gift, though difficult, wouldn’t be that hard to stomach.

“Forget the conversation we just had. Forget romance. You love her. That means something, even between best friends. And wouldn’t this make her happy?”

Steve paused. It would. There was no denying that this would make you happier than he’d probably ever seen you. Work was beating your ass lately, and there wasn’t a day, or night, that went by when you didn’t talk about some part of the world you wanted to see, or lamented about an incredible place that one of your flight attendant friends was flying out to that night. You’d always wanted to travel.

He could make it happen. He could make you happy.

Or, at least, the trip could.

“I don’t know, Tony-”

“You think too much, Rogers,” Tony pointed, accusatory, at Steve, a stern look overtaking his features, “For once in your life, just do something spontaneous. Invite Y/N to come around the world with you. Why not?”

There were so many reasons why not. Because it was ill advised for a man in love to go away with the object of his affections. Because he shouldn’t take a free trip from Tony Stark. Because you might say no, he might be crushed. Because you did not love him back and he should be distancing himself from you in order to deal with that fact and not throwing himself before you in some grand gesture that wouldn’t win your love or make him feel any better about his unreciprocated feelings.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

Tony clapped him on the back in his excitement with a grin of glee on his face.

“Ask her tonight, ask her tonight!”

Steve chuckled, because, although it was clear that Tony was getting ahead of himself, he couldn’t deny that he was feeling a little lightheaded himself. A world trip? The only thing that made those three words exponentially better was the addition of another two words.

With you.

He picked up the coffee cup, the steam rising in a steady stream from it and disappearing into the air above. Smiling at Tony, he placed a firm hand on his shoulder for a second.

“Thank you.”

It was sincere and the look of happiness on Tony’s face, in the crinkles around his eyes, was evident enough. With that, and a final word that he would come visit him and Pepper in the coming week, Steve left the break room, fulling intending to arrive back to you a little earlier than was necessary and forgo some of his break.

You needed your coffee after all.

And so here he was, grinning unnaturally at anyone who arrived with tickets at his stations, messing up his perfectly practised lines and questions and, instead of stumbling and apologising profusely, simply chuckling with a light apology and a small shake of the head at himself. He had even winked at you and hadn’t thought twice about how ridiculous he must’ve looked. He was the epitome of giddy.

A beep brought him out of his reverie.

You have been added to a chat with Princess.

Bucky: What is going on with you, pal? You’ve been smiled manically at yourself for the past ten minutes.

Steve: Tell you later, Buck.

Bucky: Can you at least tell me how to change my damn name on this crap?

Steve has left the chat.

Princess suited him too well. He couldn’t rob the team of that chuckle every time he was added to a chat.

The shift finished quicker than ever for Steve and what felt like slower than ever for you. Steve’s change in mood was almost worrying, even if it seemed positive, and you cornered him in the staffroom as soon as you arrived there. You both had your lockers open, ridding yourselves of suit jackets that would be needed tomorrow night, Steve passing you your heels that he had carried back for you.

“Okay, come on Rogers. Spill.”

“What are you talking about?” he feigned nonchalance, but he was such a terrible liar and he was still smiling. He hadn’t stopped smiling since. It was unnerving.

“You. Your face. It’s weird,” you argued, pulling out a black duster coat from your locker and weaving your arms into it, pulling it tight around yourself as you hoisted your bag onto one shoulder and shut your locker, “So tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay, fine, there is something. Just, don’t freak out.”

“...Okay.”

You were beginning to get a little worried, but you tried not to let it show, not wanting to put Steve off telling you whatever was on his mind. He was easily spooked.

“I saw Tony on my break-“

“Oh my god! Tony! How is he? Still a little shit?” you said playfully as Steve closed his locker and you both began walking through the airport towards the staff car park.

“Still a little shit, yeah. But he’s good, Pep’s back tomorrow and they have a week off together so he’s naturally ecstatic,” you laughed slightly but looked genuinely happy for your pilot friend and his wife. Steve found himself falling for you just a millimetre more at the happiness you held for other people’s happiness, even those you didn’t know well. Little moments such as this could add millimetres and millimetres to his fall, “But anyway, he offered me a gift. And you.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” Steve could feel his voice getting more excited and his steps becoming bouncier as you walked through the huge rooms, arms bumping each other every few seconds, “What would you say if I told you he was going to pay for us to go on holiday?”

You stopped in your tracks and held out a hand to stop Steve too. You stared at him.

“Is this a joke? Because it’s not funny, you know how much I want to-“

“Travel, yes I do which is why I would never joke about this Y/N. It’s true.”

“Shut up,” you hit his arm then, not being able to process this, “Shut up! Wait, wait, we can’t let him pay, that’s ridiculous.”

“Do you know how rich Tony is?”

“...Fair point.”

“I would never usually accept such gifts from him either, trust me, but this? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Two weeks off work, a trip around the world, to the places you’ve always talked and dreamt about.”

There were tears in your eyes and whilst Steve was sure they were happy tears, he couldn’t help but be a little scared by them. You were still gripping his forearm tightly, to ground yourself, because your head was spinning. You couldn’t take this in. Steve wiped a tear that happened to fall onto your chin with the pad of his thumb with a shaky smile.

“And you’d be coming with me?” you asked quietly when you found your words.

“Yes, I mean, if you don’t mind-“

“‘Cause I don’t think I could do this without you.”

He breathed out a long breath. He was worried you wouldn’t want him but he should’ve known you would. Of course you would. You were best friends. He knew he was an important part of your life, even if not in the way he would like, just as you were an important part of his. He turned his forearm in your grip and held your own arm in his hand.

“I’d be there every step of the way, doll. We’d see the world together.”

His words were so comforting although they did a number on the locks of the boxes at the back of your mind and made your heart jump in its place. Together as friends, you reminded yourself, filling in the blank. You mulled over the proposition in your head. It was all too much.

“We need to talk about this properly.”

“Of course,” Steve replied readily, feeling you begin to waver.

“And I’ll need to talk to Tony.”

“I’m meeting him and Pepper sometime this week, you can come with me.”

“But if we can get it all sorted… well then I’m in buddy.”

“You are?” Steve was shocked and overwhelmed and felt like he was jumping over the moon.

“Of course I am! How could I say no? Oh Steve, this is amazing!”

There were a few tears falling now, happy tears that were actually rather unnoticeable, since your grin was taking up your entire face and there was a light in your eyes that Steve hadn’t seen in at least a year. He’d forgotten how beautiful true happiness looked on you.

All too soon he couldn’t see it anymore though, because you were clasping his shoulders and bringing him down for a hug, clutching at his back with a ferocity that was new. But this meant so much to you. More than you’d ever be able to tell him.

Tony might be paying for it, but Steve was going to take you around the world. That was everything.

“Thank you,” you mumbled into his shoulder, your chin resting on it as his arms melted into your back and he held you to him tightly.

“Tony’s paying-“

“Thank you.”

Your insistent tone told him not to argue and so he just squeezed you impossibly tighter.

You were happy. He’d done his job.

next chapter

[abuserfriendly]

Don't Buy the Airline Industry's Snow Job on Inflight Hygiene

I love travel and unlike some railfans I am not usually given to slagging on the airlines. Nevertheless, I do think the airline industry (especially in the USA) has lots of rage-inducing practices and I have always resented the industry's insistence that treating passengers well is diametrically at odds with controlling costs- that has always been a false dichotomy in my opinion- and I am especially disappointed with the ongoing degradation of the front-cabin (business and first class) experience. Now covid19 is crushing passenger airlines, and this supposedly "profitable" industry has shoveled up $25 billion taxpayer dollars, roughly 25 years' worth of Federal Amtrak subsidies, with every indication that they will ask for more in short order. Meanwhile, the very business model of airlines as they have operated to date is now in question and the  industry refuses to address the questions. To be clear, I am not referring to the temporary problem of lack of demand due to economic conditions and travel restrictions: I am talking about the business model predicated on packing people into a tiny space that is irritant and uncomfortable for many hours without basic provisions for health or sanitation. Taxpayers are owed more than what this industry is offering in the way of a get-well plan before they throw good money after bad.

Let's get something straight: social distancing is and always will be impossible on an airliner, except maybe if you are the only passenger or one of a very small handful of passengers on a widebody jet. That's not where the industry's unaddressed existential threat lies though. The airlines are now hard at work reminding everyone about how the "hospital grade" air filtration on their planes is keeping air travel safe. They will tout that most (in other words: not all) modern airliners are equipped with HEPA air filtration. Well, congratulations! You're employing the same air filtration technology I can get in a 12-pack of filters for the furnace in my basement for an average extra cost of about $1.50 per. Despite the fact that these filters are cheap commodities, I still wonder if the maximum recommended replacement interval is being observed in the same industry that can't bring itself to properly maintain their fleets overall. Moreover, all the talk about the air purification systems on mainline jets like Boeing 737s is in plain denial of the fact that at least half of passengers end up spending part if not all of their journey on a regional jet. I wonder why they aren't talking about the air filtration systems on Canadair CRJ-200s or Embraer 145s? Could it be that planes that barely have enough space for each passenger's overnight bag don't have much of an air purification system?

Air filtration aside, the reality of air travel and health is that it is not the cleanliness of the air that endangers your health during a respiratory pandemic. The problem is the dryness of the air. On average, the relative humidity in a modern airliner cabin is a parched 12% and it is almost always less than 20%, lower than the 30% threshold for discomfort for humans. Dry air irritates pretty much all types of human tissue including the skin, the lungs, and the sinus passages. This causes postnasal drip, coughing and sneezing. The air inside planes is so dry that it will cause many people to sniffle, cough, and sneeze even if they aren't sick, and if your skin is dried out and itchy, you're going to touch it. This is why people get sick when they fly: in addition to being in a very tight space with a bunch of strangers for several hours, you and your fellow passengers are coughing and sneezing and scratching in that tight space. Fomites and moisture droplets are getting sprayed everywhere constantly: the seats, the carpets, the tray tables, the armrests, the seat belts- not just the things you think you can avoid touching. Even worse, there are plenty of substances for those droplets and particles to cling to: many is the time I've sat at a window seat to be grossed out by the greasy haze left by a previous passenger who slept with their head against the window and thought to myself what kind of petri dish must the interior panels on this aircraft be? Whatever gets drawn into the HEPA filters is going to be trapped there, but I think its a safe bet that most of the particles and droplets stay anchored to whatever surface they land on.

There is an urban legend that airlines routinely dial down the amount of fresh air that is drawn into cabins to save fuel and this has been debunked- the ratio of fresh to recirculated air on a plane is basically factory-set and cannot be adjusted inflight and there is rarely any prescribed reason for ground mechanical personnel to change it either- slow-onset hypoxia will kill a person before they realize what is happening, so this is a bit more serious than saving a few bucks on fuel. The moisture content of cabin air, on the other hand, is something that can be altered. Airlines are so loath to do anything about it due to the cost of retrofitting humidification systems to planes as well as the cost in fuel and space of hauling a tank of heavy water aloft that it isn't even being considered in the realm of possibility. Picture that tiny 50-seat Canadair CRJ-200 once again, which on a good day gives you about as much personal space as you might have in the back seat of a fully loaded car, and ask yourself where and how we might retrofit this aircraft for improved cabin air quality. The answer is simple: the days of traveling like this are over. Planes like the CRJ-200 are flying bio-exposure labs- you won’t share more of your fellow passengers’ bodily materials without having a one-night stand with each of them.

Beyond misleading people about irrelevant cabin air quality, what are the airlines going to do to keep passengers safe? They will block off the middle seats on planes, but this accomplishes exactly nothing except to make passengers a little more comfortable (and to this extent I applaud it). They will make you wear a mask- and this is a good thing, but only until you take that mask off to have a drink or eat something, which you are welcome to try to avoid doing on an 8-10 hour flight. Despite this reality, I fully expect anyone who isn’t able to abstain from eating or drinking for the duration of the flight to be cuffed and stuffed upon arrival. They might end up blood testing passengers or requiring health documentation to fly, and frankly, these seemingly drastic measures might be the only hope for air travel. Expect the cost of the test or certifying yourself to be a new ticket tax, because, well its not like you gave them $25 billion or anything like that, right? If you are expecting things like planes getting sanitized between flights or even cheap yet thoughtful things like a personal bottle of sanitizer and a mask at your seat so that even people who have been unexpectedly separated from their luggage have the appropriate supplies, forget about it: they can't even figure out how to afford to give you three ounces of peanuts. Rest assured that despite whatever risk their practices introduce for you, the airlines intend to make you fully responsible for any bit of nastiness you might be exposed to on board.

I am not a germophobe and I accept reality: I am not going to say that you should hop on a train for your next hygienic travel experience. Are you more socially distanced in a sleeping car compartment than on an airliner? Yes, but only somewhat, and if you're traveling in coach its basically the same as flying from that perspective. Obviously, the safest way for most people to travel intercity during a pandemic is via automobile, as long as you are careful and have the right supplies (having your own car makes this much easier though). Unfortunately, you're not going to be able to hop in the family truckster for a trip from Miami to London. I haven't been able to find any information on the moisture content of passenger train air either, but I am pretty sure its very different from an airliner since railroad car ventilation systems are not subject to the same mechanical constraints. I have personal experience to back this up: I have spent weeks crisscrossing North America and Europe on trains and have never experienced such a thing as an "Amtrak cold" or an "Amtrak flu." Considering the challenges associated with maintaining cleanliness on a train making a fifty hour journey, that says a lot. As far as cleaning supplies or masks go, well, people who take Amtrak cross country have been bringing family-size spray cans of Lysol on board since the 1980s- nobody with experience would leave home without one.

[everyday-effing-therapy]

31/12/2019

Hello,

The end of the year is approaching and, well...

I didn’t know what to do, I still don’t, but I wanted to write something, anything, during the winter break. Not to explain why I was gone, cause I think we all know, I was busy, school is hectic and my life can really have a go on me at times, but I just really wanted to write how I have been and summarize this year.

It’s a sort of every year thing that I do. You see, I am kinda stuck on dwelling on the past. It is a bad habit, but I am trying to change it into something good, trying to see the good things and be grateful for them.

I like summarizing my year, because I remind myself of so many amazing things that happened and it keeps me going.

Starting off where I left off, the last time I wrote was somewhere in the very beginning of October. From then on, a few things happened and some changed.

I finished my driver’s course and passed the exam for the license, which I have right now. I also own a car and have been driving it regularly every day for the last two weeks. That is one of the things I am the proudest of this year and I am eternally grateful that I managed to pass, cause that day will probably be one of the best of my life.

School work is going surprisingly nicely, I have the best grades since the moment I started it, actually, I have a quite pleasant situation especially in those “problematic” subjects for me, like Chemistry or Maths.

I also participated in the English competition and passed the first stage, the second one is on 10th of January. I am really proud of myself and really want to go further and further.

My prom partner and me have had a bit of a weird situation. He complimented me a lot and I wondered whether he would ask me out on a proper date, but then I remembered that I thought he had a girlfriend. I asked him about it and he admitted to having said girlfriend. I asked him to tone down the compliments and he eventually did so, which I am grateful for.

I don’t want his girlfriend to hate me and, truth being told, I had enough boy drama this year. 

Black and Marigold are almost dating at this point, she looks at him like I used to and he never dances with me anymore, unless he’s very drunk and even then it’s very rare. Our song stopped being our song and she probably loves him. Marigold is his prom partner, they talk a lot, he changed his style a bit to fit hers, she bought him a present for Christmas, he bought her a flower and she drove him somewhere after the Christmas Eve that I organized for my classmates.

It’s shit, to be honest, cause I wasn’t able to enjoy myself, cause well, I care about him and he’s the first to make me regret things, although I did them, cause I believed in said things.

I am jealous of them, but I know I can’t stand in their way, I have to find my own path and he is not a man for me (but I still dream about him, his smell always finds me and I can’t fall asleep not imagining being in his arms)

Christmas were fine for me, I didn’t study much during the break, which will probably be bad for me later on, but whatever. I rested, drove a lot, watched YouTube and some movies, even started reading a book and played a shit ton of phone games. 

The Christmas Eve was fine as well, our family dinner being small as always, cause it’s just me, my parents, my grandmothers, my uncle and my brother. It was nice, though, I got some presents; a book, some money, lingerie and crockery.

Today, I am going to party in my friend’s house and I hope it will be a nice end of the year (and a great beginning of a new one!)

I thought of great moments this year and well, January started a bit shit, as on New Year’s I got so shitfaced that my parents had to take me home and I cried the entire night from the pain. Later, it was better, I got a haircut, we organized a surprise birthday party for one of my closest friends, the students from the exchange programme came, I met my exchange partner and that was it. February was okay, a winter break in sight and a Valentine’s day, as it always is.

In March there started to be a few birthday parties, there was one where I went completely drunk again, but I had so much fun, I let loose, ate a bit, danced a lot and I remember it as one of the best nights this year. There was my nameday and then we went on the exchange. I met the exchange partner’s parents, the nicest people on Earth and I loved every second of the exchange. The weather was beautiful, albeit cold, we did a lot of sightseeing, interesting stuff and every night I was falling asleep exhausted, although happy. 

April was still the exchange month, some birthday parties including my dad’s and a lot of school work. Really a lot.

In May I learnt that I won’t be going for an exchange program to the US for the following school year and I cried a lot, cause those were the finals and I wasn't even shortlisted. They searched for someone different and stripped me of the chance. I wondered where I would be right now, mentally and physically, if I went to the USA. Had I got in. 

May was okay except that. There was SIlver’s birthday party that I really enjoyed and on that party I believed that he would date Marigold and I accepted that. Then, I started my driving course and later, I went on a school trip to the seaside. It was a nice trip, I enjoyed it and I will keep it in my mind as a good memory, although it did make me tired, mentally and physically.

In June the school year ended, I started this blog, fell for Black, attended a heckton of birthday parties, danced to the same song with Black, flirted with Silver and was very high and very low at the same time. 

July was missing Black and wanting to see him again. July was the sleepover at my friend’s and inviting Black to prom, and also, Silver holding me close in the middle of the night. It was the month of me and my friends’ trip to the seaside and making memories, becoming friends, rather than lovers.

August was my birthday, one of the best days of my life and the trip to the Maldives that I wanted so much. And missing Black more.

September, the start of school again, a lot of stress, a lot of new classes and additional ones, big changes in the methods of studying, talking with Black, the entire drama with him cheating, falling for him even more, the failed conversation and the moment, when it started going down. Good grades, I had my birthday party for my friends too and it will be a very bittersweet memory, probably forever, although if anything, sweeter than bitter. In September I also found a prom partner, found out that Black invited Marigold, I befriended my prom partner and tried finding myself.

In October I applied for the university abroad. Cause life’s worth living and my demons won’t have it easy drowning me. I also befriended Black’s ex girlfriend, Lily, and we had a rather deep talk. A really important one.

In November I went on a sushi night with my friends from French. It was like taking a deep breath after a long diving. In November, I passed the exam for my driver’s license.

December was the month of realization. That the year has passed. That I lived more in my head than outside and that still so many things have happened. That I am sad, but maybe in the future I will not remember that, cause I see the greatness of things and I am grateful for them. In December there were Christmas and dancing waltz with my prom partner, Marigold with Black and me trying to be a better person. With the hopes of better tomorrow. 

This year was so full of tears and so full of laughter, full of love and bearing a grudge, trying to forgive somebody and not being able to forgive yourself, full of rest and tiredness, both good and bad. It was the year of pride and proving myself. It was the year of being really human. 

I don’t have any resolutions, I’ll try to be a better friend, a more honest human and do a January yoga challenge.

I’d wish to be happy one day and until then, I live off the short moments of joy that life grants me.

I am still eternally grateful.

Have a great New Year’s eve and an amazing New Year.

Take care,

C

[moonbeambucky]

The Price of Gold (Part 9)

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2132 Warnings: fluff, mentions of cancer/chemo

Summary: As a sports journalist you’ve traveled the world interviewing famous athletes. You’ve loved your job up until you find out your next article is on the last person in the world you ever wanted to talk to, Lance Tucker.

A/N: This doesn’t follow The Bronze canon though some film details are mixed with real world events. Written for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction Dragon’s 3k Follower Creative Content Challenge. My prompt was “I can’t be in love with you!” gif source (x)

PART 8 | THE PRICE OF GOLD MASTERLIST

You stormed your way through a large group of people checking in, trying to hide the tears that fell down your cheeks. Frantically, you pushed the elevator call button, almost running into someone as they were exiting once the doors opened.

Back in the solace of your room you paced back and forth, opening the doors to the balcony and breathing in the warm evening air.

Before coming here you had your mind set, find out what you needed to write your article and leave, never needing to see Lance Tucker ever again. You never planned on bringing up what happened between you. You’re an adult now, you have a great life, the perfect job that lets you travel and see the world through the eyes of many different athletes.

Somehow things had changed. Maybe it was setting foot in Spring Hill, with memories pouring down on you like the thunderstorms of your former home state. Maybe it was Lance. He had changed from the arrogant playboy back to the sweet friend you knew, or maybe that person was there all along. You wouldn’t know considering you abruptly cut him out of your life.

Yet here he was again, and somehow in the short amount of time you’d been back you had stopped fighting and opened up to each other, almost settling into a routine. It was comforting to have him back and then the storm became heavier, the wind whipped through you, everything turned into a violent hurricane as Lance brought up the reason for your fallout.

Being forced to relive the event tore at your heart, but this time you saw it through Lance’s eyes. He filled in the gaps and apologized for his behavior. He knew he was wrong and he tried many times to apologize but you never heard it. You were so focused on your own pain that you didn’t see how much he was hurting as well.

Wait, why are you making excuses for him? He’s an asshole. He acted like a stupid, selfish jerk. He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness… No, those thoughts don’t seem right anymore. For so many years you convinced yourself that Lance was the enemy. He was immature but he knew he was wrong and tried his best to make things right. It’s taken you fourteen years to finally realize you had been immature as well. You never gave him a chance, you were too overcome with emotion to think rationally. You were both to blame.

Another revelation you’ve had in the few days back is that you still had feelings for Lance Tucker. You pushed them away for so long, buried them under mounds of hate. You blamed Lance for everything, if he hadn’t done that then your relationship wouldn’t have ended.

You had thought about reaching out to him but by then Lance was too involved in his career, focused on training to go for the gold, so you forced yourself to move on, believing that he did as well. You’ve dated since, having a steady boyfriend in college but splitting after graduation, your careers were taking you on different paths. New York was full of men, some great, some awful, but none like Lance.

You questioned everything now, every interaction between you. Would Lance have opened up about his mom if Heather interviewed him? Was there something more behind way his mouth curved into a smile when he looked at you, or the gentle brushes of his fingers against yours?

You begin to type an apology to Lance but deleted everything in favor of calling him, owing him a verbal explanation. The phone rang once before he picked it up, sounding like he rushed to answer.

“I’m sorry for running out like that,” you admitted.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I do. I was really upset after what happened. You shouldn’t have said anything to those jerks but I understand your reasoning. I’m sorry that I never let you apologize, I just ended things on impulse and that was wrong. We deserved better.”

We. It stood out like a full moon against the dark night’s sky, giving Lance hope that maybe, if he was ever lucky enough to have his dreams come true, you would once again believe in the two of you.

Your conversation lasted a few more minutes, both of you coming to an understanding, finding closure to what happened and agreeing to move forward.

When Lance picked you up the next day your greeting was a little awkward. You chuckled under your breath, unsure of what to say until you wrapped your arms around him. Lance’s whole body relaxed against yours as he inhaled your familiar scent that he had grown used to over the last few days. He was overjoyed that you resolved things, tears pricking his eyes as he squeezed tighter, never wanting to let you go. After a few more moments you both dropped your arms, sharing a smile before starting the day.

Lance had an interview set up with a local reporter, who was very welcoming to meet you when she thought you were his girlfriend, and upon finding out otherwise and your position at ESPN she asked for privacy during her meeting.

You obliged her request and stepped away to check in with your parents. They were on the last stop of their cruise and telling you about how beautiful Cozumel is.

“How’s your interview going?” your mom asked.

“It was a little rocky at first but things are really good,” you said, laughing to yourself as you never imagined things between you and Lance would ever been good again.

After his interview you went to lunch, with Lance happily surprised when he noticed you gradually shifting closer to him. With his phone buzzing he looked disappointed as he checked it, he had been looking out for any correspondence about his appeal. It was weighing on his mind and rightfully so, his lawyer had told him the decision should be in any day now.

“If I win this it would mean so much.” He previously explained how being a USA Gymnastics accredited facility would alleviate some of the financial burden. Lance cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice, “I just want to make her proud again.”

Tears formed in his eyes and you knew he was talking about his mom. Your hand went over his, rubbing them gently as you reassured Lance, “She’s always been proud of you.”

“I’m supposed to see her later, I can drop you off first if–” You cut him off, adding you would love to see Dorothy if he didn’t mind. Lance smiled in response.

Driving down your old street with Lance felt weird, it was familiar and strange at the same time. You looked at your parent’s old house, seeing the exterior was now painted in a cornflower blue and you didn’t like it. Looking at his childhood home you noticed not much had changed except for the landscape design, with bright pink zinnias now growing under the window.

Shutting the car off Lance prepared you for his mother’s appearance but seeing her still broke your heart as you made your way into the large living room. Dorothy had lost a lot of weight, her skin was covered in dark splotches of bruises, a side effect from the chemotherapy. She wore a head wrap to cover her scalp, her salt and pepper hair nearly all gone though a few uneven patches remained.

She sat in an armchair, watching TV with Nadia her aide beside her, attempting to get her to drink some of a nutritional shake through a straw. Lance went in, getting her attention with his greeting as he carefully kissed her cheek and hugged her.

He turned Nadia who smiled, whispering to him that she’s had a good day so far. Dorothy’s cancer, as you had looked up, affected her memory and it was unpredictable to know when she would lapse.

“Look who’s here, mom.” You stepped forward as Lance announced, “It’s Y/N, Y/L/N.”

Dorothy smiled widely, “Y/N! Oh my I haven’t seen you in years,” she said, her voice had grown older, and now laced with fatigue.

“Hi Dorothy,” you said, bending down to gently hug her, and wiping a few stray tears from the side of your eyes after you pulled away.

She turned the TV off and you sat beside Lance on the couch so you could catch up with each other. She asked how your parents were, mentioning she had lost their phone number (or couldn’t remember it, but you didn’t say anything) so you said you would write it down for her.

She told you about her diagnosis and gushed about how helpful and supportive Lance has been. You read into her expression, the sadness she held back, trying to hide the finality of her illness, perhaps for Lance’s sake you wondered.

She complained about her hair, scratching an itch through the fabric that surrounded her scalp, and made a negative comment about herself.

“Don’t say that mom, you’re beautiful,” Lance boasted.

“I’m an old woman,” she pouted, “If you’re talking about beautiful look at Y/N. Look at you, a grown woman now!”

“She’s gorgeous,” Lance declared with a wide smile spreading across his face.

Dorothy insisted you stay for dinner. She didn’t have much of an appetite but she would sit with you all the same. Lance fired up the barbecue outside as you prepared the burger patties, along with some corn to be roasted. Dinner was lovely and Dorothy ate a quarter of her hamburger with some corn Lance had cut off from the cob to make it easier for her.

You washed dishes as Nadia helped Dorothy in the bathroom. She hated that she needed the assistance but over the last few months she had become very weak and couldn’t manage to do much without the fear of falling. You declined dessert but grabbed a dark chocolate bar for Dorothy from the pantry. Nadia broke off a small square and Dorothy placed it in her mouth, letting it dissolve on her tongue.

“I can’t…” Dorothy began, and all heads turned to face her. “I can’t remember your wedding dear,” she said, speaking to you. You side eyed Lance a concerned look. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember it but I know you looked beautiful. Lance, remember how beautiful she looked. Oh, I was so happy for you two,” she sighed.

Based on her broken details you realized she meant your Junior Prom but no one corrected her. “I’m so happy you’re still together. I always knew you were meant for each other.”

You and Lance shared an awkward smile. Making up was still so new but you tried to hide the discomfort from Dorothy.

You left shortly after so Dorothy could get to bed, promising to stay in touch. Lingering outside your hotel Lance thanked you for seeing his mom. You were glad you did, seeing the woman you considered a second mother once again after all of these years.

Your cheeks began to heat up feeling Lance’s eyes on you, looking up to see him he turned away and blushed. You weren’t sure why you were nervous but the butterflies in your stomach were fluttering around rapidly.

“I guess I’m gonna go.” The words fell from your lips a little breathless as the tension in the car grew thicker.

“Oh, okay. Goodnight Y/N,” he said, his blue eyes focused on you.

You twisted in your seat to kiss him goodbye, intending on going for his cheek. Lance leaned in as well, awkwardly turning to the wrong direction as he meant to do the same. Your heads nearly collided and you both chuckled softly, finding each other’s eyes again.

Time stood still, all of the sound around you became a quiet hum. Your gaze went to his plush lips, his tongue dragging across to wet them. Your teeth slowly grazed your bottom lip, letting go once your eyes met his again, seeing his pupils dark and hungry.

The gap between you was slowly closing until your lips hovered mere centimeters apart, feeling his hot breath fall on your lips. Shutting your eyes you pushed forward to press your lips to his. It was a slow kiss, soft and passionate with years of emotion built behind it.

When Lance opened his mouth slightly to run his tongue along your bottom lip you felt the fire that was simmering inside you ignite to a full blaze. You pulled away, knowing it would be best to say goodnight right then instead of good morning tomorrow. Sauntering back towards the hotel you turned around to wave goodbye one last time flashing a coy smile before heading inside

PART 10

[fluentlanguage]

#clearthelist September 2019: The Eleven Languages I Spoke in One Month

Imagine you’re on a long-distance cycling trip, perhaps through all of a country or state. You know the destination and you’re pedalling every day, always pushing ahead even if you know you may not arrive for many days. On a journey like that, what would you be without a necessary stop to find yourself on the map now and then? Can you do it without GPS? I don’t think I could!

Learning a language is a lot like navigating a long trip like that. We often know our destination before we get going and we set off in the right direction. But without regular check-ins, we may pedal and pedal until we fall over.

Here on the blog, I write a monthly check-in like that to keep you up to date with my own language learning goals. It’s part of the #clearthelist round-up hosted by Shannon Kennedy and Lindsay Williams.

Want to try out this check-in process for yourself?

Why not check out my Language Habit Toolkit, an in-depth course designed to help you set useful language goals, track them easily and achieve a new milestone every month.

What Happened in August?

Last month was dominated by my biggest trip of the year, visiting the USA and Canada to participate in two conferences. First, I attended Podcast Movement in Orlando to learn more about how to make great podcasts and support myself well while doing it.

And while I was across the pond, how could I have missed Langfest in Montréal, Canada? Impossible!

The trip in between these two cities was a lot of fun: I took Amtrak to Charleston in South Carolina, having long wanted to try the American train. My impression was…that Europeans love the train even in America, haha!

The Langfest team another excellent language event this year, with so many highlights including meeting the creators of Klingon and Dothraki, and running my own creative writing workshop with María Ortega Garcia.

The Fluent Show

First of all let me say how amazing it was for me to meet so many listeners on the road in August. I’m over the moon to know that the Fluent Show is popular!

This month contained a whole range of amazing episodes so let me share two with you today:

Langfest 2019 captured in audio, with almost a dozen interviews and voices directly from the show

\

\>

What is the Right Mixture for Language Learning Success?, an episode about why so many methods feel like they’re THE best method

\

\

\>_

If you’re not a Fluent Show listener already, you’ll find lots more exciting shows to listen or subscribe to at www.fluent.show.

Language Goals and Progress

I had pretty clear goals for August 2019, so this time I’ll run through them without breaking it down too much into listening, speaking, reading and writing.

Mandarin Chinese

Listen to Mandopop

I neglected this, spending more time on podcasts.

Get 100 Lingqs on the LingQ app

Overall I now have lots of LingQs, the challenge is becoming more about noting and remembering them all! Still enjoying this app and using it in the mornings.

Post 2-3 speaking videos on Instagram

I only posted one, then travel threw me off the wagon. I did learn some more Chinese from a new friend at Langfest though, so I feel positive about my speaking.

Find a new Chinese tutor

So here’s what happened: I wanted a new tutor but felt guilty about ghosting the current one. Then as if by magic, she decided she’s taking a break and sent a messaging saying she won’t be available until December. So yay, I was free for a new tutor.

But then I didn’t book one. Hah! I count this as a goal half achieved 😅

Figure out how to type Chinese characters on the iPhone

Done!

Practice characters by hand every week

In the weeks I was at home, this was done.

Welsh

Book a class to practice speaking

Sadly no, but I still got my speaking practice on one occasion this month in conversation with a Langfest buddy.

Read the book Ffenestri

This book is LOVELY and I’m nearly finished. I’m reading well at all 3 levels, as I should :)

Plan my next trip to Wales

Sadly this fell through as I prioritised visiting my family in Germany first. Chwarae teg, wouldn’t you say?

More stuff!

I can now watch Welsh TV without subtitles! 🎉

Other Languages

It’s impossible to travel without practicing other languages, so August also became an opportunity for me to speak my long-neglected languages.

In bilingual Montréal, I spoke lots of French with people from all over. Québécois French is never 100% comprehensible to me, but as always when I speak French I felt reassured that I’m entirely capable.

I bungled my way through a taxi ride with a lovely Colombian in Spanish, though I never did end up where I originally wanted to be. But I blame Lyft and GPS for that instead of my language skills, haha.

And talking of bungling, I also spoke more Italian than I have done in 20 years. The Italian sounded like that, too. It’s R.U.S.T.Y. and has essentially turned into bad Spanish.

If you're wondering about the number in this article's headline: I also spoke German and English, of course!

Language Goals for September 2019

It’s handy to start setting goals by remembering the time frame available. In other words, the question is “What do you want to achieve in the next 30 days?” - seems a little less intense than wondering how to achieve a lot.

This month I’ve been inspired by intense learning projects and the book Ultralearning by Scott Young (interview coming up on the podcast). What can I commit to that would stretch me, challenge me?

Listening Goals

In Chinese, I’ll look for a tutor and ask them to help me listen, perhaps through some dictation rather than the pressure of conversing instantly.

In Welsh, I’m getting so much better so I’ll keep up what I’m doing.

Reading Goals

I don’t have firm goals here and want to focus on other skills, so I’ll just commit to the tools and say I want to finish Ffenestri in Welsh and use LingQ 4 days a week in Chinese.

Speaking Goals

Here I would like to take it up a notch!

In Chinese I am still fairly shy about speaking - I wish I had a few sample conversations to practice with. Comment if you can recommend any? Meanwhile it’s a good idea to push ahead and find that new tutor!

In Welsh I so want to practice speaking and everything, so I’m going to book myself 3 sessions to speak bad Welsh at people. Yay!

Writing Goals

I’ll go easy on the writing beyond what I usually do, which is to text people. In Chinese I’m also making vocab lists by hand now and writing down set phrases in characters and pinyin.

Here’s an instagram slideshow showing my vocab system in more detail: \

\

\ \

\

\

\> \

\

\

\> \

\

\>\

\>\

\>\

\

\> \

\\\\\\\>\\>\\>\\>\\>\

\>\

\

View this post on Instagram\

\>\

\>\

\

\> \

\

\

\

\> \

\

\> \

\

\>\

\>\

\

\

\> \

\

\>\

\>\

\

\

\> \

\

\> \

\

\>\

\>\

\> \

\

\

\> \

\

\>\

\>\\>\

\A post shared by Kerstin Cable (@kerstin_fluent)\\> on \Aug 22, 2019 at 4:20pm PDT\\>\

\>\

\>\

\> \\\>

I love it because it maximises learning and minimises writing ;)

And that’s it for September’s #clearthelist!

How are You Getting On in Language Learning?

Comment below and tell me how your month of August went! Did you come to Langfest? Would you like to attend it some time? Have you got any strong speaking goals?

Looking forward to hearing from you!

What is the Right Mixture for Language Learning Success?, an episode about why so many methods feel like they’re THE best method

\

\>_

If you’re not a Fluent Show listener already, you’ll find lots more exciting shows to listen or subscribe to at www.fluent.show.

Language Goals and Progress

I had pretty clear goals for August 2019, so this time I’ll run through them without breaking it down too much into listening, speaking, reading and writing.

Mandarin Chinese

Listen to Mandopop

I neglected this, spending more time on podcasts.

Get 100 Lingqs on the LingQ app

Overall I now have lots of LingQs, the challenge is becoming more about noting and remembering them all! Still enjoying this app and using it in the mornings.

Post 2-3 speaking videos on Instagram

I only posted one, then travel threw me off the wagon. I did learn some more Chinese from a new friend at Langfest though, so I feel positive about my speaking.

Find a new Chinese tutor

So here’s what happened: I wanted a new tutor but felt guilty about ghosting the current one. Then as if by magic, she decided she’s taking a break and sent a messaging saying she won’t be available until December. So yay, I was free for a new tutor.

But then I didn’t book one. Hah! I count this as a goal half achieved 😅

Figure out how to type Chinese characters on the iPhone

Done!

Practice characters by hand every week

In the weeks I was at home, this was done.

Welsh

Book a class to practice speaking

Sadly no, but I still got my speaking practice on one occasion this month in conversation with a Langfest buddy.

Read the book Ffenestri

This book is LOVELY and I’m nearly finished. I’m reading well at all 3 levels, as I should :)

Plan my next trip to Wales

Sadly this fell through as I prioritised visiting my family in Germany first. Chwarae teg, wouldn’t you say?

More stuff!

I can now watch Welsh TV without subtitles! 🎉

Other Languages

It’s impossible to travel without practicing other languages, so August also became an opportunity for me to speak my long-neglected languages.

In bilingual Montréal, I spoke lots of French with people from all over. Québécois French is never 100% comprehensible to me, but as always when I speak French I felt reassured that I’m entirely capable.

I bungled my way through a taxi ride with a lovely Colombian in Spanish, though I never did end up where I originally wanted to be. But I blame Lyft and GPS for that instead of my language skills, haha.

And talking of bungling, I also spoke more Italian than I have done in 20 years. The Italian sounded like that, too. It’s R.U.S.T.Y. and has essentially turned into bad Spanish.

I also attended basic workshops on the fictional languages Klingon and Dothraki, as well as Breton and Signed Languages.

Language Goals for September 2019

It’s handy to start setting goals by remembering the time frame available. In other words, the question is “What do you want to achieve in the next 30 days?” - seems a little less intense than wondering how to achieve a lot.

This month I’ve been inspired by intense learning projects and the book Ultralearning by Scott Young (interview coming up on the podcast). What can I commit to that would stretch me, challenge me?

Listening Goals

In Chinese, I’ll look for a tutor and ask them to help me listen, perhaps through some dictation rather than the pressure of conversing instantly.

In Welsh, I’m getting so much better so I’ll keep up what I’m doing.

Reading Goals

I don’t have firm goals here and want to focus on other skills, so I’ll just commit to the tools and say I want to finish Ffenestri in Welsh and use LingQ 4 days a week in Chinese.

Speaking Goals

Here I would like to take it up a notch!

In Chinese I am still fairly shy about speaking - I wish I had a few sample conversations to practice with. Comment if you can recommend any? Meanwhile it’s a good idea to push ahead and find that new tutor!

In Welsh I so want to practice speaking and everything, so I’m going to book myself 3 sessions to speak bad Welsh at people. Yay!

Writing Goals

I’ll go easy on the writing beyond what I usually do, which is to text people. In Chinese I’m also making vocab lists by hand now and writing down set phrases in characters and pinyin.

Here’s an instagram slideshow showing my vocab system in more detail:

\

\ \

\

\ \

\

\ \

\

\ \

\\\\\\\>\

\

View this post on Instagram\

\ \

\

\

\>

\ \

\ \

\

\

\ \

\

\

\ \

\ \

\ \

\

\ \

\

\A post shared by Kerstin Cable (@kerstin_fluent)\ on \Aug 22, 2019 at 4:20pm PDT\ \\\>

I love it because it maximises learning and minimises writing ;)

And that’s it for September’s #clearthelist!

How are You Getting On in Language Learning?

Comment below and tell me how your month of August went! Did you come to Langfest? Would you like to attend it some time? Have you got any strong speaking goals?

Looking forward to hearing from you!

And that’s it for September’s #clearthelist!

How are You Getting On in Language Learning?

Comment below and tell me how your month of August went! Did you come to Langfest? Would you like to attend it some time? Have you got any strong speaking goals?

Looking forward to hearing from you!

[toogoodmusic]

TOO GOOD TUESDAY INTERVIEW: Vacation Club

________________________________________________________________

Being based in two different continents may be a challenge for some but trio Vacation Club has found a way to make it work. Based in Sydney, Australia are Brendan and Jack who represent the drums, keys and production in the band and have teamed up with mutual friend and Los Angeles based singer, Helena. Although they just released their debut single, “Falling” in April and their follow-up single, “Turn Around” in May, this trio has been working towards their musical careers for a few years. In that time they’ve managed to create a sound that is laid-back but focused, chill but exciting and low key but fun. Too Good Music was fortunate enough to grab an interview with the trio in which they talk about their music, what an actual Vacation Club would be like, who their dream collaboration was and much more. Check out the full interview below and let Vacation Club get you in the mood for summer!

________________________________________________________________

TOO GOOD MUSIC: Let’s dive right in from the beginning – how did you guys become Vacation Club?

VACATION CLUB: It all started a few years ago (yes years) when we (Jack & Brendan) started writing some songs. Our only issue was we didn’t really have someone to sing on the tracks. We met Helena through some mutual friends and when we met we mentioned tracking Helena’s vocals on one of the demos we had at the time. This ended up being our first single “Falling.” Since then we have worked a lot closer and written a bunch of songs all together.

TGM: That’s a good segue, what’s the story behind “Falling?” Why did you choose to have it be your debut single? 

VC: As mentioned, “Falling” was the very first song we ever tracked before we were even “officially” Vacation Club. The boys were out in LA one week and they messaged me asking if I’d be down to track my vocals on a demo they had in the works. The boys had never heard me sing prior to asking me hahaha! This song was somewhat the beginning of us three becoming a band and I think it just seemed right to be the debut single. The song at its core is about the vulnerable place you find yourself in when you fall for someone. Sometimes it can be losing control and letting all those honest and scary emotions come rushing. But ultimately trying to hold on to the good and not let the fears tear u apart.

Source: Vacation Club

TGM: You mentioned the boys being in LA - you guys actually bounce between Sydney, Australia and Los Angeles correct? What about each city do you draw inspiration from or how do they influence your sound? 

VC: Yes correct! In many senses our sound is very drawn from Australia naturally as Jack and Brendan produce the songs. But, at the same time, we are so influenced, and closely follow so many artists in the USA that we would say we also identify in many ways to Los Angeles.

TGM: And so how would you describe your guys sound?

VC: Our sound is very laid back and gives off a real chill vibe, something about it gives off an effortless ease.

TGM: I’d agree with that! Speaking of your song, you also recently released your second single, “Turn Around” – what’s the story behind that one? 

VC: Yes! We actually started working on “Turn Around” about two years ago as well haha. In the beginning we were playing around with a few different concepts lyric wise. But, last March Helena flew out to Sydney and we finished writing the song in the studio. “Turn Around” embodies a one sided love, where those important feelings are sometimes not reciprocated.

Source: Vacation Club

TGM: On Spotify you have an artist playlist titled VACATION CLUBBING which got me thinking what’s a night out with Vacation Club like? 

VC: I think we are all a little bit “lame” when it comes to this one. If we are all super honest, I think we all love a chill night out. When the boys fly into town, we tend to eat at our fave Italian spot, Jon & Vinnys (on Fairfax) A LOT and always hit up some vintage stores on melrose!

TGM: I mean doesn’t sound like a bad time! Going back to the name, if you guys ran an actual Vacation Club – what would be some of the perks of being part of the club? What would the club do?

VC: Definitely free breakfast bar all day. I always freak when places have a complementary candy bar so that’s definitely on the list. The club would be a place to just come a chill, somewhat like a day spa but more homely and welcoming and with good music playing all day of course.

TGM: And so what officer role would you each of you have at the Vacation Club?

VC: Hmmm, I feel like we’re all a little of everything… Our dynamic together is honestly so chill and easy going but we balance it all well. But, Jack is definitely the manager/treasurer, and I’d say Brendan does well with keeping everyone pushing forward creatively… Helena is kind of a content creator / our social media expert haha

TGM: Ha! Individually, if you could go on vacation (with or without the club) anywhere in the world where would it be? 

HELENA: My bucket list vacation spot is definitely Turks and Caicos!! JACK: I would be happy with just about anywhere in Europe ha BRENDAN: Paris

Source: Instagram

TGM: What’s the craziest or most surprising thing that’s happened in your career so far?

VC: This is really just the beginning for us but just releasing a song that you’ve put so much work into and to get to watch other people be impacted by it and enjoy the art you’ve made is such a insane feeling.

TGM: What would be your dream festival to headline? 

VC: Dream festival is Coachella even though we have all never been.

TGM: That’s a good one - what about your dream collaboration?

Helena: Most definitely ‪The 1975 Jack: I think Charlie Puth or LANY… Brendan: Kanye

TGM: And so going back, what would that Coachella set look like? What is a Vacation Club live show like? 

VC: Oh wow, we haven’t done any live shows yet, but we are so pumped to in the future! I just know we’d have the best time! It will definitely stay as the three of us, but with Brendan playing a live kit will add a whole new element to our sound.

TGM: I’m sure fans will be ready! And so a question everyone gets asked during these Too Good Tuesday interviews is, individually, if you could only listen to (5) artists for the rest of your life who would they be? 

HELENA: Only 5! Wow, I feel like my music taste is constantly changing but top five would definitely be ‪The 1975 the band CAMINO Drake The Japanese House Lorde

JACK: Bon Iver Coldplay The 1975 Khalid Charlie Puth

BRENDAN: Kanye The 1975 Bon Iver Khalid Francis and the Lights

Source: Vacation Club

TGM: And so to wrap up, what’s the rest of 2019 look like for you guys? 

VC: This end half of the year is going to be filled with so much more music (stay tuned!) that we’ve been working on and a couple of writing trips as well. We can’t wait!

________________________________________________________________

A HUGE shout-out to Brendan, Helena & Jack of Vacation Club for taking the time to answer some questions from Too Good Music! We’ll be ready for all the new music and that first live show. To keep up with the the band because to follow along with the links below:

            Apple Music | Instagram | Soundcloud | Spotify | YouTube

[rreadsdaily]

This week for #GetToKnowTheRosendeReaders, we meet Jennifer!

#GetToKnowTheRosendeReaders has the only purpose to bring even closer the members of the RosendeReads book club. We read together every week but we barely know each other so every week I will interview one of you by choosing randomly someone on Twitter. You can find all the info about GTKTRR here. This week we meet Jennifer from USA.

We can start with the first question then: Name, age and where are you from? J: Jennifer and I’m from Utah

We’re some months into the new year so i was wondering if you set up a reading challenge for yourself ? If so, how many books would you like to read this year? J: My daughter and I have a rule that we have to read at least 30 minutes every day. I usely read 2 books a week, sometimes more. I have a hard time putting a book down once I start it

How did you get into reading? Was it something that has always been with you as a child or would you say it’s more of a passion you discovered yourself? J:  My Grandmother was school teacher and she read with us as young kids several times a week. Also growing up reading was a big deal in our home. So I have been a book worm for as long as I can remember. My sister and I exchange books often

That's so beautiful. And the fact that you can share this passion with your sister is really sweet and makes it more fun! What’s your favorite thing about reading? J:  For me it's very relaxing.  I love taking adventures to new place, learning about new things, people and cultures

And how often do you read out of your comfort zone? J: When it comes to reading, my only comfort zone is having a book in my hands. I like reading every genres: from fiction to biographies; Horror to history fiction or nonfiction... i love it all. I just dont like reading on a tablet or phone. I'm old school and I like to have a real book in my hands

How did you find RosendeReads? J: Trying to remeber, I think it was from watching a livechat in which Alberto was talking about the book club

What’s the thing you love the most about RosendeReads? J: So fun to get other people’s insights and opinions and I'm always looking for a good book recommendation. My problem is just sticking to the reading schedule. I'm not good at stopping once I have started a book

Do you have a favorite and least favorite book we read in RosendeReads? J:  “Into the Wild” was my least favorite. I just couldn’t get into it.  One of my all time favorite books to read is coming up and I am excited to read it again. This will be like probably the 20th or so time and it’s “Anne of Green Gables”

How do you imagine RosendeReads in 5 years from now? How do you see this bookclub growing? J:  I would love to see it still going in 5 years and I hope it grows. Reading is so important and I don't feel like people take the time to pick up a book anymore. unless it's a must for school or work.  It's a habit and I am teaching my daughter and hopefully it will stick with her. To be honest I dont know, but as long as there is a book club, I will join!

Some livechats ago we talked about Hogwarts houses and i feel like at this point they should ask this question in any résumé so what hogwarts house are you and why do you feel like belonging to this one?  J: So I am a huge Harry Potter fan but I have never figured out what house I belong to. I know I should not call myself a true fan

One last question: do you have any social media? If so, where can we find you? J:  I am @westover_jen on Instagram, @Jwest70637477 on Twitter and  Jennifer Olpin Westover on Facebook!

[xreaderfic-land]

What Lies Beneath Part 12 Red Hood (Jason Todd) X Reader

Summary: Coming back home to Gotham after several years was a tough choice, but you needed to put the past behind you. You blame yourself for Jason’s death and hope that with a medical degree you can have a second chance at saving the kids of Gotham’s streets, but the past won’t stay buried. As the Red Hood invites himself into your life and the little safe bubble of a lie you call life bursts you’re left struggling to cope. Your secret studying of toxins used by Gotham’s villains is sure to land you in hot water eventually, but you’re always up for a challenge. Life is a game of survival and it’s time you joined in.

Co-Author: @inkteller-17 Tags: @jason-todd-rh @totallynotashieldagent @exotiicqueen494 @dragons-of-the-usa   @shadowsndaisies @e-equals-mcommunism-squared   @icycoldbeanieweanies

Tags OPEN Word Count: 2,685 WARNINGS: Language I Think?

Catch Up Here

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

The sounds of the hospital buzzed in your head as you tried to focus on the document copied in your phone. Leaning back in your chair your eyes glossed over the cure notes you’d been continually tweaking. It had been several days of work, fixing your apartment, and resurrecting the cure into a 2.0 version.

Your fingers hovered over the phone’s screen ready to add another note when it lite up with a call from one of the nurses on your floor.

“Hello?” You answered calmly.

“Dr. Y/L/N, one of the girls has begun to stir.” The nurse’s tone was lined with excitement making you smile.

Two twins had been admitted into Gotham City Hospital with severe symptoms relating to the toxin. While your fellow staff still remained dismissive of the isolated sickness spreading among the street kids whenever they trickled in you kept the lead on the cases.

You’d discovered that the kids who got admitted now, while still severely sick, at least had remnants of your old cure in their systems. That little boost allowed them to not immediately code blue and flat line. Instead, it gave you the chance to inject them, in secret and completely against hospital regulations, with your new working cure.

That’s what you’d done for little Sawyer and Sookie when they’d arrived. Hearing that at least one of them was starting to express signs of progress was more than a little relieving. It meant you were on the right track again.

“I’ll be right up.” You replied after a moment.

Ending the call you jumped from your seat and gathered what was left of your lunch. Skipping the elevator you took the stairs to your floor.

Your passed quick greetings to patients and colleagues as you went. Upon arriving at your floor one of the nurses motioned at a stack of files you would have to collect later and flip through.

Weaving your way toward the room you easily spied the nurse from the phone going through a slow check on little Sawyer.

Walking up to the end of the bed you gathered Sawyer’s file into your hands and looked through it out of habit. You’d already memorized her file along with any other kid that’d come in with symptoms.

Closing the file you gave Sawyer a soft smile as the nurse helped her sit up.

“I’ll have room service bring you a pitcher of water and some dry food to nibble on. Hopefully, you can start to eat more solid foods.”

The nurse spoke softly convincing you she had little ones of her own at home while Sawyer groggily nodded. As the nurse disappeared to continue her rounds you moved to slide the glass door shut.

You eased down at the foot of Sawyer’s bed, “How are you feeling?”

Sawyer’s eyes were unfocused as she tried to process everything happening around her. You watched as panic slowly filled her eyes.

“Your sister is there.” You kept your voice soft while pointing at the adjacent bed. Sawyer’s shoulders relaxed some at seeing her sister.

“Why isn’t she awake too?”

Your lips thinned momentarily, “The medicine is just taking longer to work on her. She’s going to be fine just like you.”

Sawyer released a shuddering breath before letting her eyes slip closed. Sawyer had woken several times while in your care and had been giving you a lot of feedback. All her little comments during your visits were more than a little helpful.

Your eyes studied all the machinery leading to Sawyer’s form before really focusing on her. You knew it was taxing for her to stay awake for too long given the new ferocity of the toxin. One of the many side effects she was enduring.

Your heart ached for the little girl forced to experience the symptoms, even if a little muted, while her sister passed through them unconscious.

“Dr. Y/L/N?” Sawyer whispered.

Snapping to, “Yes?”

Several heartbeats passed before Sawyer was dragging in a breath and forcing her eyes open to stare at you. A weight settled deep in your stomach at her words.

“Am I going to die?” She asked her voice was small and soft.

Your teeth clenched as you scooted closer to the little girl, “Not if I can help it.”

Sawyer didn’t even respond facially before turning her head to stare at her sister.

Watching the two girls, the need to ask how they’d both managed to even get more sick burned your tongue. You’d refrained from asking in exchange for focusing on the task at hand, but the lull in things reopened the opportunity.

Inhaling deeply you braced yourself.

“Sawyer I need to-”

Before you could say anything more the room door was sliding open causing you to spin around. A burly man wearing scrubs and a hairnet carried in a dingy yellow cafeteria tray before silently setting it on the bedside table.

You silently studied the man for a moment and noted his nametag displaying ‘Butch’ as he deposited the tray. Moving off the bed you went about removing the lid from the selected food for Sawyer.

Handing the cup of water to Sawyer you felt eyes watching you. Looking up across the bed you found Butch still standing there.

“Thank you, you may leave now.” Your tone came out stern while you leveled him with a dismissive look.

The man glared at you slightly before leaving the room. Shaking your head you collected the now empty cup from Sawyer and watched as she grabbed for the Teddy Grahams on the tray.

You smiled at her eagerness to eat something after refusing the last few days.

“Dr. Y/L/N?” Sawyer spoke around a mouth full of crackers.

“Yes?” You laughed.

Sawyer leaned forward slightly and dropped her voice low, “Where is Red?”

Your eyes immediately shot around checking that no one had heard her. Releasing a breath after a moment you sat back down at the edge of her bed.

“He’s busy with his hero stuff.” You replied.

Sawyer nodded before dropping her empty baggie and sighing. You noted her breathing was still too labored for your liking.

“Here’s the call button and television remote. If you can get some more rest, okay?” You gave a small smile as you stood.

Sawyer gave a weak nod and you knew she’d be out sooner rather than later. The strand of toxin Sawyer had been exposed to was laced with mean variations of respiratory issues. The toll it put on her body kept her wiped for energy.

Sliding the glass door shut you pulled your phone from your pocket and called Red. Shouldering your phone you went about flipping through another patient’s file as you passed their room.

“Hey, what’s up?” Red answered out of breath.

Your brows rose, “Um, good. What are you doing?”

Harsh breathing and grunts sounded through the receiver for a moment, “Oh you know just stuff.” Red gave a quick curse before you heard the phone drop.

Setting the file back into its door holder you waited.

“Shit, sorry, you still there?” Red asked panting.

“Yeah. For real though what are you doing?” You asked with a laugh.

Red cleared his throat, “Uh, workout drills.”

“Uh huh.” You said while stepping into one of the unused waiting rooms. Propping your shoulder against a wall you put your back toward the rest of the floor and dropped your voice, “I wanted to update you on something.”

The sound of fabric shifting sounded for a moment, “Oh?”

“I managed to sneak a dose of the new cure into two girls who were admitted recently, and it’s looking promising.” You told him.

“Wait, whoa, back up. You what?” Red said shocked.

You huffed a breath, “I had to do something Red. They were previously exposed to the first cure and if I hadn’t dosed them with the new one--”

“Shh, wait. Y/N, you dosed them at the hospital?” Red said slowly in disbelief.

“Yes.” You replied flatly.

“Isn’t that like super illegal?” Red asked you.

“Let me worry about that, Red.” You replied shortly.

“No, I will worry about. I know we hang out a lot but I never took you as the reckless type. You could easily get caught, then what? You need to be--” Red started in on you, but you quickly cut him off.

“I swear to God Red if you say I need to be careful I will flush your entire pack of cigarettes. I have been careful. I am being careful.” You stressed.

Red huffed a breath, “Listen I’m glad it’s working. I really am, but I don’t think you jeopardizing your job is one hundred percent necessary.”

“I called to tell you good news and you’re lecturing me?” You said soberly.

Red made a noise of frustration, “Okay, this could be going better. Listen, how about we talk more about this over dinner?”

You blinked, “What are you asking?”

“If you want food.” Red said blatantly.

“I know what dinner is smartass.” You said with a laugh, “I mean ‘what’ as in are you asking me out on an actual date?”

Red snorted before replying, his tone hesitant, “I mean if you want to label it--”

“Yes, I will go to dinner with you.” You cut him off once again.

“Good, because I legit already made reservations,” Red said with a snort.

Your interest peaked, “Oh? Where?”

“This amazing place called your kitchen,” Red answered.

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing out loud as you turned around and headed toward the nurse's station.

“Sounds dreamy, Red. Listen, I have to get going and finish my paperwork.” You said lowly.

“Alright, see ya,” Red said curtly already distracted by something else.

“Bye.” You spoke while ending the call.

Gathering the pile of offered files you smiled at the nurses before heading toward your office.  You were completely unaware of the dark figure standing in the shadows. Butch had heard everything that he needed to hear. He couldn’t wait to report this to Edward.

Joker was not one of Butch’s favorite people. And he knew that once Edward ruled Gotham that he would be able to rule alongside him. That’s all Butch wanted was to have control and say what happened in Gotham.

As he walked down the back hallway Butch stripped out of his scrubs. There was a car waiting for him at the back of the hospital. Once locked away inside, Butch ordered the driver to take him directly to Edward.

Across town in Edward’s little place, Butch didn’t even bother to knock before entering. Edward sat the table working on one of his little riddles that he loved so much. Edward looked up when Butch entered. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Well?” Edward asked.

“The little witch has worked on another cure and it’s successful. She saved two little girls that were brought in to the hospital,” Butch reported.

Edward grinned.

“Butch we’re one step closer,” Edward said.

“So what do we do now, boss?” Butch asked.

“We be good dutiful followers and tell Joker,” Edward said.

“How is that going to help us take over Gotham?” Butch asked.

“We keep supporting Joker in this mess then Batman and his bratboys will take him down. While they are distracted with Joker we can rally together and take over Gotham,” Edward explained.

Butch nodded. “So Joker is the bait?”

“Exactly!” Edward clapped.

Abandoning his riddle, Edward grabbed his jacket and his hat.

“Let’s go, Butch, we have a message to deliver,” Edward said.

Together the pair headed to Joker’s warehouse to fill him in on what Butch discovered.

At the warehouse, Edward and Butch found Joker draped in his chair. Harley sat in his lap, chomping on bubble gum while Joker played with her hair.

“You two are back so soon,” Joker said.

“Butch works fast,” Edward said leaning against his cane.

Joker and Harley finally looked over at them.

“Butch, already got the information that we need?” Joker asked.

Edward grinned and Butch nodded.

“So Butch,” Joker began. “Just what did you find out?”

Butch glanced over at Edward. Edward nodded at him giving him the okay to tell Joker what he overheard at the hospital.

“The girl contacted Red Hood directly. Twin girls were brought in with symptoms of the virus. She’s definitely been working on a new cure. She injected them both with her new one. The one girl is bouncing back the other not so much, but it won’t be long before the second girl wakes up.” Butch explained.

“So she has a working cure again?” Joker asked.

“Seems like it,” Butch answered.

“So much for her being out of your hair,” Edward commented.

Joker growled and shoved Harley out of his lap.

“Puddin’!” She exclaimed.

“Sorry, doll, but I need you to go and find Hatter and Firefly,” Joker said.

Pouting, Harley stood, she brushed the dirt from her before hurrying off to find Hatter and Firefly.

“Do you still need us?” Edward asked.

“Don’t you want to be in on the plan?” Joker asked.

Butch and Edward both nodded.

Several moments passed before Harley returned with Hatter and Firefly in tow. Joker held his hand out to Harley. She skipped over to him and took his hand in hers. He kissed the back of her hand before turning his attention to the others.

“I have a project for the two of you,” Joker started.

“What is it?” Firefly asked.

“I need the two of you to head to Gotham Hospital,” Joker said.

“What exactly do we need to do?” Hatter asked.

“It’s time things got a little explosive around here,” Joker said with a grin.

Firefly screeched and started to bounce up and down.

“You’re going to blow up the hospital?” Edward asked.

Joker laughed.

Butch looked at his boss. This definitely wasn’t part of their plan.

“That little bitch can’t keep saving the lives of Gotham citizens if she doesn’t have the supplies to do so,” Joker said.

Firefly was still bouncing up and down in excitement.

“This is my area!” She grinned.

“I know. So don’t let me down,” Joker said.

Firefly grabbed Hatter by the hand and started to drag him out of the warehouse. Harley was draping herself across Joker.

“Let’s go celebrate Puddin’!” She grinned.

Joker looked back at Edward and Butch.

“Good work. We’ll see you guys later,” Joker beamed before letting Harley drag him out of the large room and down to their bedroom.

Butch looked up at Edward.

“Now what do we do?” Butch asked.

For the first time in his life, Edward Nygma was lost for words.

Across Gotham

“Any plans tonight Y/n?” Nurse Mariah asked.

You grinned. “Just dinner with a friend,”

Mariah wiggled her eyebrows and you laughed.

“Get your head out of the gutter, Mariah,” You said.

Mariah continued to wiggle her eyebrows at you.

“It’s about time you got some,” Mariah teased.

“You’re the absolute worse!” You laughed.

The two of you entered the elevator together. You pulled your bag higher up your shoulder as Mariah hit the ground level button.

“And what about you? Any plans with Adam tonight?” You asked as the elevator began to descend.

Mariah rolled her eyes.

“What was that for?” You asked.

“I’m already growing bored with him,” Mariah admitted.

“Mariah, you’ve only been with him for a few weeks!” You exclaimed.

Mariah busted out in a fit of giggles.

“I know, but ya know, he just isn’t doing it for me anymore,” Mariah said.

You pretended to gag. You watched as the elevator hit the ground level. The two of you kept up your conversation. As the doors to the elevator slid open a loud boom filled your ears. A gasp escaped your lips as you were suddenly thrown backward. Your back slammed into the wall. The breath was knocked out of you. As you lay there trying to catch your breath your vision began to go black and all you could hear was screaming.