#partly because if it asks me to picture something upsetting i simply Won’t

[future-crab]

I struggle with horror movies because I’m kinda squeamish and easily scared, but horror in non-visual media (books, podcasts) is great because if anything gets too gruesome I just go, “Welp. Not imagining that.” and move on.

[soleilsuhh]

nct 127 reaction to their best-friend getting cheated on !

warning: mentions of cheating.

[✿] — TAEIL.

just by looking at your face, he would know immediately that something happened. worried, he would ask you what was wrong but won’t push you to talk unless you want to.

when you do tell him, he would feel a flash of anger but that would only last for a split second before that’s replaced by genuine worry for you.

he‘s actually really calm and mature about it; patiently listens to you, be your shoulder-to-cry-on, offers both advice and soft words of encouragement, attempts to make you laugh. he also becomes more physically affectionate so expect lots of hugs, back rubs, and pats on the back.

not the type to go and confront your boyfriend/ex or start a fight, but would definitely stick by your side more than before now, just in case he came and bothered you.

“who needs him anyway? you have me,”

[✿] — JOHNNY.

after finding out, you feel so devastated and empty that you can’t even cry yet. but almost instinctively, you find yourself on your way to johnny. and he’s in the middle of a phone call but when he sees you approaching him in such a state, he ends the call immediately and rushes over to you.

when you explain what you just found out, of course he’s beyond angry but he tries his best to remain calm and collected for you. with one arm, he pulls you into a hug, reassuringly rubbing your back and head, softly whispering words like “it’s okay.” but little do you know, the other hand that was in the pocket of his jacket is clenched so hard as his mind thinks of every possible way to get back at your ex-boyfriend.

he lets you cry and when he senses that you have calmed down a little, he tries to lighten the mood a little. “should i kill him for you?” “no.” “are you sure? i can make it look like an accident.” “no. i’ll just call him and break up with him.” “what was that? you want me to break his leg?” “no, stop,” you laugh despite your situation. seeing you laugh makes him feel better and he engulfs you in a tighter hug.

[✿] — TAEYONG.

he’s the kind of person who knows and senses something is off about your boyfriend way before you do and he tries to let you know about it respectfully. he even tries to subtly yet firmly warn your boyfriend.

when you do tell him after finding out yourself, he is not surprised even though he is lowkey exasperated and disappointed that your ex-boyfriend did this to you.

also extremely sad to see you hurt.

“you can say it,” you mumble into his shirt, your head resting on his shoulder.

“say what?” “say ‘i told you so.’” he is quiet for a while then sighs, “it’s not your fault, y/n,” he says, rubbing your arm in a comforting way.

he then cooks your favorite food for you and pretty much tries not to leave your side for the next few days, partly because he doesn’t want you alone after such an upsetting experience but also because if your ex ever comes to bother you, he doesn’t want you to have to deal with the jerk alone.

[✿] — YUTA.

oh boy. he’s not gonna take the news well at all.

and your breakup is a really bad one; not only is your ex unapologetic about the situation, he tries to pin the blame on you.

when you tell yuta, he’s so angry that he can barely think; all that is on his mind is to go and beat him up. but seeing and hearing the sound of you crying brings his attention back to you and. as much as he is itching to get back at your ex for hurting you, he knows you need him right now. he is a pretty silent comforter — just being there for you quietly and listening to you attentively.

however, the next night, your ex nervously approaches you and profusely apologizes to you, admitting his mistakes and that he doesn’t deserve you. he does sound sincere but he also sounds nervous. the 180-degree change in his attitude shocks you but you take this opportunity to say whatever you want and need to say for closure.

the next day, you’re walking with yuta and you bring up what happened last night. his only reply is, “i see,”

a wordless moment passes until you say, “it was you, wasn’t it?” he shoots you a knowing look with a smirk then shrugs. after a second, you speak again, “seriously what did you do? he was practically shaking,” “good.”

[✿] — DOYOUNG.

he was the first person you went to after you found out. you pressed on his door bell and not long after he opened it. before he could say anything, his arms are full of you as your face presses into his shoulder, sobbing quietly.

he is confused and even more than that, he is filled with concern as his protective instincts take over. he cautiously brings you further into the apartment, holding you steady as he locks the door. when he feels that you are calmer, he pulls away from the hug and cradles your face with both hands as he looks you, “what happened?” 

despite his anger, he’s a very comforting and nurturing person and he comforts you very well; reassuring you that it’s not your fault and that you will find a better person. 

he doesn’t feel the need to throw hands at your ex but he does something even worse. your ex feels like the biggest trash in the world and doesn’t even dare to put his head up around you or him anymore. and all doyoung did was talk to him. but with doyoung, words are dangerous; he doesn’t need to use words that are just outright insults, he can say things in a very articulate way to attain a deeper and more long-term effect.

since the incident happened, he decides that it is his job to make you happy and honestly, he’s more than willing to do so. 

[✿] — JAEHYUN.

you call him crying in the middle of the night and when he hears your voice and your sobs, the worry immediately replaced the sleepiness. and not long after, he’s already out the door, driving over to you. 

his reaction is actually very calm despite the initial rush of disbelief and anger. he doesn’t want you or him to bother with your ex; his main focus is to make sure you’re okay and help you move on. 

calls you every night and texts you frequently throughout the day. 

takes you out to fun hangouts to help you forget and remind you life is even more awesome without your ex.

gives your ex cold glares when you guys run into him and leads you away from him. 

[✿] — JUNGWOO.

he won’t be able to believe it when you tell him. he would feel so many emotions: shock, annoyance, anger. but mostly, he would just be really sad and hurt simply because you’re hurt and he hates to see you like this.

if you haven’t broken up with him, he would give you advice on how to bring up the subject and how to leave him. if you have already broken up, he would give you advice on how to move on while also offering you uplifiting and encouraging words.

would watch chick-flicks with you, buy you lots of comfort food, and offer you tissue and rub your back while you cry. encourages you to let it all out whether it’s anger or sadness.

[✿] — MARK.

you’ve already texted mark about it almost as soon as you found out.

he texts back immediately: “where are you right now?” 

when he gets to you, the first thing he does is hug you and he comforts you as best as he can but when your ex walks up without knowing that you found out about him cheating, mark’s eyes instantly hardens, his face turning into a poker face. 

all he can think of is beating him up but he knows it’s not about what he wants right now. he looks at you to silently asking you what you want to do and seeing that you just wanted to be nowhere near the cheating asshole right now, he understands immediately and takes you away. 

when the guy tries to get in you guys’ way, mark would shoot him a glare, warning him to back off and his eyes would be so intense that the guy would most definitely be compelled to obey. 

“stay away from her.” 

[✿] — HAECHAN.

the girl that your boyfriend (soon-to-be ex) was cheating on you with sent you a picture of them together. you are on a hang-out with haechan when you receive it and seeing the change in your expression, he asks you what’s wrong.

you can’t even get the words out; you simply show him the picture and it’s an understatement to say he’s pissed. 

“i’m gonna break his neck.” he says in a fit of anger but of course you know he won’t actually do that. seeing how down you look, he tries to remain calm and asks you if you want to go home. 

you break up with your ex over text. but the whole night and next day he won’t stop calling and at some point, donghyuk gets so fed up with it that he picks it up for you and goes out of the room to have “a talk” with him. 

and it worked. your ex never calls or bothers you again. he barely dares to look at you when you two run into each other. 

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene – packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

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[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Escape

Summary: The Red Room haunts you, from the moment you stepped foot inside to long after you’ve left. Truth is, you don’t think there is any escaping it.

Warnings: 18+ Violence, Depression, Mentions of Death, Smut

Chapter 12

****** 

A lab. A safehouse. A barn. A warehouse. Hell you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d ended up in a empty field. But a diner? You didn’t expect to be here. 

Scott, Steve, and Natasha seemed more interested in the Doctor. 

You can’t say you’re shocked. After the very obvious complications he was having before, you figured he’d end up fixing it. Seeing the Hulk so, human, was different but not surprising.

“Come on, I feel like I'm the only one eating.” He nudges the plate towards you and Natasha,“ try some of that. Have some eggs.” 

You raise an eyebrow at the people at the table before looking at the plate. With a shrug, you grab a fork and eat some eggs. Finding that they taste pretty good, you eat some more.

Natasha smiles a little at you, shaking her head and then looking at Bruce.

“I’m so confused.” Scott is the first to speak.

Bruce nods,“ these are confusing times.”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean.”

With a sigh, Bruce says,“ no, I get it. I'm kidding! I know. It's crazy. I'm wearing shirts now.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that. Of all the confusing things that’s going on with the man, wearing clothes isn’t that big a deal. 

“Yeah!” Scott exclaims,“ wh- How? Why?” He frowns.

A somber expression takes over Bruce’s face,“ five years ago, we got our asses beaten. Except it was worse for me. Because I lost twice. First, Hulk lost, then Banner lost. Then, we all lost.”

There’s no part of you that could one hundred percent understand what Bruce had felt during all of that. Still, if it hurt you to lose to Thanos, you know it’s so much worse for him.

“No one blamed you, Bruce.” Your wife tries reassuring him.

Still, he shakes his head,“ I did.” He explains his acceptance of the hulk, briefly mentions the process of doing so, and expresses his pride of becoming this better version of himself. 

You have to admit that it is nice to see that he’s doing better. 

Conversation stops at the presence of three little kids. They take a picture with Bruce and then get into a small spat with Scott before leaving. 

Eventually Steve directs the conversation back to the important topic. Only for Bruce to point out that’s a little above his paygrade. 

“You managed to pull this off. I remember a time where this seemed pretty impossible too.” Natasha encourages. 

Bruce’s eyes watch her, trusting the emotion in her eyes. With one look around the table, taking in Scott and Steve’s hopeful expressions, he agrees to come back to the compound to try. 

Still you all don’t leave until Bruce is finished eating. You’d helped put away some of the food, eating some more eggs and a couple sausages but steering clear of the overly large pancakes.

Minutes later you’re all climbing into the Quinjet. Natasha and Steve both head to the pilots seats leaving you, Bruce, and Scott behind. 

You’re already sitting and paging through a book noncommittally when Bruce decides to join you. He sits in the two chairs beside, resting back on the chair and the wall.

“Sup Doc.” You greet, shutting the book and looking up at him.

“Hey Y/N, how you been?” 

A thoughtful expression passes your face,“ truthfully better than ever.”

“That’s great.” He nods, looking over at Natasha,“ I’m guessing married life is treating you well.”

Your eyes fall over to your wife as well,“ it has it’s ups and downs. But I couldn’t be happier.”

While there use to be a longing look on his face you can now see how he’s simply happy that Natasha is happy. 

Conversation between you two shifts from Natasha to the “time heist” as Scott calls it.

“Be honest, do you think this’ll work?” You ask him quietly. 

A frustrated hand runs up his face and through his hair,“ there’s a chance.”

“Bruce. There’s a ‘chance’ to fix climate change. There’s a ‘chance’ to solve poverty. I’m gonna need this to be a little more than a chance for me to trust this plan.”

“Sorry Y/N, that’s all I can give you.” 

Shaking your head, you slouch in your seat.

Thoughts race through your mind, all of them connected to one single thought. You don’t want Natasha to get hurt again. 

Losing the first time shook her, nearly destroyed her and you’d struggled to pick up the pieces it left her in. At times you knew that even though she took comfort in your presence and she appreciated you being there, it wasn’t enough. And as much as you hate to admit it, you still aren’t enough. 

Natasha loves you and you’d never deny or doubt that but you’d never be able to replace or even fill the gap of the family she’d lost. Brothers and sisters, her friends and partners. 

You see the hope filling her and the last thing you want is for her to be let down. Essentially having to lose all over again. 

By the time you get to the compound the sun is setting. 

With the sky painted in shades of yellow and red, you decide to go to the roof. A slight breeze makes it just barely chilly so you continue on, sitting yourself on the roof’s ledge and looking out over the lake.

Taking a deep breath, you sort through your thoughts.

Admittedly you start to feel bad, almost upset with yourself. It’s so incredibly selfish of you to prioritize Natasha over the rest of the universe. You’re not wishing that the world stay this way but you’ve managed to have more than you could’ve ever wanted and the prospect of an even better future with Natasha hangs in the balance of this plan. 

You can’t help but think that you’ve gone from one extreme to the other. In the past you’d completely disregarded your desires, so much so that you allowed yourself to be used by HYDRA and the KGB. And now you’re so sure of what you want that you’re borderline willing to leave things the way they are. 

In truth, all you need is assurance. You need a guarantee that this will work with little to no consequences. Natasha needs to be safe from any possible downfalls. Your new found friends and family can’t be in harms way at all. It’d be ideal to save yourself. 

Part of you knows that if you have to sacrifice yourself to ensure Natasha gets everything she could ever want, you will. Insane really, since your point is to not lose her, but if it meant her happiness it’d be worth it. 

Lost in thought, you don’t pay attention to the door that opens and shuts. Nor do you anticipate the presence of the blonde behind you.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you’ve been so quiet about all of this.”

Turning around, your eyes trail over Steve’s tall and muscular form. You sigh and face forward again.

Steve moves to sit beside you,“ I didn’t miss what you said at Tony’s. And I don’t know much of anything about your past, still I assume you’ve gone through a lot so risking what you have now with Natasha isn’t ideal.”

You scoff,“ ideal? No Steve, it’s not an option. Don’t get me wrong, I want to help bring everyone back, I lost people too, but we don’t even know if this will work. Tony had a point, multiple ones but mainly, what if we screw everything up even worse than it already is.”

“We can’t focus on the negative side of this-”

“You won’t even consider the negative side. Optimism is nice but not blind optimism. If you expect me to even begin to trust this plan I need you to be realistic.” 

His crystal blue eyes follow you as you stand and step away from the ledge. He follows, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you. 

“Be real with me and yourself, right here, right now. How confident are you that this works?”

Instead of an instant reply, Steve takes a deep breath, his shoulders moving as he releases it. You don’t miss the way his fingers rapidly tap against his arm.

Finally he speaks,“ I can’t promise that things won’t change. I can’t promise that there won’t be risks. All I know is that we have to try, if we don’t we’re no better than every bad guy I’ve crossed.” 

A moment of silence. You process his words, observe the honesty in them and even the slight bit of hesitation that displays in his eyes before he looks away. 

“Look, Steve, you’re a good guy and you’re a hero through and through. I’m sure there’s no shortage of sacrifices you’d make to save the world, but,” running a hand through your hair, you take the smallest of steps forward,“ if there’s even the slightest chance that something happens to Natasha I’m out.”

He looks up at you, not expecting what’s been implied by you. 

Yes, you’re willing to try. No, you didn’t expect to cave to quickly. You blame those steely blue eyes.

A breath of relief leaves him and he nods. With that established between you two, you leave the roof. 

Inside the compound you go your separate ways, your destination being the lab. 

Surprisingly, you don’t find Bruce there, which you’re partly grateful for. Being left with your thoughts now isn’t so bad, in fact it helps you work better. 

Your current project is a new suit for Natasha. 

It’s inspired by Tony’s suit. The nanotech sits in the Black Widow symbol of her belt and is activated with a simple touch. You made sure to keep it as form fitting as possible so it doesn’t hinder her speed or agility. 

Instead of repulsor beams like Tony’s suit, it shoots electricity, mimicking the voltage of her widow’s bites. You maintained the same durability, adaptability, and power that Tony’s suit has. Not being as clever as Tony the A.I. you created was simply named Assist and doesn’t stand for anything.

Lastly ensuring that it’s fitted with Natasha’s go to weapons: a staff/batons and the standard pistols. 

You’re in the lab well into the early hours of the next morning and the lack of your presence isn’t unnoticed by Natasha.

Despite having been in deep conversation with Bruce and Scott about the upcoming time travel test, she went to search for you.

She hadn’t realized how much she actually missed your presence until she started looking for you. When she finally gets to your lab there are tears in her eyes. 

Her sniffle grabs your attention. You’re instantly on alert, completely disregarding your work to focus all your attention on your girl.

“What’s wrong love?” You reach for her hands, slowly just in case physical comfort isn’t what she wants.

Instead she steps into your body, wrapping her arms around you and pressing her face against your chest.

“I miss you.” 

You just barely catch her words but your heart tugs at the sad tone of her voice. 

“I didn’t mean to be away from you so long Tash, I’m sorry.” Stroking her hair, you glance at the clock that reads three eleven.“ How about we get to bed yeah?”

She nods against you,“ can we get ice cream first?”

With a chuckle you agree to it.

A couple hours later, after ice cream and a much needed sleep, you regroup in the empty hangar of the compound. 

You clutch a cup of coffee in your hands, standing behind Natasha and away from the equipment. The sun pours light through the floor to ceiling windows, agitating your groggy state, as the coffee has not taken full effect yet.

Your forehead rests on your wife’s shoulder as she taps away on the tablet in her hands, simultaneously speaking with Scott and Bruce about the plan. 

Eventually they’re ready, running a check of all operations. For some reason you feel like they’re missing something but your brain isn’t functioning at full speed just yet.

Who’s idea was it to do this at seven in the morning?

“Okay, here we go.” Bruce speaks up, causing you to stand up straight and sip your coffee.“ Time travel test number one. Scott, fire up the uhhh, the van thing.” 

Taking a quick second to gather yourself, you roll your shoulders, and move to stand beside Natasha just before Steve comes back in, letting you all know that he’s set the breakers and back up generators.

“Good. 'Cause if we blow the grid, I don't wanna lose Tiny here in the 1950's.”

A laugh falls from you before you can stop it but you instantly shut up as Natasha levels you with a look. Then she, Steve, and Scott look at Bruce concerned.

“Excuse me?” Scott ceases to adjust his suit.

Natasha shakes her head,“ he's kidding. You can't say things like that!” She tries to give a reassuring smile to Scott.

“Jus- it was a bad joke.” Bruce fumbles, obviously having meant it.

“You were kidding, right?” Natasha asks after Scott turns away.

“I have no idea. We're talking about time travel here. Either it's all a joke, or none of it is.” The green man whispers before looking to Clint,“ we're good! Get your helmet on, Scott. I'm gonna send you back a week, let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in 10 seconds. Makes sense?”

Safe to say Scott is confused by that, but a little bit of encouragement from Steve has him ready to go. 

With wide eyes, you watch the failure of a time travel test. Scott went in, only to come back as a child, an old man, and then a baby. Natasha and Steve look on in shock, before panicking and telling Bruce to bring adult Scott back.

“Y/N when I say so, kill the power.”

Nodding, you head over to the lever. Bruce presses some buttons then shouts now. You flip it and normal Scott reappears.

“Time travel!” Bruce exclaims, arms wide.

Everyone looks at him.

Shaking your head, you start to walk away,“ I need more coffee.”

Natasha starts to follow after you as Steve leaves to get air. 

Once the two of you are in the kitchen and you’ve refilled your coffee, you turn to Natasha.

Her emerald eyes look incredibly tired and she’s slouching. You’d thought this new found plan would ease her stress but she seems to be fairing exactly as she had in the past weeks.

You set your cup down, walking closer to her, and sliding your hands over her hips.

“I feel stupid for asking but, how are you?”

She leans into you,“ I don’t want to think what’ll happen if this doesn’t work.”

You nod, pressing a kiss to the top of her head,“ then don’t. There’s no reason to give up hope just yet.”

It’s quiet for mere seconds, and then-

“Well aren’t you two the perfect picture of love.”

Tony’s voice never ceases to make you roll your eyes. If you didn’t already like him you’re sure you’d have punched his cheeky ass a long time ago.

“Of course we are.” You look over at him,“ what’re you doing here?’

“Just sticking around so I can take all the credit when we save the universe.” He smirks.

Natasha perks up at that, suspecting that the genius has figured it out. His seemingly permanent knowing and cocky smirk tells you that he did.

******

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[lovemesomerafael]

No One Else                           Chapter 4:  Repercussions

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Read it on AO3

It’s late when the inspectors head to Mary Duderon’s apartment to question her about the fire at Kate’s apartment, and Sonny convinces Kate to simply wait until morning to do anything more.  He thinks she’s had enough.  The arson investigator and the police have sealed her apartment as a crime scene, so they’re standing in front of her building.

“I’m not made out of glass, Sonny,” she says, nonetheless grateful for his arms around her.  “I can handle this.”

“I know you can,” he says, his face buried in her soft, fragrant hair.  “I’m just tryin’ to protect you.  Get used to that.  Besides, this is my fault.”

“This is not your fault.  This is Mary’s fault.  She did this. We both know it.”

“Yeah, I think we do.  But it’s about me.  Which makes it my fault.”

“Like you can help being so damn hot…”

He doesn’t laugh.  “Anyway, we can’t prove it.  So we gotta let the fire inspector do his job now.  OK?”  He looks down at her.  “Meanwhile, I guess you need a place to stay.  And I know the perfect place.”

Kate’s not sure how she is smiling and responding to Sonny right now, but apparently he’s irresistible in any situation.  Besides which, it’s hard to feel threatened when he’s holding her and looking at her like that.

“What are you gonna do tomorrow?  About Mary?” She asks as they set out to walk the few blocks to his apartment.  Good thing she has clothes there, since all of those at her apartment are going to reek of smoke until she can get them washed or dry cleaned.

“Nothin’ I can do.  We gotta wait until the arson investigator finishes the investigation.  She’s innocent until proven guilty.”

“Don’t be a lawyer right now, OK?  Be my boyfriend.  Be pissed with me.”

Sonny stops walking and puts his hands on Kate’s shoulders.  “Listen to me, Katie.”  His voice is low and full of emotion.  “I’m feelin’ a lotta things right now, and believe me, pissed is right at the top of the list.  Just because I’m tryin’ to be calm for you, don’t think this is in any way OK with me. It’s not.  None of it.  You may be a tough cop and all, but I love you, and that means I wanna protect you. I’m gonna do the right thing at work, the legal thing, because I have to.  But I’m also gonna leave Mary in no doubt; if she comes for you, she’s gonna deal with me.”

For a split second, Kate wavers between making a flippant remark and being serious, but the look on Sonny’s face makes it clear he’s not kidding.  He’s furious, and he’s afraid for Kate, which only adds to his anger.  

So Kate is serious when she responds.  “She’s gonna deal with both of us.  Tell her to ask the Easton brothers how good an idea that is.”

Sonny gives Kate a satisfied smirk.  It’s the right thing to say, given that Sonny shot one of the Easton brothers at the BX9 house the day they met, and Kate shot the other.  Both brothers are now doing time in prison.  He puts his arm around Kate’s shoulders, and they continue on their way to Sonny’s apartment.

 As soon as they get to work, Sonny and Kate both learn that Mary Duderon hasn’t been arrested, because the first thing each of them do is check.  But they don’t know any more than that.  The arson investigator won’t tell them anything about his questioning of her, or the investigation.  

Sonny is livid.  He’s also astounded at Mary’s cool nerves; she comes in to work and behaves as though nothing has happened.  The first time she comes in his office, bringing coffee and a doughnut, he’s too stunned to speak.  She wishes him a cheerful “Good morning, hon- I mean, Sonny,” and puts some papers on his desk, smiling for all she’s worth.  All he can do is gawk at her.  He leaves the coffee and doughnut sitting where she left them.

He’s on the arraignment docket this morning, so he decides to just work normally until he gets back to the office.  When he does, he goes straight to Chief Hadid’s office.  Pacing back and forth, he tells her the whole story.

“Carisi, will you sit?  You’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry, Ms. Hadid, it’s just…  It was one thing when she was hassling me, but this?  She’s threatening my girlfriend.  She destroyed her property and caused some pretty significant damage to her apartment. I can’t just stand around.”

“As far as any legal repercussions, that’s exactly what you’re going to do, unless and until she’s arrested.  But we may be able to do something about you having to work with her.  Are you willing to file a sexual harassment complaint?”

“She didn’t do anything that rises to that level.  She’s creepy and clingy.  They can’t can her for that.”

“I was thinking more of reassignment.”

“Can’t you reassign her anyway?”

“Yes, if I want her to go to her union and file a grievance.”

“Then reassign me.  She can stay right where she is, with Mikhail and Lam, I just get assigned to somebody else.”

“That, I can do.”  

“Then please, do it.”

“All right.  It’s done.”

“Can I confront her?  Can I tell her to stay the hell away from Kate?”

“Don’t.  If you’ll excuse the expression, you’ll just pour gasoline on the fire.  Let’s see if a little distance won’t dampen some of your allure.”  Vanessa Hadid gives Sonny a slightly sarcastic arch of her eyebrow and picks up her phone.  “I’ll talk to Human Resources.  You just stay away from Mary Duderon.”

 Sonny doesn’t have to wait long for Mary’s reaction to his being assigned to another assistant.  Already red-faced and crying, she trudges into his office as though beset by some tragic calamity.

“Why, Sonny?  Why?” She wails.  “Haven’t I done a good job for you?  I’d do anything for you!  Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it!”

Sonny breathes deeply in, out, in again…  “I’m sorry, Mary.  Your work is fine.  I’m just not comfortable working with you.”

“But Sheila will never take care of you the way I do!  She doesn’t love you like I do!”  It’s a little difficult to understand her moans.

“Mary, that’s inappropriate.  I’d like you to leave now, please.”

Sonny can see Maurice Mikhail in the hallway outside his office door, trying to eavesdrop without being seen.  He doesn’t approve of Maurice’s motives, but he’s actually grateful for a witness.  

“But, Sonny, I love you!”  

Although her voice is obviously loud enough to be heard in neighboring offices, Sonny decides it would be a mistake to close the door.  He knows that being alone with Mary is the last thing he should do. “You don’t, Mary.  You don’t even know me.  That’s why it’s best if we don’t work together.  Thank you for everything, but please… go now.”

“It’s that Kate, isn’t it?  She made you do this.  You’d never do this to me, you’re my Sonny.”

He was already anxious about this scene and Mary’s deteriorating emotional state, now Sonny’s temper is piqued.  He tries to keep his voice neutral and even.  “I did do this, Mary.  I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but it’s done.  Please leave my office.”

A flicker of malice crosses Mary’s face, just as it had the other day, and Sonny can see her consciously try to mask it.  She stops crying.  The syrupy simper in her voice becomes thicker, and the hair on the back of Sonny’s neck begins to prickle.  “You’re such a gentleman, Sonny, of course you’d say that.  You wouldn’t want me to think badly of her.  But you don’t have to pretend with me.  I’m sure it was terrible.  I know she’s crazy jealous of us, of all the time we spend together.  I can only imagine what she must have put you through-“

“Stop!  Just stop! There is no us, and I am the one who asked for a different assistant.”

Mary looks taken aback by the bite in Sonny’s voice, and the mask slips a bit more. She no longer seems upset; now she’s all flirtation.  “Don’t talk like that, Sonny.  We’re what matters.  Not Kate.”  She spits the name as though it is poison.

Through gritted teeth, Sonny snarls his reply.  “All right, here’s how it is.  I asked not to work with you.  Me.  And I did it because of what you did to Kate’s apartment.  Maybe I can’t prove it, but you and I both know it was you.  So let me be very clear here.  Kate is none of your business.  You don’t talk about Kate.  You don’t even think about Kate.  And, so help me, if you go near her again, I will personally make it my business to make sure you’re prosecuted for it.  Now get. Out. Of. My. Office.”

Mary’s narrowed eyes and curled lip loudly declare her fury, only this time, there is no attempt to disguise it.  She says nothing, just turns on her heel and huffs out.  

Sonny is relieved that the scene is over, but he’s also sure he’s just colossally screwed up.  Above all, he’s concerned about what Mary might do now.  He is a bit relieved to see Maurice peek in, with Scott right behind him.  

“Did you guys hear that?”  Sonny asks quietly.

“Kinda hard not to,” Maurice answers, amusement battling concern on his face.  

“Good,” Sonny says.  “I may need witnesses.”

“We got you, Carisi,” Scott says.  “We heard everything.  She’s a wing nut.”

“What did she do to Kate’s apartment?”  Maurice asks breathlessly.

“I can’t prove she did anything.  So best not to say.”

“Well, tell Kate I’m sorry for whatever it was.”

“Thanks.  Guess I better go talk to Ms. Hadid again.  That conversation wasn’t exactly in the plan.”  Sonny grabs his coat on his way out the door of his office, and goes the long way around to avoid Mary’s desk.  

Maurice and Scott share a look that speaks volumes.

“Fuckin’ Dude Ranch, man.”  Maurice mutters.  “I’d say she’s a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”

“I’m with ya’ there,” Scott agrees quietly.

 Kate is participating in a raid that night, but Sonny is able to call her and tell her what happened with Mary.  Kate no longer tries to make excuses for Mary; her sympathy is entirely with Sonny. Partly it’s because of what Mary did to her apartment, but the larger part is loyalty to Sonny.  He’s upset about the whole thing; the way it makes him look to his colleagues, the disruption to his work life, but most of all, he’s concerned about what Mary might do.  He can’t stop replaying that last look she gave him.

“Please be careful, Baby, will ya’?  If she’ll set your bed on fire, and all our pictures, who knows what else she might do?”

“C’mon.  I can take her blindfolded with two broken arms.  And I have a gun.”  Kate’s trying to cheer Sonny up, but she also has no fear of Mary Duderon.  

“I need you to promise me,” Sonny says without amusement.

“I’ll be careful.  I promise.”

“Thank you.  And tell Hensler what’s goin’ on.  I want him watching out for you, too.”

“I already did.  And I’ll tell him what happened today.”

“All right.  Take care tonight, yeah?”

“I will.”

“I love you.  Can’t wait to see you.”

“I love you, too.  I’ll try not to wake you up, but I’ll give you a kiss when I come home.”

“Hey, speaking of home…”

“Yeah?”

“Nevermind.  We’ll talk about it when I see you.”

“OK. Love you.”

“Love you.”

 Sonny awakens the next morning, having slept poorly.  He immediately sees that Kate isn’t home yet.  That’s not particularly unusual; it’s actually a good sign.  If the raid resulted in a lot of arrests, it will take a long time to process them all and write reports.  One of the things Sonny does not miss about being a detective is all the paperwork.  

He calls her and gets her voicemail.  He leaves a mushy message and asks her to call when she can, then texts her a selfie with a goofy sad face and a message about how much he misses her. For good measure, he follows that up with a mushy text with a lot of heart emojis.  He laughs at his own sappiness, but he doesn’t care.  He knows Kate loves that stuff.  Besides, it’s how he feels.

She calls him mid-morning, sounding tired but satisfied.  He’d been right, they had made a number of arrests.  She’s about to take a nap in the crib at her station house, but she tells him she wants to hear his voice before she does.

“And you didn’t get hurt or anything?”  He asks, when she finishes telling him about the raid.

“I got a bit of a shiner,” she says, laughing.  “But otherwise I’m fine.”

“You hit him back?”  Sonny asks, slightly amused, but not much.  

“Didn’t bother.  My grandma hits harder.  I just took him to the ground and cuffed him.”

It makes Sonny feel better just hearing her sound strong and confident. She’s probably right; they really don’t need to worry that Mary could actually hurt Kate. 

“Hey,” Kate asks, “What did you mean about home when we were talking last night? Are you getting tired of me bunking with you?  ‘Cuz the Super says he thinks now that the mattress is out of the apartment, the smell is practically gone.  I just need to wash all my clothes-“

“No. I am not tired of you bunking with me. Just the opposite.  I kinda love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  In fact, I love it so much, if I’da known how great it was gonna be, I mighta lit your apartment on fire myself.”

Kate laughs out loud.  “I probably shouldn’t be laughing at that.  It’s probably not funny.  I think I need a nap.”

“Wish I could take one with you.  G’night. I love you.”

“I love you.”

He thinks he sees movement in the hall.  He doesn’t see anyone out there, and no one comes in, but he’s sure someone was there.  Immediately his mind goes to Mary, eavesdropping on his call.  He sighs.  This is really intolerable.  But at least she didn’t come in.  

 Because she worked all night, Sonny expects Kate will get home at a reasonable hour that night, so he decides to bring work home and make her dinner.  He knows he’ll have to do some work later, but he wants to spend time with Kate.  He’s looking forward to a romantic candlelight dinner with some wine, then taking her to bed.  When she falls asleep, he can get back up and finish working.  

It’s time.  He knows it hasn’t been six months yet, but he doesn’t need six months, and he doesn’t think Kate does, either.  He’s going to ask her to move in permanently.  Why not take advantage of the fire to get out of her lease?  He wants to live with Kate.  Having separate apartments has always been a little silly, but now…  Having her come here after work, having her things around all the time, not having to make plans to see eachother because this is home to both of them, just feels like the way it’s supposed to be.  It’s definitely the way Sonny wants it to be.

He puts together a killer lasagna and starts it baking.  It’s a good choice because, if she gets home before it’s done, he’ll just take her to bed until it’s ready.  If it’s ready, he can keep it warm until she arrives, and then take her to bed.  The table is set, with candles and some flowers he bought on his way home.  He feels like he’s got dinner in hand, and he feels a little thrill in his stomach waiting for Kate.  He smiles to himself.  He’s not sure exactly what it is about Kate – there are a million things he likes about her – but whatever it is, he’s in love, and nothing’s getting between them this time.

Sonny figures he might as well do some work while the lasagna is baking and Kate’s not home yet.  It doesn’t take long before he’s immersed in what he’s doing, and the timer surprises him when it goes off.  Which means it’s almost seven.  He decides to call Kate, just to see when she’ll be home, but gets her voicemail.  Good.  That means she’s on her way.  He leaves a goofy message, turns the oven down to keep the lasagna warm, and goes back to work.

He’s surprised to finish the work he’s brought home, and even more surprised that it’s eight thirty now.  Huh. She said she expected to be home early. He calls again.  Voicemail again, but he doesn’t leave a message this time. Instead, he calls her desk phone. Maybe she’s doing paperwork. Nope, he gets voicemail again. She doesn’t have a landline at her studio, and he can’t imagine why she’d still be there, even if she had stopped by. Or why she wouldn’t be answering her cell if she was there.

At nine, he calls her numbers again, with the same results, so he decides to try her partner.

“Hey, Hensler, it’s Sonny Carisi.  I’m tryin’ to reach Kate, but she’s not answering.  Is she with you?”

There’s a slight hesitation.  “Nah, bro, I thought she’d be with you by now.  I dropped her off at her place hours ago.  She said she wanted to pick up some stuff and then head to your place.”

Sonny feels a painful surge of adrenaline through his entire torso.  “What time?”

“Musta been about six.  Dropped her right at the door, like I always do.  She said she was going right up.  She hasn’t come home?”

“No.”

“She ever do that?  Just kinda disappear for a while?”

“No. I don’t like this.  You know my assistant kinda has a thing about her, and…”

“Yeah, I heard about the fire.  But the way Kate described her, I got the feeling she’s no match for Kate, even if she did try something.”

“I wouldn’t think so, but this is really not like Kate.  I’m goin’ over to her place.”

“Do that.  And then call me and let me know everything’s OK.”

“Will do.  Thanks.”

Sonny’s already down in the street looking to hail a cab before he hangs up with Tom Hensler.  

At Kate’s, he runs up the stairs two at a time.  The door to her apartment is closed, so he pulls out his key to unlock it, but it isn’t locked.  There are no lights on and, when he turns them on, he sees the little backpack Kate uses instead of a purse, with her keys and her cell phone in it, lying on the floor.

He calls Tom Hensler, already imagining the worst.  

[crossroadsimagine]

can i get a psycho pass matchup? im shy, but i try to be friendly. when i open up, im dramatic, loud, and funny with a healthy dose of narcissism. i engage in comeback/insult wars with ultimate sarcasm and sass. people come to me for logical/blunt advice. im a paranoid perfectionist with academics/career but lazy in my everyday life. for hobbies, i read and write all stories (angsty/fantasy are my favorite) and take pictures of nature, scenery, or anything that catches my eye. thank u so much!

☰ Matched with Kagari

Kagari takes an interest in you practically immediately and will even show a romantic interest in you quickly, flirting with you pretty blatantly which also means he will ask you out pretty quickly even just moments after meeting. Though won’t be discouraged if you refuse but he will be persistent and will continue to ask you out until you agree, so he doesn’t really wait for a special time or place to ask you out but instead just kind of asking you out whenever you see him. Which could make you think he’s joking around at first but he’ll always be serious about it, and he will ask you out in a more serious way if he has to. 

Once the two of you start dating he is very loving and affectionate with you practically right from the beginning, though there can be times where you may wonder if he’s really taking the relationship seriously because he does joke around and tease you pretty frequently but he really does take the relationship seriously and is completely dedicated and loyal to you. 

He really just has a hard time knowing how to act in a relationship because he is inexperienced when it comes to having a serious romantic relationship, but he’ll do whatever he can to make you happy and learns what to do for you along the way. You are a bit shy but you are friendly when you open up, which he is really easy to open up to and feel comfortable with simply because of his laid back and positive attitude. 

He can push you to open up at times partly because he’s nosey and wants to learn more about you but also because he truly cares about you and wants you to feel like you can talk to him about anything and trust him. You tend to be sarcastic and good with sass and comebacks which is a good thing because he can occasionally tease you or give you a hard time, he will like that you can snap back with comebacks and sass him back without getting upset or taking anything too personally. 

You both are rather blunt and that makes conversations easily because he won’t like having to guess at what you are trying to say, especially if he’s coming to you for your advice or opinion and you are always very logical and blunt when it comes to giving advice or thoughts on different matters. You are a paranoid perfectionist when it comes to your studies and career aspects of life, which he really won’t understand especially if you take these things very seriously. 

Just because there isn’t too much that he takes very seriously and far more aloof and fun oriented with everything, which can make him try to get you to relax and have fun particularly when you seem worried or stressed out about something. He does show a genuine curiosity about your hobbies and interests and shows more of an interest when he’s bored or wanting your attention, which he can occasionally be clingy and a little needy at times. 

Overall he really is very encouraging and loving towards you through all the good times and does nothing but support and comfort you through all bad times, once he falls for you he’s by your side forever and is very protective over you because you come to mean the world to him.

☰ Headcanons between the two of you

■ He is very affectionate and loving even to the extent of being smothering and annoying particularly when you are trying to work on something, but he can give you space from time to time but you may have to get stern or snippy with him to show that you are serious. But he is always open to cuddling and hugging you in private or public.

■ Finds it really cute when you become shy in certain situations but also finds it really amusing when you get into insult wars or come up with comebacks quickly. Though he does find it more amusing when you do this with others rather than him, but can still appreciate your sarcasm and sass towards him on occasion.

■ He will be curious about what you like to read and write stories about and will even be interested in reading stories you’ve written if you’ll let him, though he will be disappointed if you refuse to let him read things you’ve written and will ask if they are embarrassing or naughty stories if you refuse to let him read them.

■ Can seem a bit clingy or nosey when he wants your attention particularly when he’s bored, he will kind of invade your personal space and ask what you’re doing or what you’re working on. Though he may not always seem genuinely interested in in what you are doing, he’s more so curious if you’re free to do something with him.

☰ Other Possible Matches

◐ Makishima

He is loving, protective and a bit possessive over you though he doesn’t really get jealous he just doesn’t like you spending time with others when you could be with him. Though this can make him seem a little hostile or slightly threatening towards your friends or loved ones at times, but in general he is very loving and encouraging with you but can tease you on occasion. He can be a bit neutral with PDA and he is far more comfortable and open to being affectionate when the two of you are alone, even being a little smothering with you especially when he wants your attention or for you to show him affection.

◐ Kogami

He takes the relationship seriously and is very considerate and caring with you, though he can seem distance or even secretive with you at times but this is because he worries about your safety and well being and can worry that he could endanger you. He is a very good listener and pays very close attention to things you say and talk about, he can be quite over protective of you though he doesn’t get jealous and isn’t possessive of you. He also doesn’t really care for PDA and is only really comfortable with affection when the two of you are alone and behind closed doors and isn’t big on physical gifts and material items.

[7livky]

Dionysus - Park Jimin

CHAPTER 5

Author's POV

"Jimin, come here!"

The strong voice stopped him from letting his lips touch the edge of the glass. His eyes landed on the long corridor through which the voice echoed once more. Slowly he put his wine glass back on the table.

"Jimin!"

Putting his crossed leg back down, he got up before his feet touched the cold ground. The ends of the ribbon that hung at his waist streaked across the steps as he ran down the stairs.

"What happened?" His angelic aura filled the hall-like living room. But it went out as soon as he spotted two people on the floor.

With his accelerated pulse, he ran towards him and bent down too. His eyes widened as he saw her face, in her right hand a large brush, which was just dabbed in white paint.

"What happened, Jungkook?"

Carefully he laid her head on his thigh. "She was about to start painting the wall, and then..." with his big eyes, he blinked at Jimin.

"Bring her to my bed, please."

Jungkook nodded frantically and lifted her up slowly. Her arms hung down loosely, her light brown hair taking on a golden shimmer since the place was brightened by a large golden chandelier.

With big steps they walked through the corridor that led into Jimin's room. Jungkook laid her on the round bed, stepping aside. Jimin took the last sip of the wine and sat down on his bed. He looked over his own shoulder to look at her.

"Do you think..." Jungkook began, but stopped.

Jimin just smiled at him before lifting her right hand and letting it find its way to his heart. As her fingers touched his chest, he closed his dark eyes and took a deep breath. He pressed his inner palm against her outer one and could only wait.

Jungkook ran through his long black hair and bit his teeth. He hated to wait. Impatience was his number one enemy in this life.

Just as he was about to let go of her hand, the whole floor vibrated under their feet.

It was Jimin's very loud heartbeats that echoed.

"Oh my God" ,Jungkook whispered as he caught sight of the lamp swinging back and forth over him. As if there was an earthquake. Something brushed against his foot, making him look down until he realized that with every heartbeat an object was falling from the shelves.

The moment Jimin looked at her lips, the crack started to speed up. And even louder when he imagined how they must feel.

And then, she opened her eyes.

With a wry smile he said, "So... Would you like to have some grapes?"

Three hours before

Jongsuk pulled her back in. "And I won't let you do it!"

She placed her hand on her waist. "And I won't let you do it!" ,she imitated him, rolling her eyes.

Jongsuk grabbed her cell phone and read the message one more time. "Why should you?! That's totally strange."

"What's strange about that? It doesn't matter what you paint on. As an artist you have to be able to paint on all kinds of surfaces. If I miss this opportunity, I'll hate you the most. You know how important this is for my studies."

Jongsuk suddenly nodded while putting on his leather jacket. "Okay, you're right. Let's go."

He stepped out of his penthouse, but Diona didn't. "I swear to God, come after me, and I'll cut your most precious one into a hundred pieces and serve them with your blood as a sauce on top to all the one-night stands you've had so far."

He raised his finger and ignored the fact that he had almost vomited, "You.. are the.. greatest psyhopath.. I have ever known!"

She stared at his finger that was pointed at her. "Whatever, Jong-suck."

They heard a loud giggle coming from the room behind them. Diona half-smirked and opened the door immediately. A slut (please forgive the author) stood at the door frame and stared at them.

"Oh, whoops. Sorry" ,she said in her shrill voice, adoring Diona's best friend. "Babe maybe you can help me? I can't get my dress buttoned."

Jongsuk scratched the back of his head as Diona laughed at him, leaving the place.

To a customer's home. She knew he was right, but she also knew that she had never had the opportunity to paint on a huge unpainted wall before. Especially these godlike people. That someone thought she was capable of something like that showed her that her work must be really good. She was paid in advance, which motivated her even more. She was so excited that she had only slept two hours last night, partly because of her nervousness and partly because of him.

She had spent her whole night watching videos of him. Park Jimin from BTS. Videos in which he sang and danced, of course. After only a few videos, she already knew what kind of person he was.

The devil works hard but Park Jimin works harder.

"You have reached your destination."

Her blood was freezing in her veins. She watched the columns illuminated by her car's lights, so she stopped the engine. The oldest type of pillar: the Doric pillar. She had to spend a whole year studying architecture, which is why she could analyze such buildings even in her sleep.

"Since when are there buildings like this in Korea?"

She shook her head and opened her door. She was already late, no need to upset the kookie monster. She sighed loudly after taking out her super heavy bag with dozens of brushes and paints that waited to be used. Neither a name nor a bell at the entrance. Diona licked her lips and looked around. Not a soul in sight. If she was played with from the beginning and the person who lived here was really a psyhopath, then she would be honoured to be murdered in such a Greek-antique villa.

Diona knocked on the door.

Silence.

And again.

Silence.

"Hello!"

Silence.

She waited exactly five minutes. From then on, she knew she should leave. But one last time she shouted, "I am here for the painting!"

Silence.

She kicked it with her shoe. "I knew it. I knew I was just being fooled." Her eyes filled with tears, all her anticipation ran down her cheeks in tears. She turned around as the waves of outrage surged.

"Hey wait!"

Someone turned her back quickly. "Oh no, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to" ,he spoke distressedly while she only looked at his lips. Thin upper lips, but the lower ones so nicely full, with a mole and quite big teeth-

Immediately she raised her head so that her eyes met his. She knew him..

With raised eyebrows and a worried look, he blinked through his long dark lashes. Suddenly he bent. "Please forgive me."

Diona shook her head, although he couldn't see it. "No, I'm sorry. I could have been more patient."

„Aaah" ,he said as he stood up straight again. "I can never do that either." He grinned so much that his eyes, which were actually so big, became tiny beady eyes that formed laugh lines. The corners of his mouth were almost touching his ears, such full cheeks that you wanted to pinch them.

Which one of the boys from BTS was he?

She remembered all the respective pictures, but she couldn't remember the names yet. Her vocabulary had only included Jimin so far.

The probably world-famous member in front of Diona walked in and waited for her to do the same. He wore black silk clothes, a black collar and silver long earrings that resembled feathers.

Something felt very odd. At that moment so many questions arose in her head, but she had to deal with them later. The only thing she could think about at that moment was the painting.. that didn't exist yet. If she couldn't do a perfect job in a villa like that, for someone like that, for so much money, she would hate herself forever.

Closing the door, he walked ahead until he stopped at some point. Right in the center. Which contained a large mosaic picture of the ancient world. Diona ran towards him with small steps, unable to believe her eyes.

"Sadness and solace," she swallowed loudly. "The journey of the Argonauts to the end of the world. The Europa, kidnapped by Zeus, and-"

"Dionysus?"

Does he/she also deal with Greek mythology? was the first thing both asked themselves.

"Hmm" ,she just nodded, followed by an awkward silence.

"Can I offer you something? We have..."

We?

"Uhh" ,he went through his wavy hair, which he then tied up in a ponytail. "To be honest, I can only offer you either water or wine."

Her eyes glistened at the second word. "Wine please!"

"And another alcoholic" ,he muttered, but loud enough that Diona heard it too.

"Water would be fi-"  Too late, he'd already left.

She still couldn't realize that she stood in a complex like that. It reminded her of something very familiar. But the place made her feel like she was in the wrong timeline.

"What's your name?" ,she finally broke the ice.

His eyes widened as he handed the glass to her. "You... you don't know who I am?"

Ashamed, she looked down. "One of BTS" ,she whispered. When he heard that name, he took a deep breath in and out, unable to make another sound.

"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" She still hasn't taken a sip.

"No, no. That's right. I am Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook of BTS." He bowed again. "Nice to meet you, -" He stopped.

"Diona" ,you helped him along.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow and started to cough. "That's not your nickname or anything?"

She took a sip as they walked somewhere. "No",she simply said.

"Wow, you're the first girl with no typical Korean first name."

"Maybe that's because I'm half Greek."

Right in that moment, he stopped. "Really?"

They stopped in front of an enormous white wall. "Really." She put her bag on the floor. "Is this the wall you want me to paint on?"

Jungkook didn't take his eyes off her for a second. "Where exactly are you from in Greece, do you perhaps know that?"

His curiosity confused her a lot. "Thessaly",she replied nicely and drank up the glass. His mouth opened to an O.

"I'll bring you a new one right away" ,he said and disappeared again. Diona could not resist. Never in her life had she drunk such delicious wine. It tasted indescribably good.

By the time he returned, she had already unpacked her things and put on her cape. Jungkook handed her the second filled glass, which she accepted without delay. "Hmm" ,she grinned after the sweet red consistency touched her lips. She drank it all up before thanking him.

She dabbed the large brush in the white paint he had opened up for her to begin with the base of the painting.

"Please.. please." His whispering was the last thing she could hear before her vision turned completely black.

[bellarke-rollercoaster]

Blackout in the Blizzard

Happy Melendaire Monday everyone!

As promised here is your fix of this first week without any TGD episode! Feedback are welcome as much as kudos 😁. Hope you'll enjoy it ❤️

Here is the prompt :

Claire Browne and Neil Melendez find themselves stuck in the elevator of the hospital on their way out because of a storm that cuts the power. Neil then addresses Claire's strange reaction earlier in the day when she discovered that Neil and Lim were dating outside the hospital.

READY ?

You can also go on AO3 to read by the way!

San Jose was hit by a Category Three snow storm and, as any storm of that magnitude would, it did a lot of damage. Claire's shift was extended by six hours as a result of the extra patients and the lack of employees due to the time of the year

During this same shift Claire had learned that her superior, Dr. Neil Melendez, was apparently sharing more than a professional relationship with her other superior, Dr. Audrey Lim.

Dr. Browne had tried not to have any reaction to this news, but deep down this information annoyed her although she didn't quite understand why. She couldn’t help but wonder what Melendez saw in her. It wasn't that Dr. Lim wasn’t great, it was that she just couldn't picture them together. It didn’t make any sense to her. This thought was interrupted when the doors of the elevator opened to reveal none other than Dr. Neil Melendez himself.

She flashed him a friendly smile as she walked in, reaching for her intended floor button but stopped as it was already lit: his shift was apparently over too as they were going to the same level. She was about to open her mouth to break the silence when the elevator made a sudden jerk and stopped dead, leaving them both in a cabin half-lit by security lights.

As if her day wasn’t crappy enough, she had to get stuck in an elevator with her boss with whom she didn't particularly wanted to spend time with. Fate was apparently angry at her. Melendez tried to be reassuring, "the emergency generators shouldn’t take long to take over, with a storm like this, a power cut was predictable.”

“Yes, even if this power outage could have occurred after I left the hospital. It would have been nice to have some luck for once. You know, getting stuck in an elevator wasn’t really on my bucket list, nor my to do list of the day–”

“Especially with the most boring person in the world?” Neil gave a frank laugh at the decomposed expression of his resident, but his remark didn’t have the desired effect since Claire frowned a little more:

"It's not really the word I would have chosen to describe you, nor the way I was going to finish that sentence. It's just that this shift has been long and I would prefer to go home and collapse on my bed after a long warm shower. But you're right, the backup generators should start soon; what else could go wrong, right?"

Unfortunately, the power wasn’t restored five minutes later, nor twenty minutes later. It has now been half an hour since they were originally stranded in the hospital elevator cabin. Neil had been the first to sit down after realizing their phones had no signal and they couldn’t tell anyone about their situation. It had taken Claire a few extra minutes to sit by his side.The only benefit to this situation was that hospital elevators were wider than conventional lifts, leaving them more room to comfortably extend their legs, even though Claire had chosen to pull her knees to her chest.

Since they had exchanged banalities about the patients they had treated a little more than ten minutes ago, a silence had settled. But this silence was strangely uncomfortable. Claire didn’t know what to say without indirectly talking about the burning piece of information the residents had found out concerning the two attendings; so she opted for silence, keeping it quiet was better than saying something she would regret. But Neil decided otherwise.

“I guess the whole hospital knows by now.” Claire wasn’t sure what he was talking about

“About what? Us being stuck in the elevator? I strongly doubt it.”

“No, I was talking about–”

Now she knew what he meant so she cut him off, “About you and Dr. Lim? Probably, although it's none of my business.”

Neil gave her a weird look. "You don’t approve, do you?"

Claire looked up at the ceiling, trying to find a way to put an end to this conversation because the last person she wanted to have this with was him, especially in a confined space where she couldn't leave. "Like I told you, this is none of my business. You sleep with whoever you want.”

Neil glanced at her, a strange expression on his features. "It's funny, I could have sworn the opposite from the expression on your face earlier today. Claire, you can express yourself freely: we are stuck in an elevator, so right now I’m a normal person, not your boss. I will not blame you for your opinion since I’m the one who asked for it. Let's say this space is a neutral zone, okay?"

Claire hesitated for a few seconds, he wasn’t going to let it go if she was truthful, so she went for the easiest way out: lying. "Fair enough. It’s not that I don’t approve of it, it just reminded me of my relationship with Jared. We were two colleagues who were a little more than that. People knew at the hospital and you may not know but that's what made Dr. Coyle think that I was an easy target to hit on. It's what started the whole incident that followed; it complicated things between me and Jared and so he left. Not entirely because of me, but partly I think. Since this, I tell myself that it’s better to stay professional and to not mix private and professional life with my colleagues or superiors."

What she said wasn’t entirely false; the story was true, it was just not relevant to Dr. Melendez's request.

“I didn’t know that your relationship with Jared had been a factor in the incident with Dr. Coyle. I am sorry to hear that.” Neil nodded.

Claire smiled shyly, slightly ashamed of having lied.

“It's not your fault if Dr. Coyle thought that because I had a relationship with a member of the medical team, I'd be willing to sleep with anyone on the staff at the hospital.” She laughed

“No, indeed.” Neil chuckled.

Claire was relieved: the bullet was dodged. She wondered why she felt the need to lie or why she was embarrassed by the situation. She knew that the story she had just told was not the reason she was upset by the fact that Neil was sleeping with Lim. Lying to herself and others, though, had always been easier than facing her own emotions and feelings. Emotions and feelings were always leading her toward disappointment.

Neil noticed the closed expression on Claire's face, which was the same he had seen earlier. "Dr. Browne, are you okay?”

Claire pulled herself together and turned her head to look her superior in the eyes, "Yes, of course. I’m just starting to wonder when we are going to get out of here. It must have been an hour now, the power should be back. It's weird.” She suddenly stood up, feeling uncomfortable by their proximity. She needed to put some distance between them, so she started looking at the buttons on the elevator like they were the most interesting thing on earth.

“Not as weird as the expression on your face. It tells me you’re obviously annoyed by something, like it was earlier today. What is it you’re not telling me?” Neil had gotten up too.

Claire pretended not to hear. “Unbelievable! Even the emergency button won't work.”

“When you’re done avoiding the subject, maybe you’ll be able to answer my question?” Neil was growing annoyed by her avoidance. Claire pretended not to understand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not avoiding anything. Is the lack of space making you lose your mind or something?” She was growing less and less comfortable by the situation.

Neil raised an arm in the air, clearly exasperated. “I think you know very well what I'm talking about.”

“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Neil shot her a meaningful look.

“Why are you so stubborn?” he retorted.

“Stubborn, me? That’s rich coming from the most stubborn person in this hospital; not to mention most annoying and endowed with an oversized ego!”

Claire realised she might have gone too far, placing a hand over her mouth in surprise. “I'm sorry, that's not what I meant–”

Neil cut her off abruptly: “No, don’t be sorry, a little honesty is refreshing! And since we’re being honest with each other, why don’t you give me your real opinion about my relationship with Dr. Lim.”

“I've already given it to you, I have nothing else to say. Anyways, why is it so important to you what I think about your relationships? And while we're being honest, why did you really kick me off your team? Was it because your ego couldn’t stand that a woman had a better idea about how to treat a patient? Or was it just pure stupidity? Because, thinking about it, last year Shaun was convinced he could save a young boy’s life and was ready to take a bone marrow sample on the patient to prove it, against your orders. When you found out, you simply kicked him off the case. But you didn’t kick him off your team. So, why did you try so hard to have me out of your’s for good?”

Neil was taken aback by her outburst: he definitely hadn’t seen coming. “It doesn’t matter, Shaun was– You’re changing the subject. Why does Dr. Lim and I seeing each other bother you?”

Claire raised both arms in the air, far beyond exasperated. “You are unbelievable! For the thousandth time: I don’t give a shit about your relationship with Dr. Lim. Do you really think that you are so interesting that everyone has to validate you and be on the lookout for the smallest of facts about you and your whereabouts?”

“I don't think that–”

“Bullshit! Why do you care so much about what I think about you being involved with her?”

“Because I think you lied to me about the real reason why you disapprove of it so much!”

Without realizing it, they had drawn close to each other, standing only inches apart. It was as if they were magnets, attracting each other to be as close as possible.

Claire asked sharply, “why would I need to lie to you?”

Neil looked at her intently and finally gave in. “For the same reason I had to lie to you about why I kept you away from my team for as long as I could.” His voice was so intense that Claire had goosebumps. Her gaze was unconsciously passing between Neil's beautiful dark eyes and his lips. The tension between them was tangible. Gathering what was left of her boldness, she asked him in a voice less assured than she would have wanted, "And what is the reason, Doctor Mel–"

Neil didn’t let her finish her sentence before his lips crashed on hers. The violence of the kiss pushed her against the wall of the elevator. Neil pressed his body against hers while Claire held tight onto his neck, allowing herself to be completely carried away by the feeling. And that's when she realized what she had refused to admit for months: the undeniable attraction she felt for the arrogant and annoying Neil Melendez.

Neil slid one of his hands from her face to her waist, touching the side of her breast. His hand passed smoothly over her back bringing her as close to him as possible. His lips left hers and went for her neckline, murmuring her name in a voice full of the desire he had been refusing himself for so long.

He often made bad decisions, and the decision to give in to his urge would surely prove to be the worst of them. But right now, he would not trade that moment for anything in the world. So he went back to her plump lips, kissing her like their lives depended on it: and in that moment, maybe it did.

The passionate embrace abruptly ended when the lights of the elevator came back on and the lift resumed its way to the ground floor. Neil and Claire parted breathlessly, not quite sure what had just happened. Neil looked at Claire, his gaze full of multitudes of emotions passing through too quickly for her to understand them fully. The elevator stopped. The doors opened. He stroked her cheek gently and huskily said, “That's the reason why Claire.”

A second later, Neil pulled back and left the elevator, leaving Claire stunned and touching her lips absentmindedly. She was unsure of what just happened or what it meant; but one thing was sure: this experience would not leave her mind for a long time.

[chancellorberrynewt]

The Note

By R.L. Lawrence

My response to the recent mass shootings, in the form of a fictional suicide note from a gunman.

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Disclaimer: The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. The sad fact that this disclaimer is necessary is one of the reasons why this was written.

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Congratulations! If you’re reading this, I’m dead, and by killing me you’ve played an important role in my plan. Thank you very much, and I hope you aimed for the head.

I’m writing this to provide context for what just happened here. By now the news media has already reported on a crazed gunman who went on a shooting spree, who was killed by the brave first responders called to the scene. I hope that they didn’t use my drivers license photo as my picture on the broadcast, I look terrible in that. Regardless, I apologize for the panic I caused, but I want you to know that nobody was ever in any real danger. All my guns were loaded with blanks, ordered online from a film prop supply store. Feel free to check my bank card history to back that up, just ignore the fact that I’m overdrawn right now.

So I guess this is where I get on with my manifesto, huh? I’ll bet you’re expecting a long diatribe about my grievances with the government, or with immigrants, or with socialists, or with whoever else you think I’m upset enough with to kill over. Tough luck there, this wasn’t meant to be a political act on my part. I mean, I suppose it could be broadly considered political, given that this is really directed at society as a whole, and politics and government are a major part of any society.

The reason I’ve done this is because it seemed to be the only way to get people’s attention, even if it’s only for a few days until the news cycle moves on to something else. Generally, our society only acknowledges one’s opinions as worth paying attention to if they are already famous for being wealthy (such as with business leaders), charismatic (such as with Hollywood celebrities), or both (most national politicians). I suppose you could say I fit the mold of a mass shooter: white, male, vaguely antisocial (though I prefer the term “uncharismatic”). Because of my lack of charisma and aforementioned lack of money, whenever I try to speak out against something I feel is wrong, it’s pretty much completely ignored. This is the case not only for me, but for the millions of people not already sitting at the top tier of society. Within the marketplace of ideas, my small voice is drowned out by pundits and ideologues in that top tier who are given a much more visible platform to speak from. I think regardless of beliefs, that’s what drives the majority of mass shooters to kill; it’s the feeling that they aren’t being listened to and they need to do something drastic to get their point across.

That’s not really an opinion though, that’s simply an evidence-based observation. Everyone knows who Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold are, but I bet you’d be hard pressed to name a Columbine victim without a Google search. Same with Timothy McVeigh, Adam Lanza, Nikolas Cruz, etc., etc., etc… Media coverage makes these people famous, and every time it happens people already on the edge are effectively told “if you can’t be famous for something good, you can always be infamous.” Every commentator tries to decipher motives, some blaming divisive rhetoric by politicians, some blaming lax gun laws, some blaming video games, but it should be plainly obvious that anyone willing to go on a shooting spree isn’t 100% mentally healthy to begin with. You can hold strong opinions about any number of things without ever considering killing people over them. It takes a special type of crazy to do that.

So let’s go ahead and get to the meat of the matter here. Why did I do it? What message am I trying to convey that I felt wasn’t being listened to? What’s so important to me that I was willing to get shot over just to be heard?

Simple. Don’t be an asshole.

Well, it’s a little more complex than that, but that’s pretty much the gist of it. I’ve spent much of my life trying to share a message of kindness and acceptance. I haven’t always been correct about everything; I read, I learn, I reevaluate my ideas if they seem to be lacking, but I’ve always tried to do right by people and encourage others to do the same. From my point of view however, it appears that in a lot of ways, society is moving in the opposite direction. Our nation has become less kind, less compassionate, and less caring year after year. People can’t discuss differences of opinion without devolving into shouting matches and insults. Within my lifetime, our world has become more connected than ever, but at the same time, people are fortifying themselves within their ideological echo chambers and becoming more isolated than ever from ideas and people that differ from their close circle of like-minded friends. The dangerous us-vs-them mentality of tribalism and zero-sum competition that has driven wars and social division throughout human history has been cranked up to eleven. Recent resurgences of racism, nationalism, homophobia, misogyny, and every other form of bigotry have nearly eliminated decades of progress made in human and civil rights. Fear of “the other” having the same privileges as one’s own group has made cooperation between groups of people all but impossible. This isn’t a critique of one group either, this goes for all groups: religions, races, nations, governments, political parties, businesses, nonprofits, fraternal organizations. You name it, and the in-group/out-group mentality is rampant.

It’s partly because of this that humanity has largely conflated legality and morality. Instead of treating everyone with compassion and kindness, society has agreed that if someone is not a part of your group, it’s morally justified to inflict any sort of punishment you want on someone that breaks the rules of the group. It’s why brown people looking for a better life are put in concentration camps. It’s why a black person pulled over for a broken tail light can be murdered by police. Without even mentioning specifics here, there’s a huge portion of the population that will justify any atrocity committed in the name of “law and order”. What’s worse is that they don’t realize that they aren’t even a part of the in-group in these situations. When it comes to laws, the in-group is never those who the laws apply to, it’s always the people making and enforcing the laws. People with power and money create and advocate for laws that benefit them and their friends personally. It’s why there’s effectively two separate justice systems in our country, one for the rich and one for the rest. It’s why a black man selling loose cigarettes can be killed by police while bankers who ruin the economy and businessmen that destroy the planet get at worst a slap on the wrist.

This is also why nothing is ever done on a legislative basis to combat the types of mass shootings that I attempted to mimic in my actions. Politicians see no personal benefit to it; in fact it’s usually the opposite. They know that any substantial change will anger the lobbyists that line their pockets. For most legislators, funding their next campaign is far more important than the loss of human life.

I suppose my motive here is be that I am trying to draw attention to the sort of change I’d like to see.  I want to see less selfishness and more compassion. I want to see less competition and more cooperation. I want to see a world where people help each other, rather than just helping themselves, a world where we stop asking how something benefits us and start asking how it benefits others. Less discrimination and more acceptance, less vitriol and more consolation. I want a world in which people are judged based on their own merits, and not who they know or what group they belong to. I want to see a world where those who have a prominent public voice and platform stand up for those who don’t. I want to see a world where people who need help can get it without being looked down upon for their circumstances.

Overall, I just want to see less hate and more love. Maybe then there won’t be so many people willing to commit mass murder just to be listened to. Maybe then people like me wouldn't prefer death to living in this world as it is.

[kusunogatari]

[ Dramatic ] [ @wanderingmelodies ] [ Uchiha Shisui, Nohara Rin, Uchiha Manami, Suigin Ryū, Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Obito, Uchiha Fugaku ] [ Vulgarity, pregnancy, blood ] [ Verse: What Could Have Been ]

Shisui loves his clan. Really, he does. To the bottom of his heart and back. But gods does he fucking hate their politics.

Granted, at first...he can’t help a little reactionary tint of it himself. Partly because he’s a little hurt Ryū didn’t come to him first, but...he gets why Rin took that mantle. Partly because he’s going to murder his cousin for sleeping with her, but...at least he’s not stuck up about it because boohoo they aren’t married like everyone else will be. But mostly it’s because he’s not stupid, and he realizes what this might do to her.

But no matter his reactions or their reasons, he does his best to mask them, for her sake. The last thing she needs is anyone else flying off the handle about all this. There’ll be plenty of that once they breach the subject with Fugaku.

Manami, instead, hears his griping at her home that evening. Ryū decides to find the other half of her conundrum and figure out where to go from here.

Hands cradle Shisui’s brow as he sits at his mother’s table. While Manami grips her own mug of tea with both hands, his own goes ignored to one side. “I just...I don’t get it! She’s a medic, she knows the risks, and -!”

“The young are fools in love,” Manami gently counters. “I’m sure she was being careful...but there’s always the chance of a slipup. Nothing is guaranteed.”

Shisui scowls. “I know...but you’d think between the two of them they’d’ve realized it was a stupid thing to do…”

“Oh, listen to yourself,” his mother counters, lips pursed in disappointment. “Consider the position they’re in, Shisui. You know how much those two love each other, and how near-impossible it might be to convince Fugaku to allow it. They’ve had to keep this as under wraps as they can manage. Surely you can’t blame them for being desperate. Yes, they made a mistake...but consider how long it took for it to happen. Until now, they’ve done rather well.”

It’s then Manami’s lips curl in a knowing smile atop the rim of her mug. “...besides, if it comes down to it...I think I might have a little ammunition against that stubborn goat of a man.”

That earns her a confused look. “...meaning?”

“I’d rather keep it to myself unless we need it. But his behavior hasn’t always been as traditional as you’d think a future clan head might be. If there’s one thing his pride won’t stand, it’s being marked as a hypocrite.”

Shisui gives his mother a suspicious look. “...that paints all sorts of...interesting pictures. Maybe I don’t wanna know.”

“It’s nothing that foul,” Manami can’t help but laugh. “Just...a reminder that he wasn’t always set on the path laid before him.”

That brightens him with understanding. “You mean when you…?”

“Mm. Now, get home to your wife. We’ll see to this more in the morning. I’m sure Rin’s all fired up, so...best you don’t leave her to her own devices for too long, hm…?” Another knowing curl of lips. “Rin’s a spitfire, despite anyone else’s assumptions. Between the lot of us, something tells me Fugaku won’t stand a chance. Especially with imōto in on it.”

“You’ve got that right,” her son deadpans, rising from his seat. “...sorry about the tea.”

She just waves a hand at him, bidding him goodnight. Staring out the nearest window, Manami heaves a heavy sigh. “...something tells me I’ll not see her again tonight...best to simply turn in, I suppose.” If she’s to have a posturing match with Fugaku tomorrow...she wants to be well-rested.

At least one of them should be. She suspects the rest might not be so lucky.

Thankfully it’s not far across the clan compound to his own little house, and Shisui trudges his way inside, seeing the lights still on. “Tadaimaaa,” he calls out, tone a bit weary.

“Okaeri!” Rin pokes her head around a corner. “So…? How’d it go?”

“You really expect anything significant?”

“Well, I wasn’t quite sure how you’d react,” is her retort. “I know about brothers, don’t forget.”

Shisui just sighs, closing the gap between them. “Just when I think something’s going to settle down...another issue pops up.”

His wife folds her arms. “Nice to hear you refer to your future niece or nephew as an issue.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about, it’s their grandfather. You know that.”

“We’re going to handle that, one way or another.” Softening a bit, Rin asks, “...did she come home?”

“No...said something about going to talk to Itachi. I’m willing to bet they’ll be up all night talking. I think kāchan decided to just call it a night. We’ll regroup in the morning.”

She hums, still sounding concerned. “Poor thing was awfully upset...not that I blame her, but...this should be something we’re celebrating! Not flinching from!”

“There’ll be time for that once it’s all over. Until then...it’s something we just need to grit our teeth and bear.” A hand buries fingers into Rin’s hair at the rear of her head, steadying it to plant a kiss against her brow. “For now...we’d best get some sleep. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow, and probably for more after that.”

“You’ve got that right,” she mutters, leaning against him for a hug. “Why does your clan have to be so...dramatic?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy. I haven’t got a damn clue, but it’s getting a little old.”

“You can say that again.”

The pair then crawl into bed, Shisui draping an arm over his wife, still wide awake. It’s times like these he wishes he could be more...zen like his mother. She hardly ever seems to get worried or upset. Or maybe Manami’s just better at hiding it. But, for now...there’s nothing he can do. Or so he tells himself. At any rate...he’ll lay here if sleep doesn’t come. That’ll be some degree of rest, at least.

By some miracle, he dozes off at some point, groggily waking a bit after dawn. Rin he leaves to sleep, slipping out of bed and going to make some morning tea. Taking a seat along the front porch, he watches the compound slowly wake for the day as he waits for his wife to do the same.

Then approaches his first clue that something’s off, furrowing his brow.

Itachi spots him, making his way up the path from the street. “You’re up early.”

For a long moment, Shisui doesn’t answer. Itachi doesn’t seem nearly as stressed as he should be. “...short night,” Shisui replies slowly. “You, uh...sleep well?”

“Well enough.” Sharp as ever, Itachi doesn’t miss Shisui’s slip in behavior. “...why do you ask?”

“I thought you’d be a bit more...concerned this morning.”

“...about?”

Okay. Hold the hell up. “...what do you mean, ‘about’? Didn’t Ryū come talk to you?”

“I’ve not seen her since the day before yesterday. I had a mission in the morning, and she never -”

Up like a shot, Shisui takes his cousin’s shirt by his front. “You haven’t seen her in two days? She said she was gonna go talk to you about -!”

“Shisui?” Rin calls, tone clearly distressed. “What’s going on?”

“Ryū never went to see him yesterday.”

Pause. “...but she said -?”

“I know what she said!” Panic flares to life in his nerves, tensing his muscles. “...I’m gonna go ask kāchan if she came home. If not…”

With that, he flickers from view, leaving a very concerned Rin, and a very confused Itachi. “...what...is going on? Is something wrong with Ryū?”

“...you might want to come in and sit down.”

Pounding on Manami’s door, Shisui barely keeps himself from knocking it from its hinges. His mother opens it a moment later, expression unusually harried. “Where’s Ryū?”

“...not here. She never came home last night. Did -?”

“She didn’t go to see Itachi.” He begins to pace. “...he showed up at my doorstep, completely unaware. Where the hell did she go?!”

“Now now, don’t pan-”

“How can I not panic?!” Hands throw into the air, Sharingan unconsciously flaring to life in his distress. “She told us where she was going, and she never went. And given what’s going on, that raises some damn big red flags! Either she lied, changed her mind and didn’t tell us...or something happened to her.”

Manami raises a hand. “I know you’re upset, Shisui. But getting angry will only make finding her harder.” Still, there’s a flinty glint to her own eyes, still dark. “I’ll ask around. You check any other places you can think of, and then...the gate. See if she left.”

“Where would she -?”

“I have only one guess...and given it’s all I have, I hope to the gods it’s right.” She takes his arm before he can turn away. “...she’s scared, Shisui. More so than she’s been in a very long time. That makes her vulnerable. To herself...and to others.”

Jaw clenched, he gives a curt nod before flickering once more. Manami then makes her way to the main manor to speak to her sister.

Appearing back at home, Shisui wordlessly starts stuffing supplies into a leg pouch he clips to his thigh. Rin wastes no time in asking, “What happened?”

“She didn’t go home. No one’s seen her. Kāchan’s gonna check around the compound. I’ll check the village. If she’s not there...the hope is she’s headed back toward home.”

A mix of worry and determination colors Rin’s visage. “I’ll go -”

“No. Rin...I know how much you care about her. Just as much as we do. But…” He turns, hands gently taking her arms. “...I want you to stay here. Focus on keeping yourself calm. I’ll bring her home.”

“What about me?”

Eyes shift to Itachi. “...she tell you?”

“Yes...though I regret it wasn’t Ryū to do so. I…” He fades off, looking at a loss for words.

“...two pairs of eyes are better than one. We’ll split up. Send a raven if you find her, and I’ll do the same. Just...remember: she’s terrified out of her wits,” he warns, echoing his mother. “It’s more than possible she’s trying to just...run away from all this. Seeing you might freak her out even further, so...be careful.”

“Of course.”

Closing the gap between himself and his cousin, they have a staring match for several long, tense moments. “...I want you to remember how you feel. Right now,” Shisui murmurs. “Because I don’t want you to ever do anything again that makes you feel this way about her. Got it? You’ve gotten her into this mess just as much as she has. You ever put her in harm’s way like this again...it won’t end well.”

Itachi just gives a stiff nod.

“...good. Then let’s get going.”

Rin almost looks ready to interject, but sighs as the men part. “Was that really necessary?” she hisses under her breath.

“You don’t know Itachi like I do. Trust me: that was just what he needed to hear.” Gently taking her chin, he kisses her brow. “And it goes without saying: either of us find anything, we’ll send word home.”

“I’ll be waiting. Be careful.”

“No time for that,” he replies grimly before flickering to the compound gate.

A quick run-through of Konoha at large bears nothing. Which, in all honesty, Shisui figured. She’s not at the hospital, and frankly there’s few other places she’d be likely to go within Konoha that’s not also in the compound. That leaves outside it all entirely.

“You follow the road. That’s probably her most likely route,” Shisui advises as they leave the guard station. No one’s seen her. “I’ll make my way back and forth across it, see if she’s strayed off the beaten path somewhere.”

“Understood.” Goals set, the pair launch into action.

Sharingan ablaze to catch any flare of white chakra, Shisui follows the road north for a time before splitting off east. Speed and skill with his kekkei genkai mean covering miles of ground quickly without fear of having missed something. He then turns west. East. West. All the while drifting north toward her last possible choice of hideaway. The more time passes, the tighter a fear coils in his gut: that somewhere along the way, she ran into trouble.

Coming across an inn along a stretch of road, he stops in and asks if anyone’s seen her. And then, gets a bit of luck. Both good...and bad.

“Yeah, she was here. Seemed pretty upset,” the innkeep admits. “Booked a room, sat to eat something...and then ended up talking with some stranger.”

The coil nearly snaps.

“She was wary at first, and I almost told him off...but eventually she seemed at ease. Ended up leaving without taking her room. Tried to give her her money back, but...she was too dead-set.”

Thanking him hurriedly, Shisui leaves the keep and heads back outside to pace, and think. He’ll admit, his sister’s nothing if not gullible at times. Did someone convince her they needed her help? Or maybe it was them offering - she apparently still hadn’t calmed herself completely. Whoever this stranger was might have preyed on her instability.

“Eurgh...damn it!” Biting his thumb, he sends a raven with the news to Itachi, advising he talk to the man himself. But Shisui lacks the patience to wait, going on ahead. They can’t have gotten much further...right?

Suspecting they’d be avoiding the main road, he instead follows a branching path that heads more east, yet still north. Part of him chastises himself for not thinking to ask Kakashi for a ninken, but...too late now.

...but…!

A flurry of ravens bursts into being in a cacophony of caws. “Spread out! If you find her, don’t engage - take me to her, instead. Anyone spare, go help Itachi’s end of the search.”

As one, the avians spiral outward, a few heading back the way he’d come. Pushing the limits of his speed, beginning to tire, Shisui carries on.

It’s a tense twenty minutes before a corvid returns.

They tell of an abandoned village not far north, with two current occupants. One, they believe, must be Ryū.

“Good...tell Itachi. I’ll go scope it out, wait for him there.” At least, so long as his patience holds up. He can lay siege on a mission for weeks if he has to...but none of them have been quite like this.

One last push of his endurance, and Shisui finds himself at the village edge. Cloaking his chakra, he hides amidst the foliage. Ravens are already scattered about the rotting buildings and ragged trees, cawing every so often to relay word amongst themselves. For a time, nothing happens. No sign of them, or Itachi.

But then a door opens.

Tensing, Shisui watches as Ryū emerges. She’s donned a long traveling cloak, hood drawn but white waves still parted and spilling down her front. Behind her, in far darker yet similar attire, is a tall, masked figure he can’t begin to recognize. She stops as he gets her attention, the pair clearly talking for a moment. And it’s then a gloved hand reaches, takes a lock of her hair -

Something snaps.

Flickering across the distance, Shisui draws his tantō, touching down just before the pair of them. An upward strike seeks to cleave the offending arm clean off...but though he sees the blade sink through...it comes out without blood, moving without resistance. As though he’s as tangible as a ghost.

What -?!

Tucking into a roll upon his failed strike, Shisui spins and holds a defensive position. Having leapt apart, Ryū and her companion both stare - one in shock, the other hidden behind a mask.

“...Shisui?!”

“You sound so surprised,” he counters, slightly out of breath. “You think I wouldn’t come lookin’ for ya?”

“But -?”

“Itachi’s on his way. Kāchan and Rin are worried sick - the hell are you doing out here, Ryū?!”

She hesitates, and before she can offer an explanation, the stranger walks to put himself between them. “She’s addressing her problem her way.”

“T’fuck’s it got to you with you, asshole? Get away from my sister…!”

“Yes, yes - she’s told me all about you, and the others. The brash older brother, the peerless lover...and the precarious position she now finds herself in regarding an entire clan. It would appear the Uchiha are still as prideful and ridiculous as ever…”

“And what would you know about it?”

There’s a low, dark chuckle. “Oh, far more than you realize...given that I once led them, before their downfall. And how far they have fallen…”

Shisui tries to puzzle out his meaning. Led them…? But...Fugaku’s father is dead, as are any past clan heads...unless…!

“Given that they have no want for a child of half blood, I decided to offer my help and pity,” the man goes on. “Besides...having my hands on what is technically the next heir and their mother isn’t an opportunity to pass up…”

“But...but you said…?” Ryū barely speaks up from behind him.

“I told you: I’ve no intent to harm either of you. You’re not part of the problem. You’re safe with me, Ryū. Soon enough, your problem too will be taken care of…we’ll both get what we want.”

“That’s n-not what I meant!” She steps forward, tugging his sleeve. “I never said I wanted to -!”

“You must be careful what you wish for,” is his cut-in reply. “You said it yourself: they’ll never accept you - either of you. How jealously the Uchiha guard their precious blood…” He dips his head, and Shisui’s eyes squint as a strange feeling seems to emanate from him. “...already they’ve imprisoned the one they believe responsible for giving Kakashi a stolen eye. A life wrought in chains, and all for the sake of their pride. How do you think they’ll handle their heir sowing his seed in foreign ground…? An unborn child is far easier to be rid of than two grown shinobi…”

Shrinking back, Ryū unconsciously wraps arms around her middle. “...no...they, they wouldn’t…I just -”

“You don’t know how far an Uchiha will go to get what he wants. Their very bloodline - kekkei genkai - relies on sacrifice of that most precious to them…!”

“That’s enough!” Teeth bared, Shisui brandishes his blade. An empty display: apparently he can’t even touch this guy. “Let her go. She and the kid aren’t some pawns in whatever game you’re playing!”

“How wrong you are. Everyone in this wretched world is a piece in the game...and I think I have a use for this one…!”

Still glowering, Shisui tenses just in time as a volley of shuriken phase through his foe, and straight toward him! Blocking sloppily with his blade, a few nick his skin: one along his cheek bleeding sluggishly.

“Itachi!”

Behind them, the heir stiffens as his covert strike goes awry.

“Not so fast…!” Looking to his captive, the stranger seems to begin to...blur her?

Sharingan watching, Shisui startles as her chakra starts to disappear - he’s teleporting her?! Not about to take the risk of losing her, he flickers forward, pulling her from the space/time vortex and landing beside Itachi in the treetops. “Something’s up with this guy - you can’t touch him, he’s like a ghost!”

“So I’ve noticed,” Itachi retorts curtly. “Then what do we do?”

“He’s got space/time, too...that might be something to do with it. I haven’t had enough time to coax out his strategy.”

“...should we retreat?”

“I dunno if he’ll just follow. Depends on how bad he wants Ryū.” Shisui looks to his arms, still carrying her. For now, her face is buried silently against his shoulder, shaking as a hand grips his shirtfront. “...though I get the impression this was more a stroke of luck he took advantage of than actually plotted.”

All the while, he just...stares at them, as though awaiting their next move.

“...we could cast genjutsu. Slip away.”

“...that won’t work.”

“Why not?”

Shisui stares back, expression hardened. “...cuz it sounded like he claimed he was Uchiha.”

“What?!”

“No time to explain it now...I say we make a break for it. He might try again, but...I think for now, he knows it’s a stalemate. Two on one, and we have what he wants. Besides...stress her much more, and things might get ugly. We need to go.”

Glancing somberly to Ryū, Itachi thinks only for a moment before nodding. “...I’ve an idea. But yes, let’s go.”

Together, they leap south back the way they came. As they do, the entire flurry of corvids swarm the figure. Not to harm...but to block his line of sight. He simply stands there, waiting for it to pass.

“...not to worry. I’m sure we’ll see each other again…” With that...he disappears, the birds scattering before desummoning in clouds of vapor.

All the while, the trio continue to head for home. Ryū still hides and clings to Shisui, making not a sound. Itachi casts countless glances her way, but to little avail.

There’s curious looks at the village gate, but it’s the compound entrance where they’re accosted. A remaining raven desummons just as they approach from Rin’s shoulder, who cries out and jogs the rest of the way to meet them. Manami follows close behind, her sister and brother-in-law watching with mixed expressions from the gate.

“Easy...she’s had a time of it, but she’s not hurt,” Shisui murmurs. “Best take her home, look her over, Rin.”

“Got it.” Clearly already in a medic’s mindset, Rin - along with Manami - help brace Ryū upright as they make their way back in. Mikoto parts from her husband to help. He watches them go...before turning to his son and nephew.

“...what on earth happened?”

“Please - otōsan, I -”

Fugaku holds up a hand. “...no excuses or evasions. You keep no secrets from me, my son.”

Shisui looks to his cousin, seeing the genuine hesitation - and dare he say fear - on Itachi’s face. For a moment, he looks like the worried little kid he once was, fearing a scolding. But then his shoulders wilt, expression fading to somber acceptable. “...yes, sir.”

“Shisui.”

“Sir?”

“...go with the others. If I’ve need of you, I’ll have you fetched.”

“...thank you, sir.” The cousins exchange a look before the elder reluctantly leaves the younger to his father.

Once at his mother’s, he finds Ryū’s door shut, Manami’s voice muffled within. Rin stands just outside, heaving a sigh with folded arms. “...she needs rest. And an absence of stress. She’s damn lucky nothing happened to the fetus.”

“So, they’re okay…?”

“Relatively speaking.” Rin gives him a wary glance, lifting a hand to finish healing the shuriken cut. “...what happened?”

Taking her downstairs for tea, Shisui notes all he saw. “Call me crazy, but...I think this guy was claiming to be Madara.”

“Wait, the Madara…?”

“I know how it sounds, but…” He shakes his head. “...either way, I think he’s at least Uchiha. He was too invested in the potential politics of the baby not to be.”

“...it’s worrying, that’s for sure. The Uchiha have no satellite clans…?”

“No. Any living clansmen have to be in Konoha.”

“But...Madara died decades ago! It can’t be him…!”

“Given all he was capable of...I won’t count out the possibility. It’s a long shot, sure...but I can’t ignore the chance it’s true.” He buries his brow in a palm. “...I don’t know how...involved this all was. Did he just stumble upon her? Or has he been watching her? Us? He knew about you, and your position in the clan -”

“What?!”

A grave nod. “...if he really thinks she’s important enough...he might come after her. Her leaving was convenient, but...he’s got space/time ninjutsu. He tried to teleport her, but I interrupted it. Maybe it’s something that can bypass the village defenses.”

“Oh gods, don’t say that,” Rin mumbles, burying her face in her hands.

“...I’m just trying to plan for the worst.”

“I know, I just…” She sighs gustily. “...for now, we have to face the consequences here. One thing at a time. If this...so-called Madara really is after something with the clan, that will have to be talked over with Fugaku and the council. They’ll need to know, and possibly prepare.”

“Yeah…”

They lapse into silence for a time, both lost in their own thoughts. Rin’s head shakes slowly. “...this is far beyond what I meant when I said your clan is dramatic.”

“It’s about ten steps beyond the usual, that’s for sure.”

Sighing, she stands with a grunt. “I’d better check her again. I might stay overnight, just to be sure nothing happens.”

“Maybe I will too. Right now...I want all my family where I can see them. No more getting separated.”

“I can agree with that. For now, though...you better be ready for Fugaku to call you.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Taking the stairs a bit slowly, Rin knocks on the door, given entry as Manami replies. Within, huddled in the corner of the walls around her futon, Ryū looks up. “...senpai, I -”

A hand raises. “...right now, I’m a little tired for apologies or explanations. But you will be giving those later,” she assures, seeing the younger medic’s head lower. “All that aside, what I want now is to be sure you’re okay.” She sits next to her student and lets her lean her head against her shoulder. An arm wraps around Ryū’s back. “...I know you were scared. But I wish you didn’t lie to us.”

“I didn’t! I...I was going to go, but…” She sighs, breath shaking. “...on my way there, I couldn’t stop thinking about...everything that could go wrong. Next thing I knew, I was just...on my way out. I couldn’t stay, I was too...too afraid. Too nervous. I thought...well, clearly I wasn’t thinking. But I guess it just felt easier to leave than to stay.” Her brow turns to Rin’s shoulder. “...I’m so sorry…”

“You’re forgiven...so long as you never do that again.”

A nod.

“...now. Itachi’s been hauled off by Fugaku. I’m going to pray that Mikoto tells him off enough to give you a day or two to recover before badgering you. But there’s no avoiding it now, hun.”

“...I know…”

For now, Rin doesn’t ask about the masked stranger or his motives. The less she brings up any more possible fears, the better. They can face that when it comes. Otherwise, Ryū can’t have the stress. A hand pats her back. “...we’ll get you something to eat, now. But beyond that and the other necessities, I want you in this bed until I tell you otherwise. Got it?”

“Yes, senpai.”

“...y’know, you can drop the senpai by now.”

That earns a soft laugh. “...old habits die hard...nēchan.”

“There...that’s better. Rest now.” Standing with a grunt, Rin goes to make good on her promise, Manami on her tail.

“Thank you for looking her over.”

“Oh please, you couldn’t have stopped me from doing it if you tried,” Rin assures her, a hand at the small of her back with an oof. “I think any formalities in that regard died a long time ago.”

“Well...it never hurts to be thankful nonetheless.” As they reach the bottom floor, Manami’s expression sets to steel. “...whoever that was better hope he never meets me face to face.”

“You and me both. No one touches this little patchwork family of mine,” Rin agrees wholeheartedly. “...but now, the fighting’s done. Now...we lick our wounds. And wait for what comes next.”

“...indeed.”

     First off, thanks to @abyssaldespair and her penny for helping me plot with many a coin-flip x3 (And also ensuring Obito got a cameo, bahaha)      ANYWAY      I...actually had a lot of trouble thinking of a plot (hence Meg’s help xD), so...I decided it’d prolly be easiest to go off our wee threads from the other day with ALL of the preggo ladies, haha! I...don’t think this’ll be ‘canon’ for it, unless...you want it to be. It’s just getting a wee bit convoluted what with Obito involved, pfffft. But yeah! Here’s some drama llamas cuz reasons. Gotta love politics and forbidden romances x3 Admittedly there’s not as much ship focus for Rin and Sushi, but hopefully it was passable? =‘D      ANYWHO, it’s high time I got this done, so...I’ll stop rambling. Hope ya liked it Mey! Lemme know if you want anything tweaked!

[shy-badger]

Prompt 42

Now for my second prompt. This one can be more wholesome. 42 “I need a hug”. I’m sorry this is so late. Life got in the way, but hey, better late than never?

He was at it again. After every meal, after every mission, nearly all of his waking hours were spent playing that stupid game. Raven didn’t think anything of it at first, Beast Boy always loved playing video games, but now it seemed to take over every part of his life. She didn’t even know why he played it so much considering he spent most of his time playing it with an angry scowl on his face.

Raven sat on the end of the couch, reading and nursing her bruised body after a particularly tough fight with Plasmus. They had barely survived at all, escaping at the last second thanks to Robin’s quick thinking. Beast Boy took the most damage out of all of the titans, his animal forms always struggled with the giant glob of goo.

“No, don’t you…” Beast Boy pleaded just before the words, “You died” popped up on the screen. Beast boy’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “I can’t even beat a stupid video game.” He whispered, sagging back into the couch. The quiet voice of her teammate startling Raven, her forgotten book in her lap. She instead stared at her teammate beside her. He was always so animated. No matter the emotion; happy, sad, angry, he was always over the top. It normally annoyed Raven.

This however, was much worse. He wasn’t flailing about making a lot of noise, he wasn’t going off on some exaggerated rant, or even trying to puff himself up and blame some part of the game for messing him up some how. Beast Boy, instead, sat quietly in defeat. He stared at the screen like his life was over, morose and downcast to such an extreme that worry began to gnaw at Raven. She suspected that maybe, this wasn’t about the game. Beast Boy always had a habit of hiding the things that bothered him. So concerned with “burdening” his friends, that he always tried to wade through his problems alone. So quick to offer a helping hand to others, and so quick to refuse one for himself.

Raven watched Beast Boy for a moment more, puzzled by his seemingly sudden melancholy. Then the realization that this wasn’t so sudden crept up on Raven. Bit by bit, she remembered little changes in his behavior over the last couple of weeks. How his jokes seemed to have less energy behind them, how his smile didn’t seem to meet his eyes, and how when he thought he was alone, his smile was gone altogether.

Raven’s thought’s were interrupted when Beast Boy reached forward and drank what the last of his soda. He stared at the empty can for a moment, as if it held all the answers he had ever searched for, before standing with a sigh. Raven watched him as he walked over to the trash can pondering what could be the cause of her normally jubilant teammate’s newfound demeanor. She suspected that it might have something to do with the last few fights the team had. Plasmus had been released, and whoever was responsible was putting him to work very frequently lately. Beast Boy was struggling the most given the bad match up of powers, and she could guess the hell it was playing on his psyche. He was probably blaming himself, thinking it was because he wasn’t strong, or fast, or smart enough.

Raven took a deep breath to steady the emotions her thoughts had stirred, as Beast Boy turned back to the couch and jumped upon seeing Raven staring back at him.

“Raven!”

Beast Boy started figiting while doing a terrible job of acting casual.

“Hey, Rea… Um when did you get here?… Not like you can’t be here… I mean it’s your tower too…. I meant how long have you been sitting there?… Not that you can’t sit there either… I… Um… Was just surprised to see you. You’re really quiet sometimes. Ha ha”

Raven was taken aback, partly because he hadn’t noticed she was there, but mostly because there he was trying to hide his gloom behind that signature smile of his. This time however the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Raven looked at Beast Boy with suspicion. He hadn’t trusted her to see him that upset, he simply didn’t know she was there.

“Are you ok Beast Boy?”

Beast Boy looked worried for a split second before over exaggerating his smile even further.

“Me? I’m fine Rae, in more ways than one.” He punctuated his line with a suggestive eye brow wiggle for good measure.

You’re a terrible liar Beast Boy. What’s wrong?“ Raven said with an eye roll.

“I’m fine Rae, I swear.” Beast Boy was scratching the back of his neck while he answered her.

“Really?” Raven asked, skeptical.

“Oh I see. You wanna see how fine I really am?” This time Beast Boy put on more of an act by lifting up the corner of his uniform shirt to expose his abs.

Before Raven could stop herself, she sighed.

“You know Beast Boy? Sometimes you really tick me off.”

Raven hadn’t meant to say that, sure she wanted to talk to him, but she was hoping to calm herself before finding out what was wrong.

Beast Boy’s ears drooped a little before he attempted to defend himself.

“Ah come on Rae, It wasn’t that bad. I’ve said way worse stuff than that.”

Raven pinched the bridge of her nose in the hopes of displaying her annoyance.

“That’s not what this is about, you idiot.” She did manage to hold back the venom in her voice dispite her unreasonable desire to do otherwise. Raven knew she was getting upset, more so than she thought she should be. She closed her book and stood up from the couch, fully intending to end the conversation there and heading to her bedroom to meditate.

Beast Boy grabbed Raven’s arm as she passed him.

“Wait, Rae whatever I did, I’m sorry ok. Just come back to the couch, and I’ll even make you some tea or something to make up for whatever I did wrong. Ok?” Beast Boy flashed her a toothy grin to finish of his plea.

Raven couldn’t help but get even more irritated with him. She knew she shouldn’t be upset at all, he always dealt with his problems like this. She also thought that the way to help him was with gentle support, yet she couldn’t help herself. After everything he had done for the team, for her, she wanted better for him. She wanted him to trust her enough to ask for help. Raven hated the anger and hurt she felt, certain that these emotions were irrational and useless to her right now. Yet try as she might, she couldn’t stop her mouth form moving.

“You want to know what you did wrong Beast Boy? Nothing. You never do anything wrong.

Beast Boy recoiled at her sudden outburst, but Raven kept going.

“Yet anytime something bad happens, you’re so quick to blame yourself for stupid reasons like, you’re not strong enough, not good enough, or not smart enough. You never want us to see it though, so you hide it behind that stupid smile of yours. We know that’s your way of coping and there’s nothing wrong with that, but Beast Boy, we want you to come to us when something is wrong. When we have a problem, you won’t let up until you’ve helped us resolve it. Why can’t we do the same for you? Do you not trust us? Or do you not care if you hurt us? Because it does hurt Beast Boy. We love you and when you’re hurting, we want to help you. When you don’t let us, it hurts. I thought that you, of all people would know that.“

Raven took a deep breath to calm herself a little. Beast Boy stood staring at her looking a combination of shocked and guilty.

“Look Beast Boy, I’m not asking you to change everything about yourself. We love you, as our friend and our teammate. We wouldn’t have you any other way, but please. Every once and a while, ask us if you need something, ok? We want to help you too.” Raven was surprised to hear the emotions behind her plea. She looked at Beast Boy, afraid she may have hurt his feelings.

Beast Boy stared at Raven for what seemed like eternity before he finally burst into laughter. Raven was both confused and a little relieved. After a minute, Beast Boy settled down enough to speak.

“I’m sorry Rae, I’m not laughing at you I swear. I’m laughing because, of all the things to cheer me up, I never thought it would be you getting mad at me.” Beast Boy finally stopped laughing, stood up straight and looked Raven dead in the eyes.

“I’m sorry that I worried you ok? I’ll try to be more honest in the future.”

The way that Beast Boy delivered his apology was off putting to Raven. It was so confident and grounded that it seemed almost out of character, yet she couldn’t help that it made her core feel just a bit warmer than before.

“Ok good.” Raven suddenly felt smaller after her anger had calmed down and Beast Boy had changed posture.

Raven turned to head to her room before Beast Boy stopped her again, this time simply by calling to her.

“ Raven?” When she had turned back to hear him out, she found him figiting again. “If you really want to know when I need something, well… I kinda need a hug.” Beast Boy couldn’t seem to meet her eye after that, looking instead at his hands.

Raven response was to wrap her arms around Beast Boy’s shoulders, pulling him into an embrace he didn’t seem to expect.

“Oh. I didn’t think you’d actually…” Beast Boy said shocked before hugging her back and resting his chin on her shoulder. “Thanks Rae. I needed this.”

Raven was being squeezed tightly by Beast Boy and found her thoughts wandering to the peek he had given her of his abs earlier. Try as she might she couldnt get the picture out of her head, nor could she stop the blush she was sure she was wearing now.

When Beast Boy ended the hug, Raven quickly threw her hood up to cover her face.

“You should be careful Rae.” Beast Boy was saying over his shoulder as he returned to the couch. “If you keep giving me hugs that nice, I may ask for one every day.”

“Don’t push your luck.” Came Raven’s monotone threat, as she turned on her heel towards her room, though as she heard the common room door shut behind her, she couldn’t help thinking that hugging Beast Boy ever day wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.

[imjustthemechanic]

Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again Part 7/? - The Curse of Madame Desrosiers Part 8/? - Sabotage at Guedelon Part 9/? - A Miracle Part 10/? - Desrosiers’ Elixir Part 11/? - Athens in October

Paris in the spring, it ain’t.

It had been cold and wet in England, and damp and chilly in France.  When the plane landed in Athens, Natasha was prepared for it to be warmer – but walking onto the jetway was like walking into a sauna. It was only about twenty degrees Celcius, but there was not a cloud in the sky and the air was thick with Mediterranean moisture.

“How did you like your first aeroplane flight?” Sharon asked Sir Stephen, as they picked up their luggage.  Months earlier, while they’d waited for night to fall in Sherwood Forest, she had pointed out an airplane and suggested that Sir Stephen might get to ride in one someday. Nat suspected it had been on both their minds all day.

“It was a bit of a disappointment,” said Sir Stephen.  “The interior is so enclosed and the windows so small, you can barely tell you’re in the air.  I liked the train much better.  You could see the countryside you were travelling through.”

“It’s not for sightseeing,” Sam agreed.  “Just for getting where you’re going.”

“If you’re in a hurry I suppose it’s fine,” Sir Stephen said with a shrug.  “You couldn’t do it for a pilgrimage, certainly.”

“Why not?” said Nat.  “Thousands of people go by air for pilgrimages every year.  It’s the only way Muslims overseas can get to Mecca.”

Sir Stephen was startled.  “But the point of a pilgrimage is to make a journey,” he protested.  “People who live in Compostela do not walk up the street to see the relics of Saint James and call it a pilgrimage.  Pilgrims are demonstrating to God that they are willing to undergo hardship.  To simply fly over all obstacles in your way makes it seem so trivial.”

“Next time we’ll let you pay for the tickets,” Clint said.  “Then we’ll see if you still call it trivial.”

Outside in the parking lot, they met the bus that would take them to their hotel, and everybody was pleased to find that it was air conditioned.  The landscape between airport and city was a wide desert valley, with hazy hills visible all around the border of it.  Life hadn’t changed much here in thousands of years – it was still all stony red soil and tiny farms, though in the twenty-first century these were as likely to host rows of solar panels as lines of olive trees.  The buildings had white walls and red tile roofs, and sheep and goats grazed on little lots of pasture.  It really did look, Nat observed, like something out of another time.

“How are we going to find Madame Desrosiers?” asked Allen.

“By talking to people,” Natasha replied.  “Expats in areas like this, warm places where people like to retire, tend to live in close-knit communities.  So we’ll have to find where the French people live, and ask around.”

“Oh,” said Allen.

Nat glanced at him.  “You sound disappointed,” she observed.

“I am a little,” he admitted.  “I was sort of hoping there was some special technique spies use.”

“Sorry!” said Nat with an amused smile.  “Sometimes good old-fashioned legwork is best.���

“Absolutely,” Sharon agreed.  “Even nowadays, when we have CCTV cameras all over the country and DNA evidence, most of what a detective does is talk to people.”

“But if we’re in Athens,” Nat added, “you guys will probably want to let me do the actual talking.  Possibly Allen, too – none of the rest of you.”

Sam, Sharon, and Clint all nodded knowingly, but Sir Stephen was confused. “Why?” he asked.

“Because they’re the Americans, Steve,” said Sharon.  “Greeks don’t like British people, and they’ll like us even less now that we’ve at least tried to give Princess Sitamun back to Egypt.”

“Why not?” Sir Stephen wanted to know.

“The Elgin Marbles,” said Natasha.   “Once we find Desrosiers, we can go see the reproductions in the Acropolis Museum, and I’ll tell you about it.”

Athens itself was a maze of little roads between somewhat shabby-looking buildings, with tiny European cars and motorcycles zipping along with little regard for pedestrians or each other.  The entrance to their hotel, located just a few minutes from the ancient acropolis, was a narrow door in between a pharmacist’s and a camera shop – Sharon and Sir Stephen checked them in at the front desk, while the rest of them took turns hauling their luggage to the fourth floor, in an elevator that claimed to be rated for the weight of nine people but didn’t look big enough to even hold three.  Once they had their rooms, they immediately turned on the air conditioning again, and since they’d had a series of very long days, they all went to bed early.

Nat was sharing a room with Allen.  As she was getting her nightshirt on, she heard him say around his toothbrush, “I didn’t know Sir Isaac Newton was an alchemist.”

“A lot of people don’t,” said Natasha.  “His alchemical writings were only discovered in the 1930’s, but there’s loads of them.  He was apparently much more interested in magic and theology than he was in science and math, he just didn’t publish what he wrote.”

“I wonder why not,” said Allen.

Nat knew the answer to that.  “Partly because alchemy was illegal in England in the seventeenth century, because the crown was tired of con men who promised to make gold but then took your gold and disappeared.  And Newton’s theological writings would have gotten him in trouble with the Church of England.  He denied the divinity of Christ, which was a heresy punishable by death.”

Allen spit out his mouthful of toothpaste.  “That would explain it,” he said with a chuckle.  “How do you possibly remember all this stuff?”

“I was trained to remember everything I read,” Nat explained, “and most of what I hear, if I’m paying attention.  Did you know that quail meat can be toxic if eaten at the wrong time of year, because the birds eat poisonous plants?  Or that a churango is a musical instrument made out of a dead armadillo?”

“No, I didn’t know any of that,” said Allen, standing in the bathroom doorway with a fond smile on his face.  “But I bet I won’t forget it.  You know who you sound like?”

“Who?” Nat asked, pulling out her own toiletries.

“My daughter,” he said gently.  “In my memories you were always full of stuff you’d learned and wanted to share.  You’d learn something new in ballet class and come home and show it to us.  Or you’d tell us what you learned in school that day – with your mouth full, when you were little.  Your Mom and I used to have to remind you to swallow first.”

Natasha could picture it – herself as a child, sitting there eating spaghetti while excitedly telling her family about… about what?  She had brought news home when she was small, but it wasn’t about her ballet classes.

“You’re upset now,” Allen observed.

“No, I’m fine,” Natasha said quickly and automatically.

Allen came and put his hands on her shoulders.  “No, I’ve upset you.  I can tell.”

She sighed and stepped away, hugging her own shoulders, then forced herself to give him a watery smile.  “It’s just that your version sounds way nicer than the real… than the one I remember.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked.

Natasha knew he was asking because he cared.  He wanted to help her bear the weight of the memories, because that was what families did.

She sat down on the bed.  “When I was little, in training, my masters at the Red Room would plant us in groups of schoolchildren who were touring government buildings or newspaper offices… places like that.  Our job was to ‘get lost’ and wander around listening to conversations among people who were suspected of political dissent.  It was towards the end of the Soviet Union, of course, but there were lengths people weren’t allowed to go to, and the Red Room was much more hardline than the government was.  I wonder sometimes, whether anybody ever got executed because of something I told my instructors when I got back.  Probably not,” she added quickly.  “Considering the times.”

Who was she reassuring, she wondered – Allen, or herself?

He didn’t reply right away, and Natasha wanted to look up at his face but didn’t dare. She couldn’t bear to find out what he was thinking.  A moment ago he’d shared that warm memory of his little daughter chatting about what she’d learned at school, and now she’d stained it with eavesdropping and possible murder.

“Even if they were, it wasn’t your fault,” said Allen.  He sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. “You were a child.  You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“Yes I did,” said Nat.  “They told us – they gave us a list of things to listen for, and told us that people who said them were enemies of the State, our enemies, and we’d be making the world a better place by reporting them so that they could be removed.  And we knew what removed meant, because we’d seen it ourselves.”

Again, there was a silence.  This time, Natasha forced herself to look up and read Allen’s face.  Their room had two beds – they were sitting on the one by the window.  The window itself was closed to let the air conditioner do its job, but the curtains were open, and it was possible to see traffic moving on the street outside. Allen was staring thoughtfully out the window at the darkening sky, trying to decide what to say.  It only took a few seconds before Nat couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Allen?” she asked.  It was not a moment to call him Dad.

He looked at her and ran his hand up and down her back.  “Archaeology,” he said.

“What?” Nat asked.

“Archaeology,” he said.  “You dig up the truth and share it.”

A chill washed over Natasha.  She’d done a lot of examination in the past few months of why she’d chosen archaeology as her cover.  There was the ostensibly practical reason that she was unlikely to become famous for it – the silly but sentimental one that she’d always enjoyed adventure movies – and the one she’d come up with as potential real reason, that after so long living in the shadows she wanted to be responsible for bringing things into the light.  She hadn’t thought of it that way, that it was just another way of doing what she’d always done.

“Natasha?” asked Allen.

She swallowed.  “It is, isn’t it?” she asked.  “I expose people’s dirty secrets and tell them to the world.”

“But it’s different now,” Allen added, “because the people who kept those secrets died a long time ago, and nobody’s going to get hurt because you told.”

“I guess,” said Natasha.

Allen patted her back again.  “Was that so hard, Ginger Snap?”

That was what he’d wanted from her, wasn’t it?  That she trust him with her past and let him try to help her with it.  She’d done her best and he had too, but now that seed of self-doubt had been planted, and she wasn’t sure it wouldn’t do more harm than good in the long run.

“I don’t know,” she said, and she really didn’t.

[sincerelybluevase]

Fanfic Friday: Lips touch, part 14

In which Sister B hurts her foot and Doctor T has to come to the rescue like the proper chivalric doctor he is. Based on the prompt ‘Sister B hurts her ankle/knee/hip whatever and Doctor T has to help her’, suggested to me by @bloghey131313.

 The scream lasted a second at most, but Patrick had years of experience of waking from the muffled ringing of the telephone downstairs and was on his feet before having made a conscious decision. Within a few heartbeats he was out of his office and across the hallway. Only a handful of seconds more and he stood outside, at the top of the stone steps that connected his surgery to the street.

Sister Bernadette was on the bottom of those steps, a tangle of limbs and navy fabric. Her wimple was splattered with dirt. Patrick guessed that her habit was just as soiled, but the deep blue hid it better.

“Sister!” he exclaimed, and almost flew down the steps.

“Careful!” she warned him, her voice higher than he was used to, “Those steps are slick as a selkie.” It had rained these past few days, and the grey stone shone almost black with wetness.

“Did you slip?” Patrick asked. He knelt down next to her, found her glasses on the final step, and handed them back to her.

Her hands trembled as she put them on. “It’s nothing,” she murmured, and tried to get up. She cried out in pain just as Patrick wanted to order her to sit still and let him check her for injuries. Her left leg refused to carry her weight. She would surely have collapsed and fallen in the murky puddle she had upset so recently of Patrick’s arm hadn’t shot out to catch her. Her lips moved, but no words came out. He guessed she was either praying, or pouring out a string of silent curses. He would bet money on the former, simply because he could not see the little nun performing the latter. “That doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I… I think I’ve twisted my ankle,” she whispered. She looked very pale all of a sudden, only a few shades darker than her scapular and the clean parts of her wimple. Patrick feared she might faint.

“I’ll take you inside and have a look at that ankle of yours,” Patrick decided. There was no way she could go back to Nonnatus like this. She could hardly stand, let alone walk or bike. She can’t very well hop up those steps, either, a voice whispered inside his head. He would love to call it the voice of reason, or common sense, but his heart drummed too fast at the idea of holding her in his arms for it to be either. “I’m going to have to carry you inside, if that’s alright with you, Sister,” he said.

“Maybe I can walk inside with your help,” she suggested, her eyes not quite meeting his.

“And risk us both falling?”

“I don’t want you to throw out your back.” “I’m stronger than I look. Hauling around all that gas-and-air has given me plenty of practice. Besides, unless you can levitate, I don’t see how you’re going to get from here to my examination table by yourself,” he quipped.

“Me, neither,” she confessed, and gave a tight smile.

Patrick guessed she must really be in pain by the way she scrunched up her face and bit back a scream as he picked her up. Sweet, self-sacrificing Sister Bernadette. He had been her GP for the past ten years, but he had only seen her as a patient twice before. He thought back to those times in an effort to distract himself from her arm around his neck, from the warmth that seeped through her habit into the hand he had placed on the small of her back to support her, from the scent of starch and soap and something distinctly her that nestled itself in his nose.

The first time she had come to him because of a throat infection that had rendered her almost mute. Patrick had given her a prescription for penicillin and advised her to drink lots of tea sweetened with honey. The second time it was Sister Julienne who asked him to take a look at their youngest religious sister. Sister Bernadette had fainted several times in just a couple of weeks. It had been concluded that she had low blood pressure and suffered from anaemia, for which he had given her iron tablets.

Sister Bernadette was someone who didn’t complain, ever. Patrick sometimes wondered whether she had learned to keep her hurts and troubles to herself as a young child after her mother had died, or if she felt that it somehow went against her vow of obedience to complain. It wasn’t his place to ask, though.  

Patrick put her down on one of the examination tables and put some screens around her. The surgery was deserted at this time, but someone could walk in unannounced and he didn’t want to compromise the little nun’s dignity. He still had to examine her, though, and that was going to be uncomfortable for both of them, though for different reasons.

“Do you need help to remove your shoe?” he asked.

“I think I can manage,” she said.

“Well, don’t force it. If it won’t come off, we’ll cut it off,” he said.

“Sister Evangelina will throw a fit if she knows I ruined a perfect pair of shoes. I’ve only had them for a week,” Sister Bernadette said, two small lines appearing between her brows as she knit them together.  

“Let her blow her top. I’ll buy you a new pair.” The words were out of his mouth before his brain had properly processed them. He blushed.

“I couldn’t accept that,” she said. Her eyes snapped up and met his, worry writ large in them. “Let’s see if you can get it off without the use of scissors, then. I’ll fetch my bag.”

Get a grip, Turner, he told himself as he found his bag in his office. He grabbed a towel for Sister Bernadette to cover herself with, then made a detour to the kitchen to put on the kettle. He washed his hands with icy water in an attempt to get his flushed body under control again. He would be the picture of professionality as he palpated her foot, her shapely ankle, getting a glimpse of her leg without the woollen stocking…

He cleared his throat and rubbed some cold water on his wrists. This would not do. He sighed and rubbed his eyes before washing his hands again.

Your attraction to her is only partly physical, so stop behaving like a hormonal teenager, Patrick scolded himself, and knew it to be true. Her pretty face was still visible, as were her small hands and delicate wrists, but for the rest the habit did an admirable job of hiding that the body underneath was female. No, he had admired her capability as a nurse and midwife, her quiet efficiency, but most of all her compassion long before he got a glimpse from the individual, from the person she was before she was Sister Bernadette. He wondered when his admiration for her had started to slip into something more.

Patrick was not a religious man. His faith had been wavering ever since he was a teenager, and he had lost whatever lingering bit there was after the war and the death of Marianne. Sister Bernadette, however, made him entertain such religious concepts as the soul. He was still no closer to forming a definite answer to some of the bigger questions of life that had plagued him since adolescence, but he did know one thing: if there was such a thing as the human soul, Sister Bernadette had touched his, and now his soul cried out for hers.

He snapped out of his reverie and returned to his patient. He passed her the towel without looking so she could cover herself up, and waited till she told him she was ready. By the time he was ready to examine her he had himself under control again.

Sister Bernadette sat on the side of the table, her legs dangling from the edge, her eyes trained on the floor. She had managed to get her shoes off in one piece, and flashed him a brief smile as he told her he was glad he would not have to be some prince in a warped version of Cinderella.

Patrick knelt down in front of her and looked at her foot. He couldn’t help but wince in sympathy. The ankle was already swollen, the skin radiating angry reds and purples. He tried to be gentle, but Sister Bernadette still hissed as he palpated her ankle.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m alright,” she said, but her voice was tight.

Patrick checked for breaks and didn’t find any. That was a relief, at least. It would still take considerable time before she would be able to be up and about again, though.

He knew he had to get up and wrap her ankle, that he had to tell her to keep bedrest and elevate her foot till the swelling went down, but he could not bring himself to speak. He could have guessed that her foot was small – her hands were quite tiny, after all– but he had never really thought about it. He tried to keep thoughts of her body at bay if he could. Now, with her small foot resting in the palm of his hand, he was entranced.

There was a sliver of pink nail polish on the nail of her big toe. Had one of the nurses asked to practice on the little nun’s feet, or had she done it herself? Patrick was quite sure that nuns were not supposed to use things like nail polish, and the thought that Sister Bernadette had gave him a secret thrill of pleasure. He had known she was not always a stickler for rules since the Carter delivery –the idea that she snuck cigarettes from her father’s desk still made him chuckle – but knowing that this trait was not mere teenage rebelliousness gave him more joy than it should. Another sign was the small bit of leg that was not covered by the towel; Sister Bernadette had shaved her legs. Patrick’s only knowledge about women and their shaving habits came from Marianne. She had often complained about it; her skin was sensitive, and shaving would cause a nasty kind of irritation that would last for days. Now, it could be that Sister Bernadette simply wasn’t that hairy and that she hadn’t used razor blades to get rid of unwanted hair at all, if it had not been for the tiny cut near her lateral malleolus*. Patrick might not know much about women and shaving, but he could recognize a razor cut. He suddenly wondered whether the silent string of words that had poured from her mouth outside might not have been curse words, after all.

What struck him most, though, was the smattering of blisters on her heel and the side of her foot. They were large and an angry red. A look confirmed that there were several blisters on her other foot as well. “Sister, how could you walk with those?” he whispered, and stroked the skin around them.

“They’re because of my new shoes. I should never have taken them. They were uncomfortable from the start, but I thought I’d break them in if I kept walking,” she explained, and sighed. “Just an ordinary case of hubris, doctor.”

Was it? It seemed to him that it was more a case of her trying not to break her vow of poverty. Patrick looked at her shoes. They might have been new, but he could see they were cheap. He wondered whether they were even the right size. He suddenly understood how it could that Sister Bernadette, who was always so careful and precise, had fallen down the steps. It was more miraculous that she hadn’t done so sooner, her feet looking like that.

Patrick took some bandages from his case and started wrapping her foot. “This won’t do, Sister, it won’t do at all,” he said. “You’re going to need new shoes as soon as you can walk again, because we can’t risk you hurting yourself like this another time. I won’t allow it.” He couldn’t help that emotion bled into his voice. “This time it’s a sprained ankle, but it could have been a lot worse. You could have broken your wrist, or your arm, or hit your head…” That didn’t bear thinking about. His throat felt thick and his eyes burned.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered.

He sighed and brushed her foot with his fingertips. He had nearly wrapped her entire ankle; only a small part of skin on the lateral malleolus* was still bare. Patrick couldn’t help himself. He placed a quick kiss on the exposed bit of flesh, marvelling at how soft her skin was. It was a bit of information he would try to forget, but knew he could not; it would be stored deep into his heart, trying to fill the longing of a soul that ached for its mate. He instantly regretted his impetuous action, but couldn’t take it back. He quickly bandaged the rest of her foot, but that only trapped the kiss against her skin and the white fabric.

“There, all done,” Patrick said. He didn’t dare to look her in the face. She had such expressive eyes, and he feared what he would read there. He should never have taken such liberties with her, but how to make it up to her? What if he apologised and she hadn’t even noticed?  

“I’ll take you to Nonnatus; there’s no way you can get there yourself.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll make us some tea,” he said, and fled the room in silence.

He just wished that his heart would stop screaming her name with every heartbeat.

 * the bony part on the outside of the foot; the knobbly part of the ankle that faces outside

[charlesking830-blog]

What is the preschooling secret of teachers?

You wrestle for ten minutes with your 3-year-old to get his jacket on, yet his preschool teacher has ten kids (including yours) dressed for the playground in less than three. What's her secret? Partly, of course, the advantage of not being a parent—kids really are more inclined to behave for outsiders.

But it's not only that. Teachers develop all sorts of tricks to help young kids learn, keep the classroom more efficient, and make their job more enjoyable. This is hardly surprising. Preschool teachers have year after year of experience with this challenging age group. Fortunately, they're more than willing to share the keys to their success with eager (and sometimes frustrated) parents:

multiplication learning toys  

Secret #1: Preschoolers don't have to dawdle . Why does your child seem to thwart your attempts to get you both out the door each morning but promptly turns on her heels when her teacher announces it's time to head back in from the playground? The explanation is simple enough, says Barbara Roth, director and teacher for more than 20 years at the Hanover Nursery School, in New Hampshire: "When we say something, they know we mean it." Roth says she routinely sees parents tell their child it's time to leave the playground but then stop and chat with another parent themselves, or indulge countless delays and requests for "just one more slide." "You've got to follow through," she says. "Otherwise, it becomes clear that your child doesn't really have to do what you say when you say it." This means giving a few gentle but firm warnings starting five minutes before it's time to leave (or come to the table, and so on), then announcing departure time definitively and matter-of-factly. You may have to just go and scoop her up the first few times (which you should do without hesitation) until she knows you're serious.

Kids also respond to cues they can see, hear, or count. If a child has trouble saying goodbye, "decide on a certain number of hugs and kisses," suggests Jenny Raffaelli, lead teacher at the Kinderberry Hill preschool, in Roseville, Minnesota. Soon she'll come to both expect and accept the routine.

counting toys for 3 year olds  

Roth plays the same few notes on the piano each day as a signal that free play is over. You might regularly use a bell or an egg timer or blink the lights in the room for the same effect, whether to get everyone to come to the dinner table or to mark that it's time to put away toys. Counting (as in "I'm going to count to thirty, and then I want to see a clean room") also inspires students to finish picking up in a hurry. "I often hear parents promise kids a treat to get them to do something," says Roth. "But that's rarely necessary—praise and accomplishment on their own mean just as much as material incentives."

Letting a child race against herself helps her hurry and also provides a great learning opportunity, says Joyce Drolette, director of the Big Sky Preschool, in Big Sky, Montana. She suggests timing getting ready for bed, school, and so forth with a stopwatch, then graphing or charting the results on the wall each day. In addition to teaching about graphs and charts, this method lets your child compare her speed on different days, says Drolette, and may even push her to beat her best time.

Secret #2: Kids can handle scissors and pens earlier than you think. Wanting to help their child develop writing and other fine motor skills, most parents simply hand him a pencil, kid-safe scissors, and paper. But a little practice may forestall frustration later. Raffaelli has her students learn basic skills and movements with such activities as picking up nuts and small blocks with kitchen tongs, stringing beads, rolling out play clay, and even cutting it with scissors. "With clay, it doesn't matter how kids cut," she says. "They can snip any which way and really build the fine muscles in their hands."

Once your child becomes adept, let him cut real paper—but in a way that guarantees his success. "For a preschooler, trying to cut out a picture is often too much—the scissors get caught up in the paper and he can't go anywhere," says Ann Curtis, director of the Infant and Preschool Center at Western Illinois University. "Thin little strips of paper work better: One snip and he feels a great sense of accomplishment." Set him up with a bunch of thin strips of different-colored paper and a container to cut them into, then let him cut strips to glue onto a paper plate for a wall hanging. Yarn also works well for scissor practice.

electronic alphabet learning toys  

As for writing, if your child shows an interest in using pencils and wants to move beyond scribbles, loops, and doodles but is frustrated that he can't make letters, he'll probably get a kick out of fooling around with stencils or tracing, says Raffaelli. Both let him practice holding the pencil and using it like a grown-up, and they won't prevent him from writing without them later on.

Also let him copy or trace your grocery or to-do list. "We play restaurant and store all the time, with the kids copying menus and lists right off the blackboard," says Drolette.

Secret #3: Structure and routine are critical for easy naps. It may seem amazing that your child manages to nap with a bunch of other kids in the room when you can't get a short snooze out of her in her own comfy bed, but preschools have an advantage over home, explains Raffaelli. "Your child is with a group of other children who are doing the same thing, so it's just easier to go along with the rest." Even if you can't import ten other 3-year-olds every day at naptime, there are some other tricks.

Mary Eltgroth, assistant director of New Horizon Child Care Center, in Savage, Minnesota, recommends that you first give her time to unwind before her nap—a half hour minimum—being careful not to suggest an activity that engrosses her so much that she won't want to interrupt it to sleep. Next, create a routine: the same time, the same music, the same bed, and the same expectation: quiet or sleep.

Cutting down on distractions can also help, says Drolette, who runs a fan (out of reach) to block out background noise and suggests that restless kids cover their eyes with a blanket so they're not tempted to keep looking around.

Secret #4: How you say things is as important as what you say. Having trouble getting your child's attention? Don't raise your voice, unless it's to sing. "Kids don't care how you sound," says Curtis. "If I'm reading and they aren't listening and I start singing the story, they quiet right down."

But you can't rely on song alone. Teachers try to alternate verbal tactics, using whispering or different voices or silently mouthing the words to get children to focus on them. They also employ visual cues, such as putting a hand up in the air or touching their finger to their nose and asking the children to do the same when they're quiet. Amanda Johnson, who used to teach at Radnor Nursery School, in Devon, Pennsylvania, has even been known to lean playfully over her charges and "blow the dust out of their ears."

And once you've got your child's undivided attention, keep your instructions clear, short, and direct, says Barbara Hill, director of administration at the Child and Family Study Center, the Lab School for California State University, Northridge. "Don't start by saying that if they get on the table it might break. Say, 'Get down'"—and explain later.

stem toys for 2 year olds  

Secret #5: Your child wants to get dressed himself.

Most young kids really want the feelings of independence, self-confidence, and achievement that dressing themselves brings. It's just that their clothes get in the way. To make it easier, "take into account where your child is developmentally when you buy his clothes," says Hill. For instance, a 3-year-old won't do as well in a pair of jeans with a zipper and a button as he will in elastic-waist pants.

Then develop specific ways to help him succeed. This might mean arranging his outfit the night before in the shape of a person on the floor, getting in the habit of putting on dress-ups and costumes when you aren't under time pressure or labeling clothes so that your child is able to distinguish the front from the back.

Raffaelli suggests marking one shoe with a star, dot or little sticker and teaching your child that that shoe always goes on the same foot. Another right/left shoe teaching method, from Curtis: Ask your child whether his shoes are mad at each other. If they're on the correct feet, the toes will be kissing (touching); if they're angry at each other (on the wrong feet), the toes will be turning away.

To help your child learn how to manipulate zippers and buttons, let him practice on someone else so he can see what he's doing. "It's important to do this with real clothes—doll clothes are much more difficult," says Roth. "We let our kids put their snowsuits on large teddy bears." And offering to let your child button or zip your coat after you have buttoned or zipped his gives him a feeling of accomplishment as well.

Secret #6: Taking turns and sharing don't have to be traumatic.

As an adult, you know you have to wait in line sometimes, and you're comfortable with it as long as no one cuts in front of you. Kids have the same expectation of fairness, say teachers. Most will share and take turns as long as the system is fair. "When two children are arguing over one object, we talk about how fighting won't fix the problem but will only make them cry and feel angry," says Drolette. "I tell the one who's most upset, 'Let me hear Billy and then I'll hear you.' He'll immediately calm down because he now knows that I'll listen to both sides." Then she gets the children to agree that in the future they'll ask for the toy nicely and relinquish it when they're finished with it. "Seven times out of ten, the child will hand over the toy right then and there."

If this approach doesn't work, you may have to formalize the sharing process. Give the child waiting for a toy (as well as the one already playing with it) an accurate measure of how long until it's her turn, rather than just saying wait until "later" or that she'll get her turn "in a little while," says Johnson. She's had success using egg timers and clocks to schedule use of a popular toy. Curtis has even used a sign-up sheet for some highly desirable items. "Even a three-year-old can understand that it will be her turn when her name comes up. It also serves as a graphic representation of the concept of waiting your turn, and it's good practice for kids to print their name on it," she says.

Secret #7: Play may be all the education your preschooler needs.

"I'd like to think kids go home from my class and say, 'I had great fun. I played all day,'" says Johnson, "because that's how children learn." So even if you decide to push some academics at home, the focus should be on fun rather than rote learning. It's easy to use letters in projects and games, such as Raffaelli's favorite literacy project: personalized math and counting books. "We take photographs or cut out pictures of everything that begins with a certain letter—or look for groups of one, two or three objects and so on—and make them into books."

And remember, one of the reasons your child can let loose and enjoy himself in the first place is that he has his own secret weapon: a foundation of unconditional love waiting for him at home.