#queuing on broken glass

[nageill]

Okay, so I had a lot of thoughts about this (and I mainly typing this up for the folks in my book club) because at the very end. I have used this to describe published books and even movies.

[nightsky-edits]

Sorry for being slow on the pq edits also, i broke my glasses and i couldnt see my screen for like a week :( just got some new ones in so i should be able to tackle them later this week :D

[gluion]

songs queued! — boynextdoor’s ktv experiences with you

wc — 1.9k (~300-350 per member) genre & warnings — fluff, crack, platonic for woonhak, most scenarios will have alcohol involved (except for woonhak’s), songs that they’d sing in the karaoke included (with one opm song per member because i must give respect to my heritage that gifted me my talent) notes — one thing about me is that i do NOT play about ktvs. you will catch me drinking and having the time of my life in one almost every week (it's been a month since i last went. i miss it). if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

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park sungho knows one thing: you and alcohol guarantee a night filled with tears. whether it would be over the worst week you’ve had or out of sheer joy from being surrounded with your friends, it’s a sob fest. the first time you cried to him in your intoxicated state brought him to drop the mic… until he heard you talk about the finale of your favorite series. it’s not that sungho doesn’t take you seriously, but he now knows what to do should you cry again.

✰ sungho never strays away from the microphone, always flipping through the songbook to find another song to queue. if anything, you were the type who seemed to avoid the microphone. yet, sungho never pushed you to sing, so long as you sung along or enjoyed the night.

✰ on the nights the reason behind your tears are serious, he leads you somewhere far from the party, and he’ll stick with you until the end. he won’t force you to talk about anything, only holding a glass of water should you ever need one. he knew these were the only moments you could allow yourself to vent, to be vulnerable, and he would never strip that from you. all he wants is to be there for you.

✰ before you leave the party, sungho checks up on you one last time. he wipes your tear stained cheeks before pulling you into a hug. although your intoxicated mind won’t remember, he tells you to call him the next day. and when morning comes, you’ll see a message from him saying that he’s on the way to your place with a bowl of chinese soup. 

songs queued — no control by one direction — still into you by paramore — replay by shinee — broken clocks by sza — and july by heize, dean & dj friz — chinito by yeng constantino

lee riwoo is all too familiar with your three different stages of intoxication. first, you’ll be in a bubbly mood, struggling to hold back your giggles over the smallest things that shouldn’t be funny. when you’ve had a bit more alcohol in your system, you’ll let loose and get on the dance floor, dragging riwoo along to enjoy the night with you. once you’ve calmed down, you’ll find yourself entering your third stage of intoxication: going nonverbal. riwoo follows the same stages as you.

✰ riwoo enjoys the karaoke with you. he can let loose and sing his heart out, knowing that someone is there to reciprocate the energy. it’s in the karaoke room—or maybe just being with you that he feels most alive. in your shared looks, you always read his mind, and you always came rushing to him with what he needed; another singing buddy, a person to dance with, someone to laugh with, the only one who can just sit in silence with him.

✰ when one of you go nonverbal, the other person makes it an effort to ask if they want to go somewhere far from the party. after all, the noise and lights could be overwhelming. riwoo always comes prepared with water while you always have earphones should the energy be too much. however, when the two of you find yourselves entering the third stage of intoxication, a corner in the room suffices. the only thing important to you two is having each other during these moments.

✰ while everyone goes off in their own, you and riwoo stick together. the way back home is a wordless one, but one filled with actions; hand holding and interlocked arms. the two of you thank the universe for silent moments—so long as you two are together.

songs queued — red wine supernova by chappell roan — shoong by taeyang feat. lisa — smoking out the window by silk sonic — beauty and a beat by justin bieber & nicki minaj — born this way by lady gaga — dadalhin by regine velasquez

myung jaehyun follows one rule when it comes to ktvs and you: act as the designated babysitter, specifically yours. you and alcohol never mix well. despite how many times you tell him that you aren’t going to drink, you can’t hold yourself back around a bottle of liquor. yet, jaehyun knows how much you needed the break. in fact, he’s always been the one person to tell you to stop spending late nights with your back slouched in front of your computer. so for now, he’ll allow you to have this time to let loose—so long as he’s there to take care of you. 

✰ one thing about jaehyun is that he knew how to have fun without the alcohol—that’s how you know he’s the life-of-the-party. somehow, he knew what you needed. someone to sing with? that’s him. someone to hype you up? easiest job for him. someone to take a break with? you didn’t have to ask—he knows. when he sees you taking a seat after you sing your heart out, he rushes to your side. sure, you need some water, but sometimes, you just want someone to lean on. and he always knows.

✰ as everyone starts to bid their farewells, you hold jaehyun’s arm half-asleep. given all the times he took care of you, there would be no question who brings you home. he knows what to do before you fall to your bed; watch out the remnants of the night so that you can enjoy your sleep. after all, he didn’t mind taking care of you. the soft babbling, the sudden giggles, the quiet snores—these happened to be his favorite moments after every night out. 

✰ whenever you wake up, you’d find hangover medicine and water on your bedside table. that was enough to make you smile. 

songs queued — to myself by dpr live — new thing by zico — i need a girl by taeyang — aeao by dynamic duo — pour up by dean & zico — beer by the itchyworms

han taesan knows all the telltale signs that show whenever you’ve had too much to drink. he moves quick, ready to catch you whenever you stumble or snatch a shot from you. as much as taesan could never hold back from your eyes that plead to him, he knows you; a morning with a pounding headache and lack of recollection of last night’s events isn’t one you wanted to deal with. you think he’s not doing you a favor, sulking as he tells you he won’t leave until you finish a glass of water, but you’ll thank him when the morning comes.

✰ some nights, you manage to get away from taesan’s scolding. however, that only brings him to think smarter. at a point of incoherency, you still search for alcohol, whining as you ask them to fill up your shot glass. while you expect it to be filled with vodka, taesan fills it with water without your knowledge. to really sell it, he’ll take a “shot” with you. your intoxicated mind could never tell. (it was always amusing to see you hiss over the “alcohol” going down your throat.) and when you struggled to keep up with the lyrics, taesan would join along and keep you up to pace.

✰ when the night finally comes to an end, taesan never allows himself to watch you go home by yourself. you’re too drunk to take care of yourself, and for his peace of mind, he stays with you until he sees you enter the front door. 

✰ when morning comes, taesan only recaps your foolish actions. while you sit in embarrassment, taesan laughs. (but he’ll never tell you of all the times he made sure you got home safe. he didn’t care how late in the night—or early in the morning—it would be. all he knows is that he’d do it any day.)

songs queued — linger by the cranberries — welcome to the black parade by my chemical romance — 1999 by g2 & gray — mr. brightside by the killers — sk8er boi by avril lavigne — huwag na huwag mong sabihin by kitchie nadal 

kim leehan can’t deny he likes you in your intoxicated state. you’re never this bubbly, clingy, with him unless you’ve got some alcohol in your system. and in this state, you never know how to control your words. shy compliments and secret confessions never fail to leave your mouth. he swears he can hear his heartbeat with every word you say. it starts off with the love songs; you never can stop yourself from singing them. while everyone’s busy singing along, they never spot the glances you take at leehan. he doesn’t know if it’s your poor attempt to look at him discreetly, but he will always lock eyes with you. it’s the heat in your cheeks that are enough to send a message his way.

✰ when you start settling down, you stay with leehan, latching onto his arm and basking in his warmth. leehan accepts your touch, even slinging an arm to hold you close. mumbles tumble out of your mouth. when he can’t understand, he’ll lean closer to you—and the distance is enough to make you lose your train of thought. (leehan can’t help but like your starstruck expression.)

✰ once the party comes to its end, you always sober up in time. you’re back to your laidback persona that everyone knows of. yet, leehan still looks at you like the same intoxicated person who held onto him almost the entire night. although you try to feign ignorance, he knows you all too well. his hand rests on top of your head, allowing you to enjoy briefly in his warmth before you go on your separate ways.

✰ you two never talk about it in the next morning. (but you two think back to it in the late hours of the night.)

songs queued — a thousand miles by vanessa carlton — september by earth, wind, and fire — yeah by usher feat. lil jon & ludacris — so sick by ne-yo — you’re so vain by carly simon — torete by moonstar88 

kim woonhak would never pass on karaoke, especially if you’re coming along. every song becomes a duet with you. not in a way that you’re stealing each other’s spotlight but more to deliver the best performance in the booth. the karaoke booth transforms into anything you two want it to be; a stage, a garage, whatever space fits the song and you two.

✰ whenever you two get tired, you fall into a routine of catching up on anything and everything. somehow, you two can talk about anything in the world; lucid dreams, burning passions, the concept of water and if it’s wet. woonhak likes these conversations. if anything, he’d be happy to just talk, but he likes creating memories with you—living life with you. his youth is filled with you.

✰ while everyone leaves with a goal to rest, you and woonhak can’t seem to think about what’s in store for the next day. the way home is filled with laughter over tonight’s events. somehow, you remind him that there’s more to life than just school or work. there’ll always be space for these silly moments and never-ending conversations with you.

✰ mornings after surprisingly aren’t as noisy like the nights you spend at the ktv. somehow, you two like it slow, and woonhak’s happy enough to spend it with his favorite person. 

songs queued — her by block b — come back home by seo taiji and boys — left & right by seventeen — cat & dog by tomorrow by together — love scenario by ikon — andrew ford medina by andrew e.

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @onedoornet @kstrucknet

boynextdoor permanent tag list: @bndokidoki @0310s @whyilovewhales-pdf

story tag list: @zynz0 @chewnotchoke

[nageill]

Rules: Repost, don’t reblog. Bold what applies.

Tagged by: @tampire.

pumpkin spice or gingerbread // horror or supernatural (BOTH!) // hocus pocus or halloweentown (neither- Casper!) // painting pumpkins or carving jack-o-lanterns // vampires or zombies // beanies or scarves // oversized sweaters or favorite sweatshirt // orange or black // apple pie or sweet potato pie (neither- Chocolate mousse!) // corn maze or haunted house // apple picking or bobbing for apples // trick or treating or staying in (well NOW this applies because I’m in my 30′s...but as a kid, no I went out trick-or-treating EVERY year!) // diy costume or store bought costume (BOTH!) // cinnamon or nutmeg // hot cocoa or apple cider.

Tagging: @quiveringdeer; @nerdgirljen​; @koiwrites; @booksandcatslover; @deshington; @patwrites​; @nerdamongnerds; @onyxmusemusings.

[sometimesanalice]

A prompt party, Alexa? How in the world did I miss that? I'd be over the moon if you could write a little something for Bradley + "i’m gonna marry you one day." 🪩 ✨

Rebecca! Now you know I’m always down to write a little something for a smitten Bradley! I hope you enjoy!

It was a surprisingly quiet night at the Hard Deck.

You could actually hear the music playing out of Penny's old juke box, rather than just the faint essence of notes for whatever oldie was queued up over the usual rowdy ruckus. And there were more empty chairs scattered about than there were taken ones.

It was one of the rare rainy days they got in San Diego. The gray skies and drizzle driving even the best of Uncle Sam's finest under blankets and curled up on couches.

Bradley always liked the moody weather. He liked the way the clouds seemed to cling to the coastline. He liked the rough rolling waves as they broke against the shore with more force than they usually did.

But he wasn't look out the bank of windows out towards the beach, in fact, he had his back turned to it.

Because he was looking at you.

Bradley had been trying to ask you out for the better part of two months now. And he was starting to think that you were giving him the runaround.

He'd learned that first evening that you were only filling in as a favor to Penny- she and your mom went way back as sorority sisters- for a few months as Jimmy recovered from his knee replacement surgery.

Under normal circumstances, he’d take the hint and move on. And even if his mom hadn’t raised him right- which she had- Rooster knew that just because someone was nice didn’t mean they were interested. Especially when it was their job.

But he couldn’t kick the feeling that there was something there.

All he needed was one date to prove it.

It was more than the way you always seemed to catch him looking, because you were looking right back. Or the way you’d slip him a free drink every now and then, saying it was on the house. Or the way you found a way to brush past him a little too close whenever you'd swing by with more peanuts for Bob or a fresh round of drinks for his friends.

You were so damn smart and funny as hell. He’d taken to spending less time on his ESPN app and more time on the NYT trying to find interesting topics to get to spend a extra few minutes with you. Nothing felt better than earning a smile from you.

But any time he got close to asking you out or asking for your number, you were pulled away by something or another. The sound of broken glass. A pointed throat clearing from a thirsty patron. An emergency trip to the storage closet.

Rain was good luck in some places, and Bradley needed all the luck he could get. It hadn’t been on his side in the past two month, but tonight was his night. He was sure of it.

Especially considering he was the only person seated at the bar.

You'd been popping out and checking on people, delivering refills personally to the few people who had braved the elements instead of having them come up to the bar.

Rooster was patient, he didn't mind waiting his turn. After all, he had a shiny new NYT subscription to keep him company.

He smiles to himself when you work your way back to the bar, grabbing the bowl of limes and a cutting board, and setting up right in front of him. He watches as you deftly slice and quarter the limes into wedges, their bright scent clinging in the air.

“Why does it feel like I’ve seen less of you tonight than I do when this place is packed?” Bradley asks, saving the article he was midway through before closing out of the app completely.

“I’m just a one woman show here tonight, I told Penny to stay home." You're tidy and efficient in the way you store the prepped wedges and work to clean up the already immaculate bar. "It's means a bit more running around for me. But I don't mind, I like to keep busy."

"So I've noticed."

You look up at him from under your lashes, as you wipe down the prep space. "Have you been keeping tabs on me, Rooster?"

"Now I know you're teasing me." He sets his phone down and levels a look at you. "Because we both know you catch me looking often enough to know the answer to that."

You press your lips together, but the corners curl up anyways.

"Oh, Bradley," you say with a soft sigh. "Bradley, Bradley, Bradley..."

And then your eyes drop purposefully down.

The two of you stare at his phone sitting on the shiny bar top.

"You wouldn't," he rasps.

"I think I'm legally obligated to. There's a very official wood sign and everything." You look the picture of innocence, but you don't fool him.

"Sweetheart, c'mon."

"Are you asking me to bend the rules for you? Just because Penny isn't here?" You tsk, with a self-satisfied smile. "And here I thought you were a Boy Scout."

Bradley just shakes his head amused as you sashay up to the bell and give it a loud, long ring. A couple whoops go up in response, but no one gets up. Yet.

You walk back towards him with an all too pleased smile.

"I think you enjoyed that."

You smile wider and don't deny it. "I can't lie, it is a fun perk of the job."

He sighs. "And here I thought we had something special."

"Stop that, you're too pretty to pout," you tease. "You gave me no choice. I don't make the rules, I just follow them. And as much as I love Penny, I have a healthy dose of-"

"-fear-"

You smirk. "I was going to say respect. But also you're not wrong."

"And what about me?" he asks, sitting up straighter on his stool. "What are your impressions of me?"

"Oh you?" You tilt your head to the side, letting your gaze linger on his face as you muse. "You look like trouble."

"Do I now?"

"Mmhm. I thought it from the moment I saw you strut through that door." You say it like you're letting him in on a secret. "And there’s something you should probably know about me."

He leans in closer. "And what's that?"

You mirror him, leaning in as well and resting your elbows on the counter. Your face is just inches from his. “I’m really good at getting into trouble.”

He grins. “I’m gonna marry you one day.”

You tip your head back and laugh, it’s the best sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 

“That’s a bold statement from the man who still has yet to ask me out on a date.”

He opens his mouth, to do just that, after months of failed attempts. And then another one of the patrons saddles up to the bar, waving you down for your attention.

Rooster groans.

"Alas, it appears I have another gentleman caller," you sing, reaching for the towel and waving it like a handkerchief in his direction. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, Bradley. Maybe at the end of an aisle, who knows, the night is young."

The smile you give him promises that this conversation isn't over yet.

You spin away from him and don’t give him a second glance as you head over towards the thirsty man whose beer is going on his tab, but there’s a sway in your hips that wasn’t there before.

And Bradley thinks to himself, this is going to be fun. 

[selfship-confession-box]

★ Hello my fellow selfshippers! ★

PR0SHIP/C0MSHIP/TERFS/ZI0NISTS/ETC DNI. THIS IS NOT A SAFE PLACE FOR YOU.

Box Status: open (CURRENTLY ON HIATUS, CONFESSIONS WILL NOT BE POSTED FOR A WHILE)

Confessions are queued, may take a while to post ^^

This blog is for selfship confessions of almost any kind. Whatever reason you don't wanna post it on your blog, or if you just wanna put a confession here for fun, you're welcome here! Selfship art is welcome as well ^^

Whether your f/o(s) is/are obscure, non-human, etc, this blog is welcome to all kinds.

Similar blogs (not owned by me!): @/selfship-vent-confessions , @/nsft-selfship-confessions

"How do the f/o tags work here if I want to filter them?"

I tag them as "f/o (character here)!" It sometimes depends if the user who submitted the ask included a last name/full name/etc, as I usually do not know which characters the user is talking about 0_o (hence why i don't put fandoms)

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🗡️💤 Sleepy Sword anon

❤️‍🔥 Burning Heart anon

💭💋 Basorexia anon

💜🦨 Purple Heart Skunk anon

🎷🐛 Jazz Bug anon

✨️🦞 Sparkly Lobster anon

🐺 Wolf anon

🍼🪐 Milk Saturn anon

🦋⭐ Moth anon

🧜‍♀️🔮 Merseer anon

💚💖🤎 anon

🗡️�� CD Sword anon

📼🐇 Mixtape Bunny anon

🌷🔪 Sharp Flower anon

💚👻 Green Ghost anon

🧛‍♂️🎪 Clowny Vampire anon

💉🐈 Needle Cat anon

🎯🐸 Bulletpoint Frog anon

🧩💒 anon

☎️ Telephone anon

🌀🎯 Sniper anon

🍯💛 Honey Heart anon

🍰🥕 Carrot Cake anon

🃏🧵 Jester Thread anon

🚀🥤 Rocket Shake anon

🧟‍♀️ Zombie anon

🖋️ Dip Pen anon

🎭☎️ anon

🎩⚠️ Dorito Demon anon

🐜🍪 Ant Cookie anon

🐵🍊 Monkey Orange anon

[itscherrylipsforme]

Every second matters: Donald Ressler x FBI!fem!reader

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. Your teammate’s and "crush-you-are-not-willing-to-admit"s disappearance is definitely one of those times, so you reluctantly have to ask the FBI’s most wanted criminal for help. Surprisingly, Raymond Reddington is also an excellent matchmaker

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping and small injuries

Requested: yes

Words: 1300

Author rambles: Sorry because this took me ages (how many times have already repeated that?) Thanks to the amazing @zizzlekwum for her request and patience. Had to change the name while editing because this sounded better. Also this was edited late at night with mint tea as fuel and queued on the bus on my way to campus this morning, so blame any mistakes on those...

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

In the time you have been in the unit you have learnt two basic facts.

Fact number 1: There is absolutely no phone number, location or person Aram Mojtabai cannot find.

Fact number 2: You and the team never, I repeat, never go against Reddington’s plan. And that's for your own sake.

Yet, in the last hours everything you knew had come down in pieces. Ruins of the rules and statements you once held to, now they are left broken much as yourself. You look at Aram, clinging at the last straw of hope that remained.

“These guys are completely analogical! No digital footprint. And the last camera which got a glimpse of them only helps to reduce the search to a ten miles radius which is all covered by suburban houses. It just doesn’t make sense, the house’s cameras should have recorded them.”

His hands tangle in his short locks trying to find out a clue, something he is looking pass. Hostages just don’t go missing. Agents just don’t vanish in the air. Ressler can’t have just disappeared.

“What about Reddington?” You finally gather the courage to ask it, voice determined, you not so much inside.

“Still unwilling to talk with us.” Dembe, the gentle giant you have got used to call coworker and even friend in the last months, sights while crossing his arms. You have already seen the look in his eyes, the weight of the decisions you should both had taken as it that could ever change the current situation.

Things were easier when Liz was around, the idea hangs out in the air as if you could nearly capture it. Nobody says it, but all of you know is true. Liz was the only who could talk some sense into him, if someone could ever talk sense into Raymond Reddington. A few years ago, you could trust in Dembe to try it at least too. But since he has become Agent Zuma, the relationship has run cold. A worry for another day, you have more important matters in your hands now.

“Do we know where is him?”

Another question coming from your lips without even realizing, a silent nod the only answer you needed. Before turning to face your unit chief, Harold Copper.

“L/n, you have my permission to go.”

A fancy cocktail bar at six pm on a Monday afternoon. Lately Raymond wasn’t being too careful while choosing his meeting point, but with all you had in mind that was the last of your worries This shouldn’t have happened, nothing of this shouldn’t have happened. If things had been different, now you blamed yourself. Should have told him to stay in the car as Reddington had said, it was a recognition mission after all. But no, Donald Ressler always had to play the hero, and you didn’t have the guts to stop him.

“Y/n, my dear, sit down.” Reddignton retires a chair for you, a far too kind gesture considering how he had acted just an hour ago when Donald went missing in the mission. “Would you join me for a drink?” He pours another glass of a wine, which seems to cost at least a ten percent of your monthly salary, before you could even reply.

“Ressler has disappeared. He is probably being tortured at the moment, maybe even…” That’s another thing you learn in the field. Never say the forbidden word. If you do, you lose any kind of faith in seeing them again. If you lose faith, you lose everything. Even the possibility of them. "And you are thinking about wine?”

“Well, news like that is better taken while tipsy, isn’t it?”

Classical Reddington. Joking in the most inappropriate moments. Well, you also have an habit of storming out when angered. He will have to deal with that.

“You know how much he has lost because of you, right? Liz, his old girlfriend..." That gives you a bitter taste while rolling off your tongue at the same time you stand up. "You know what he has gone through. Don’t you care at least a bit? Once he dedicated his life to see you behind bars you, now he works by your side."

Your words are rushed, agitated. You can't even stop to catch a breath. Not that you want you, not until you are sure Ressler can do the same.

"You should respect that at least, I thought Raymond Reddington cared about his team.”

You see a strange glimmer in his eyes. Not mockery this time, but there was a small smirk in the curve of his thin lips. Laugh? Perhaps a hint of pride?

“First of all, you are well aware I do." He takes a long sip until the glass in empty. " Second, Donald is not in risk. Maybe bruised, but not deeply hurt. Those guys know better than to mess up with my team, as you have put into words.”

“Then why don’t you do something?”

Now there is a full grin on his face as he stands up takes his jacket from the hanger, not without leaving a generous tip on the table.

“I was waiting for you to ask me. And you did, half an hour earlier than I had bet by the way. This case may be even worse than I thought.”

“Cut out the riddles, Reddington.”

“You know he’s in love with you, right?”

How could he say it so blatantly, sweeping his fedora with such a calm manner while you had lost all your words? Mouth hanging and unable to stammer something coherent.

“He what?”

“And it seems pretty mutual to me” With that he puts the hat on and opens the door for both of you. Still trying to process everything you can't help following him in silence.

The rest of the rescue passes bluring infront of your eyes. Reddington telling you the exact location. Entering the housing development which had been carefully built as a cover for the criminal network (only a few houses were actually being used by its members). Dembe and Siya watching your back as the suspects were aiming at you. Clearing the area. Immobilizing the suspects. And finally arriving to Ressler's side.

You try to be gentle as you untie him from ropes which are holding him to a chair. However, your attempts are futile, hands to clumsy and brain dulled by all the emotions coming for you at once. You can't even recall when a few timid tears have started rolling down your cheeks, but you don't mind either. Donald is an equal mess right now, it's the first time you have seen him like these. Vulnerable. Human. And it only adds to the feeling you don't dare to voice. Not yet.

As soon as his free you wrap your arms around him. His nose in your hair as an anchor to remind him you are finally here. A considerable bruise under his eye and his bloody knuckles would usually worry to death (yes, even considering your field). But now you can't bring yourself to care, just wanting to hold him close. An urge to kiss his lips until you are both restless reaches your mind, yet the need for this. Just a hug. Just a simple gesture to assure you he won't be leaving anytime soon is enough for the moment.

"I think you have some things to discuss. I will leave you to it.”

Raymond's words take you by surprise, and between the falling tears you and Donald start laughing at the situation.

"Maybe we should talk about this" You whisper as you try to calm down and reluctantly pull away from him.

Too bad he has no intention of moving, but neitheir of saying what is really going through his mind.

"Maybe. Later. Not now. Just..."

Without further ado he rests his face on the crock of your neck. He had always been a man of action, not too good words. You didn't mind. As long as you could feel his breath on your skin, his warm body relaxing. Working in the unit every second matters. And you will treasure these and enjoy them as long as you can.

[nageill]

reblog to give the person you reblogged this from a kiss on the forehead and a hug to let them know they did a good job today

[ditzyredrobin]

(Don’t) Leave me Alone (part II)

Part two is ready to rock and roll! I hope to have part three with the full reunion up tonight or tomorrow. 💜

-

Tim drops unceremoniously back into their overstuffed couch, sighing on impact, and dropping his head into his open palms.

Their movie is still queued up and the broken glass on the floor but he couldn’t Will himself to move any farther.

There had been a heavy debate regarding said couch, ultimately being won out by himself—he could be very persuasive, according to his vigilante boyfriends, at least.

The heavy smell of their favorite Chinese (Jason’s broccoli beef and Dick’s kung pao chicken), made his stomach twist and churn.

Is this my fault?

Maybe the bigger question was would they survive a fight of this magnitude, or would he be left alone in the rubble, trying to claw himself.

Should he leave now and save himself from the inevitable it’s-not-you-it’s-me talk? Because that’s how these sorts of things always ended, wasn’t it?

He just thought—he just hoped—that things would end differently this time. But hope is a nasty business, she always had a way of chewing him up inside and spitting him out, his soul a little more damaged than before.

Tim scrubs his scalp. It’s okay—he would be okay, he always was. He would take his weaknesses and turn them back into strengths. He was excellent at change but this… he didn’t want this change.

His eyes got hot and it was hard to swallow around the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to leave he loved this place he.

He loved their bed and waking up next to them every morning, he loved Jason’s books scatter around them house, tucked in between the couch cushions, tiny writing in the margin.

Dick’s attempts at cooking pancakes in the morning and nearly burning down the kitchen, and Jason having to jump in and take over before he did actually have a fire, while Tim sat the bar laughing.

He loves Dick’s dimples when he grinned and Jason’s frown lines when he’s had enough of their bullshit.

It was their nest and the first place he’s ever felt at home. It was always chaotic and a little unhinged, but he loved the it.

Tim froze, his scalp sore and his hands twisted in his too-long hair.

Oh, god.

He was going to lose them and he… he couldn’t say the word. Couldn’t think the word.

Tears spill over and his hands tremble, tightening in his hair. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, trying to stay calm, but it catches in his chest.

How could he be so stupid? Of course they don’t love him. If they did, would they really have left him alone?

He sits there for a few, painful minutes, silently berating himself for the very idea that they wouldn’t leave him, missing the window catch as it opened and boots on the hardwood floor.

“Aw, Sweets,” Jay says softly, startling him.

Tim jerks up in his seat, eyes wild until he realizes it’s Jason. He peels back the domino and white outs and drops it on the table along with his holsters and pistols. He sees the Chinese and grimaces.

Tim doesn’t say anything as Jason slowly drops down on the floor in front of him, hands out in the universal “I come in peace” sort of way.

They stare at each other for a long moment and he doesn’t feel like he can breath. Jason is the first to taking his face between his large, scarred hands.

They were calloused and rough against his cheeks but his touch was impossibly delicate, like Tim were made of fine china, and one wrong move would cause him to chip or break. “I’m sorry for leavin’ you alone like that. I didn’t think—I, just, I didn’t think. ‘s not fair ‘a me or Dickie.”

Maybe he was right to be so tender with him, because with those words, he felt a little crack form. A tiny, insignificant thing, really. It shouldn’t have been anything more than a chip. But it hurt. So. Much.

Tim bites his lip and shakes his head. His chest aches, like the crack were a canyon. “I’m okay. It’s okay.” It’s a mantra.

I’m okay, it’s okay, we’re okay. If he just sticks to it, everything will be okay. He just has to play the part.

I’m okay, it’s okay, we’re okay, I’ll get over it.

Jay’s frown deepens but he doesn’t let go. “It’s not. You need to understand this, what happened, is not okay and not your fault. This was ‘tween Dick and me. It was not your responsibility to handle and we shouldn’t’ve gotten you involved. I was an ass and you know it.”

“You and Dick are tired so it’s okay. Accidents happen.”

“But this wasn’t an accident. Even then, this-“ he says gesturing around them. “was not okay. I need you to understand, this wasn’t an accident. I lashed out at you to get back at Dick for a mistake I made. Not you, me. Y’hear me?”

“You were doing the best you could,” Tim replies simply. Because he had to have been, it was the only explanation. “You were tired, hungry, and in pain. I’m not angry, stuff happens.”

Because it does. Accidents happen. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He should have been paying more attention, tried to mediate the situation and talk them down before things went sideways.

They wouldn’t purposefully do this to him otherwise.

It hurt when the left him but he wasn’t going to tell either of them that. He knows they were just doing what they had to, to get by. Bad missions happened and he was just caught on the cross fire.

Accidents happen.

“So, let’s reframe this. If you were in the way of a murderer and I knew I could bring him down by shootin’ both of you, is that an accident? If I knew you were going to get hurt or die just so’s I could take ‘em down, would you be upset?”

It’s an extreme but okay. Tim doesn’t need to think about it to know the answer.

“No,” he says. “If it was between them getting away and hurting more people, or accidentally hurting me, I wouldn’t be upset. It was necessary.”

It was. If he could stop more people from getting hurt just by getting a banged up himself, it was okay. He’d dealt with way worse than a gun shot would.

Wounds heal but people don’t come back from the dead (usually, save for Jason, the self proclaimed resident zombie).

The look Jason gives him, though, had him second guessing his answer. “That’s so fucked up. Wait ‘til Dickie gets a load of this.”

Tim frowns, “Why? It’s an accident. Necessary evil, right?”

“Doll, I don’t know how to break it to you, but that’s not an accident. You should be mad.”

“Why?” He presses, confused. “I don’t…it happens. It’s my job to protect the city even if that means I get hurt.”

“At the cost of your life?”

Again, another simple answer.

“Yes, of course it is.”

Because it was. He had the skills, and the practice, and the conditioning. He made it his job the day he adorned the mantle.

Jason searches his eyes for… for something and when he doesn’t find it, he sighs, and presses a long, tender kiss to his forehead. “We’re gonna fix this, I promise. Maybe Dickie can lay it out better than me.”

“Lay what out?”

[kiwisa]

stupid love ✩ lh44

Lewis Hamilton x Fem! FWB! Reader

angst • 600 words

IN WHICH... you're so fucking stupid for thinking this thing between you could've been more.

If someone had told you three months ago that you’d be in love with Lewis Hamilton, you would’ve laughed.

Lewis Hamilton, the man you had considered for years as one of your friends. The one you grew up with, who saw you cry, smile, laugh. The one who had accompanied you in both the best and worst moments of your life.

The one who shared your bed now almost every night, when the urge was too strong and no one else could satisfy him quickly enough.

You were always the closest geographically, apparently. He told you so himself.

“It’s more convenient,” he had said. “And it’s not like guys are queuing at your door. No risk of being disturbed,” his words still resonated: hurtful, mocking.

You’d rather think he didn’t mean them.

A simple agreement, nothing else. That, too, he had made it clear. A simple convenience. Just fucking. None of this “making love” bullshit. Pure carnal pleasure. No feelings. At least there should have been none. Perhaps the most important point of his speech.

“I hope you don’t expect anything else. And, let’s be honest, I would not see myself as your boyfriend.”

He had laughed, saying that. That laugh that would haunt you for the rest of your life. That innocent laugh, the exact opposite of his words, pitiless. As always, you had simply nodded, preferring to enjoy his body warmth than to think about whether or not he truly meant it. The sensation of his skin against yours had the gift of making you forget everything.

It was your favourite moment. Too bad it was also the shortest.

He never stayed the night. Sometimes he’d go to see another girl. Other times, he would go home, leaving you alone, naked, vulnerable in a cold and empty bed.

Lewis Hamilton was odious. There was nothing left of that nice man you had once called your friend. Instead, a stranger addicted to lust was there, and his heart seemed to have been exchanged for the hardest of stones.

However, if Lewis Hamilton was odious, you, Y/N L/N, were stupid.

All those words, these gestures, which blackened and broke your heart piece by piece, should have made you leave. You could have freed yourself from this agreement months ago without coming out more broken than you already were.

But no, you’d rather go on, you preferred to destroy yourself mentally so you could feel Lewis’s lips against yours. You’d rather live in that illusion. And now your stupid heart would stupidly accelerate at the sight of that stupid smile, the one that warmed your stupid and treacherous cheeks.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

This was stupid, so were you. What was even more stupid was this crack, so noisy, so painful, that split your heart in half, leaving it to fall at your feet.

Tears silently rolled down your cheeks, your hands curled up against your chest to protect you from the pain, from him.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Why did you say that? Why didn’t you shut your stupid mouth? Why?

“Oh my god, I told you not to fall in love with me. Look where we are now… Fuck… You hurt yourself by doing this, and we have to put an end to… this. Yeah, we’re over. If you had listened to me, we could’ve avoided this bullshit and we could’ve fuck like we always do,” he had replied.

The door slammed, but your sobs masked the noise.

✩ taglist !

@sad1esgf @muglermami @i0veless @16solace @kenanlotus0 @till1am @itsnotgray @lilsiz @starkwlkr @missflobelova @mehrmonga @fxllfaiiry @crimeshowjunkie @anicega @kosmosgalore @lovemarvel16 @charles-dimple @hiding-behindmy-glasses @exatse @serenityleah @flowerchild-96 @hopiiex @ivegotparticulartaste @jivas0 @screechingtrashkid @gxp30 @lauren--maex @almostjollypizza @sunfairyy @scuderialavender @f1version @motorsp0rt @xoxmariaxox

[jrooc]

✨Weekly Tag Wednesday✨

Thanks @energievie for the amazing and random questions (and tag) this week. And thanks @suzy-queued @mybrainismelted for the tags!

Name: Jess

Age: A Nosho and a half

Location: Toronto, 🇨🇦

And now...

What is your DJ name? Having had no idea wtf to answer here I turned to the always faithful internet quiz. So I present: DJ BoomKitty 😅 yikes...

If you were a genre of music, what would it be? Folk/alternative with the occasional pop indie jam

What would you title your biography? "Good Fucking Grief, Why?"

What are the first three things you'd do if you were invisible? Maybe sneak on a plane to somewhere tropical and live out my days on a beach switching between empty hotel rooms and lounging by a pool

What subject do you wish was taught in every school? Useful math like taxes. Social relationships. Dealing with anxiety.

When was the last time you tried something for the first time and what was it? Ummmm.... I've had to start gardening for the first time this spring and it takes a forever and I'm afraid to kill everything. Also weeds are horrible.

What is the most underrated city you have ever visited? Ferrara, Italy. So cute. When I was there (a decade ago) all the residents went into the square on Friday night and shop and have drinks.

What day in your life would you like to relive? A day cycling with my Dad

If you could eliminate one thing from your daily routine, what would it be and why? Cleaning the house. Blech.

How long would you last in a zombie apocalypse? 91 days. Exactly. 'Cause I'm blind as a motherfucka and I'd have that 90 day contact pack and then I'd be totally fucked. You know those glasses are gonna get stepped on immediately. Yes ... I have thought about this a lot. Almost legally blind problems.

What would be the most surprising scientific discovery imaginable? So many. Other habitable planets? Regenerable healthy food that doesn't taste bad. Easy space flight. Brain broken... too many things.. 🫠

If you could have any view out your office window, what would you choose? I want to say the ocean maybe? But also a garden with a bunch of cats in it would be pretty cool

tagging or just waving hi to:

@roryonic @spookygingerr @gallapiech @creepkinginc @ian-galagher

@blue-disco-lights @heymacy @deedala @michellemisfit @transmickey

@stocious @transmurderbug @transsexual-dandelions @mickittotheman @astaraels

@crestfallercanyon @solitarycreaturesthey @mickeysgaymom @gallavichsuperfan @palepinkgoat

@ms-moonlight-inn @rayrayor @guinguin1984 @sgtmickeyslaughter @bellezabelize

@look-i-love-u @callivich @lee-ow @vintagelacerosette @rereadanon @ardent-fox

@krysmiss @wehangout @iandarling @iansw0rld @sandrashaine

@especially-fuk-u @doshiart @i-think-you-mean-reduction @tv-obssessions

@mickeym4ndy @darlingian and anyone else seeing this! Yes, you!

[nancys-braids]

thanks for the tags - @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @heartstringsduet @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @strandnreyes @birdclowns

and @tellmegoodbye you're all queued <3

+ thank you to @your-catfish-friend for the tuesday tag :) this is me tagging you back for wednesday if you'd like to share again

Nancy was incredibly torn seeing Marjan this way. It was already hard enough seeing her at work every day the EMS and fire schedules synced. She loved seeing her gorgeous smile, but also it killed her. She just wanted to scream how much she liked her, how much she wanted to spend every waking moment with her, how she wanted to make everything better.  Last week, Marjan ran to her apartment. Bleeding ankles, smeared mascara, a broken heart. They drank tea and talked about what happened with Salim. She cried in her arms, and then Marjan slept in her bed while Nancy slept on the couch. All she wanted was to hold her all night long, bask in her beautiful scent until the sun came up, but Marjan wasn’t in that place. She was grieving the loss of this life-long friendship and relationship. She needed time to process, and Nancy couldn’t fall in love with another straight girl. She’s been here before, and it’s too painful. 

no pressure tagging: @captain-gillian @americansrequiems @reyesstrand @literateowl @sugdenlovesdingle

@bonheur-cafe @carlos-in-glasses @oldfangirl81 @actualalligator @paperstorm

@kiwichaeng @eclectic-sassycoweyes @welcometololaland @pelorsdyke @fallout-mars

@alrightbuckaroo @carlos-tk @honeybee-taskforce + open tag

[soleilceirinen]

Renaissance | Cillian Murphy x Reader - Part 2

Summary: you are an Art History student in your last year at university. Cillian is your teacher. Note: in this story Cillian is about 20 years older than the reader. Everything happens in an alternative universe where he is not an actor or famous, he doesn't have a wife or kids like in real life. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistake! Warning: mentions of blood. Part 1 - Cillian Murphy Masterlist - Part 3

It was an unofficial tradition at your university that every year during the first week of class, the students would go to pubs together in order to get to know people. That way someone in their first year could meet people from other years or other degrees and make new friends easily. Sometimes even the teachers would go. 

Since it was your last year, you didn’t feel like going, you already knew how it was and how it would probably end: with someone throwing up. Your friends had been insisting the whole week leaving you with no option but to accept to go, at least for a while. 

You were late. Your flatmate Brad had been using the shower for what seemed like hours and now your friends were waiting for you at the front door of the pub. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them, Valerie and Olivia. Valerie was studying chemical engineering and sometimes could say hurtful comments in regards to Olivia and your own career choices, both related to the art world. Olivia studied fine arts.

Nevertheless, the three of you hugged each other, almost falling to the ground. 

Once inside the pub, you followed your friends to the bar to order your drinks. Olivia insisted on inviting a round of shots to celebrate. When Valerie asked what you were celebrating she just blushed and giggled. She has met another guy, you thought. 

Each minute the pub was getting more and more crowded, as well as suffocating. You looked around the sea of faces that changed color when the lights shined on them in a futile attempt to recognize someone.

Olivia pushed you to the bar to order another drink while you waited next to her. A thin boy got too close to you making you feel rather uncomfortable, so you glanced at him with an expression that said put that hand closer to me again and you lose it. The guy seemed to understand and gave you and your friend an apologetic gesture. Before turning back to Olivia you thought you saw a pair of blue eyes, but a second later they were gone. 

“Let’s go to the toilet, I need to pee!” screamed Olivia. 

You nodded and pushed her in said direction. After queuing for approximately fifteen minutes it was her turn. You reached for her drink. 

“Give it to me while you go”.

“Nooo, it’s miiine!” She was clearly too drunk, so you tried to take the glass from her hand before she could spill it over someone. In the middle of your little tussle the glass and its contents fell to the ground, causing it to shatter and the sticky liquid to splash all over your legs and shoes. 

“Fuck”.

Before you could react, Olivia was bent down picking up pieces of broken glass. She let out a surprised scream and put her hand in front of your face, showing you a large cut which was bleeding too much for your liking. Let’s say that you didn’t like blood, it made you feel sick. 

“Fuck” you repeated, looking away. 

With shaky hands you grabbed your friend and left the restroom, heading to the last place where you saw Valerie. Leaving the two girls together, you rushed to the bar pushing through the dancing bodies to ask the bartender for some napkins . Yor turned around, trying to locate your friends but it seemed that they had vanished. 

Once, you had read that if you are looking for someone in a very crowded place the key to find them was to remain in the same spot. And so you did, but a few minutes later you thought that you might look quite ridiculous, standing in the middle of the pub like a statue, with a handful of napkins. So you decided to call them but none of them answered their phones. When another person pushed you, you decided that it was time to get some fresh air. 

The back door of the pub was almost as crowded as the inside, with groups of young people smoking. You tried calling again until Valerie answered.

“Where are you?” you asked looking around like a lost child “I can’t find you”.

“ We left. I just dropped Olivia off at her house”. 

You remained silent for a moment. “You could have waited for me, don’t you think?”

“Whatever you say, you disappeared..."

"I was looking for something for Olivia's cut!"

Valerie sighed exaggeratedly at the other end of the call. "Y/n, please, stop being so dramatic. Bye.” And she hung up.

You were looking at your phone as if the device had offended you in a terrible way. “I can’t believe it” you whispered. 

A hand on your shoulder almost made you jump. You turned around ready to fight another unpleasant guy but instead, you found yourself looking into a pair of blue eyes.  

“Are you alright?” asked Mr. Murphy. No. It’s Cillian. Just Cillian, you reminded yourself. 

“I’m grand” you answered through gritted teeth. 

“You don’t look like it, actually, you look rather pale…”

A group of people left the pub laughing loudly. They seemed to be having fun, good for them.

Cillian put a hand on the small of your back to guide you in the direction of a park a few meters away from the back of the pub. You could feel the warmth of his hand though the thin fabric of your blouse, making you nervous. It wasn’t like you weren’t used to being touched by others, but feeling something was new.

He made you sit on a bench and then he sat next to you with the fabric of his jeans brushing against your bare leg. A leg which was algo very sticky thanks to Olivia’s clumsiness, or drunkenness. Thinking of the incident made you recollect the blood and you felt a wave of nausea that you tried to keep under control by taking deep breaths.

“What are those for?” asked Cillian when he realized you wouldn’t say anything. You followed his gaze to the napkins clutched in your fist. 

“Oh, these were for my friend Olivia, she cut her hand with a broken glass and was bleeding pretty badly.”

Cillian seemed concerned. “Is she okay?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I think so.”

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow and made a little gesture for you to continue explaining it. 

“Valerie, another friend of ours, took her home while I was looking for something to stop her bleeding. I just wish they could have waited for me, you know?”

You saw from the corner of your eye that he was nodding in agreement. 

Suddenly, you couldn’t contain the nausea any longer and felt the urge to lean forward in order to empty all the contents of your stomach onto the asphalt. Cillian reached out to hold your hair out of your face. When you were done, you wiped the corners of your mouth with the napkins while he caressed your back in circular motions. 

“Are you feeling better?” he asked quietly, getting a little whimper as an answer.

You got up to throw the dirty napkins into a bin. When you got back to the bench Cillian had just finished talking to someone on the phone. He put the device back into his jean's pocket and got up.

“I’ve called a taxi,” he informed you. Great, you thought sarcastically, what an amazing impression you made on him, now he wants to run away. He frowned a bit. “I can tell the driver to drop you off at your house, if you want to, of course. Don’t feel obligated to accept but since your friends have left, I won't feel comfortable leaving you here alone.”

You tilted your head to the side, thinking. He was being nice to you, out of pity, maybe. After all, you were just in your twenties and he was a grown man in his middle forties. And he was also your teacher. It crossed your mind to refuse but the alternative was to walk for almost half an hour and you weren’t sure you could make it in your current condition. 

“Sure.”

You walked together to the main street to wait for the taxi, which didn’t take long to arrive. Cillian stepped forward to open the door for you and waited until you were settled in to sit next to you. The driver started driving after you told him your address, your house was closer than Cillian’s. 

During the whole drive you avoided looking at him, instead you watched the city through the window but you could feel his stare on you. The taxi stopped in front of your building and you took out your purse to pay but Cillian covered your hand with his to make you stop. 

“Don’t worry about it, y/n.”

“I like to pay for my stuff” you muttered.

“And it was my idea to call a taxi. Also you live on the way to my house, so no problem. Have a good night, y/n.” He said, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You started to blush, at least it was dark and he couldn’t see you. 

“Thank you, Cillian. Have a good night too, see you at the university.” You said, grabbing the door handle. 

Almost without realizing it, you craned your neck and kissed him on the cheek. He smelled so good. After that, you got out of the car and walked quickly to your building door, there you saw the taxi drive away while you were trying to open the door. 

Once inside your flat, you registered what you had just done.

[nageill]

Last Line Tag

Rules: Post the last line you've written for your current wip!

Tagged by: KIND OF tagged by @koiwrites.

Tagging: @patwrites; @nerdgirljen; @spinxeret; @stormbeyondreality; @quiveringdeer; @melusine0811​.

WIP Title: True Blue.

Last Line:

If Jack had any clue that his partner stranded him at the bar, he didn’t give any indication of the sort. His attention was solely fixed on her. As he came to the bar, standing next to her, she received her drink from the busied bartender with a polite smile that Jack would swear was like sunshine, and downed it in one gulp before carefully putting the glass back down.

[nageill]

When I was a kid, Ernie was my favorite, because I thought he was so fun...

Now that I'm an adult, I think Ernie is an asshole and I sympathize with Bert. Poor man just wants to collect his paper clips, feed some pigeons, and sleep.

Not be woken up by trumpet playing or drums, Ernie! Not to get trapped in a pocket dimension, Elmo!

#LetBertHavePeace

[bagog]

N7 Month, 2023 - Day 30: Last Stand

It's been real fun everybody, thanks for reading, and let me know what your favorites were!

Mshenko museum piece for the finale.

++

By mid-morning, the Alliance Military History museum was as busy as it was going to get for the day. Shepard and Kaidan, both clad in non-descript hoodies, dark glasses over their eyes, had been slowly making their way around the Shepard exhibit in the Reaper War wing of the museum. They’d avoided one exhibit in particular so far, but at last they had worked their way all the way around and only had one thing left.

There was an eye-catching sign that read ‘Last Stand’ and on a smaller sign below: “Experience the final three minutes of the Reaper war with Commander Shepard.” There were two entrances spaced wide apart, but it was clear that one was an entrance and the other an exit from the ‘Last Stand’ experience. Above the entrance was a bold ’21:13:43’ and above the exit was ’21:14:55.’ It evoked a popular symbol after the war had ended. A lot of people had a tattoo of the time—to the second—when the Crucible wave hit where they were hiding or fighting. The second the war ended.

“We don’t have to do this one,” Kaidan said, glancing at Shepard over the rim of his glasses.

“We’ve seen everything else.” Shepard’s brow was furrowed, “Might as well top-off the experience.” He turned and gave Kaidan a reassuring smile.

“I’m just saying,” Kaidan shrugged, “There’s not any three minutes of London that I’d like to relive, much less whatever three minutes they’ve picked out here.”

“What do you mean?”

“’21:13:43,’” Kaidan pointed to the exit, “That’s not London Local Time for the wave. It’s a good twelve minutes earlier.”

“Oh, Shepard nodded slowly, “the run-up to the transport beam.”

“Definitely not a moment I’d like to remember,” Kaidan said carefully, checking Shepard’s expression. Shepard had an excuse if he wanted it.

“Let’s have a look.” Shepard took a quick breath, then offered Kaidan a smile. Their audio queued when they cross the entrance threshold.

“These are some of the final moments of the Reaper War, and three minutes that would determine the fate of the galaxy. Constructed with data directly taken from a FOB monitoring Shepard’s position.”  

The audio continued to set the scene: Hammer Squad, Thannix Missiles, heroic names—Shepard nudged Kaidan when ‘Spectre Kaidan Alenko’ was mentioned—and the transport conduit. The exhibit itself was a dark tunnel, on either side a gigantic holographic layout of the broken London street that served as the run-up to the transport conduit. The conduit was represented by a holo near the exit, and where Shepard and Kaidan entered represented 550 meters south: where Hammer Team made their final charge. The audio would trip at key moments as patrons made their way through the hall. By this time, there was another group just ahead of them, but it was dark enough where they felt comfortable taking off the sunglasses.

Shepard was represented on the holo by a yellow ball with a pinging halo emitting from it. As they approached, it began to move toward the transport beam, dodging blasts and avoiding rubble the holo hadn’t rendered, resulting in a somewhat comical display. The audio was aware:

“Forty-five seconds. Commander Shepard runs straight at the beam, or as straight as the situation allowed. Harbinger began repelling the advancing forces, indiscriminately targeting both individual soldiers on the ground and also the ground and air vehicles. You can see Shepard zig-zagging back and forth, likely avoiding rubble or attempting to make himself a more difficult target.”

“Why do you think it’s only me up there? They should have data for every marine out there that day?”

“It’s your exhibit,” Kaidan offered lamely. “Plus, I don’t think seeing all those little… flickering lights go out would be a very stirring exhibit.” Shepard nodded gravely.

The yellow ball raced down the hill in real time, and after forty five seconds, stopped abruptly. It then went backwards.

“Forty-two seconds. That’s how long it took Shepard to call down the SSV Normandy and evacuate a number of marines wounded in the battle. You can see him take up a defensive position behind cover, then race forward—possibly supporting the weight of another wounded marine—when the Normandy arrives.”

Sure enough, the yellow ball ‘limped’ over to where a holographic Normandy had been generated. The ball stayed there, though, for another thirty seconds, nearly.

“Twenty-eight seconds. That’s how long Shepard lingered at the Normandy, likely ensuring as much time as possible for further evacuations. The Normandy’s cyber warfare suite was a surprise for Harbinger, and silenced, for a time, its blasts.”

They were catching up on the other group now, who were talking between themselves, bent over the holo with interest.

“Twenty-eight seconds,” one whispered to the other. “That’s forever in a battle like this, huh? Geez, makes you wonder what was going on.”

“Probably was just giving some orders or something,” said the other. “…I wonder if he thought about just… flying away?” They both chuckled, then grew quieter as they proceeded to hurry through the rest of the exhibit when Kaidan and Shepard got closer.

“I did,” Shepard whispered to Kaidan, pulling Kaidan’s hood just to the side so his lips could almost to the shell of Kaidan’s ear.

“Did what?” Kaidan turned. Shepard looked over his shoulder to see that the other patrons had drifted away.

“I did think about just getting on the Normandy, flying away,” he said, softly.

“No you didn’t,” Kaidan cracked a conspiratorial grin. “Not for long if at all, at any rate.”

“I did. I thought about leaving with you. Thought about it just long enough to make it hurt when I had to turn away.” Shepard touched Kaidan’s hand. “The exhibit doesn’t talk about it at all, but do you remember what you said during those ‘twenty-eight seconds?’”

Kaidan looked at Shepard warmly, looking through him, in some ways. “I, uh… I think I told you to let me finish the fight!” He laughed.

“You said ‘Don’t leave me behind,’” Shepard replied. He lifted Kaidan’s hand, softly ran his thumb over the man’s knuckles, his ring. “And I told you I loved you. And you said it back.”

“Yeah,” Kaidan said, voice thick. “Yeah I remember that.”

“It was the first time we’d said it to each other.” Shepard pointed at the yellow ball, lingering behind the Normandy hologram. “That’s what I remember about those twenty-eight seconds.”

“That’s sweet, Shepard,” Kaidan touched Shepard’s face, gave a little smile. “That little yellow dot is about to go through a whole lot of shit in the next 10 minutes.” Shepard nodded, aware even now of the various cybernetics implanted into his body after this battle. “I’m sorry you had to go through it alone.”

“You were waiting,” Shepard said, at last. “That’s what matters.” Kaidan looked over his shoulder once more before leaning in and kissing Shepard. Shepard leaned back with a wry smile, “I think I’ve had enough hero worship for one day, what do you say we get out of here?” Kaidan nodded and took his hand. They slipped their dark glasses on and strode out of the museum arm in arm.