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oh-saints · 2 years ago

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gift

when your boyfriend is manchester city’s infamous number 3, it’s a bit hard to find a suitable gift for someone who practically has the world in his hands.

rúben dias x engineer!OC

word count: 3.7k

note: due to popular demand on my askbox (of which i can no longer reply 1-by-1) and as a thank you for the enthusiasm you showed in there, this is the 2nd part to this but can be read as a standalone for those who haven’t read the 1st part. this is also mildly inspired by this ask AND THE GIF (asfghjhjhj i'm still not over it tbh). however, as usual, i happen to always write around dawn so ofc this is not beta-read.

tags: @thatonesexycancerian <3

it didn’t take valentine’s day to know that rúben dias’ dominant love language is giving gifts.

hell, it didn’t even take a week for adrianna to know that. it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea to curate a spotify playlist specifically for someone, inspired by the way they met and the current long-distance relationship they were holding on, and kept expanding whenever the boyfriend was missing the girlfriend—which was a lot.

the listing parade continued with a letterboxd list of movies to watch so adrianna wouldn’t run out of things to watch and a goodreads list of books so adrianna wouldn’t feel bored when the mood to watch had deserted her. the latter touched a part of her she didn’t know existed because she knew he wasn’t that much of a fan to books, but he’d vouched he’d read them before he recommended it to her.

maybe the sentiment behind them got her more than she’d liked because let’s be realistic, rúben dias is a busy man with a very demanding job, physically and mentally. not to mention he spent more time on the jet plane than on ground. yet, he spared some time—obviously more than he’d admitted over the phone when she confronted him—to create something so personal like that.

but what started small became something else entirely.

the lists, at least those she could take on. however, when adrianna told her boyfriend she was heading for the shore for the first time in a while, the portugese decided by himself that it was a good idea to upgrade her ordinary deluxe hotel room into a suite. while the luxury that was entitled to the hefty price tag was an absolute pleasure to be indulged in after months of being in a rig, adrianna vowed to repay him one way or another, despite rúben’s insistence that he wouldn’t take on the repayment because he'd “be more than happy to give his girl nothing but the best.”

and he lived up to his words. by the time they stepped into the 3-month mark, adrianna shook up the entire rig from having a 100-piece fresh flower bouquet delivered to the facility right before the day started for the engineers. the flowers surely was a rare sight to see, even more unheard of than the legendary blood moon, hence her male counterparts were genuinely elated for her. for her excellent catch, and for the hope it sparked to their love life—be it single-ready-to-mingle-but-distance-sucks or the helpless long-distance relationship.

6 months in and her royal boyfriend treated the entire rig for a banquet with food they rarely had the chance to devour unless they went back on-shore. he slipped in a little gratitude note for always looking out his girl when I’m not around, albeit anonymously because both rúben and adrianna agreed on not telling anyone until they were fully ready to share the relationship with the rest of the world, just like how adrianna had to share rúben.

there was also time when he missed adrianna so much he sent random gifts to the rig. today was a bouquet of lego flowers that rúben had constructed himself and framed in a box, complete with a little note to show how much he longed to have her in his arms once more and a polaroid of him and his dog, sporting all black fashion because they were mourning. she was astounded that (i) he remembered adrianna said the water the rig was using was actually filtered from the surrounding sea and it unfortunately wilted the flowers sooner than expected, (ii) he asked her if she also missed him they way he did her. the last part made her heart skipped a dozen notes.

it wasn’t like she never reciprocated how rúben expressed his profound love towards her—telling him how much she loves him, despite their short time together physically—but she’d never had to show how much she loved someone with gifts. sure, she wasn’t a plain jane or some sort towards that kind of lifestyle but she was more familiar in the tradition of gifting someone else a practical gift. at least something she knew they needed it so she bought it, none gone wasted.

and now… she wasn’t sure at all. because it wasn’t only about what he liked, but it was about how to blow his waters off the pool, too. at the same time, it should also be something that was equivalent as to saying i love you without spelling the 8 letters. she didn’t want rúben to think he was dating someone no good for him, someone who couldn’t match his level. someone not worthy of him. if there was one thing adrianna hated the most was to disappoint people she deeply cared about.

what do you give to someone who’s already had everything best in this world?

while she was now past the privilege of looking at her bank account every pay check day to ensure she could live off safely for the next month, she didn’t hold a single candle—not even the gigantic bath & body works 3-wicks candle—against what could possibly run down deep in rúben’s pocket. she didn’t need to look up his weekly salary—weekly, mind you!—on search bar to know so. take a look at the wall of rúben dias’ corner in her room and you’d get a good guess.

whoever implanted the idea that petroleum chemical engineering would bring abundance of fortune to adrianna’s pocket, surely never had the misfortune of dating someone in the same calibre as rúben dias of manchester city. she certainly had a hard time figuring out what kind of gift could be deemed acceptable for the rúben dias.

good lord, please help. or maybe rúben’s brother if lord was too busy taking another call.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

adrianna, at this point, didn’t know whether her heart was beating rapidly to match the drums played at the background or due to the nerves jumping up and down under her consciousness. all she knew was that whatever it is she was doing now was definitely on the scale of something she’d never done before, and the desire to give rúben only the best of her—in her capability, that is—was her only drive to play this crazy card.

crazy because she thought of all the things that’d need help arranging when she was so far away from where her boyfriend now and had no prior experience conducting this whole charade; not crazy because ivan thought his brother would want nothing else but what she had up in her sleeve. “crazy? this is probably the best gift he’ll have,” was ivan’s response when she confided her plan.

no matter how much ivan reassured her that her decision was brilliant—to the point he was very willing orchestrating everything else that was out of adrianna’s reach, in order for her plan to be perfectly executed—adrianna couldn’t stop herself from fidgeting her fingers on her lap. what if it still wasn’t enough for rúben?

what if she wasn’t enough for rúben?

if her sister whined once more about wanting to get married someone rich instead of finishing her study, she’d cut off her allowance for the rest of her life. it should serve her the reminder that it wasn’t easy to date someone that seemed… so larger than life. at least, her life.

yes, she’d seen a glimpse of what life next would bring to her back when they met for the first time at the airport. people started to made a sizable crowd around them, with their phone cameras pointed at rúben and her. the photos made the internet go berserk briefly and netizens tried to figure out who rúben’s newest, mystery girl was. but she could take that on, she’d thought. as long as they didn’t step over the boundaries, she understood that much. she was a fan of the jonas brothers herself a long time ago.

but now, as she stepped inside the packed etihad stadium for the last game of the season, she realised what dating rúben dias entailed. the cameras had been set up around the stadium, and it dawned on her that the crowd she went in together with today was only a miniscule part of city fans all over the world. what she did would affect rúben, and what if she took a wrong step? what if that wrong step was a sufficient reason to break their newly-embarked relationship?

adrianna felt like puking this very minute.

“you okay?”

ivan’s voice was enough to cancel her initial reaction of vomiting but not enough to conceal the shaky breath she took as she looked up to the man resembling rúben by the eyes. like his brother, this man harboured some sort of invisible power that unabled her to tell lies. but her mental breakdown was beyond comprehensive words at this point, and there was no way to summarize what she was feeling right now. so she swallowed every last bit of her sanity down the throat and took the seat beside the older man.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

rúben played excellently as usual, but it was nothing but expected of the backline captain. still, manchester city conceded two easy goals for the opponent. absolute shambles, especially when they were in tight positions to secure another premier league trophy. they lose and the trophy goes elsewhere.

having watched her boyfriend’s matches now, adrianna recognised the look of frustrations rúben sported. frustrated that his team could’ve done better, frustrated that his team were on the verge of giving up, frustrated that he couldn’t contribute better on the other goal end. they needed two more goals to make an epic comeback.

they were running so well for the whole season that adrianna couldn’t help but blame herself, should they lose in her presence. she was halfway believing it was because of her that the team was behind because it was supposed to be an easy team win. it was the day she decided to come to manchester to finally catch her boyfriend in action after all.

“you should text him,” ivan said when the referee blew the halftime whistle and adrianna watched as her boyfriend was walking towards the tunnel, shaking his head, obviously disgruntled at the result so far. “it’ll cheer him up.”

why bother on placing another jinx of misfortune towards rúben and his teammates?

maybe her idea of coming here was bound to doom.

“i don’t want to distract him, ivan.”

“contrary to your belief, you’re the reason he’s so focused, adrianna,” ivan clicked his tongue in disbelief. “you make him better than every day before. it never happens to my brother.”

maybe ivan was only saying it was a good one out of pity towards her, seeing that her plan was failing.

“whatever,” ivan continued, his voice matching his gruff exterior. “i sent him one picture of you already, thought that might fuel his spirit even more.”

should she? what if her text wasn’t enough to lift rúben up?

just as about adrianna was on the verge of giving in, she felt something running down her spine. that familiar shiver when you know someone was watching you from behind. but instead of fear, she felt warmth. the kind of warmth that only rúben could emit. be it his voice, his presence—him. she turned her line of sight to the direction of the grass pitch and there he was, standing tall and proud and unbothered like his reputation of wall of china while looking at her with eyes smeared with a little bit of disbelief, but zeroed on her nonetheless. contrasting the traditional centre back posture was his mega-watt smile, the one he never failed to show her whenever she picked up his video calls before greeting her with, “minha vida, meu amor, how are you today?”

the one she knew he reserved it only for her. because it never failed to make her feel like the only girl in the world at that moment, like she was the centre of his universe and nothing else mattered to him the most.

and at that moment, she knew rúben chose her because she was enough for him.

it was easy for them the first time they met, and it was easy now for her to feel the affection rúben loved to shower her unconditionally with.

and before her brain could take over the last piece of logic inside her, adrianna flashed him a grin that stretched from ear to ear at the view that reminded her of a chesire cat eager to play with alice in wonderland. her version of the smile that was only intended for rúben dias and only at rúben dias, no matter the time and place.

she waved at him involuntarily, the part of her body that had been missing him to bits since their airport encounter stole the start from her rationale, unable to contain the lingering that had been gnawing her heart for months now. fuck distance makes heart grow fonder, it softened the hell out of the organ she could combust if she didn’t get to touch her boyfriend when they were now this close to being together, physically and mentally.

she didn’t think his smile could grow any bigger but it did, as she waved at him. and the disbelief in his eyes turned into something else entirely. fierce, but elated. like he was so happy she was here that it was enough to fire again the determination and desire to grab the win from the back. like he’d finally found his reasoning and awakening altogether at the same time.

and it was enough for him to light up the spirit. of him, of his fellow defenders, of his team. of the stadium and the fans everywhere else in the world when he slotted another well-executed header into the opponent’s goal to level the score. it looked effortless; perfectly timed and executed by kevin.

and for rúben, effortless was something he grew accustomed to lately, despite some people calling him crazy for his “rash” decision. but he couldn’t blame people when they don’t exactly know the real meaning of the word, not when he knew they didn’t have adrianna to show him everything he needed to know about falling in love effortlessly. like his goal, his encounter with adrianna was perfectly timed. so for him, there was nothing else more suitable than a celebration to match the theme.

the portugese didn’t think twice when he ran to the other end from where the goal just went in, so fast his mates were screaming his name to slow down, and then he simply stood there with the same smile he knew she loved and knew only came out when he was with her. no grandiose gesture, he just straight on looked up at his girlfriend, now wearing the blue shirt he’d always dream to see her on. erupting crowd and back hugs from his teammates paled to the pride and proud she wore in her face as she looked down at him.

ilkay shook the stadium once more when his strike went past the goalie the last 3 minutes of the game, pretty much sealing the most coveted trophy in the football industry for the 4th time to manchester city. when the whistle finally blew, literally and figuratively, the crowd went wild to the point the players had to be rescued from the pitch towards the tunnel. rúben didn’t think twice to call ivan immediately as he reached the locker room to ask if they were safe and sound.

(well, the implied question was if adrianna was safe and sound.)

the roaring stadium couldn’t even conceal the palpitating beats inside his ribcage, the blood rushed to his ears faster than his regular pace that his phone had to alerted him to calm down. but how could he calm down when he just contributed the most important goal of his career, in the presence of the woman he loved? in the presence of the woman whom he knew must’ve taken half of her precious annual leave so bravely just to see him?

how could he calm down when he knew she was so close yet so far? when he knew he could’ve run upstairs just to have her in his arms for a minute before returning back in time for the trophy lift?

should he just forego this whole thing and be with her instead? he’d won 3 epl trophies before, the thrilling feeling shouldn’t be new anymore, right?

unfortunately, however, before he could execute his crazy escapade, the staff ushered the first team out to the field again for the one thing the entire building had been working on.

rúben waited in line for his turn to earn his silver medal with “4-time champion” inscribed on it and while doing so, he couldn’t help himself to look up to the tribune where adrianna was at. as soon as he saw the grin she was sporting, jumping up and down beside his brother ivan, looking as real and as regal as the first time he saw her, he smiled so wide john stones had to elbow him on the belly. “where’s the missus at? she here?”

rúben only answered the barnsley native with a nod towards his girlfriend, the grin on his face never perished. she waved again at him, her excitement so infectious that rúben couldn’t stop himself from blowing a kiss at her. john laughed at how corny that was but couldn’t bring himself to blame the portugese from being lovesick. being deserted by your ex just when you popped the question wasn’t something easy to comeback from. john was only glad he’d found a better match in all aspect for rúben, despite the distance the couple had to endure together.

the trophy lifted and paraded to every corner of the pitch, photos taken at every sequence, and now it was time for the family to congratulate their loved ones for the hard work they’d committed this past year. adrianna, included, although she only had the privilege recently.

despite the ardent crave to jump into rúben’s strong arms as soon as the portugese was in her sight, adrianna gave some space to the dias brothers to celebrate first. rúben had several times mentioned ivan and his cousin were two people that inspired him the most in regards to his professional career so she wouldn’t want to try to break the bond and respect that were shared between the two, and rúben swore he fell in love again once more when he realised the meaning behind her action.

as soon as rúben’s eyes diverted from ivan to her, adrianna didn’t hesitate to cut off the last remaining distance between them. and as soon as her head fitted under his palm and her legs hung around the back of his waist, rúben released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. at last, he muttered against her hair. who knew the smell of a shampoo could be so comforting?

at that moment, reality hit him. rúben dias had been too focused on chasing something—anything; trophies, titles, awards—that he forgot the meaning of home. and adrianna just handed it back on his plate.

it was so soothing how small she was in his arms, yet it felt like he had come back home. like he was holding his entire world in his embrace, and he couldn’t ask for anything else better, even if it meant that he had to undergo the whole failed proposal all over again.

“you’re here.”

“i am,”and there was the sound he’d been missing the most, clear as crystal. not the one he’d been hearing over the phone, through the endless video calls when he was about to sleep and she just woke up. “parabens, querido.”

“i must be dreaming,” rúbenhad to pull her closer to him—as if it was possible—to make sure she was here, in flesh and blood. “you can’t be real, you know? but i keep seeing you.”

adrianna pulled away from rúben’s lock around her, mirth glinted her eyes. “should i just go back to—”

“no,” rúben didn’t hold back as he kissed her. finally. her lips felt like the sweetest victory; for winning the title again, for waiting for her no matter how long it takes. and he devoured every last bit of it, slowly but sure, not wanting to miss any more detail. “you don’t know how long i’ve been praying to hold you like this again.”

“well, you got your wish,” rúben’s dropping bass tone to his voice sent shudders all over her body, both from the voice and the desperation that lingered behind his words. she kissed him once more to show she felt exactly the same and he hummed, as he felt her nipping his bottom lip. “happy birthday, benzinho. i hope you like your present because i don’t know what else to give you if you don’t like it.”

this time, rúben was the one who pulled away first, confusion written all over his face. “what, you think i’m not going to like it?”

“well, look around you, rúben,” adrianna casted a glance everywhere else but him, awkward and so unlike of her. “i can’t possibly compare to—”

“you’re the best thing i could ever ask for, gatinha,” rúben moved up his hands from her waist to cup her face, the sharp jawline contrasted the soft glimmer in the beautiful eyes he loved. “doesn’t matter if it happens on my birthday this year, next year, next decade—i want you and i will always ask for you until the day comes. you’re the reason i start looking forward for tomorrow, knowing you’re awake already when i wake up, and you’re the reason i want to be better everyday so that one day, when the day comes, i can be the man that deserves you entirely.”

“rúben—”

before adrianna could say anything else that described the way his words swayed her world, rúben closed the vacant space between their lips, effectively shutting her up. “i don’t know what’s that pretty mind of yours have been thinking but te amo, meu amor. you’re my love and my life, meu anjo, and i don’t want it any other way.”

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liesoverthec · 3 years ago

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OG 911 Character Details from Canon Pt 2

Hi y’all I’m back! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reblogged the last details post - I sort of just thought people would like it and it would die, so to see it travel and hopefully reach more writers was so great so thank you again!

Details under the cut since I went a little crazy 😅 and if this is your first time seeing this, the first part, and any future parts, can be found under this tag here!

Quick note before I get to the details - always, ALWAYS take details from dialogue or plot over details from the set or props if they contradict each other. The writers have the ultimate say over what happens on the show/for the characters, so whatever they say goes, even if it goes against something props has already laid down (eg, Chim’s birthday, sorry Libra crew. He’s an Aries or a Pisces). So keep that in mind for the future in case some of these details I have which are from props/set are changed in the future, or if you’ve noticed something yourself!

Also if you have questions, I am MORE than happy to answer them, although if you leave them in the tags on this post I’m probably gonna lose them, so if it’s something you’d genuinely like an answer to, drop it in my inbox! Besides my standard “ask” tags, I’m also tagging asks about canon details with this tag here. Every time I make a big post like this, I’m going to link all the asks I’ve gotten since the last post, but if you’re looking for more info in the mean time, that’s the other spot to look!

Buck has a grill on his patio.

Eddie doesn’t hang Christopher’s art on the fridge - instead it is either hung on the corkboard in Chris’ room to the left of the door, or Eddie puts it in an actual frame and hangs it using a hammer/nails in Christopher’s room. All the Diaz family has on their fridge is a bunch of bendy people magnets. (I absolutely ADORE him putting all this effort into treating Christopher’s art like it’s something you’d buy from a professional artist).

Info on everyone’s ages can be found here. (Little more discussion of Chim’s situation here).

Albert has a bachelor’s degree! I don’t know in what though, except that it’s some field for which is a Master’s is useful.

Athena was in a sorority in college, Delta Sigma Theta. Their website describes them as “ ...a sisterhood comprised primarily of Black, college-educated women ... [that] considers the issues impacting the Black community and boldly confronts the challenges of African Americans and, hence, all Americans ”, which I love for Athena, and feel is very in-character for her at that time in her life!

Chim is an aviators dude. When he wears sunglasses, they’re always aviators.

Athena also wears nothing but aviators.

Bobby wears square aviators.

Eddie, on the other hand, always wears Wayfarers.

Buck either doesn’t really like sunglasses or he constantly forgets he owns them, since we’ve only seen him wear them once in 60 eps, in a move I’m pretty sure was ONLY for dramatic effect.

Hen’s sunglasses change style over the seasons like her regular glasses do, but she tends to like browline sunglasses.

Info on Christopher’s school can be found here!

There are two colors of dispatch polo, and there doesn’t seem to be any rhythm or reason for who wears what. Maroon - Maddie and Linda. Blue - Josh and May. Jamal has actually worn both maroon and blue, so it doesn’t seem to be TOTALLY set in stone although I’ve never seen anyone else switch. Sue is too badass to wear a dispatch shirt.

Both Bobby and Eddie drive 4 door pickups. Bobby’s is navy. Eddie specifically has a black, 2020 GMC Denali 1500 pickup truck (in case you want to specifically look up what the inside of it looks like or what features it has 😂)

Info on the 118’s medical certifications can be found here.

Correction to Eddie’s living situation from last post: no next door neighbors, but instead UPSTAIRS neighbors. (Pointed out by Abigail in this ask). Also since someone else was wondering the notes of the last post - no, there is absolutely no discussion on the show of whether or not Eddie rents the apartment or owns it. But based on the fact that it’s 1) LA and 2) an apartment, my guess would be he rents it.

When Maddie isn’t feeling like herself, she tends to straighten her hair rather than curl it. It seems to be more when she’s uncertain about her place in her own and other people’s lives, rather than just when she’s simply worried - eg it’s straight in 2B, when she’s uncertain if she wants to continue working as a dispatcher/is unsure about her relationship with Chim.

For work, Chim, Eddie and Buck all use black duffel bags with a LAFD patch on the top. Hen uses several different cute bags, and Bobby seems to have a plain black duffel bag.

Watches - Bobby, Athena, Chim, Hen and Buck all wear their watch on their left wrist (but Athena ONLY wears hers for work, she takes it off at home.) Eddie wears his on his right wrist, and Maddie doesn’t wear one.

Chim (and Maddie by default) literally still have the exact same couch as in the pilot. (Which means that Chim has cuddled Tatiana on that couch, AND Albert has had sex on it. TIME TO GET A NEW ONE, BUCKLEY-HANS 😂)

The 118 has five different rigs - the engine (E118), the ladder truck (T118), two ambulances and the captain’s truck. 95% of the time, when the team is chilling in the cab of a rig and chatting (eg the ‘stuck under a live telephone pole’ scene in Jinx), they’re in the engine, not the truck. (Which I personally learned recently are NOT interchangeable terms!)

Athena and Michael got married when Athena was 37.

If you’d like to give Maddie a full name beyond “Maddie”, you should use Madeline. (I know, I know, in 4x04 she says Maddie is the name on her birth certificate, and that you should never use props details if they contradict script details, but I always thought that was a super weird exchange in 4x04 which could be explained by Maddie getting a nickname since she was born when Margaret and Phillip, you know, actually loved their kids and showed it, so of course Buck doesn’t get one, and in 4x04, Maddie was trying to avoid the entire issue of why she got one and Buck didn’t. But! Do what you want, and use Madeline as the full version of Maddie if you’d like, since that’s what’s on the BOLO in 2x13 😂)

Athena’s call sign is 727 L30, but she doesn’t have a specific squad car - the number changes throughout the series.

Chim really likes chewing gum, but he’s the only one out of the entire family!

The station has an Xbox One S, and it’s white.

In the real LAFD, there are stations 1 through 114. To avoid confusion while filming on the streets (I’m assuming), our fictional LAFD never uses the number of a real station. So if you want another station for a fic, and you want something that would be real in OUR universe, use the numbers 115 and above. They’ve gone as high as 221 in our universe.

Battalions - station 118 is in Battalion 7, which is also not a battalion in real Los Angeles. The 118 has interacted w/ Battalion 1, which is a real battalion, but other ‘non-real which makes them more likely for our universe’ battalions include numbers: 3, 8, 13, 16, 19 and above.

S1 Buck knew the term Jedi, but based on context, didn’t understand AT ALL the context provided by Star Wars, so there’s another edge of his pop culture limits for you.

Chim is the most tech-savvy out of everyone, hands down.

Athena has a VERY active Twitter account.

Abuela’s house number is 8902. I don’t have a street name for you unfortunately though. :/

Athena’s favorite flowers are white roses. None of the other women are really flower people.

Michael likes to wear purple.

When they’re at a call, Buck does pretty much all of the stuff with the hammer and the saw. Eddie does all the work needed with the drill.

Harry goes to Meadowbrook Elementary.

Buck lives on the fourth floor of his apartment building, across the hall from Apt. 416. The lovely @lovelessmotel found this listing for what is more or less the apartment. What happened was: the set crew rented this apartment for the one episode at the end of s2 when Buck moved in, and then over the summer before s3 built their own set of it, and changed some things - eg giving him an island, and moving the sink to a second counter against the far wall, you can see the changes here in this amazing gif set by the awesome Austen, but the listing should let you click around a little more upstairs and figure out dimensions better than what the show provides!

When Athena and Hen go out to eat together, it’s always fast food burgers and fries.

Waffles are Athena’s favorite food, and tiramisu is her favorite dessert.

Every takeout we’ve seen Buck eat has always been in a Chinese food takeout container, and we know he likes Thai food the best. EXCEPT! The one time we see him eat takeout with Eddie and Christopher, they have pizza. So take from that what you will......

Eddie has a cell phone and a landline.

Chim is a shameless multiple texter.

Chim and Bobby sleep closest to the door in their respective bedrooms (both right side of the bed if you are standing at the foot, facing the headboard), and Athena and Maddie sleep furthest away from the door (left side).

Some canon last names for other firefighters at the station in case you wanna add more people to a fic - Mitchell, Sanchez, Serrano (woman), Porter, Meyers (woman), Maxwell, Voyta

Hen and Karen really love decorating their house with dark/red wood.

Karen is Mommy and Hen is Mama.

Bobby has a brother, and a grandmother, and that’s literally ALL we know about his family outside of Marcy and the kids.

Evidence points to Eddie being the oldest child in his family.

Karen has multiple brothers (no sisters), but no idea how many - just that one of them is named Trey, and one of them lives in LA and has kids. They might be the same brother and they might not be.

Both Hen and Athena are only children.

Athena has been on the police force for 30 years.

Christopher and Denny are the same age (born in 2011), and Harry is two years older than them.

Michael lives in apartment 308.

The bank in this universe is CalAm.

Hen and Karen have a picture of Denny, May and Harry on their fireplace mantel.

Eddie having a black thumb + a lot of plants in his living room = him buying fake plants bc he likes the aesthetic ™ or someone (cough Carla cough) is taking care of them for him.

The COVID timeline in OG’s universe is fucked up compared to the real world’s, so it shouldn’t be used as a way to measure time! They just throw it in wherever it makes sense for the story they want to tell (eg the vaccines in s4 ep 8), since s3 was both done before COVID hit but also airing while it was happening. It makes absolutely no sense for May to graduate in March nor for Chris to be going to what is specifically labeled summer camp, and the vaccine plotline was INCREDIBLY early, even for real life, so don’t use anything from that as a measure of time. I’ve found except in specific examples, eg the two tsunami episodes, it’s very safe to say every episode covers a week - fall holidays on the show line up with their real life counterparts, indicating about the same amount of time is passing for us and them.

On that note - Jee-Yun was born in late January, early February 2021. (Conceived in Pinned, which was end of March/beginning of April, meaning Maddie was around a month along at May’s graduation in May ➡ 42 weeks + 3 days from then = late Jan/early Feb. Which unfortunately means we most likely won’t see her birthday celebrated on screen. If we assume she was conceived on the date Pinned aired, aka the very sexy hotel scene, then January 21st or 22nd would be Jee’s birthday, depending on if she was born after midnight or not.

Buck has had at least one other Jeep between the one Maddie gave him, and the one he has now, which means that when he needs a new car, he is purposefully choosing Jeeps.

I hope this was all as interesting/enjoyable to you as it was to me! And just to repeat - I love answering questions so pls let me know if you have any at all ❤

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Tagging: @buckbuckley

#911 fox #911 canon character details #athena grant #bobby nash #chimney han #hen wilson #maddie buckley #evan buckley #eddie diaz #bathena #madney #henren #buddie #userac #hey yall if anyone else wants to be added to these tags let me know #im happy to do so #I feel like I have v little for Bobby here sorry :/#I’ll work on getting lots for him next time

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ivybucky · 4 years ago

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remember - b.b. x fem!reader

Request by @divergirl99 : Could I make a request a Bucky x reader....where maybe she is childhood best friends and goes to war with them and when she thinks the boys are gone she volunteers to help stark recreate the serum resulting in her being a super soldier who doesn’t age and after civil war Nat (who she is friends with) asked her for a place to hide and she see Bucky and Steve and really fluffy reunion and Bucky remember hers and tells him he loves her?? (Sorry it is really long) - divergirl99

a/n: i'm sorry this sucks??? i might try and redo this at a later time but this has been sitting in my requests for far too long.

author: abby<3

words: 1317

“Ma’am,” a security guard stepped in her path. “You can’t enter this facility without some kind of granted access.”

“I don’t care,” she snapped. “Stark’s gonna see me whether he wants to or not.”

“Let her in, Jimmy,” Howard Stark stood with his arms crossed across his chest. The security guard reluctantly backed away. “I was expecting this at some point.”

“Howard-”

“Y/N, I know, okay?” he sighed, shoulders dropping slightly. “Why don’t you come in, I’ve got some stuff I wanna show you.”

The entrance to the SSR facility was grand, but everything with Stark was. She felt her own urgency get muddled under the views of the labs they passed down the all.

“What’s going on here Howard- what do you have that I don’t know about?”

“We recreated it.”

“You what? Howard-”

“We were able to do it, finally, I think.”

“You think?”

“We haven’t tested it yet.”

“And what if this gets into the wrong hands? What if someone like Hydra? Steve wouldn’t have-”

“Y/N,” he sighed. “I miss him too. Why do you think I’m doing this? I know he’s still out there. But I can’t do this by myself.”

“You have at least 300 bodies in this facility.”

“You know what I mean.” Y/N looked around at the viles, the serum that covered the table slabs of the room. “I’m asking for your help.”

“Howard,” her arms tightened around her own waist. “I lost my best friend and the man I had fallen in love with in the same war. I don’t know if I have anything else to give to the cause. They were the ones who could have helped, I’m just an agent.”

“Erskine chose you too. How many women do you see fighting these wars? He knew what you were meant to do, just as Steve did, just as Bucky did. This is it, Y/N.”

She thought about Bucky, how he tried to be everything Steve was molded into. She thought about how he fell, without the chance to realize himself was plenty good enough. She thought about Steve, how the world would be blind to his deeds as he sat in the ice, not knowing what he did to keep the world that had treated him so cruelly safe.

“Fine,” her arms fell down to her sides, a decision already set on her face. “Rig me up, Stark. For them.”

“Who is this?” Y/N bit into the burner phone that never rang. “How did you get this number?”

“Well,” Nat’s voice sounded over the speaker, causing her mouth to tip up slightly. “After all this time, that’s how you greet an old friend?”

“Well, it has been ten years, Tash,” she sighed, untensing her shoulders. “I wasn’t sure you were still out there. Deep doesn’t have a whole lot of press coverage around here.”

“I’m still out here,” Natasha sighed, clearing her throat. “A lot of people, Y/N, are still out here.”

She paused, back straightening once more. “Natalia-”

“They’re both with me,” her voice was firm, and concerning. “And we need to lay low for a bit.”

“You’re already on your way, aren’t you?”

“What, no? You’re at an undisclosed location, how could I possibly-”

“How far out are you?”

“Two hours,” Nat laughed, but Y/N heard the sadness, the pain that lined her voice.

“I’ll see you soon,” She breathed out with an unsteadiness of the reunion to come. “Be safe. Do they know?”

“I’ll tell them before we get there.”

“Natasha,” Steve’s tired voice called out, as he rubbed a hand over his face. “You haven’t told us where we’re going yet.”

“That’s because I need to explain some things,” her gaze dropped to Bucky, who looked like he was still reeling. “To both of you.”

Steve chuckled darkly, “More secrets?”

“I need you to understand that until now, if you had known, the mission, the undercover, all of it would have been compromised, and she could have been killed.”

“She?” Bucky spoke, for the first time since he boarded the jet. Steve stood up, his memory serving him well.

“Natasha-”

“After Steve went into the ice, Howard Stark didn’t stop,” she began, sitting down and looking at her hands. “There were attempts, too many, from all around to recreate what Erskine had used for Steve. But he knows he wasn’t supposed to be the only one.”

Steve’s chest rose quickly as he sucked in a breath. Bucky stood up, his own breath leaving his body. “Steve-”

“Stark was able to recreate it. But he quickly destroyed the serum after he used it on one test patient, and realized once again what the wrong hands would do with it.”

The quinjet landed, the ramp lowering onto the field they were located in.

“Are you telling me that-”

“Y/N’s alive.” Natasha stood up and walked down the ramp. She turned back around at the super soldiers. “And she’s got the serum.”

Once the ramp met the ground, Bucky took off in a sprint. He ignored the calls of his name, the one he had to learn again, behind him. The wooden steps that lead to the front door creaked under his heavy frame. Consciously, he banged on the door with his flesh hand.

“Okay Nat, jeez-” The door swung open, and Y/N stood there, unchanged, unaged, just as she had the day on the train.

She tried to ignore the moisture building up in her eyes as she saw the man she had loved from afar, with grief, for nearly a hundred years. “James-”

His hands shook as he reached out to caress her cheek, to solidify the image before him. Her hands wrapped around his wrist, pressing her face into his hand. In a second, her body was pressed against his. Bucky buried his face into her neck, clenching his eyes shut in fear that she would disappear once he opened them. He felt her sigh beneath him, hand sweeping up his back. She mumbled against his chest, watery and shaky, “I wasn’t sure you would remember me.”

“Remember you?” He pulled back and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Y/N, you’re the reason I’m not completely gone, doll. I don’t remember everything,” he sighed, cupping her face again. “But I remember you, and I remember how much I love you.”

Y/N gave a watery smile, pressing her lips into the palm of his hand. “I love you, too, James. I always have, and always will.”

His lips against hers were firm, finding purchase in a place he thought he would never find, in a home he thought he would never return to. Her hands wrapped around his neck, something she hadn’t done in this way before but something she knew she was meant to do. She breathed him in, as if he was her only air supply. He smiled into the kiss, something he wasn’t even sure he knew how to do anymore. They broke apart for breath, and to wipe the tears that were flowing away.

“Are you gonna hog her this whole time, Buck,” Steve laughed from behind as he walked up the stairs. “Or do I get to hug my best friend too?”

“Steve!” She launched herself into the arms of her friend, her brother, who she wanted to do everything for. He squeezed her and spun her around as she laughed. She was set down, and immediately went back to Bucky’s side. “Come on inside, we’ve been standing out here too long.”

She smiled at Nat as she followed Steve inside. Bucky pulled Y/N back into another hug, squeezing her with a lightness he couldn’t remember feeling before. And while he regretted a lot of what he had done in his past, he was sure nothing else could have led to having her in his arms again.

Forever Tags(all characters)

@avengers-do-it-better @maisondumepris @hamiltonwrite12

Steve & Bucky

@fab-notfat @mcueveryday @nanners-the-great @mcubuckyandsteve @captainfile @yes-sir-hotchner

Bucky

@aletheladyinred @antheiagoddessofflowers @stevieintheimpala @friendlyneighborhood-fangirl

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #marvel #mcu #sebastian stan #bucky request #bucky fluff

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rannvadraws · 4 years ago

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Ah oooooh, got tagged by @artsycooky13

Favourite Works of the year (Not ranked)

1) The Mabeltag comic. I was trying to experiment a lot with every page and even though I don’t consider myself good at making comics, I’m very pleased with the result. Designing the gem’s Mabel-forms was a delight

2) This saucy pinup piece of a generic “Steven taking diamond form concept”. It was mainly a challenge to myself in how to make the piece lead the viewer’s eye towards his back in as many ways as possible, with framing, clothing, negative space and so on. I honestly don’t know if the butt is too spicy for Tumblr so have a censored version

3) Connie’s trauma collage - Another one where I tried to push myself. My goal with every part here was to make the emotional impact to Connie’s experience as strong as possible. I got a lot of practice using the perspective tool for this one.

4) Redesigning Etly. I’m having much more experience with Toon Boom now than when I did my first rig attempt with her, so I redrew her and messing about with her “behind the scenes”

5) My entire Minerva Mink AMV - I know I haven’t finished it yet, but I’m dang proud of a lot of the shots. Considering the only animation education I have had was a base course in Flash 10 years ago, and some 3D animation at the Game Development school, and so I have had to train myself and take it in steps talking with friends who did go to animation school, I think I’m doing rather well when it comes to the quality, even though I might be a bit slow with getting there.

6) When Pearl isn’t home - Self explanatory really. Do it for the memes

youtube

7) Steven Universe/Fulmetal Alchemist AU screenshot redraw. We started watching FMA:B in the connverse server and ended up making an AU. Making screenshot redraws is new to me but I liked the practice

8) My Spinels. All based on card deck suits (except for the orange one) As per usual, I went so hard on it. Researched gem cuts that matched the suits and tried to make everyone have some kind of unique flair with different branches of entertainment while still keeping the Jester theme

I think all the people that I would have like to tag has already been tagged, so, go have fun and look through what you’ve done yourself this year!

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

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Sanctuary -Chapter 57

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light

He keeps his ball cap and sunglasses on; hands stuffed in the pockets on his hoodie, eyes always working as they take in his surroundings. Observing fellow pedestrians on the sidewalk, store fronts, cars passing by on the street, any movement in doorways and windows. Anything and everything that can seem unusual or appear even remotely suspicious. He wishes he'd changed into long pants and his boots back at the hotel; there's a chill in the air and his legs and feet are cold, which in turn makes the pain from the arthritis that inhabits his body even worse. Lately it's been a dull and manageable ache; the steady use of Tylenol 3 managing to take the edge off and helping him function better. Today, not even all the drugs in the world won't touch the agony that is beginning to take root in all the effected joints. Once more proof that he's making the right decision in walking away. That he's simply getting too old for this bullshit. And that he doesn't want to be the dad that's too fucked up to be able to actually enjoy his kids. Nor give them the memory that he wasn't able to do the things with them that other dads were able to do.

The front windows of the shop once belonging to Heather McMann's grandmother have been covered over with layers of newspaper, and while he's managed to peek through the small divide between the edges of different sheets, it's difficult to see inside; the sun too bright, the inside too dark. Just able to make out the metal shelving that still holds merchandise and the old fashioned cash register that sits on the front counter. There's no sign of life coming from within; at least not on this level. No hint of movement, no sound. He steps back and studies the front window; there's no breaks or gaps between the seals, making it impossible to get any sort of viewing device into the building that way. He checks the door; a considerable opening between worn out weather stripping and the concrete entrance way, a mail slot, the window pane in the middle frosted and not allowing curious eyes to peer inside. There's options; a good tech guy with the best of equipment would be able to get eyes in there. But how long would it take? A day? Two days? A few? They didn't have that kind of time to spare. Not when Heather McMann has been visiting and quite clearly know she's being watched.

Out of sheer curiosity he tries the handle; it's loose fitting and heavily rusted, but the door itself doesn't budge.

“See anything?”

He gives a small start; he'd been so focused that he hadn't hurt Nathan approach from behind. Had he heard even the slightest of noise or had that inkling that lets him know someone is drawing near, he would have been ready for it. A hand already on his Glock before the kid could even speak.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hisses. “You want to get shot? Because that's how you get shot. What are you doing here?”

“Yaz sent me. Said you needed to have someone watch your back.”

“Doesn't mean you have to be right up my ass. How'd you know I wasn't going to turn around and kick the shit out of you?”

“I didn't,” the kid admits. “Guess I just took my chance and...”

��You don't take chances. Ever. You want to stay alive? Don't take chances. You have to know what you're walking into. What and who you're up again. You don't just go in blind and hope for the best. Got it?”

Nathan nods.

“It's why we can't go in there. No matter how much I want to. Because I could walk in there and there could be twenty guys just lying in wait. And I'm getting way too old to deal with that kind of fucking shit. I need to get home to my family...alive...and taking chances like that will have me in a body bag. You're a Marine. I'm sure you're used to high stakes crap like this.”

“I've only had one tour. And it wasn't much of one. Conflict was over before we even arrived. You're military, right?”

“I was,” Tyler confirms, as he steps out of the doorway and back onto the sidewalk. “SASR. That's...”

“Special Air Service Regiment,” Nathan finishes for him, as he falls in step alongside of him. “I've read all about it. You guys are legendary. Why'd you leave? Having the skill set that you'd do, you'd think it would come in handy even in the military. What made you leave?”

“It's a long story. And one I don't like to talk about. Look, I like you kid. And I don't like many people. But just what are you doing out here?”

“Like I said, Yaz told me to come and have your back.”

“You realize having my back doesn't mean actually being on my back, right? That you're just supposed to hang out and keep an eye on me? Make sure no one has their eyes on me or won't try and sneak up and kill me? Us being together sort of defeats the whole purpose. If I get made, so do you.”

The kid frowns. “Makes sense.”

“Hey, you're new. I get it. And this isn't your regular thing. You're kind of out of your element here. You haven't done this much, have you.”

“My first time,” he admits.

“You're doing fine, kid. You just have to learn to be more natural. Blend in. Right now, everything about you screams military. If you were working for the bad guys, I would have had you pegged the second I saw you walking down the street. You have to loosen up a bit. Fuck the rigged posture. Act like you're just a normal bloke, out and about. Best thing to do is be about a hundred meters behind me. Not really watching me, but keeping your eyes open. And not just on me, everything and everyone around you. Understand?”

Nathan nods.

“You have to know what's going on all around you. Not just in front. All directions. Or someone will come along and fuck you up. I've seen it happen. Tons of times. You want to get out of this situation alive and go back to your normal life? Don't fuck up. I thought a situation was under control once and turned my back on it, and a fucking teenager nearly killed me.”

“Dhaka?”

“Yeah. That was a shit show all the way around. I mean, a couple good things came out of it. The first days were awesome. But what happened after? It was a fucking nightmare that I don't wish on anyone. So if you are ever thinking of getting out of the Marines and into this life? Remember my advice: don't fucking do it. Because one day you're going to want something normal. You're going to want a wife and kids and they're going to get sucked into this bullshit and that's not fair to them. Trust me. It's not. I've put my wife through hell. I've been away from my kids more than I've been with them. And that's a cross I'm always going to have to bear.”

“So it's true then? That this job is your last? That you're walking away after this?”

“I should have walked away a long time ago. After my twins came along. That should have been it. That's when my wife needed me the most and I totally fucked off and abandoned her. Trust me kid, don't get into this life. And if you do, don't make the same mistakes that I did. Once you have a life...a real life....give up this one. And don't go back to it. No matter how bored or restless you get. Just walk away and don't look back.”

****

The alley way is narrow; just as Yaz had said. Leaving out the possibility of getting a car back there to load the kids into once he manages to grab them. It would be too easy to be corner; a tall, wire fence with barbed wire at the top, making an escape in that direction impossible. The only way out is through the end he'd just walked down; if another vehicle was to pull in, they'd be trapped. They could...if desperate enough...flee through the back door one of the shops or up one of the fire escapes, but with two kids in tow, that would prove to be extremely difficult. Having to navigate through unknown stores and apartments, putting a lot of innocent lives at risk.

That's a direction he does not want to go in.

He uses his SAT to take pictures of his surroundings; they'd be useful when it came time to planning his way in and out and any and bad case scenarios he may encounter. And he's about to turn on his heel and head back down the alley when he sees her out of the corner of his eye; blond hair pulled back into a pony tail and her tall, slender frame clad in a pair of baggy linen pants and an oversized sweater. Standing at the entrance to the alley, watching him warily, nervously wringing her hands together. His hand immediately reaches for his Glock but then stops; she's calm, not rushing at him, a sad, almost scared look on her face. So he stands down; anxious to keep the situation as relaxed as possible.

“Heather,” he greets simply, as he turns to face her.

“Mister Rake,” she says in return.

“You know who am I? Why I'm here?”

She nods. “They all know you. They all know what you do. How good you are at it. Word travels fast.”

“You armed?”

She shakes her head.

“Prove it. Show me.”

She slowly lifts up the bottom of her sweater; turning in circle to show that there's nothing tucked into her waist band, nor is there a holster on either hip.

“Legs too,” he orders, and she readily complies; pushing up on pant leg, then the other.

“I'm not here to hurt you,” she says.

“How'd you know I was here?”

“I saw you. Walking across the street. I was over there...” she nods over her shoulder, in the direction of a cafe across the street. “...watching you.”

“How'd you know I was in New Zealand.?”

“I...they...know everything about you. Where you live, your wife's name, your kids' names. Everything there is to know about you, they know. You don't think they've been watching you? That they haven't been following you every step of the way? They were in Colorado. At the hospital. Your wife's pregnant? Congratulations. That's what? Number five?”

“How about you leave my family out of this. They've got nothing to do with it. They're innocent.”

“Not when they're connected to you, they're not. That's the reality of what you do. That they just get brought along into whatever mess you're sent to clean up. It's sad, isn't it. That in the end they'll be the ones that pay for your decisions and your mistakes. They never wanted to hurt them. They just wanted to send you a message. To stay out of their business.”

“Who are 'they'? Your family?”

She nods.

“You know your husband's dead, right?”

“I do. And thank you for that. He is...was...a monster. And I'm hoping he got what he deserved and now he's burning in hell where he belongs. It's the the best thing you ever could have done. For me and the kids.”

“You mean nothing to me. All I care about is the kids. Where are they, Heather? Where's the kids? Are they inside? Because if they are, we can end this all right now. You can take me in there and I get them out and I can get them somewhere safe. This has gone on long enough. It's been almost a month now; since your husband reported you guys missing. Those kids are scared and they're hurt and need to see a doctor and get somewhere safe. That's why I'm here. To help them. You know that, yeah?”

“I know.”

“I'm not here to hurt anyone or kill anyone. I just want those kids. And I want things to go as smoothly and peacefully as possible. You can help me do that. You can take me inside and let me get them. In and out. I don't give a shit what else is going on in there. I just want the kids.”

“I can't,” she shakes her head, voice cracking . “I can't go in there. I can't help you.”

“Heather, listen to me,” he holds his hands up...palms out...in a request for peace and calm as he approaches her. “I'm not going to hurt you. I should. But I won't. Because I just want the kids. Nothing else matters. Just them. Are they inside? Can you at least tell me that?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“We are talking.”

“In private.”

“Yeah, that's not going to happen. Why would I go anywhere with you? We go somewhere and what? You've got half a dozen guys waiting in the wings to kill me?”

“That's not that I want. I don't want you dead. I want your help.”

“I am here to help. I'm here to help the kids. So why don't you start helping me by taking me in there and letting me get them.”

“I can't. I'm sorry. But I can't.”

“Why would I help you? After everything you've done. After being in on all of this and letting people hurt your kids? You sent people after my family. You had them take pictures of my wife and my kids. Why the hell would I help you after all that?”

“You don't understand,” tears slip down her cheeks. “I wasn't me. I didn't plan this. It wasn't my idea. It's what he wanted you to think. He wanted you to think I was the bad person and that this was all my doing. It wasn't. Far from it.”

“He? Your husband?”

“Please. I need you to understand. I need you to listen to me. None of this is what you think. Whatever he told you...about me...it's not true. That's why I came over here. When I saw you. Because I need to explain everything to you.”

Tyler sees Nathan silently approaching Heather from behind, but he holds a hand up; a signal for the young man to stand down.

“Well I'm right here, Heather,” he says. “I'm listening. What do you need to tell me?”

“Not here. It's too dangerous. They could come back at any time. And if they see me here...with you...they will kill them. No question about it.”

“I can't just trust you. I can't just follow you out here and go somewhere. You understand that, right? Why I can't trust you?”

“I don't want to kill you,” she insists. “I just want your help. You're the only one who can help me. We can go somewhere. Public. Where there's lots of people. You can even bring one of your people along. I know they've been watching. I've seen the girl wandering the street. I know she's one of yours.”

Tyler's eyes narrow, skeptical. “And you just want to talk?”

“There's things you need to know. About Mark. About my family. About me. And then I'll help you.”

“If I go, he comes with me,” Tyler nods over her shoulder at the young Marine waiting anxiously in the wings. “That's not up for debate. And we stay in public and you don't pull any funny shit. No reaching into your purse, no making any phone calls, no sending texts. Got it?”

She nods.

“Good,” he says, as he takes her by the upper arm. “Let's go.”

****

They walk for three blocks, then choose the first available place: the front steps of a derelict church that sits beside an elementary school. Far enough away from the centre of town, yet close enough to get back if the dire need arises. And even if someone is watching them, the chances of them escalating it into a violent situation are slim; too many houses, children on recess, to many eyes and ears and innocent casualties. He waits for Heather to sit down first before he taking a seat on the step above her. It's better for keeping an eye on her, and letting her know that he's the one with the power; who is in charge and control of the situation. And he gives Nathan a small nod in confirmation that the situation is stable, and the young Marine begins a casual patrol of their surroundings.

“So...” Tyler says, and stretches his legs out in front of him, wincing at the stiffness and pain in his right knee. “...you wanted to go somewhere and talk. We're here. Talk.”

“I had nothing to do with my children. Regardless of what my husband told you. Not intentionally, anyway.”

“I saw the pictures. You were kept in a nicer place, one of the chairs from your own house was used, you weren't nearly messed up as your kids. And you're trying to tell me you had nothing to do with it? I wasn't born yesterday. I know when I'm being played.”

“Michael told me that if I helped him, he'd go easy on me. That he wouldn't kill me. If I just played along...”

“And you did?”

“I was scared. He said he'd kill them. Right in front of me. And I didn't want that happening.”

“But you were totally okay with letting other people abuse them? Is it just physical or...?”

She nods. “Just physical. I'd rather die than let anything else...anything worse...happen to them.”

“Yeah, well what's going on is bad enough. Whose idea was it? His?”

“He was contacted by someone. He was hired. To kill you. And he went to Guatemala to do it. When he came home he said that things fell apart. That he couldn't get close to you to get the job done and had to kill someone else. And that he had a plan. To get you to come to him. But that he had to go to Colorado to do it. And when he was gone, that's when they came to the house. To grab me and the kids. That part was real. All of us were grabbed. Even me. And it was real at first. Very real. The things they did. To both me and the kids.”

“When did you realize it was bullshit? At least what was going on with you?”

“Two days later. One of them...the kidnappers...he's Michael's younger brother. He told me. And he told me that Michael said I had to play along or he would kill me. And the kids. I was scared. He's always been sick. In the head. For years. And it's gotten over worse over the past two. Hearing voices, seeing things that aren't there, overly paranoid. And if you tried to calm him down or told him those things weren't happening, he got violent. So I went along with it. Because I knew it was true. He would kill the kids.”

“Did you have anything to do with it? Watching my family? Sending the pictures?”

She shakes her head. “I only know what I was told. Just that he was 'handling' things in the States and that he was going to lure you back to Ireland. He said he was going to make it look like the IRA was responsible for what happened to the kids and that you'd cause problems with them and they'd end up killing you. So no one could tie it to him. And things went wrong and he said he had to step things up. That you were starting to figure things out and it was all unravelling.”

“So he tried to kill me at the house.”

“You weren't the only one he was going to kill. And believe me, a quick death would have been a lot better than what he had planned. You saw what he did? To my cousin?”

“Erin was your cousin?”

She nods, biting down on her bottom lip as she fights back emotion. “I was the one who sent her to your hotel. With the first pictures. I was hoping it was enough for you to figure things out. But I think I just made them worse. What he did to Erin? That would have been tame compared to what he would have done to your wife.”

Tyler isn't surprised to hear it. But it still makes him feel sick to his stomach. Bile rising in his throat, fists clenching. “You said there's people in Colorado. That they were at the hospital yesterday?”

“They weren't there to hurt either of you. They were there to make sure no one did.”

“You sent them?”

“I've been trying to get the kids myself. Since Michael was killed. Did you do that? Kill him?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I did things leading up to it. But I didn't actually kill him. I wish I did though. I just gave him to the people who did.”

“Well for what it's worth, thank you. As horrible as that makes me sound to say it. It was the best thing that could have ever happened. For me and those kids. For the world, actually. I shouldn't talk like that, because he was legitimately sick. But some things can't be excused or forgiven. No matter what's wrong with someone.”

“Who has the kids? Your family? Why? If you're in control of them...”

She laughs. “Is that what he told you? That I was the head of things now? It was him. It was all him. That's why he killed my father. So he could be in control of everything. I mean, I can't prove that he did it. But I always suspected it.”

“Are the kids at the store?”

She nods. “In the basement. But it isn't a normal basement. It's designed like the bunker at home. A lot of different rooms, spread out.”

“How hard is it going to be for me to get them out?”

“Near impossible. They know you're coming for the kids. They're preparing for it. They're going to make things as hard as they can. They have a lot of fire power. And not just guns, explosives. They're going to rig that entire place. You won't even know exactly what they've done and where they've put things until it's too late.”

“How many people?”

“Fifteen. On any given day. Sometimes twenty.”

Fuck.

“Can you get back in there? I need you to do me a favour.”

“I'm taking food in there tomorrow. What do you need me to do?”

“I need pictures. Of everything. Every room, every corner of the room, if there's windows, crawl spaces, what the floors are like, what the ceiling is like. Everything and anything. Big or small. No matter how stupid it seems. Can you do that? Will you be able to stay safe doing that? I need eyes in there and there's no other way to do it. Think you can handle that?”

She nods.

“And I want you tell them that I need proof of life. And I need it within the next twelve hours. Or the whole thing is off. I don't get what I want...from either of you...and I go home. I leave and then it's up to you to get your kids out of there. Because I'm fucking sick of this shit. These games. Enough's enough. And if I find out that you're fucking with me, you're going to end up the same way as your husband. Only I'll do it myself, understand?”

“I understand. And I'm sorry. That your family was brought into this. Your kids are innocent.”

“Yeah...” he says. “They are. But so are yours.”

****

It's one am...Christchurch time....when he phones home. He'd called earlier in the day; after he'd gotten back from his talk with Heather McMann. Despite already knowing what would have happened had they been both been caught at McMann's home, hearing it from Heather herself had been a kick in the gut. Even his worst case scenario didn't come close to what would have been carried out, and he's been burdened by those thoughts...those images his brain created...since leaving Heather back in alley where she'd found him. So he'd been desperate to hear her voice; to know that she was alive and well, to listen to her talk about anything and everything in hopes of it getting rid of the nightmare that wouldn't stop playing in his head.

Now he's just lonely. Missing home. Anxious to get the job over and done with. The inability to actually get into the building without getting shot or blown up was a set back; he'd have to rely on the pictures that Heather would provide him with. If she'd even come through. He'd been expecting a number of hostiles, but the actual count had surprised him. It is disheartening; the lay out of the building, the alley that leaves no real options for escape, the sheer amount of fire power and the extent the Buckmans are willing to go to to stop him. It goes far beyond getting the kids; they're out for revenge now. They know that McMann is dead. And they know the damage that was done to him before hand.

“I wasn't expecting to hear from you,” she says, and he can hear the squeak of the screen door on the front porch as she steps outside. “Are you okay?”

“Something has to be wrong for me to call?”

“You're usually not a call three times a day kind of guy. So this is a surprise. A very nice surprise. What time is it there?”

“Midnight.”

“And you're not sleeping because...”

“Because I'm not tired and I wanted to check on you. Make sure everything is okay.”

“You are such a bad liar,” she laughs. “I can tell when you're tired. Your voice changes. And I know how jet lag gets you sometimes and your body is still getting used to being back on the meds. You need sleep, Tyler. You're not a machine.”

“You need to stop worrying about me so much.”

“You need to bite me,” she retorts.

“What would that do? You like that shit.”

“You're right,” she giggles. “I do. Did you eat something?”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“I'm fine. I'm eating okay and I'm drinking and everything is staying down. I'd tell you if there was something wrong, I swear. I'm fine. We're both fine. I promise. Are you sure you're okay?”

“I'm okay,” he assures her, although he feels anything but. He can't get it out of his head; those images that Heather McMann had put into it. About what would have happened had they both been caught at the house. And he wants to tell her exactly what it is that's bothering him, but that is the last thing she needs; hearing what some fucking sicko and his people would have done to her. “And yeah...” he says. “...I ate.”

“Good. Because you can't run on an empty tank. I know how you get when you're really into a job. How intense you get. You don't eat, you don't sleep. Don't do that to yourself, okay? Start worrying more about yourself and less about me. I'm fine. The baby's fine. Kyle and Nik are here and they're up my ass constantly making sure I'm okay. You've got nothing to worry about. Just concentrate on you and what you need to do.”

He knows he should tell her. About meeting with Heather McMann. About how things are a lot more complicated than he ever anticipated. But again, it's that fear oh burdening her. Especially at a time like this.

“Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“You scared me last night. When you were talking about what I should if things go wrong and you don't come back. I mean, we've had that talk before. But never in that way. You've never sounded like that before. Not in the entire five and a half years that we've been together. You're intense, but you're still optimistic about getting home. But last night....I don't know...last night scared me.”

“I wasn't trying to scare you. That's the last thing I wanted. I just wanted to make sure that you know what to do. Just in case.”

“It wasn't what you said. It's how you said it. How you sounded. Like you weren't even going to try to make it home. You were just so final about it. Like you'd already made up your mind that this was it. That you're going to die there.”

“It's going to be harder than we thought,” he admits. “A lot harder. I think we've all been underestimating them.”

“I told you that these people are not to be messed around with. That they're a hundred times worse than the Mahajan Seniors and Amir Asifs of the world. These people make guys like that seem like amateurs. But it doesn't mean you can't beat them. You're smart. Smarter than you give yourself credit for. And you're the strongest person I know and I know you can beat them. I know you can get those kids out of there. And yourself.”

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

“Well someone has to, because you don't. This isn't you, Tyler. You don't think these ways. When you leave, you always talk about everything we're going to do with the kids when you get back. You always tell me 'I''ll see you when I see you', and you never did that when you left this time. It's like you're not even going to bother to try and come home.”

“Of course I'm going to try. I want to come home. I want to see you and my kids again. I want to see that baby born.”

“So what the hell? Why were you talking the way you were? Because that's not you. You don't talk like that. Ever. You're intense, but you're not doom and gloom. You need to knock that shit off. That's your brain fucking with you. You're stressed and you're worried and you're scared. About a lot of things. And I get that and I wish I could take that all away from you. But you always get the job done. Always. Even when it seems impossible. Look at Dhaka. Everything was against us. And everyone. And you still got us out of there.”

“And nearly died in the process,” Tyler reminds her.

“But you didn't. You didn't die. Because you're a stubborn asshole who doesn't give up easily. And that's why it scares me to hear you be so final about things. You're not like that and you've never been like that. You won't give up. No matter how hard it seems. Because you don't want to miss this baby being born. And if that's the one thing that gets you through this, than that's enough. Promise me you won't give up. That you'll do everything you have to make sure you come home.”

“I promise,” he fights back emotion. “Whatever it takes.”

“And I know it's extra hard for you because it is kids. And they're the same age as Millie and the twins. Or close enough to it. But goddammit, Tyler Rake. You are not the type of person that just gives up. I need you to come home. Our kids need you to come home. And this baby needs you here. Because if I have to take my brother into the delivery room with me, I'm going to be really fucked pissed at you.”

He can't help but chuckle at that. “I'm kind of useless in there too, so I don't know who would be worse. Me or him.”

“You're not useless in there. I'm just always worried you're going to faint. You think you'd be used to it by now. You've gone in there three times already. You think you wouldn't be grossed out anymore.”

“Baby, I love you. But it is way beyond gross. And I've done and seem some gross things. But that? That is...I don't even know.”

“Well thank God men aren't the ones having babies or we'd be screwed! I looked at some houses online today. In Australia.”

“Yeah? And?”

“I found a lot. In the area that you mentioned. And in the price range we talked about. Right on the coast. I have a top three.”

“Well send me the links and I'll look at them and we'll go from there.”

“I'll even let you pick which one. Because I love all of them and I won't be disappointed with either of the three. I'm just saying...”

“Or we could wait until I get back and we can pick then.”

“See? That's more like it! That's you talking! Not the other guy. This guy. You need to talk like this more and just ignore everything else. Because I know you're coming home. And I know you know that too. So stop your shit, okay? Stop with the doom and gloom and just think about how amazing it's going to be when you get back. How things are going to change. For the better. How we're going to change. Can you do that? For me?”

He smiles. “Just for you.”

“Now go and get some sleep. I'm sure you've got a lot to do tomorrow.”

He nods, even though he knows she can't see him. He thinks about Heather McMann. Wonders if she'll come through with the pictures or if she's just as much a psycho as her dead husband and this is actually just another part in some sick and twisted game. About those two kids; locked up in that basement, terrified, being beaten and God knows what else. And he thinks of his own. Of how they smile and what their giggles sound like and how he's never heard any word sound as good as 'daddy' does when they say it. How they look at him as if he can do no wrong; that there's no monster he can't chase away, no problem he can't fix, no hurt he can't mend.

“The kids come home tomorrow,” he says, as if an afterthought.

“I can't wait to see them. I miss them so much. And Ovi. I've missed him too. He's my second biggest baby. You're my first.”

He smirks. “Tell them I love them. That I can't wait to see them. And that I'll be home soon.”

“I will. I love you, Tyler. And I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, baby. And I love you. So much. I'll see you when I see you.”

“That's much better,” she says, and he can picture the smile on her face. “Get some rest. You need it.”

“I'll call you tomorrow,” he promises, and then tells her he loves her one more time before disconnecting the call.

Dropping the cell onto the mattress beside him, he stretches out in the bed and places his clasped hands on his stomach; eyes focused on the ceiling as he tries to concentrate on more pleasant thoughts. About moving to Australia and having a place that backs out onto the ocean and being able to take the kids fishing and teaching them how to surf. About that tiny baby currently safe and sound in the warm confines of his wife's body, about being convinced that it's a girl; impossibly tiny with dark hair and dark eyes and her mother's freckles across the bridge of her nose.

But his thoughts return to the McMann children again. About the hell they've endured over the past three weeks. How scared they must be. Confused. Hurting.

Ready to give up hope that there's someone out there that will come and rescue them.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #sanctuary #chris hemsworth character #extraction

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eirian-houpe · 5 years ago

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The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 11

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Gaston (Once Upon a Time)

Additional Tags: Bookshop On the Corner, slightly AU, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Eventual Smut

Summary: Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community.

Read on AO3

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10]

Chapter 11 - Accidental Meeting

Her scream could only last but so long, and as short on breath as she had been in the first place, with the surprise of the deer first, and then the impending collision, it wasn’t that long of a time until silence descended. A strange silence, an eerie silence and dark, with hardly a hint of light to sneak beneath her tightly shut eyelids. What was this…? Was she dead, and this some kind of bizarre afterlife experience?

She felt no pain, could hear nothing, nor truly see anything but the occasional imagined flash of light beneath her eyelids. She often liked to fancy they were the reflection of her synapses firing, except now she had no activity in her brain whatsoever that wasn’t, ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!

Even before she opened her eyes, she reached out again for the door. This time her hand almost immediately found the handle and pulled, opening the door, and after clumsily releasing the seat belt, she all but fell out of the little van, stumbled to the side of the road, and vomited what remained of the dinner she had enjoyed at Granny’s just before leaving. She stumbled back to the car, pulled the bottle of water out of the cup holder, and swilled out the sour taste from her mouth, before taking a proper drink, her hand shaking so badly that she almost spilled water all down her front. She leaned down again then, fishing around in the footwell of the passenger side to try and find her phone; a pointless exercise, since when she did, she discovered she had no signal.

She was just straightening up, and trying to avoid hitting her head on the door frame, when the sound of a much larger door slamming closed, followed by the scuff of feet reached her, shortly followed by a man’s angry voice.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman!”

She found herself confronted by an overweight, ruddy faced man with dark hair that was swept back off his face, who was wearing a rather flamboyant, almost fluorescently bright, reddish orange quilted vest, whose sleeves, from what looked like a well worn sweatshirt - so well worn that they had completely lost their shape - flapped at her as he jabbed his finger almost in her face. He was so overwhelming as to be intimidating, and in her already fragile emotional state, she backed away, finding herself closer to tears.

“There… it was…” she stammered, her voice a hoarse whisper, “A deer. There was a deer.”

“Oh,” he half turned away as he muttered, “Fuck’s sake,” then turned back to continue his rant, “Fancy that… a deer coming out of the woods onto the road! Never heard of that before! Have you any idea what it takes to stop one of these big rigs! Any at all…?”

“No, I--” “No, of course not,” he continued with his rant. “You could have killed us all stopping in the middle of the road like that, just sitting there…”

Belle barely heard the sound of the truck’s door opening and closing again, and evidently, through the noise of his angry diatribe, neither did the man that was not even letting her get a word in edgewise.

“...as if you’re out for a fucking Sunday picnic. You--!”

“Now, Karrl,” a new voice, deep and strong, she would almost describe it as warm, cut across the ranting man, “I’m sure there’s little need to speak to the lady in that way,” He gave Belle a bit of a nod, as his hand came down onto Karrl’s shoulder. “You were magnificent there. You saved all of us, and the cargo is none the worse for wear.”

He gestured back towards the still open door to the truck, and Belle followed the direction of the gesture to see the spacious, high tech cab, with its glowing lights, and the curtained off area in the rear.

“Control want to speak with you,” the newcomer told Karrl. “They need your incident statement, before we can straighten the truck out.”

“Terrific,” Karrl muttered as he turned away and began to stalk toward the truck. “Just great! Now we’re in trouble for sure - nearly crashing like this. There will be investigations, and police, and…”

His voice faded off as he climbed up into the truck, and Belle brought her attention back to the other man in front of her. He was muscular, and tall. His face was handsome beneath a swath of dark hair, with blue eyes that shone, almost sparkled as he leaned toward Belle and said, as if confidentially, “Please, forgive Karrl. He’s a bit of a fool when it comes to situations like this, not to mention speaking with the fairer sex.”

Belle couldn’t help but shiver, though whether with the chill in the air, or because of the deep, smooth tones of his voice, kindly and concerned, she wasn’t sure and it seemed the other man noticed, because he suddenly slipped off the thick, plaid, woolen jacket he wore, and draped it over her shoulders.

“Where are my manners?” he said by way of an apology. “You’re shivering with cold. Are you all right?” Then as if he had just remembered, added, “My name is Hunter, Hunter Guest.” He offered her a polite handshake.

“Belle,” she said and slipped her hand into his, “Marchland,” she added. Then felt herself momentarily warmer as a blush covered her face when he closed his other hand over hers. “I’m fine,” she tried to tell him, blue eyes meeting blue. “Just a little shaken, that’s all.”

“No,” he crooned softly. “You’re perished.” He gestured to the cab and added, “Come up, we’ll have some tea. Help to warm you.”

“But… your friend.”

“Ah, don’t worry about Karrl,” Hunter said. “He’s harmless.” He leaned closer again, to whisper, “Just a little scared.”

Belle followed him, though she had little choice really, given that he kept hold of her hand, to the truck, and then accepted his help to climb the steps to the warmth of the cab. He followed her close behind, and drew aside the curtain, so that she could perch on the edge of the sleeping space, while he rummaged in a bag to draw out a large thermos, from which he poured steaming hot tea.

“Here,” he said and handed her the cup, closing his hands around hers until she wasn’t going to spill the hot liquid all over herself. Part of her was grateful for that, but as she sipped the tea, the weight of all that had happened swept over her, and she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

She saw Karrl roll his eyes, but Hunter turned a cold stare his way, and then moved to perch beside her on the narrow cot, and rubbed her back with his large hand, murmuring soothing nothings until she began to calm; at least she calmed until the blue and red lights could be seen coming closer and closer, eventually heralding the arrival of the Sheriff, and the EMTs.

While the EMTs checked Belle over, Sheriff Humbert spoke with Hunter and Karrl, no doubt taking their statements and their particulars, and once the EMTs were finished with Belle, he came to her and with an almost apologetic smile, asked for her licence and registration.

They walked together back to her van so that she could retrieve them both, and she sat dejectedly, sideways, with her legs hanging out into the cold of the night as he took them to run them through his computer system. This was the last thing she needed. If Mayor Mills got hold of this, it would not make it any easier to convince the mayor that she was the right woman for the job of librarian.

While such negative thoughts were swirling in her mind, the Sheriff returned, and handing back her documents, said, almost as if he felt awkward asking, “I have to ask, Ms. Marchland, have you had anything to drink this evening?”

“What?” Belle stammered, and then quickly, “No! Nothing alcoholic anyway.”

“Well,” the sheriff gave her a definitely apologetic look, and held out the breathalyzer. “Procedure, you understand.”

Belle blushed scarlet, and couldn’t help but glance over to the truck once more, before looking at the Sheriff.

“But I’ve not been drinking,” she said.

“And I believe you,” Sheriff Humbert assured her, “but for the record, the report…”

Belle sighed, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “All right,” she whispered, and mortified, allowed the sheriff to administer the test to prove what she had told him was the truth.

“There, see,” he said as the numbers came back showing zero alcohol in her breath. “Now, let’s get your van moved off the road, and then we’ll get you home.”

“What?” Belle stiffened and shook her head, “Thank you, Sheriff, but that won’t be necessary. I have to continue on my way.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s no chance of that.”

“But I have to get to Boston!”

She hadn’t realised she’d raised her voice quite so much until she saw the sheriff stiffen, and from the corner of her eye, noticed Hunter moving closer to the two of them.

“I’m sorry,” the sheriff said again, “but you’re in no fit state to drive, Ms Marchland, not tonight.”

“But I… I…” she brushed angrily at a few rebellious tears that spilled onto her face, “I must!” she insisted. “It’s important, my job…”

She trailed off, covering her face with her hands, and then jumped as the weight and warmth of someone’s else’s settled onto her shoulder.

“Belle,” she heard Hunter’s voice, soft and close beside her, “We… after we have delivered our goods to the docks, and picked up our cargo from the cannery, Karrl and I are heading back to Boston. We could take you.”

She uncovered her face, and looked around at Hunter, hope flickering in her watery eyes,

“Is that even allowed?” she asked softly, and Hunter shrugged, looking at the sheriff, who echoed the movement with a shrug of his own.

“It’s the least we can do,” Hunter added, and reached out with his free hand to wipe away some of the tears from her cheeks.

#rumbelle #fic #angst #eventual smut #bookshop on the corner #au

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hollywoodx4 · 7 years ago

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Sticking with the Schuylers (2:1)

Happy birthday, Alexander Hamilton!

Welcome back, and thanks for your patience with my little hiatus! As a birthday celebration we’re starting back with the currently untitled Book 2 of Sticking with the Schuylers, which I’ve decided to do because this series has so much more life in it.

So I hope you enjoy, because I have a lot of fun plot coming this time around! (There will be a masterpost of Book 1, don’t worry. I’m not about to have a paragraph long list of links on every post)

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 1112 I 13 14 15 16 17 18A 18B 18C I19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 I 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 3738 39 40 41 42 I 43 44 B 45 46 47 48 49 50

Tagging: @linsnavi @workworkbae @adothoe @oosnavi

Warnings: This story is pretty heavy on mentions of both physical and emotional abuse

“Angelica is the sister everyone wants, but I’m not sure if it’s because of her actual talents as a sister or the fact that she has the ability to scare off anybody that messes with us with a single glance.” There’s laughter; John Church halts his coffee cup before it can reach his lips, Peggy choking down pancakes through her own giggling. Eliza‘s eyes roam around the table, the blissful faces whose eyes are rimmed with sleepless energy, hysterical and bright. The plates are white and the mugs mismatched, the food overwhelmingly fresh although it seems that the diner itself is stuck in a time warp away from the rest of the world. They’re nearly the only inhabitants of the little shack-like building, tucked over in a woodsy stretch of land just on the Canadian border. The only other guests have been larger men, made of muscle and beer bellies and the stark contrast of shepherd’s pie plates and coffee, sugar-drenched French toast and beer and their big rigs parked over multiple white-lined spaces. It’s the Schuylers and their company who are the loudest guests, however, laughing and hollering and stretching their limbs over the table to reach each other’s’ food.

It was near midnight when they’d stumbled in after the day’s drive and the late afternoon vows, the sunset cruise and dancing under the stars with the pleasant crashing of the falls surrounding them. It was near midnight when, just the night before, the sisters had been sitting on the floor of Angelica’s old bedroom packing her bags for Oxford. They hadn’t wanted to start the process, stalling with a livestream and late night snacks, watching home movies on the larger living room television and reminiscing. Angelica sat behind each of her sisters in turn and played with their hair, styling shower-wet locks with the gentle precision they’d known since childhood. She made them sprawl their feet over old towels while she painted their nails, brushing back piles of folded clothes that had been organized for suitcases and abandoned on her bed. While Eliza had begun the stalling with the insistence to make cookies together, and Peggy had continued it with the livestream, Angelica was the worst of the three. She found ways to fill their time in smaller things; conversations and silence, toying with her phone and listening to the chatter of their parents as they headed to bed. The house was quiet, then, with only the occasional soft-spoken words of the sisters or the settling of the house’s old bones to keep them company. The room glowed with a soft, golden warmth that illuminated gentle smiles, then wide eyes as Angelica’s shadow made its way to her closet.

Eliza was the first to look up when their oldest sister came back into view. Her jaw dropped.

Angelica had always seemed to Eliza to be someone with an unattainable air, someone who had drifted through her life on an endless cloud of effortless power. It came along with the title of older sister; the way Eliza had admired her through rose-colored glasses, envied her undeniable confidence, had been something instilled in her from the moment she’d joined the Schuyler family as an infant. It would be hard to see Angelica any other way. In her mind, her older sister is radiant and unapologetic, and always willing to take charge of her own life. As children she’d been Eliza’s defense system. As teenagers, she’d been the one to pick her up after she’d fallen. Throughout their lives Angelica had been the voice of reason, the advice and the knowledge and the power to make everybody believe that she was nothing short of dynamic.

There was a proof to Eliza’s lifelong theory as Angelica flourished a brilliant white garment in front of her sisters. The fabric was thicker, a satin which rustled as it bounced along on its hanger with a balletic sort of rustling. The grin that played on Angelica’s lips only turned their corner, but reached her eyes with a glint of childlike mischief typically assigned to Peggy’s more playful nature. The younger sisters sat on the edge of the bed and of their curiosity, stared between each other and the dress with raised eyebrows and a lack of the excitement Angelica had been trying to propel toward them.

“What would you say if I asked you to come to Niagara Falls with me?” The oldest Schuyler whispered, jostled her head so that her hair fell over one shoulder and away from her face. Before her company could answer she floated to the mirror, holding the white silk dress over her thin frame and adjusting its sleeves, the dressing of a paper doll come to life.

“When?”

“Now.”

“Why?” It was Eliza who asked. It was Eliza who’d been staring, taking note of the way her older sister had transcended their world, gone into her own thoughts and disappeared into shining eyes staring longingly in the mirror. It was a face she’s never seen, a dream-like trance that had captured her and kept her in the moment. It created a soundproof bubble, for Eliza had to repeat herself twice before Angelica whirled around, draping the dress over her arm and bounding back to the bed.

“For my wedding.”

Whatever noise had been in the room before Angelica had spoken was immediately sucked away, along with the oxygen. Peggy stared, the turn of her facial features the only way of knowing that she had heard what their older sister had said. Her straight-lined lips curved up into a wide smile, wild and toothy. The same glint of mischief sparked her eyes and opened them wider, spread through the organic energy of her gasp, capturing the moment in all of its concentrated excitement. And as that excitement spread though Peggy it traveled from her face. It ran through her hands, which flew to the bed as a crutch to hoist herself up, bound across the small distance to hug Angelica. Her shorter stature was not noticeable, as her voice was loud and her actions boisterous. Peggy held her sister’s hands, squeezed them as she drew out a vision that played though her mind in rapidly paced descriptions of their destination.

Eliza sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands played with the soft netting of an old blanket, twisting it back and forth just as Angelica had done to her hair just an hour before. Her heart found a rapid pace, her eyes solely on the beautiful garment her sister still held. She was radiant; it’s a fact undisputed in her mind, and one that would surely be accepted by anybody given the chance to live in this moment. She watched as Angelica accepted Peggy’s excitement, let it spill through the silence and fill the room with a glittering yellow jubilation, a pure and unfiltered carbonation of emotion. The bed was comfortable where she sat. The scene was like a movie, playing out in front of her just as it had the entire night. She wasn’t ready to be without her sister for a semester. She wasn’t ready for her sister to take this leap. But then, was their fairness in any of her hesitation?

“You’re going to elope? As in, mom and dad have no idea that this is going to happen…” She’d let the sentence trail off, an unbelievable notion drifting away, over the cliff of disbelief and into something she could not quite place. Angelica nodded, countered with a sparing glance at her dress before she draped it over the ornate armchair kept by her window. It had been even more stunning by the glow of the moon, illuminated and mystical. But the light could not transfer the mystical, impulsive nature of the night to her, and as Angelica took a place next to her on the bed Eliza shrugged away the hand on her shoulder.

“Mom and dad are going to be heartbroken, Ange.”

“Mom and dad will get over it.”

“I thought you didn’t even want to get married,” She hadn’t meant it to come out as cold as it had. She hadn’t felt anger, or betrayal. The pit of her stomach had been curled into itself all night, the space behind her eyes filled with a soft sort of stinging she’d been blinking away. And with this admission, the filter she’d been hiding had gone away.

“Mom and dad will be fine.” Angelica repeats the sentiment, eyes brimming with honesty and the talent of making each possibility feel like a guarantee. “When you think about it, isn’t it time we got married? We’ve been together for nine years, Betsey. Nine years tomorrow. We’re getting married here, we’ll be married when we go to London. Do you know how much easier that’s going to make things?”

“Did you get your paperwork?”

“He has dual citizenship and I’ll be on a student visa when we’re in London, we won’t have to deal with any separation.”

“What about a passport? If your name changes are you going to be able to get it processed in time?”

“Already looked into it-it’ll be okay, Bets. John and I talked about this for a long time before making our decision. Everything’s set in place. I just need you guys to be there, that’s all I want. I don’t want the big wedding they’re going to make me have. I don’t want the publicity, or the need to entertain dad’s friends and all of our old relatives who don’t care about my relationship. I don’t want that at all. I want to be John’s wife, and I want to do it my way.”

They left just after two in the morning with bags of provisions in tow. Angelica had made them special, one for each of the sisters, and included a new dress for each of them to wear. They picked up John first, who’d been waiting at his and Angelica’s apartment with another small suitcase and a garment bag he hung in the trunk. The girls shuffled their seats to let him drive, and just before the overhead light dimmed Eliza caught the warmth of deep affection in his eyes. It was a moment that felt private, and she turned her gaze to the window as Angelica blushed.

She hadn’t expected to see the familiar row of buildings; a florist’s shop, a deli, a little bench with just a touch of snow brushed off by an older woman’s habit to feed the birds. She could nearly see Alex’s building, the eighth floor apartment where he’d undoubtedly be the only one awake, sitting at his desk working on another busy caseload. Eliza found her phone in the pocket of her jacket, typed a message to his messy ponytail and restless feet.

“Okay, now you have to go get Alex.” They’d stopped at the front of his building when Angelica issued her order, pulled Eliza from her own little dream. She gestured to the car door with a nod, as if they’d been notified of each step of this plan beforehand.

“You’re inviting Alex?”

“Let me remind you, dear sister, that he was my friend before he was your boyfriend.” She teased her, reaching a hand back to pat Eliza’s hat-clad head. “I wanted a witness who cares about this relationship, someone who likes us and cares about us past the material things we have to offer. John seemed to think he’d be a good choice.”

“John did?”

“Well, I did too. And it means something to me that you’ll get to have him there.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Oh, I know that. Why else would we have dragged you from the warmth to travel somewhere that’s probably at least five degrees colder than the city in the middle of winter?”

“Angie,”

“It’s my night, and if I want you to have a little something then I think I should be allowed. And it’s not like it’s weird-he’s going to be my brother anyway, I figure I might as well start treating him like one.”

Eliza reddened at the prospect, one she’d thought over many times. The streetlights made a job of keeping her diminutive anticipation a secret, although she’d been sure Angelica could see through the shadow of her face turning back toward the window. They were nearing his building, slowing to a stop with the car just barely kissing the sidewalk. Each of the car’s passengers turned their head toward each other, stealing furtive glances at the time and the temperature and the lowered sounds of an acoustic slow song playing through the radio.

“Treating Alex like a brother means waking him up at three in the morning for a road-trip?” Angelica laughed, a surprised sort of cackle friendly in nature as her dark hair shook along with her head. She pulled out her phone, putting the call on speaker with another wild grin.

“Oh no, you’re going to wake him up. You know more than any of us that he’s probably still awake anyway-oh, and he is. Good morning, Hamilton.”

“Are you okay? Why are you calling this late?” Eliza just barely made out the beginning of their conversation as she darted from the car, running to avoid the cold that bit at the exposed skin on her cheeks. By the time she made it to the entrance he’d buzzed her in, and she took her time climbing the stairs to the eighth floor. The sound of his voice on the other line ran through her head, spread its familiar warmth in its crackled morning tones. It was a key to just how late he’d been working again. She decides on the fifth floor to make him sleep in the car, get back some of the vivacity he’d lost through natural remedies instead of the coffee she knew he’d beg to stop for.

She only had to knock once before the door was open, Alexander standing in the threshold with a toothbrush between his teeth and a garment bag slung over his shoulder. There was an unzipped backpack on the floor by the couch, and Eliza passed by Alex with a kiss on his cheek to shove its contents inside. Her boyfriend was a flurry of motions, running back and forth on tiptoeing feet and throwing miscellaneous items toward Eliza. She’d examined them in turn, wondering exactly where he thought he’d need a Swiss army knife and two Moleskin journals in the duration of this trip. She packed them anyway in a gesture of both knowing and accepting the strangely wired inner workings of his mind. He retreated to the bathroom and came back in a second, this time with his toothbrush in a case and a real kiss for her lips.

“An elopement?” He was still whispering as he locked the apartment door behind him, taking her hand. He had the same sort of excitement as her sister had, a childlike abandon that wrapped her immediately in its static energy. Suddenly, it did not feel like she’d pulled an all-nighter. As they made their way back outside, the chilling winds woke her further.

“They wanted to do it before they leave for Oxford. They didn’t want to wait any longer.”

“I get that.” Alex shrugged, keeping his eyes trained on the door of John’s car as one side of his lips curled up in a smile. He opened the door for her, flinging his belongings into the trunk and climbing into the window seat. He was greeted as the best man, ‘you know, as far as best men in elopements go’ and the music was blasted, changed to an upbeat pop song from their childhood that had them singing along for the sake of nostalgia.

“Wait a minute, if you wanted to let Eliza have something for this moment then why couldn’t my something be taking this to the islands? I mean, Niagara Falls in January? Really?”

…

Niagara Falls had been an idea born of idyllic pictures and scenery, as well as a sort of secret fame as far as places of elopement Angelica and John had researched. They’d taken to the idea because of its location, still in New York but far enough away that it could be considered a different world than the city. They’d made sure the trip could be done over a weekend, the work and school schedules too hectic to have any other measure of spontaneity. It was also the staff of the chapel who had sealed the deal; Angelica had driven pieces of her more brash and demanding side into them and they’d complied without a single change in timbre. They’d called her when she asked to stop emailing back and forth, worked hard to ensure that they’d have their privacy, and made sure that she was happy with each bit of their service. Driving up to the falls, Angelica held these details at the front of her mind.

Keeping the positivity was the least she could do to entertain herself during the six and a half hour drive.

Their passengers had been noisy at first, singing raucously to the music and cheering when they left the city limits. After an hour Peggy had sat with crossed legs in her seat, asking how long it would take to get to the falls. She wasn’t happy with the realization of a five hour span of time to pass, and insisted that they stop at a drive-through for coffee and donuts. Her smile had been cheeky and bright, and she tapped on the car window with an impatient rhythm born from sitting still far longer than she ever had. John and Angelica both laughed, but John looked into the rearview mirror with an earnest glance and promised they’d pull over as soon as something was open.

“You know, as a celebration.” Her smile had been cheeky and bright. John pulled into the nearest café while Angelica shook her head, rambling about her future husband’s pushover tendencies as they slid into seats by the window. He wouldn’t let them eat inside the car, so the café had been the next best thing. And at four in the morning, warm donuts and coffee and bathrooms were not a decision any of them regretted.

At hour three Eliza fell asleep, her head on Alexander’s shoulder and one foot propped over Peggy’s legs. The smooth rolling of tires along the sparse expanse of highway was melodic, as well as the acoustic sunrise playlist John had chosen. Somewhere between a John Mayer song and a guitar duet, there was a rumbling from the backseat that made Alex jump slightly, jostling Eliza’s head. His hand had flown up to keep it on his shoulder, not wanting her to wake up. Peggy began to laugh, a boisterous noise that only worsened as she tried to quiet it. It ended up as a sort of growling, an evidence to the actual laughter stuck in her throat. Alexander soon joined her, unable to fight the infectious nature of her laugh and the humor that came along with trying to keep himself still while in this fit. Angelica, completely turned around in her seat, shushed them both, “on bride’s orders, because lord knows Betsey needs her sleep.”

But the rumbling happened again, and all four waking passengers couldn’t contain their immediate reaction to Eliza, snoring like a man twice her age and four times her size. Peggy pulled out her camera and grinned, her voice a gentle narration to the scene before her.

“Happy wedding day to Angelica and John! It’s been three hours in the car and would you look at that, Betsey’s already the life of the party! Three and a half hours to go!”

“Well, eight until the actual ceremony.”

“Eight hours and we’ll be married.” John’s words came out in a sigh, content and laced with anticipation as he leaned over to brush a short, sweet kiss on Angelica’s lips. Peggy captured it all, the videography job her consolation prize for being dragged into the cold and on a long car ride on such short notice. She turned the camera to her own face, rolling her eyes and scrunching up her nose in feigned disgust.

“Let’s hope we can get there without much more of this.”

…

They had brunch at a buffet restaurant right off of the highway where they stacked plates full of indulgent foods Peggy once again claimed as ‘celebratory.’ She’d taken to the word as a beacon of the trip, tagging it onto anything the others didn’t seem like they’d wanted to do. This included two extra celebratory bathroom stops, one of which where Eliza had still been sleeping. They’d tried to wake her up but she’d mumbled and curled up on the seat, and so they’d taken turns staying with her in the car so their legs could be stretched.

Niagara Falls was vastly different than any of them had expected; being dragged there once as younger children hadn’t left much of a memory for the sisters, and neither John nor Alex had been there at all. Getting out of the car at the falls was like being transported; the barrier of sound that came from the water was melodic, and could be heard before it could be seen. Their footsteps swept freshly fallen snow out of the way, crunching under boots as they left even tracks in their wake. They were one of the few groups of people who’d ventured out into the cold; mid-January on the Canadian border brought winds that painted their cheeks pink, brushed away the softness of their skin and the moisture from their eyes. At the ledge closest to the falls, water erupted and fell like drizzing rain upon the ground and made quick work turning into a sheet of thick black ice. The landscape was dressed with snow-dusted pines, and through the mist the silhouette of Ontario stood out dark against the winter whitened sky.

They were quiet for a moment, even as Peggy had her camera out. The falls were a thundering mass of power and beauty, and their little spot against the railing became a respite from the long drive. Although their breath was steam against the bitter cold, and their belongings were still in the car, they stood stagnant in their peace.

“I think I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“Why you chose Niagara Falls.” It was John who’d broken their moment. With Angelica leaning on his thinly built frame he can only tip his head down to catch a glimpse of her. She was a piece of a painting, bundled in a vibrant wool coat, the bursts of green and orange in its color blocking took away from the falls, he’d thought. It drew attention to her dark eyes, the way they were trained on the rushing water with silent contemplation. She turned her head to face him and gave him a quizzical stare, her lips already scrunched and turned up into half of a smile. “There’s almost as much power and raw, unfiltered beauty here as I’m about to get married to.”

Angelica sighed and shook her head endearingly at John. And although she was not prone to public displays of affection, she had already kissed him several times that morning.

…

The afternoon went by quickly, and their prolonged, exhausted contemplation by the falls had them scrambling to get ready for the ceremony. Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy shared a room of the hotel. There, they sat one last time on the edge of a bed to do each other’s hair as three Schuylers. It wasn’t something they’d thought much about; although the wedding had been on their minds for the duration of the road trip, the implication of losing the Schuyler name hadn’t hit any of the sisters until Angelica had gone to get her dress.

As the three sisters stood in front of the mirror, Angelica in the middle, a rush of emotion came barreling through the room. Peggy held her oldest sister’s arm tighter. Eliza gasped, the tears that she’d been holding in finally spilling over as she caught a full view of Angelica in her dress. She was both simple and extravagant; where her dress lacked in baubles and additives, she herself made up for it with her brilliance and her light. Her smile revealed pearl-white teeth, a happiness to match the occasion and the garment. She wore a statement necklace covered in diamonds, a gift from John for their final anniversary as an unmarried couple. The diamonds were arranged in teardrop shapes one would find on an Indonesian tapestry, lain in neatly arranged layers that filled a slight expanse of her neck with a snow-like shimmering. Her sisters were on either side of her, framing her white silk dress with deep black. Peggy’s was straight-lined and simple, hugging her shape and flowing down to her knees. Whether by her hair done up in a bun or her makeup a bit darker and more labor intensive than usual, Peggy looked much older on this night. She took out her camera to record as Eliza wiped another set of tears from her eyes, squeaking.

“I’m almost done crying, I promise.” She laughs as she holds a hand over her eyes, turning to rest a head on Angelica’s shoulder. She’s careful not to get any of her makeup on the beautiful silk dress, using the squeeze of her arms to appease her rising emotions and the sore lump in her throat. It isn’t until Peggy starts talking, describing the day and the journey they’d taken to get to the falls, that Eliza is able to compile her crying into soft sniffs and only a thin layer of moisture brimming her eyelids. She runs her hands along the buttery fabric of her own dress, soft and black with pleats that jut out from her waistline. It’s a vintage cut that suits her well, and the black coloring allowed her to match with Peggy without seeming too alike to go anywhere else afterward. They’re gifts from Angelica, who’d been planning this much longer than she’d let on. Side by side, the three stand in front of the mirror of their small room at the inn, squished between a wall and the bathroom door and holding each other close.

This is how they came into the chapel; side-by-side. Eliza and Peggy walked with Angelica down the aisle, each of their eyes roaming across the near-empty room. There was a charm to the building that seemed like a gift; it was a thin white building no bigger than a schoolhouse, with small curved windows and a bell tower more akin to a tiny bell house. There was only enough room for one person to fit through the door at a time, but the room itself felt spacious. There was a row of simple mahogany pews on either side of the chapel, each being able to seat only two people comfortably. It was something of a dollhouse, a replica of the pretty ceramic chapels their grandmother had collected and stored on a long bookcase in her living room. As they entered the tiny room Eliza ended with her eyes on Alexander, in a suit of grey tweed that had undoubtedly been a gift from John. He wore a matching suit, but his was accompanied with a burlap bowtie of a rich, reddened mahogany. Alexander met Eliza’s immediately; he’d been watching her from the moment they’d made their entrance. His own heart beat against his chest with restrained anticipation, a sensation he’d recognized as misplaced. He was not the groom, yet the music swept into his soul as his own Eliza, clearly dressed in black, made her way down the aisle. His eyes scarcely left her as Angelica and John said their vows, keeping it as quick and simple as their plan to marry had been. They left the chapel as briskly as they’d come in, it seemed, and Alexander kept Eliza on his arm on their way back up the aisle.

They were led by Mr. and Mrs. Church to a looming boat which was to take them closer to the falls. Peggy took the poncho she was given with ease, throwing it on over her dress. Angelica and John were donned in blue as well, grinning and laughing as they followed Peggy. As Eliza was putting on her own protective covering, she noticed Alex’s shaking hand and twitching smile. His initial expression read joy and excitement, but behind the first lines of defense she noted the stiffening of his posture, the way his voice inflected slightly at the end of a sentence and he could not stand still to get his poncho on. Eliza shook her head then, taking her poncho off of her arm and clutching at her stomach.

“I don’t think I can do it, I’m already a little nauseous and I really don’t want to throw up on your wedding day.”

“Eliza,” It was Alexander who spoke then, his voice reserved and tight between his teeth. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want you to get sick, Bets.” Angelica moves to grab at the plastic of her poncho, but Eliza holds her hand in place.

“Don’t skip the tour because of me, I’ll be fine. Alex can stay and keep my company, and we’ll see you when the tour is over. It won’t be that long.”

Angelica kissed Eliza’s cheek, blinked in a silent wish of good luck as she flattened her poncho against her white silk dress. Alexander and Eliza watched the boat depart, pointing at the passengers and attempting to decipher which might be Angie, John, and Peggy. When they’d gone out of sight Eliza led Alex to the car, unlocking it so they could get in the back seat. She blasted the heat in an attempt to thaw out the cold that lingered from the outdoor air. She leaned in one corner, her back against the door and the seat, and propped her tight-clad legs up on the driver’s seat armrest. She brushed Alex with the back of her hand, somewhere between a tap and a caress, so that he’d stop staring out the window. She gestured for him to come closer, and guided his head to her lap. As she took out his hair, ran her fingers through its soft brown locks, the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders sunk through her lap and away from his body. She felt the release too, sighing as they sat in contented silence. His eyes were closed, his lips drawn in a line of indecision until he parted them to speak.

“I’m not a fan of boats. Just…with my mom, and everything that happened…all of that open water,”

“I know.” She closed her eyes too, concentrated the rest of her thoughts on his well-being. She knew that he wasn’t outwardly frightened so much anymore, but the irregular pace of his breathing and the slight croaking in his voice were more than enough to keep her fingers running gentle combs of her nails through his hair. It was almost peaceful, the two of them lain out in the back seat of John’s rented car. It was an escape where he had clearly needed one, and he had provided that for her a countless amount of times. Being on the other side of things had felt right, as if a balance were being achieved by holding instead of being held. He still protested, though, and although he did not get up Eliza could still feel the immediate sense of guilt that washed over him.

“You should’ve gone with them.”

“It wasn’t an option.”

“It’s Angelica’s wedding.”

“It’s your well-being. She understands.” Alex let the rebuttal hang in the air, lingering in his mind as the events of the day replay in his mind. It had been a beautiful ceremony, short and heartfelt and private. And now he would be addressing things to Angelica Church, a thought which made his head spin. He was undeniably happy for his friend, who’d been at the helm of helping Eliza for a long while. This big happiness was something she deserved, something she needed in order to feel better about leaving. Seeing Angelica and John so happy left him in a state of blissful exhaustion, which translated to his closed eyes and his head on Eliza’s lap.

“You know I think you’re perfect?” She hummed in contentment; although Alex often and earnestly dusted the air (or paper) with his sweet, adoring words, Eliza often found it difficult to take the compliments as fully as they were given.

“I’m serious, I do. I don’t think there’s a day that goes by that I don’t think you’re perfect for me. You make me want to be a better version of myself.”

“You already are, Alex.”

“And I mean, you could do so much better,”

“Hey,” It was almost stern, the way her word clipped at its end. Her hand stopped in its tracks, her fingers separating from his hair and moving to his face. “I couldn’t do better than you because you’re you; you’re kind, and passionate, and smart…I don’t want anybody else.”

“God, I would marry you right now if I could.” He wasn’t sure if he’d meant the words to come out-he doesn’t realize what he’s said until she’d stared down at him, eyes widened and mouth slightly agape. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-I don’t want to rush you, I shouldn’t have said that,”

“-You would marry me? Right now?” She was grinning, her reddened cheeks lifted and her eyes brimming with tears again.

“If I weren’t so traditional, I would. Right here. But I know that family is as important to you as it is to me, and this wedding with the tiny chapel and the road trip? It’s not you, and it’s not an accurate representation of us. Don’t get me wrong, I do intend to marry the hell out of you. But it’s going to be done our way.”

Eliza captured both sides of his face between her hands and kissed him until they heard Peggy’s voice and three sets of footsteps approaching the car. Sitting in the back seat on the way to dinner, she holds his hand. Then, she felt as though they had their own little secret within this surreptitious elopement.

They spent dinner at a tavern down the road, one where live music and dancing were held more important than the food itself. They ate sporadically throughout the night, refilling plates of fries and burgers and drinks that kept their bodies warm. They danced until the tavern closed, still in their suits and dresses, and took to the car to find a place to continue their party.

It’s near midnight when they finally come across a tiny diner a bit away from the falls, still with a view of them from one large row of windows on the back wall. The skyline of Ontario is lit as a beacon across the river, an artful architectural installation adding brightness to the wintry sky.

Eliza is warm and happy when she taps her fork against her kitschy green sheep adorned mug. She kneels on the booth, and with eyes that have expanded to saucer-size, she looks upon her company. The year before had begun as frigid and lonely as the winter in Niagara Falls had felt; Eliza had gone through hell and back, and the people at this table had been there to help her begin to find her way. Now that they’re all here, in another January and with the brink of a new start surrounding them, Eliza’s heart fills, spills into her grin and her hand squeezing Alex’s, and into the clinking of her mug as she gathers everyone’s attention.

“Angelica, you’re the kind of person everyone needs to have in their life. I know I’ve been a little selfish-don’t deny it because I know that you will. I’ve been taking a lot of your time lately, and it hasn’t been fair to you or to your relationship. It’s been hell for all of us so far this year, but you’ve made that hell a little easier to live in. And John,” She’s nearly crying now, looking down at the slightly bearded blonde and pulling the bottle of champagne from the middle of the table. “You’re the brother I never had but always wanted, and I’m so lucky to have you. I love you both so much, I want nothing but your happiness. Cheers to Mr. and Mrs. Church!”

The company clink together their mismatched mugs with a resounding cheer. Eliza passes the bottle of champagne, each person taking a long sip before passing the bottle on. Peggy’s rolling her eyes over her camera teasingly, her complaints of not having enough notice to write her own speech rolling from her tongue and paving a path for a slew of jokes centered on the elopement. It’s short notice, and it’s over before it seems it has even begun. Angelica stares down at her newly-ringed finger each time she goes to take a bite of her food, letting the light catch its grand, ovular diamond. The exuberant grin that stretches from cheek to cheek does not fade.

#alexander hamilton #Hamilton #hamilton au #mine: swts #sticking with the schuylers #character: Angelica Schuyler Church #Character: John Church #Character: Alexander Hamilton #Character: Eliza Schuyler #Character: Peggy Schuyler

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scripttorture · 7 years ago

Note

Scene: Character being chained to the ceiling, leaving her standing on her tip toes to prevent her from completely relaxing. She was already wounded with minor bruises and cuts, the most serious of which is a broken collar on the left side, the bone didn’t break through the skin. Torturers will apply an electrode? to her right hand / finger on the right hand and which onto a prod. They would touch it over various parts of her body which will cause the broken collar bone to break through the skin

2/3) They will switch to beatings after this point. This is set in the far future but in a frontier setting, it is likely the electric torture rig is crude for the time. My character will be held for 1 - 2 days before being rescued.(3/4) Will the contact point on the body be a electrode? Or what’s the usual method of fixing the first contact point to the victim Will the entry and exit point of the current suffer from severe burns? How big will the wounds be? Will a bit be required to prevent the character’s tongue from being bitten off while being shocked?(4/4) Will my character suffer permanent memory loss of the days of her torture? Or just confusion over those two days but memories slowly coming back to her?

Took me a few readthroughs to understand the scenario but I think I see where you’re going withthis.

The majority of thequestion seems to be about the damage the electrical torture would cause: thatis really dependant on the electrical source used. It really varies a greatdeal.

And here’s the thing,we could go into the subtle differencesbetween electrical sources and how torturers have used them (Rejali does thisfor about five chapters) but I think it reaches a point where you have towonder if that detail is necessary. Do you think it adds anything to the storyif the reader knows exactly what sort of electrical source is used? Or thecurrent setting?

Personally I think thatlevel of concentration on the instruments detracts from the emotional impact ofthis sort of scene.

So I think this is downto what you choose. How injured doyou want your character to be? Does it serve the story if she gets electricalburns? Does it add anything to the plot or character?

Those aren’t things Ican answer for you. What I’m going to do is outline two different levels ofinjury that are possible with electrical torture and how they’d work. Go aheadand chose the one that works best for your story. :)

However the electricityis applied there will always be two electrodes. Both contact points with thevictim are electrodes. Having one attached to her hand and the other applied todifferent parts of the body echoes a lot of real life accounts. What theelectrodes look like and how they can be attached varies a lot. They can justbe a small bit of metal, they can be wires, they can be crocodile clips.

If you’re not going to choose the result with moreexternal injuries I’d suggest not using crocodile clips. That’s not becausethey’re inherently more dangerous. That sort of clip leaves a telltale patternof red marks with or without electricity. If the torturers have gone to theeffort of trying to reduce marks and scars in other ways then using a crocodileclip doesn’t make much sense.

The torturers couldwrap wires around her hand, they could attach the electrode with tape or theycould force her to hold it. Usually torturers will do what they think is easiest so thinkabout what sort of thing they might have to hand. String might be unlikely inyour future setting for instance but electrical tape could still be common.

I'm going to start withthe 'clean' non-scarring scenario.

In this case theelectrodes might cause some redness, but due to the electrical source used theywon't actually burn the skin. Any redness will fade quickly and be a vaguelysimilar shape to the electrodes. In Taser or stun gun victims these marks (inthe rare occasions when they occur) look a little like insect bites.

She would spasm whenshocked. She might scream. Biting off her tongue would be a possibility butwould be less likely unless the torturers directly shocked her jaw.

She might lose controlof her bowels.

The biggest risk inthis scenario would probably be a heart attack. Repeated electrical shocks fromthese sorts of sources, especially at the front of the chest, can stop theheart. In the time frame you're interested in I think it's realistic for thecharacter unless you've established that she has a heart condition.

In the scarringscenario things are going to be a little different.

Scarring electricalimplements can leave burns and blistering where the electrodes contact thevictim's skin. The place that's going to be most at risk is her right handbecause she has one electrode attached to it. That hand will likely suffer theworst burns and that will probably affect her mobility in that hand. Dependingon the position and severity of the burns she might end up getting itamputated.

Burns over the rest ofher body are going to depend on how long the electrode is in any one particularspot. If the torturers keep shocking particular areas or leave the electrodeson a particular spot for a long time, that area will likely be burned as well.

I'm a little hazy onhow big the burns usually are. Slightly larger than the electrode itselfappears to be the norm but it's difficult to judge when the electrodes aremoved and applied to different areas or applied repeatedly to the same area.

In this sort of set upmuscles locking suddenly, contracting as hard as they can repeatedly andviolently, would happen. This can happen throughout the entire body and in somedevices it was hard enough to break bones, the jaw is especially prone tobreaking. And that means that she would be at higher risk of biting off hertongue and a bit of some variety would probably be used. The main reference Ihave to this type of device comes from Rejali and in the only case he quotesthat mentions specifically what the bit was it was a wooden stick.

Alleg wasn't torturedusing this sort of electrical device but he was gagged with his own shirt whichwould come with a higher risk of choking.

With musclecontractions this violent her collar bone tearing through her skin would happenmuch sooner than in the non-scarring scenario. If the torturers stop usingelectricity because of this then that probably means less shocks. Even withless shocks there’d likely be a lot of very visible damage especially to thehand the electrode is attached to. But less shocks overall would reduce thenumber and size of burns over the rest of her body.

If you do go this routeI’d strongly recommend consulting ScriptMedic’s burns tag and looking upelectrical burns. It’s also worth remembering that burns are very painfulthroughout the healing process and can remain painful even when fully healed.

The memory problemscaused by torture are a different issue entirely. Unless she’s shocked directlyto the head (which I suggest you avoid) any memory loss she experiences won’tbe because of the electricity. Torture in general causes memory problemsregardless of the type of torture used.

Usually those memoryproblems don’t mean forgetting thetorture. This can happen, but it’snot common compared to other memory problems. So I’m going to start by goingover more common issues (note that not all of these will happen to everyone).

Memory problemssurrounding torture can be thought of as belonging to three main types-intrusive memories, memory loss and inaccurate memories.

Intrusive memories are persistent,vivid memories of traumatic events. In torture victims this usually meansreliving memories of torture over and over again. It means that virtuallyeverything can remind the survivor of being tortured or start them thinkingabout being tortured. It’s extremely distressing and a particular feature ofPTSD.

The vividness and persistenceof the memory doesn’t mean it’s accurate though. This does not mean thattorture victims ‘make it up’ or ‘exaggerate’, what it means is that traumaaffects our ability to remember things and as a result there are usuallyinaccuracies in a victim’s memory.

In the case of a short,one-off attack a common way this manifests is inability to identify theattacker. It can also mean identifying the wrongperson as the attacker and being extremely sure they are correct.

It can also manifest inother ways, with inaccuracies in descriptions of the place they were tortured,the way it was carried out or the order in which things happened, for example.A victim might also get details wrong, saying a door to a room was on the leftside instead of the right for instance.

Memory loss is alwaysof recent memories. Older memories, such as those of childhood or the victim’sname are not lost under torture. The memories that go are generally the ones thatwere shortly before and shortly after torture. So far as I know this memoryloss is permanent.

But there are othersorts of memory loss associated with torture and trauma survivors. Whenimmediately experiencing torture a victim may forget things that they laterremember: being in pain has a detrimental effect on memory. I get theimpression that’s not what you’re talking about here though; the question seemsto be about what she’d experience after torture.

In which case one ofthe most relevant types of memory loss is a sort of general forgetfulness thatsurvivors can experience. This is a little broad and difficult to define but itcan negatively impact almost every aspect of a survivor’s life. It makes keepingappointments more difficult. Basic self-care can be more difficult (ie how longhas that meal been in the oven? Where are the keys? Were those bills paid?).Learning new skills is more difficult and remember things like course material isnoticeably more difficult than it was before.

Losing memories aboutbeing tortured can occur. It can be permanent,in some cases people do ‘regain’ memories lost to trauma. But it’s difficult tosay whether later ‘remembering’ of a traumatic event would be accurate. Issueswith inaccuracies in memory still apply and just because a survivor feels that something is accurate doesnot necessarily mean it is.

If you’re wedded tothis scenario and this sort of memory loss I’d advise that she only loses asmall portion of her memory of torture. It would be very rare for her to loseher memory of the entire incident when it’s this long. She might, for example,not remember the moment her collar bone came through her skin, or she might notremember the torturers taking her down from the restraints, or putting her intothem.

Forgetting the entireincident would be unrealistic but forgetting short moments within the overallattack does happen. She might assume she passed out and was briefly unconsciousfor those moments.

She probably wouldn’trecover those memories but she could convince herself that she has if shestarts to obsess over them and thinks about them a lot. Which is certainlypossible. Memory problems are extremely distressing for survivors and I thinkthey’re one of the most ignored symptoms in fiction.

Whatever you decide todo regarding memory loss I’d suggest trying to include another broader memory problem.Perhaps some inaccuracies in her memory of torture, or difficulty identifying hertorturers’ faces, or general forgetfulness after the attack that she findsfrustrating.

You should probablyalso take a look at my Masterposton the common effects of torture if you haven’t already. She’s likely toexperience more than memory problems, though which other symptoms you chose togive her is entirely up to you. I generally suggest picking things that fit thecharacter and story.

I think that’s coveredeverything, if I’ve missed anything please send in another ask once the askboxhas reopened. :)

Disclaimer

#tw torture #tw scars #scarring torture #electricity #memory #effects of torture on memory #types of electrical torture #burns #broken bones #Anonymous

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ben-booker · 8 years ago

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Stuffed Animals and a Little Something Else || Ben & Alex

TAGGING → Ben Booker and Alex March.

TIME FRAME → Saturday, April 15, 2017.

LOCATION → Rockford County Fair.

GENERAL NOTES → Ben and Alex go on their first official date, and much adorableness ensues, including one very important milestone in their relationship.

Ben: Ben wasn’t quite sure how they had ended up here at the Rockford County Fair when Alex was the furthest from the carnival type, but here they were, walking side by side through the fair. He was far too nervous to hold her hand, although he really did want to. They had already played a handful of games, neither one of them really winning anything that big. And that’s when Ben spotted it. “Hey, look! It’s that one game with the guns and the balloons.” He had a glint in his eye as he turned to Alex. “Are you ready to go down, champ? Cause I’m a pro at this.” He walked over to the booth, motioning for Alex to follow suit, and plopped down on one of the red stools, forking over a dollar bill to the attendant. “I’m so ready for this.”

Alex: While she was one to usually find events like a carnival silly, Alex had really been enjoying herself. It was just some simple fun, and with Ben she had found herself laughing, and smiling the whole day. While the nerves were always there, there was an ease with being with him. The heaviness she sometimes felt seemed to disappear, as she got lost in the fun of the games, and just being in his presence. When they reached the desired booth, she pressed her lips together, as a smile pulled at them, finding the boyish look on his face as he mentioned the game, amusing. She sat down next to him, her hands gripping the gun. “Be prepared to eat your words, Booker.”

Ben: While he was usually a gentleman, there was no way in hell he was going to let Alex beat him. Call it his manly pride, or perhaps he just really wanted to win a tiny stuffed animal for her––the prizes for this game were never all that big––but he was intent on being the first one to pop his balloon. He watched as a few others settled into their places, and he could only grip his gun in anticipation. He looked over at Alex, who seemed as determined as ever to defeat him. Smiling, he chuckled and shook his head. “You look cute when you’re about to lose.” The attendant signaled that they were done accepting any more people before starting the count down. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… RINGGGG!!! And with such focus and precision, Ben shut his left eye, using his single right eye to skillfully aim the stream of water into the tiny hole in the distance.

Alex: Though her speech was confident, Alex had never in fact played this game. She wasn’t sure what her chances were of actually winning, but her competitive nature would never admit that to Ben. That grin on his face, and his sweet smack talk, was enough to urge her on. After all, how hard could it be to pop a balloon? She gave him a slight glare, a barely-there smile placed upon her lips, just before the bell rang. Concentrating on the game, Alex shot at the hole, frustration seeping in as she realized her aim was not as spot on as she hoped. She couldn’t help but look over at Ben, who looked like he was more at a shooting range and not just a carnival game. She laughed to herself, before putting her attention back to her shooting. Ben: Growing up in Iowa, he most certainly had had his fair share of experiences with guns. Granted, he wasn’t playing carnival games all the time. He was shooting more tin cans in an open field than water to pop balloons, but the concept was the same. He didn’t even have time to worry about what Alex was doing because he was far too focused on his own performance. He knew that he was in the lead, but some other guy was right on his tail, probably hoping to get a stuffed animal for his girlfriend. Ben’s balloon was getting bigger and bigger, and he could swear that in just a few more seconds, it was bound to pop. Alex: Alex had no hope of winning, she knew that for a fact, so she focused on not getting last place. For she couldn’t have Ben teasing her about letting the children competitors beat her. Focused on her balloon, she jumped in her stool as a loud pop sounded off, and she realized Ben had won. She put her gun down in defeat, taking a moment before looking at him. Swinging her body towards him, her lips pursed as she gave a slow nod. “Nice shooting there, Farm Boy.” Ben: Once the balloon finally popped, Ben felt a wave of accomplishment course through his body. Victory was sweet. He could see the other guy looking thoroughly disappointed, his girlfriend trying to cheer him up and telling him there were other games. He turned to Alex, grinning as he playfully joked, “Congrats, you didn’t finish last!” He stood up, happily taking the medium-sized teddy bear from the attendant as a token of his big win. He motioned for Alex to follow him out of the booth, stopping when he got to the middle of the road. He held the bear up. “Hmmm. What should we name him?”

Alex: “Shut up,” She leaned over, giving him a small push in the shoulder. “I’ll have you know, I’m pretty sure the game was fixed. There was totally something wrong with my gun.” Small bits of laughter left her lips, and she shook her head, unable to accept how poorly she had done. Standing up she followed close behind Ben, stopping as he did. Staring at the bear, she pretended to study it hard, looking deep in thought, before reaching Ben’s eyes with her own. “Teddy? Isn’t that like the rule of thumb?” Ben: Ben pretended that her little shove hurt him, a playful “ow” escaping his mouth as he rubbed his shoulder. “Oh, of course. Of course. They rigged it so that your gun squirted less water than everyone else’s.” He nodded his head, going along with joke. He was holding the bear up, wondering what sort of creative name Alex would give him, but only to laugh when she finally decided on the generic “Teddy.” He couldn’t help but shake his head, still snickering at her choice. “Now, Teddy. Isn’t that short for Theodore Marshall Roosevelt the Fifth?” Still chuckling, he held up the brown bear, right in front of his face. “Here, Teddy’s yours, but first, you gotta give him a kiss.”

Alex: “You noticed it too,” she put a hand up, the smile she was trying to hold back, forming onto her mouth. “I bet you paid the guy extra to make sure I got the faulty gun.” Her brow raised as she looked up at him playfully. A quiet chuckle escaped, and she shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “What can I say, I’m just really into history,” she laughed again. Alex crossed her arms, as he mentioned the needed payment for the bear. She looked down at the stuffed animal, then back up at Ben, her right eyebrow arched. “You have got to be kidding if you think I’m going to kiss a teddy bear out here, right now.” Ben: Ben nodded his head vigorously. “Oh, yes. I most definitely set you up so that you’d get the dysfunctional gun. Yes.” He was grinning from ear to ear now, thoroughly amused by all the excuses Alex was making to explain her dreadful loss. He watched as she folded her arms over her chest, refusing to give the necessary payment to claim her prize. “Oh, come on. I did the hard part. I won the bear, and now, all you have to do is kiss him.” Ben had a slight twinkle in his sapphire blue eyes. “It’s not like you’re going to make out with it. It’s just a little peck on the lips.” He continued to hold the bear right in front of his face, now talking in a cute little bear voice. “Kiss me, Alex. Kiss me!” Alex: A playful glare settled into her eyes, “I knew it.” She pointed at him, shaking her head at herself soon after. “No, I’m gonna look like such an idiot,” she tried to protest, but he was already wearing her down. What he was asking her to do seemed stupid and cheesy, but the girlish grin upon her face did nothing to discourage him. She looked around the carnival, before her eyes settled back on him and the bear. The way his eyes shone, sent a flutter in Alex’s stomach, and she couldn’t hold back the small giggle that escaped as he did the silly voice. “Oh my God, fine. I’ll do it if that means you’ll shut up.” Pushing up on her toes, she moved up towards the bear, laying a small kiss on the brim of it’s nose. Ben: Ben had a feeling that Alex wouldn’t be able to resist any longer. The bear was so freakin’ cute. With a goofy grin still plastered on his face and his eyes still shining brightly, he watched as Alex finally gave in, tiptoeing to plant a quick peck on Teddy’s nose. He wasn’t quite sure what possessed him to do it, but as her lips rested on the bear’s nose, he slowly pulled the bear aside to replace its nose with his own lips. He’d been wanting to do this for so long. Maybe it was his victory that had given him the courage to do it. He wasn’t really sure, but his lips were finally on Alex’s and that’s all that mattered right now. Alex: Just as she was about to pull away from the bear, Ben took her by surprise, as he moved it, and she found herself now kissing him instead. Her heart went a flutter as his lips made contact with hers, and she let her eyes close with ease. Her hand fell lightly upon his chest, as she pressed her lips firmly into his. She had imagined what it would be liked to be kissed by Ben. Wondered about the softness of his lips. The warmth of his mouth. This kiss, in this moment, didn’t compare to what she had only thought of. It was better. God, so much better. Ben: Using his free hand, the one not preoccupied with the teddy bear, Ben gently cupped Alex’s face, allowing him to deepen the kiss ever so slightly. This kiss had been a long time coming. He had waited for so long, and he was definitely happy he did. All the waiting leading up to this moment just made it that much better. Her lips were so soft, her mouth so warm. He allowed himself to get lost in the kiss for just a second, completely engrossed in her scent, her taste, her everything. Alex: She loved the feel of his hand upon her face. His touch so strong, yet gentle. He deepened the kiss, and she gripped on to his shirt, pulling her own body into his. The world around them was completely lost on Alex, as he became her only focus. Never had she experienced this. Never had she known a man to handle her with such care. Never had she known a kiss that could reach down inside her and make her heart race the way it was now. Kissing, for Alex, had always been just a physical act, but this… This was more, and it terrified and warmed her at the same time. Ben: It had been a long time since he’d felt something like this. After David, he’d shut out everyone else, fully convinced that his heart was no longer capable of feeling that kind of love anymore. And while he didn’t love Alex (yet), she did make him feel things, as if there was still hope for him to find someone in this crazy world and that even after getting his heart stomped upon, he could still care for someone. He didn’t want to pull away, but his lungs were sorely missing oxygen, so he slowly disconnected their lips. Immediately, the absence of her lips made him feel like something was missing. There was a silence between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He looked straight into her eyes and said in all seriousness, “I think Teddy’s jealous.” Alex: How could something so simple as him putting his lips against hers, put such a hold on her? What was it about this man that made her long for all the things she never knew before? All the waiting had been worth it for this kiss. She was glad for this moment. Glad to share it with him, like she had never done with anyone else before. Peeling his lips off of hers, she found herself yearning for the warmth that his mouth had brought. Her eyes were slow to open, and it wasn’t till he spoke up, that Alex’s mind was pulled back into reality. “Hmm?” Her brow raised, eyes big as she looked up at him. The teddy bear had been long forgotten until this moment. “Oh,” quiet laughter left her lips, as she remembered. “Yeah, I think so too,” her voice was quiet as she responded. “I could give him another kiss… to be fair,” A smile reached her brown eyes. Ben: He loved Alex’s smile, and he was happy to be the reason for it right now. The teddy bear, previously neglected, now had all the attention once again. Ben lifted the brown stuffed animal back up in front of his face, doing his best little bear voice once more. “Don’t forget about me, Alex! Kiss me!” He waved Teddy right in front of her face, snickering from behind the stuffed animal. Alex: A gentle laugh made it’s way through as she shook her head. “You are such a dork,” she looked away for only a moment, before snatching up the bear in her hand. Pushing up against him, Alex moved her hands, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You said I only had to kiss him once. So I did, and now he’s mine.” A playful expression from earlier returned to her face, as she stared up at Ben. Ben: Ben was mildly surprised when Alex took the teddy bear out of his hand. “Hey!” he laughed as he surrendered control of the stuffed animal to his date. Her hands were still draped around his neck, not that he minded. “That, I did,” he agreed. “And I’m a man of my word.” Still smiling, he looked down at Alex. “But I never said anything about you and me.” He wanted so badly to kiss her again, but at the same time, he wanted her to just grab him by the collar and plant one on his lips. Alex: She titled her head, a small smirk placed upon her mouth. The smile soon disappeared though, as that familiar feeling of yearning to feel his lips on hers returned. “And um,” she held his gaze, eyes wide. “How many kisses do you think that will that take?” Her mouth inched closer to his with every word she spoke. Ben: Ben watched as Alex’s face moved closer and closer to his, and he so badly wanted to kiss her. He returned her smirk with one of his own before managing to whisper, doing his best not to laugh, uttering in a most serious tone, “At least one every single day.” With that, he was unable to resist the urge any longer, and once again, for the second time that day, their lips collided. This kiss was slightly needier than the other one because Ben knew that both of them wanted this. There was no need to be timid anymore. Alex: With his answer, a sweet, small smile tugged at the corners of Alex’s mouth, but it was soon hidden, as Ben’s lips reached hers again. He kissed her with an urgency this time, and she kissed him back with a need that matched it. Her free hand ran up the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair. She had wanted this for so long now––ever since that dinner at his place where he cooked, and sang to her––and for some reason he seemed to want it back, though she had no understanding of why, but she was glad he did. Ben: Usually, he wasn’t one for public displays of affection, but something about being around Alex brought out another side of him, a more adventurous Ben that didn’t care so much about the audience. Now that both of his hands were free, he was able to let one rest on the small of her back, pulling her body closer to his so that there was no space between them, while the other one rested on her hip. All he could think about was how good it felt to kiss her, the amazing feel of her soft lips and her tongue grazing against his. It was heavenly. Alex: Her body pressed completely against his, and she loved the feeling of his hands on her. She felt cared for in his arms, not just lusted after. Though, the physical attraction was quite present as well. His tongue met hers, and Alex completely melted into the kiss. And she kissed him until she absolutely had to pull away. Resting her forehead against his she took a moment to catch her breath, and in that moment she realized for the first time, her nerves were completely gone. “I think I could handle doing this every single day.” There was a slight tone of humor to her voice, but Alex knew her words to be true. While she had never been kissed like this before, she knew now she didn’t want to go without it. Ben: Ben had been joking when he’d teased that they should kiss every day, but he really wouldn’t be opposed to doing this regularly. This time, she was the one who pulled away, so he smiled at her, thanking the heavens that he’d found the courage to ask her out on a date. “I have no problem with that,” he raised his hands, chuckling as he took her free hand into his, lacing their fingers together. “Come on. Let’s go win you an even bigger bear.” Alex: Feeling his hand encase hers, she felt unsure at first, but she relaxed her hand his. It didn’t seem like a big deal before, but Alex realized as she stared down at her hand in his, that no man had ever held her hand before. Not like this anyway. Never had a man walked side by side with her and entangled his fingers with hers. She stared up at Ben as they walked, almost in wonder of him. He was like a dream, as she had never met anyone like him. But without her even realizing it, he had been her dream, and somehow, just somehow, he was real.

#para:all #para:alexandra march #para:stuffed animals and a little something else

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hollywoodjuliorivas · 5 years ago

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PostEverything

Perspective

Calm down, establishment Democrats. Bernie Sanders might be the safest choice.

“Moderate” candidates won’t be electable if they can’t speak to middle- and working-class frustrations.

Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) waves to his supporters during a Democratic presidential campaign event Sunday in Austin. (Nick Wagner/Austin American-Statesman/AP) (Nick Wagner/AP)

Image without a caption

By Robert B. Reich

Robert B. Reich is a former U.S. Secretary of Labor, a professor of public policy at the University of California, Berkeley and author of the forthcoming, "The System: Who Rigged It, How We Fix It."

Feb. 26, 2020 at 3:28 a.m. PST

Right after Sen. Bernie Sanders’s big win in last week’s Nevada caucuses, Joe Lockhart, President Bill Clinton’s former press secretary, expressed the fear gripping the Democratic establishment in an op-ed for CNN: “I don’t believe the country is prepared to support a Democratic socialist, and I agree with the theory that Sanders would lose in a matchup against Trump.”

Like much of the party establishment, he is viewing American politics through outmoded lenses of left versus right, with Sanders (I-Vt.) on the far left and President Trump on the far right. So-called moderates such as former New York mayor Mike Bloomberg and former South Bend, Ind., mayor Pete Buttigieg supposedly occupy the political center, appealing to a broader swath of the electorate.

This may have been the correct frame for politics decades ago, when America still had a growing middle class, but it’s obsolete today. As wealth and power have moved to the top and the middle class has shrunk, more Americans feel politically disempowered and economically insecure. Today's main divide isn’t left versus right. It’s establishment versus anti-establishment.

Some background: In the fall of 2015, I visited Michigan, Wisconsin, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Kentucky, Missouri and North Carolina, researching the changing nature of work for my book, “The System: Who Rigged It, How We Fix It.” I spoke with many of the same people I had met two decades prior, when I was secretary of labor, as well as some of their grown children. I asked them about their jobs and their views about the economy. I was most interested in their sense of our system as a whole and how they were faring in it.

What I heard surprised me. Twenty years before, most said they had been working hard and were frustrated that they weren’t doing better. Now they were angry — at their employers, the government and Wall Street; angry that they had not been able to save adequately for retirement, and that their children weren’t doing any better. Several had lost jobs, savings or homes during the Great Recession. By the time I spoke with them, most were employed, but the jobs hardly paid any more than they had years before.

I heard the phrase “rigged system” so often that I began asking people what they meant by it. They spoke about the bailout of the banks, political payoffs, insider deals and out-of-control CEO pay. The resentments came from self-identified Republicans, Democrats and independents; white, black, Latino and Asian American; union households and non-union. The common thread was that everyone was either middle or working class.

Joe Walsh: I’m no fan of Bernie Sanders. But #NeverTrump means never Trump.

With the 2016 primaries on the horizon, I asked which candidates they found most attractive. At the time, party leaders favored Democratic former secretary of state Hillary Clinton or former Florida Republican governor Jeb Bush. But the people I spoke with repeatedly mentioned Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump. They said Sanders or Trump would “shake things up,” “make the system work again,” “stop the corruption” or “end the rigging.”

The next year, Sanders — a Jewish, 74-year-old Vermonter and self-described Democratic socialist — barely lost to Clinton in the Iowa caucuses, beat her decisively in the New Hampshire primary, garnered 47 percent of the caucus-goers in Nevada and ended up with 45 percent of the pledged delegates from Democratic primaries and caucuses.

Trump, then a 69-year-old egomaniacal maybe-billionaire and reality TV star who had never held office and never had any previous standing in the Republican Party, won the GOP primaries and then went on to beat Clinton (though not, of course, in the popular vote), one of the most experienced and well-connected politicians in modern America.

It was seismic, and it cannot be fully explained by Sanders’s or Trump’s appeal to their core base voters. It was a rebellion against the establishment. Clinton and Bush started with all the advantages, but neither could credibly convince voters they were not part of the system.

A direct line connected decades of stagnant wages, the 2008 financial crisis, the rise of the tea party and the occupy movement and the emergence of Sanders and Trump in 2016. The people I spoke with no longer felt they had a fair chance to make it. National polls told much the same story: According to the Pew Research Center, the percentage of Americans who felt most people could get ahead through hard work dropped by 13 points between 2000 and 2015. In 2006, according to Gallup, 59 percent of Americans thought government corruption was widespread; by 2013, 79 percent did.

Trump galvanized millions of blue-collar voters living in places that never recovered from the tidal wave of factory closings. He promised to bring back jobs, revive manufacturing and get tough on trade and immigration. “We can’t continue to allow China to rape our country, and that’s what they’re doing,” he roared. “Five, 10 years from now — different party. You’re going to have a workers’ party,” he forecast. “A party of people that haven’t had a real wage increase in 18 years, that are angry.” He blasted politicians and financiers who “took away from the people their means of making a living and supporting their families.”

We Danes aren’t living the ‘American Dream.’ And we still aren’t socialist.

Trump’s populist pose, of course, was one of the biggest cons in American political history. Since his election he has given the denizens of C-suites and boardrooms almost everything they’ve wanted and hasn’t markedly improved the lives of his working-class supporters, even if his politically incorrect, in-your-face style continues to make many feel as if he’s taking on the system.

The frustrations today are larger than they were four years ago. Even though corporate profits and executive pay have soared, the typical worker’s pay has barely risen, jobs are less secure, and health care less affordable.

The best way for Democrats to defeat Trump’s fake populism is with the real thing, coupled with an agenda of systemic reform. This is what Sanders offers. For that reason, he has the best chance of generating the energy and enthusiasm needed to regain the White House.

He will need a coalition of young voters, people of color and the white working class. He seems on his way: In Nevada, according to entrance polls, he won with Latino voters and white voters, women and men, college and non-college graduates. He was the first choice of every age group except for over-65. Nationally, he is narrowing former vice president Joe Biden’s edge with African American voters.

In a general election, Republicans would surely do everything they can to tag Sanders with the “socialist” label. But that hasn’t hurt him so far, partly because it doesn’t come with the stigma it once did.

And worries about a Nixon-McGovern-like blowout in 2020 seem far-fetched. In 1972, the middle class was expanding, not contracting. Polls currently show Sanders tied with or beating Trump: A Quinnipiac poll released last week shows Sanders beating Trump head-to-head in Michigan and Pennsylvania (but shows Trump beating all Democrats head-to-head in Wisconsin). A CBS News-YouGov poll released this week has Sanders beating Trump nationally.

Instead of hand-wringing about Sanders’s electability, maybe establishment Democrats should worry that a “moderate” Democrat might be nominated instead.

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