#so i had to redo that part entirely sob

[solaestial]

i made some of my chrissell pics into wallpaper engine wallpapers 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Life, Death, and the Space in Between Part One (Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal)

Summary: Bound together by power and fate, you and Rio are undeniably tied, but Agatha Harkness was something unexpected - yet in the end...

Words: 1664

Warnings: Canon deaths, AAA, uh... language, child birth kinda? Angsty? I dunno, there's things.

A/N: A retake and partial redo of AAA (in the sense of "what if"). This is gonna be a... four part series? I think?

-X-

Cries of pain echoed throughout the trees as Agatha stumbled towards the water, body finding purchase against the trunk of a tree as another contraction washed over her. Everything ached, but she didn’t care. All she had worked for was so close. She just needed a little more strength and her child would be tucked into her arms, a beacon of her love.

She hardly noticed the unnatural silence that befell the forest, the wind dying into nothing more than an occasional puff of air. All she could see was- feel, hear - was the sound of her own heartbeat.

Glancing up as another cramp hit, she caught sight of two familiar figures lingering near. The beating of her heart quickened, so overwhelmed at the prospect of you both being there to meet your son, but the identical expressions you wore sent her heart plummeting.

He is not mine, you conveyed to Rio regretfully, tears prickling the corner of your eyes.

Life and Death stood, watching critically over the mortal who’d stolen their hearts. While bound together forever in a way no one would ever understand or be capable of recreating, you had both found the tiny piece you were missing within Agatha. You’d found a middle ground.

Death took a step forward.

Life took two steps back.

“It cannot be,” Agatha breathed, inching away from the green witch as she neared.

You could feel Rio’s heart cracking, felt the anguish and guilt rushing over her.

“It must be,” she replied gently.

“You do this and I will hate you forever,” Agatha spat fearfully, glancing between you. “Both of you.”

A sob clawed its way up your throat, suffocating and vile. This was the hardest moment you’d ever been summoned to.

“Please let him live!” Agatha cried. “Please, my loves. Don’t take him from me.”

Pleas began falling like tears, and your entire being called out to you. Begged you to rush to her side. To heal your son.

Rio’s eyes drifted closed for a moment before a dark stare met Agatha. You could see the parts of Rio warring. Her nature and her love clashing together in a battle, both reaching out to Agatha before being yanked back.

“I can offer only time.”

She peered at you. Save him.

Your feet moved before you could fully comprehend what was happening. Your knees hit the dirt in front of Agatha, warm light shining from your hands as they touched her swollen belly.

Looking over your shoulder at Rio, you watched the veil that separated you from mortals swirl around her.

Tell him of me, she begged, tears streaming down her cheeks in rivets.

All the time, my love, you vowed.

Attention returning to Agatha, you smiled up at her faintly. “Let’s bring our boy into the world, shall we?”

-X-

Years passed. Years of joining your love to decide the fate of a life. Years of watching your little boy grow, watching him become sick, watching him grow frail and tired…

Watching your lover kill in hopes of distracting your other lover. Watching her use your son to do it but never allowing Rio too close. Watching Agatha grow colder. Meaner. Deadlier.

As life comes and goes, you were often pulled away from Nicholas, helping the other piece of your soul collect and distribute life and death as needed. But for the times you were with him, watching him blossom and shrink, you never let him forget about the woman who offered him time.

As you stepped through the trees, veil falling away into your human form, you watched the beautiful smile break across Nicky’s face before he was bounding into your arms, clinging to you like a lifeline.

“Mother! You are back!” he beamed up at you, his thin arms gripping you as tight as he could. It was devastating to see the sickness ravaging him, knowing you could do nothing to change it.

“Hello, my littlest love,” you cooed, carding your fingers through his long hair before peering over his head at Agatha. “And my tall love.”

“If you are here, will I see Mami tonight in my dreams?” Nicky whispered into your ear, shrieking happily as you lifted him, tossing him over your shoulder and holding him tightly as his little feet kicked.

“Maybe.”

Agatha rolled her eyes affectionately as you pressed a kiss to her cheek, Nicky thrown playfully over your shoulder and squealing as you swung him about. She was surprised to see you return so soon, and her heart thumped painfully as she thought to Rio.

As the afternoon progressed into night, Nicky regaled you with tales of their exploits. Your heart ached, knowing the reasons behind Agatha’s choices but refusing to discourage your son from telling his vivid stories. You were so… angry with Agatha, for doing this to him, but in another life, maybe you would’ve done the same.

After he was tucked onto a small pallet, blanket right around his frail form, you joined Agatha at the edge of the water. Staring out into the darkness, you spoke softly, “This has bid you some time but you know this cannot stop the inevitable, my love.”

Bristling, Agatha turned to walk away, unwilling to hear your truths, but a steady hand caught her.

“You need to hear me, Agatha. She has given all she can. She has fought the universe to keep him here; avoided her own son so that Death would not call him home yet. But we cannot keep him here. He is not meant to be here, yet we let him walk and talk and be here with you. And you still hate her for the time she has allowed me to give him. Without her, he never would have taken his first breath. You need to unbury your head from the sands and accept we cannot change fate anymore than we have.”

Eyes flaring purple with fury, Agatha shoved you but you did not waver. “You are essentially gods! Yet one child unravels the cosmos? Fate? He is my son and you want to let her take him from me!”

“He is our son,” you corrected sharply. “He is her son. As much as he is mine or yours. She made him as we did. She does not get to watch him grow as we did. Hold him. Love him. Because she wanted to grant you time with him and yet you spit in her face!”

Staring into the reddened face of your lover, you softened slightly. “She loves Nicholas. I love Nicholas. And we love you. Gods know we do not wish to hurt you. But he is sick. His body is tired. You know there is only one way.”

“If you cannot understand why I do what I must to keep him here, maybe you should leave,” Agatha whispered, eyes filling with anger and tears. “I will do whatever I can to save him.”

Bowing your head, you tugged her into a tight embrace, pressing your lips to the crown of her head as she cried silently against your chest. It was raw and painful and you knew this was the last time you would see her for a very long time.

By the time she wandered back to camp, you were gone.

-X-

The shadows of night surrounded you as you and Rio approached the campsite one night, hand in hand. Her eerie green torch illuminated the path, her true form hidden beneath a familiar guise.

“I don’t want to scare him,” she had mumbled, cheek resting against your shoulder as time ticked down.

The heavy fall winds dragged Nicholas from his slumber and he slowly sat upright, eyes landing upon the eerie light. His eyes brightened before dimming, realization crashing into his chest. He peered down, watching his body remain as he stood.

Rio gestured for him to kiss his mother and he obeyed, whispering, “I love you,” before meeting you and Rio at the forest edge.

She cupped his cheek sweetly, thumb soothing on his paling flesh. “It’s time, love.”

“I am afraid,” he admitted shyly, wide eyes flickering between you as if ashamed of the admittance.

Crouching down, both of your hands found his lithe shoulders and squeezed reassuringly, letting light and warmth pour from you. “We will be with you every step, darling. I swear it.”

He peered over at Agatha, eyes shimmering in the green light. “I do not fear dying, but I do not want Mama to be alone. She is going to be so lonely.”

Your chest seized painfully.

“Our sweet, wonderful boy,” you breathed, peeking up at your partner, who stared at Nicky adoringly. “I promise, we will not be far from her, even if she cannot see us. Even if she is angry. She is etched into our bones and we will not stray far.”

“I will miss her,” he murmured, “But I will see her again one day?”

“Yes, sweetheart, and someday, we shall be a family again. A complete family.” Looking at Rio, you smiled sadly and cupped her face with your free hand. “One day, we shall never be apart again.”

“A complete family,” Nicholas repeated with a smile, peering up at Rio. “With Mami this time.”

Carefully making your way to the bridge, shadows and light swirled around as you passed through the veil and Nicholas was brought into the embrace of his mother’s domain. You were not ignorant to the pain that would overtake Agatha when the sun rose above the horizon, so once Nicholas found the space crafted especially for him, you returned to the mortal plane and stood above the resting witch.

Stooping down, you patiently maneuvered Nicholas’ mortal body in Agatha’s arms, tucking his blanket tight around him before pressing a butterfly soft kiss to Agatha’s temple.

“I am sorry, my love,” you muttered, pecking her temple again before disappearing with the morning light, soul aching as her wails crested the treetops.

[buckyalpine]

Catch Me If You Can AU

Remember this? (Mob Bucky x single mom police officer reader) Which lead to a part 2 and a part 3? Here is a lil drabble for that AU. For context if you don’t feel like reading all three parts: Mob Bucky falls in love with the pretty police officer who has been on his ass for ages. Not to mention she has a son, 8 year old Jordan, who sees Bucky as a hero no less. After a little kidnapping, a little flirting and going full on protective mode when her shitty ex tries to come back around, Buck finally gets to call her his. She’s a little hesitant at first but she falls for his baby blues and sweet charm. Here’s what happens a little while after you’ve been together. So much emotional fluff. 

-

“What is it J” Bucky curiously inspected the box that was placed onto his lap with a little bow tied on the top, wrapped up with carefully selected colorful paper. Jordan had spent the entire night shifting through different colors he thought Bucky would like and redoing the taping until it was perfect, hardly getting a wink of sleep, too excited for morning to come. 

“Open it!” Jordan grinned, though his heart was beating erratically on the inside, holding his breath when Bucky picked up the box again. The mob boss had taken the month off for Jordan’s 10th birthday, insisting they would do whatever he wanted but your son insisted he just wanted to spend time together. Still, Bucky pulled out all the stops, leaving a mountain of gifts in Jordan's room from him alone. Breakfast was filled with pancakes, every topping imaginable, fresh croissants, pastries and milkshakes along with a very hungry Steve, Sam and Peter. You were all still seated at the table finishing up while Jordan looked at Bucky intently. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one getting you presents” Bucky snorted while you watched him carefully unwrap the ribbon before gently taking the wrapping paper apart revealing a plain white cardboard box with an envelope taped onto the front.

“Should I read this or see what’s inside first?” Bucky asked curiously. 

“Uh-You can read the letter first” Jordan peeked up, hoping to hide his anxiousness while Bucky took out the paper, unfolding a hand written letter. 

Dear Dad,

I talked to mommy about this and this is what I want for my birthday. I thought it would wait till Christmas but I really wanted it now. 

No pressure, you can always say no but I hope you’ll say yes.

Love,

Jordan

Bucky’s brows furrowed, looking at the documents inside the box, his entire world stopping as he read the words printed on the paper. 

“J?”

Jordan shuffled on his feet nervously, afraid to meet Bucky’s eyes, only looking up when Bucky reached out to gently squeeze his hand. 

“Are-are you sure?”

“I’m sure” Jordan whispered, missing the tears that streamed down Bucky’s face, pulling the little one into his chest, kissing the top of his head. “So you’ll sign it? You’ll adopt me?” Jordan looked up hopefully while Bucky let out a wet chuckle. 

“Y’know you’re already mine, right? I want this but these are just papers. I love you no matter what” Bucky said firmly, meaning every word. You bit your lip to keep from sobbing seeing your two favorite boys attached at the hip while Bucky signed the document, still keeping a protective arm around Jordan. Jordan silently nodded, letting out a sniffle before squeezing Bucky tightly, feeling safer than ever. You giggled to yourself, seeing Bucky’s usual hard ass men discreetly wiping their eyes with Steve doing the worst job. 

“G-get it together” Sam hissed, swallowing tightly, scrunching his nose in an attempt to keep from sniffling again while Steve rolled his eyes, no longer trying to hold back as the first whimper escaped. Then a full on sob. Peter hadn’t bothered trying to put up a front at all, loudly blowing his nose into a tissue. 

“Mommy, look!” he took he sheet and held it up proudly for you all to see to see, while Bucky pulled you in, kissing you sweetly. 

“Thank you” You whispered just for Bucky to hear, melting into his touch as he silently squeezed your hip. 

“Best. Birthday. Ever” Jordan stated, clutching the paper to his chest while Bucky grinned proudly, deciding he’d have a conversation with his son soon about asking his mommy to marry him. “Just one more thing”

“What else do you want baby, daddy already got you everything and more” You ruffled Jordan’s hair, your son thinking for a moment before his eyes lit up. 

“A brother” Jordan shrugged innocently while Bucky smirked, giving you a wink when no one was looking. 

“Oh, he can make that happen right now” Sam cackled, already seeing the feral look on Bucky’s face while you shook your head, ignoring the way your stomach flipped at the thought. 

“Really? Or a sister” Jordan smiled, just wanting a sibling to play with. “I’m okay with either” 

“Jordan-” 

“Shhh, let’s give our son what he wants” You were about to question his request when Bucky immediately hushed you, giving Steve a pointed look, his best friend nodding understandingly.

“Sooo how about we go on some roller coasters all day so we can give your mommy and daddy some time to get you that” Steve grinned while Sam wiggled his eyebrows a you both, your son already half way out of the dining room, off to get ready. 

“That sounds like a great plan” Bucky let his hands slide down to your hips, pulling your body flush against his. 

“You’re a menace” You bit back a shy smile while Bucky hugged you tightly from behind, seconds away from throwing you over his shoulder. 

“M’your menace baby” He cooed, his heart still full over getting to officially call Jordan his, “C’mon, we can’t keep J waiting” 

“You sure about this?” You asked, squeaking when he lifted you in his arms, taking you straight to bed as soon as they heard the front door shut, leaving the house completely empty.

“Very sure. Now come here, my son gets whatever he wants” Bucky practically pounced on you, making you giggle as he peppered you with kisses, throwing you on the bed. “Let’s make a baby, mama” 

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

so you’re taking requests. . . 😳 how do we feel about a fic with Luz just being a biiig softie? he’s such a wiseass all the time, I’d love to see your take on him maybe being more vulnerable and relaxed and emotional in an x reader if you’re up for it (I love the way you were able to characterize Liebgott in your most recent fic) <3 fluff, angst, smut or any other angle you’d wanna go with, totally up to you!

In her arms - George Luz x F!Reader

Okay, so I had already had an idea like this in my drafts and squealed when I read your request! I really, really hope I did him justice and this is what you want/like! If you want a redo please let me know! <3 Please enjoy @littleyankspitfire :)

Summary: George accompanies Malarkey into town after the bombing in Bastogne, needing to see Reader before he entirely falls apart.

Warnings: angst, mentions of war/death/violence, cursing, George is a frazzled mess and just needs to be held, fluffy ending.

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: I was going to make this have smut but the more I wrote the more I just wanted him to be cuddled and loved. George deserves so much. Might think of a way to do a part 2 with some lovin' for our boy. I hope y'all enjoy this! Please comment, like, reblog <3 <3 <3

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

George and Malarkey entered the medic tent like zombies. Neither speaking, just going off of some internal compass pointing them towards their desired destination. Malarkey veers off to the right where Buck is laying on a cot, his eyes as vacant as theirs. George wanders up and down the rows, looking for a familiar face but starts to lose hope when he comes up short. Eventually he gently grabs the arm of a nurse walking by.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for someone." He gives her name and waits.

"Who's asking?" She gives him a skeptical stare and straightens her back.

"I'm George Luz with Easy Company. We're friends." He watches as she relaxes.

"Oh, I've heard of you. She's suppose to be resting for a few hours. Down the road on the left, third building, second floor, first door on the right." She gives him a quick smile and then hurries off in the direction she was originally going.

George follows her direction and soon enough, he's in front of the door. Two deep breathes later and he gives a sharp knock. He waits a beat and then knocks again, calling out to her. There's sounds of movement inside the room and then the door is pulled open. For a moment George feels guilty, having obviously disturbed her much needed nap, but the way he feels like he can finally breathe after seeing her chases the guilt away.

"Hey doll." He tries for his usual upbeat greeting but it comes out almost painful. Her eyes scan his face, a deep frown forming.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but doesn't know what to say. Everything is wrong. Physically I'm fine but everything else is hurt. Before he can finish his thought, his vision is blurred with tears and a quiet sob escapes. As the next one slips out, he's partially falling/being pulled into her arms and maneuvered to the bed.

She situates them so that her back is against the headboard with him draped half on her and half on the bed, head on her torso as more sobs rack his body. The scene is enough to make her own eyes mist over. This isn't the George she knows; he's always the optimistic one with a quick joke or wisecrack to push the darkness away and bring a smile to everyone's faces. Having him cling to her like she's a lifetime and he's drowning makes her worry that this war has finally taken the last bit of light from someone she never thought would lose it. And that terrifies her.

Instead of pressing him to speak, she lets him purge his emotions out while running her fingers through his hair and offering soothing sounds. Eventually his tears start to slow and he focuses on evening out his breathing. She keeps running her fingers through his hair, letting him decide if he wants to talk or not. When he does start to speak, his voice still holds a quiver but the longer he talks, the stronger it becomes. He talks about everything that happened; how what happened with Buck, Guarnere and Toye was still fresh and effecting the company, that the bombings that just happened killed Much and Penkala right in front of him, how if he'd made it to their foxhole he would have been killed, how him and Lipton nearly did die and were only saved by a faulty wire in the bomb that landed right in front of them.

As he spoke, her heart broke again and again over his loses (hers too as she was also friends with this men) and her anxiety grew as he told her about his not once, but twice back to back near death experience. Being in the middle of a war you come to terms with the high probability that you will die, but holding someone and listening to their recount of it nearly happening is not something you can prepare for. Once he's done relaying everything, a heavy silence follows, both of them lost in their thoughts and feelings of the events.

Slowly, George lifts himself from laying on her, moving up on the bed so he's leaning back on the headboard next to her. He grabs one of her hands that is now in her lap and laces their fingers together.

"I thought of you." He keeps his eyes on their interlocked hands, running his thumb back and forth over her soft skin. He see's her turn her head to look at him out of the corner of his eye.

"What do you mean?" She asks when he doesn't look like he's going to continue.

"When I was looking at that bomb at my feet, waiting for it to go off and finish me. You hear of other people that go through near death experiences and they see their life flash before their eyes. That's what I thought was going to happen, that I'd see my family and hometown and family dog. I'd remember all the big and small things I did, things I'd forgotten about. But that didn't happen. Instead, all I could think about was you. How you always make me work for a real laugh from you but I usually get a playful smile and eyeroll, how your tongue peaks out of the corner of your mouth when you're focused on finishing a wrapping or stitch just right, how you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen especially covered in dirt, how I wanted to kiss you that night by the lake when I told you the moonlight in your hair made you look like a goddess but I was too scared." George turns his head to meet her eyes.

"Why are you telling me this?" She whispers.

"Because I'm scared in a different way now. I was scared of starting something when this war could take either of us away at any moment. But after that bomb, all I'm scared of is dying without ever knowing what we could have. Never being able to kiss or hold you like I want. Never telling you that...I love you." George turns enough to face her, maintaining eye contact as he slowly leans his head towards her. "Tell me you don't feel the same. Tell me I'm just losing my mind and I'll leave."

"I love you too, George. However long we have left on this Earth, I want us to be together." She squeezes his hand that was still holding hers and puts her free one on his cheek. The smile that breaks out across his face isn't his usual smirk or something goofy to get a laugh, but a true pure smile that warms her heart. Sending him a matching smile, she tilts her head up and closes the gap between their lips.

The kisses are slow and sweet, almost tentative. Neither of them wanting to break the small bubble of peach they'd crafted around themselves. As they keep up their light exploration of each others mouths, they shift lower onto the bed so they're laying on their sides, wrapped up in each others arms. She pulls back slightly, taking in his soft smile and sleepy eyes, and gives him a quick peck.

"Rest with me a little bit?"

"Long as I get to hold you." He kisses her lips again, then the top of her head before resting his his head on top of hers, holding her as close as possible against himself.

Just as he's drifting off to sleep, he thinks: this is how I want to die, wrapped up in her arms.

[homesweetgoodneighbor]

You'd think this would've turned me off of lace.

So, a couple of (sob) decades ago, I made my mother a lace doily centerpiece for her table. It was a large snowflake about 13 inches (33 cm) in diameter since she loved Christmas and snow.

It was my first real attempt at lace, and it was from a magazine printed in 1938. Vintage and lovely! Woot! Sure, it was ornate and probably wasn't meant for a beginner, but a) I never do anything the easy way, and b) I've been crocheting since I was a kid, so I know my stuff. It was slow going, of course, but pretty straightforward.

Two weeks in, I realized something wasn't right. The arms of the snowflake were looking nothing like the picture, and frankly, were look like they were made by a drunken monkey. I would frog them and redo them thinking maybe I was reading the pattern wrong. Did this several times until, out of sheer frustration, I frogged back several rows and went looking for the tequila. (If you can't beat the drunken monkey, become one.)

Three shots of tequila later, I discovered there were major mistakes in the pattern. Like, enough to make it look a right mess. That night, I ripped back about a week's worth of work, cried a little, and went to bed.

The next day, I started again, this time fixing the pattern as I went along until the printed page was a mess of corrections and cussing. Far be it for me to expect a magazine from 1938 to have had their shit together. (Oh sure, I can say "Well, it taught me how to fix a pattern!" but I won't out of fucking spite.)

Well, since my mom passed last April, we've been slowly going through her things. I finally found that doily. I'm proud to say that other than dingy from use and storage, it still looks as good as the day I finished it.

I decided over the holidays to start looking for that pattern because I actually do want to finish the dinner set. Luckily since nothing ever dies on the internet and my Search Fu is strong, I found it.

Y'all, the first thing I read in its description was "There Are Errors In The Pattern".

I never felt so much "thank the gods it wasn't just me!" about a pattern in my entire fiber arts life! There was that tiny part of me that thought maybe I was still reading it wrong and I just ended up making it a clearer read. Nope. It really was was written by a drunken monkey. (And, corrected by an even drunker one.)

Sometimes, it really is the damn pattern and not you.

[starry-snippets]

Father Figure Avdol fic? Maybe something that takes place after part 3? Maybe the reader reuniting with Avdol after the events of part 3! Just some cute fluff

sorry i didn't do a fic, instead i did headcanons then a snippet. hope you can enjoy anyway!

this is away from the canon events of the series! platonic (i worry it doesn't read that way but uh urm let me know if i should redo it anon!) avdol x gender neutral reader, no tws and just fluff

avdol says kiddo sorry not sorry i just love that word it's funny

☆ avdol has never stopped worrying about you. whether you went on this adventure with him or you've been looking after his shop during his absence, he's never been at peace knowing you may not be okay ☆ he'll try to call you at least once a week and will be so stressed if the calls never go through ☆ it always feels like there's a pit in his stomach. he's logical but when it comes to someone he cares about so much he's entirely emotional on the inside but can't let any of that out because it can jeopardize his and other's safety ☆ definitely writes you a letter after every battle because - as sad as it is - he's terrified that's all that will be left of him by the end of the trip ☆ once it's all over he's heading hastily to where ever you've been left alone at (probably his shop/apartment complex)

☆ when you're actually together after the time apart he'll do anything you want. order the food you'd like to eat for dinner, play any game or watch any show. avdol wants to make up for his absence ☆ won't go to bed until you're asleep because he's still a little bit paranoid about dio despite seeing him vanish ☆ will do a lot of little things for you to try and cheer you up. like he'll cut you apple bunnies if you like cute food, stuff like that ☆ won't force you to feel better immediately or anything. offers you resources if you'd like them, but doesn't force those on you either. lets you know he's here now and the situation is over, but won't act like it didn't happen and didn't impact you too ☆ sometimes he feels like he failed as a father figure because of this. regardless of if you're legally his child or if you just view him as a father figure. either way this haunts him and he needs a big hug

☆☆ snippet ☆☆

avdol is relieved to finally be heading home, but he's also even more stressed then when he was fighting dio. his heart is pounding in his ears, hard enough to give him a headache. worried out of his mind because the climax of it all is weighing heavy on him. you've been alone for such a long time, terrified of where he's been - if he's safe, and he's been fretting even more. avdol knows he didn't leave you without resources and a support system, but he also knows he's the person who's offered you the most kindest and support when you needed it most.

he never imagined being a parent in any capacity. but now with jagged breathing from walking so quickly out of the cab, dread easing ever-so-slightly from seeing his shop still standing, he feels like how holly did when she heard jotaro was locking himself in jail.

his steady knocks are responded with your voice yelling, clearly caught off guard from a visitor during closing time. avdol can't help but smile, reassured to know you're at least where he had to leave you.

the door opens with a slow drag, dragging the wood against the ground along with his heart against his ribs. when you see him standing there you feel tears in your eyes, arms immediately wrapping around him in the most sudden hug you've probably ever given him.

"you're safe!" you're fully sobbing into his neck, so relieved to know the person who's taken care of you so well made it back to all he left. you've been diligent to keep his shop functional despite the fear in your heart and the dread you could never vanquish. "you came back," between your cries you whisper it, in disbelief yourself. you weren't able to contact him for so long. the only heads up you had was lengthy yet vague letter saying he'll be gone for a while and will hopefully come back. "i was so scared you wouldn't come back."

avdol rubs your head as reassurance he's really back. his gut wrenches in pain because of how he's hurt you, but settles because he finally knows you haven't been targeted.

"i'm sorry, but i'm here now." he feels his own eyes grow heavy with budding tears. "i'll explain everything once we've caught up some, kiddo."

[aria0fgold]

Fill the Empty Spaces

Aubrey looked up at the ceiling as she balanced herself on her toes, up and down, she shifted her weight with a pout. Waiting for a boy called Omori, she continued her mission without ever knowing who he actually is, all Aubrey knows is that she needed to give her love letter to him. It the a most important purpose and perhaps the only one she had.

So there she stood, between two rows of lockers from both the left and the right, with a letter securely clutched in her hands behind her back. Without a clock to keep track of time, it felt like an eternity of waiting for a boy whose features start to blur.

Aubrey sighed, her brows furrowing as she looked down at her letter. It was then when her eyes widened and mouth agape. What was once a white envelope sealed with a pink heart became a deep purple with its seal now white. Filled with both confusion and worry, she opened the envelope to find a black paper inside with a with written in white ink.

“Open the locker to your left“

It was signed with three shapes, a circle, a square, and a triangle.

Aubrey glanced at the locker beside her, it looked completely normal with nothing seemingly out of place and surely she would’ve noticed anyone that passed by her yet no one did.

More importantly, how did my love letter get changed?! Now I’m gonna have to redo it!

With a slight frown, Aubrey looked back at the letter again. Although she had many questions about such a mysterious letter, she couldn’t help the feelings of excitement and curiosity bubbling inside her.

Maybe a little peek won’t hurt...

There was nothing much for her to do but wait and so, Aubrey made up her mind. Taking a deep breath, she slowly took her first step forward with stiff shaky legs and before long, she found herself in front of the aforementioned locker.

With a tilted head and slightly parted lips, Aubrey slowly and quietly opened the locker, leaning her body to the side to take a peek within, the entire area was pitch black. But in the middle of that darkness, a young girl with her back facing towards Aubrey sat hunched over all alone, only her pained cries can be heard in the endless void.

Worry getting the better of her, Aubrey took a step inside and before she knew it, she was crouched behind the little girl.

“Ah... uhm... What’s wrong?“

The girl flinched and quickly turned around, a red ring surrounded her sore eyes with tears still falling from her cheeks.

But what surprised Aubrey most of all was her face, though there was not a single mirror from where she once stood, she knew, the little girl and her looks the same while at the same time, being different.

She’s like the other Aubreys... though she has strange colours...

“...Who... Who are you?“ She asked.

“I’m Aubrey!“

“What...?“ The girl frowned deeply, she tightly clutched her Mr. Plantegg closer.

“Like I said, my name is Aubrey.“ She raised an eyebrow, “Anyway, are you doing okay now? Why were you crying? In this huge dark void even...“

Aubrey looked around, finally realizing a crucial problem to her situation. As she turned back to where she entered, the door leading to this strange place had completely vanished.

WHAT?!

She hurriedly ran towards the direction, feeling through the dark to find the locker door again, to no avail.

“ARRRGHH! Don’t tell me I’m stuck here now?!“

“...What are you doing...?“

“There was a door here! It was where I came in from!“

“...You’re weird.“

Huh?

Aubrey’s eyebrow twitched in irritation.

Calling me weird with that appearance... You’re the weird one!!!

With a pout, Aubrey tried calling out to the girl but stopped upon seeing her start crying again.

"Wh-what now?" In her panic, she hurriedly approached her, sitting just in front of the girl, unsure of what to do.

"I miss... Mari... I... Why... Why did she have to... Ma... ri..." The girl tried to speak between sobs. Although, Aubrey couldn't understand it at all.

She didn't know who Mari is, perhaps it was the girl's friend, and yet she felt as though she should know her too. Despite her memories only containing of one boy.

Hesitantly, Aubrey moved closer to the girl, wrapping her in a warm embrace. It was the only comfort she can offer to a girl whose pain she couldn't understand.

Chapter 2: Coming Soon

[variousqueerthings]

Never be cruel, never be cowardly, and never ever eat pears!

WE DID IT! WE WATCHED ALL OF M*FFAT WHO (twice)! WE RATED ALL OF IT! WE FOUND SOME OF ITS VERY BRIGHT SPOTS! WE HAD FUN KVETCHING WHEN IT WAS BAD!

had a good time, yeah. I'll probably do a wrap-up post that takes a look at all the ratings and how they developed through the seasons, but overall woo! fun

sexism rank objectification (female character is ogled/harassed/turned into a sex joke by the doctor and/or a lead we’re supposed to root for and/or the camera): 2/10

sexism rank plot-point (lead female character is only there to serve plot, not to have her emotional interiority explored, or given agency to her emotional interiority): 2/10

interesting complex or pointlessly complex (does the complexity serve the narrative or does it just serve to be confusing as a stand-in for smart, this includes visually): 4/10

furthers character and/or lore and/or plot development (broader question that ties into the previous ones, at least two of these, ideally three should be fulfilled): 8/10

companion matters (the companion doesn’t always have to be there, but if the companion is there, can they function without the doctor– and overall per season how often is the companion the focus or POV of the story): 2/10

the doctor is more than just “godlike” (examines the doctor’s flaws and limitations, doesn’t solve a plot by having it revolve entirely around the doctor’s existence): 7/10

doesn’t look down on previous doctor who (by erasing or mocking its importance, by redoing and “bettering” previous beloved plotpoints or characters, etc.): 3/10

isn’t trying to insert hamfisted sexiness (m*ffat famously talked a lot about how dw should be sexier multiple times, he sucks at writing it): 9/10

internal world has consistency (characters have backgrounds, feel rooted in a place with other people, generally feel like they have Lives): 6/10

Politics (how conservative is the story): 5/10

FULL RATING: 48/100 (if I can count….)

Oh m*ffat. here at the end of all things (wrong reference) we return to tried and true standard, and by that I mean... a mess

OBJECTIFICATION: *sobs* I'M SORRY WILLIAM HARTNELL I'M SORRY HE'D DO YOU DIRTY LIKE THAT! I listed all the hamfisted casually sexist comments One says over the course of the episode, let's look at them

comment about how it'd be weird for the Twelfth Doctor to be a nurse, because he's a man

joke about how he misses Polly because she was good at dusting

another joke about women spring cleaning, aimed at Bill

"aren't all women made of glass in a way"

comment about having some experience with the "fairer sex" again aimed at Bill

also at Bill: "any more language like that you’re in for a smacked bottom"

a throwaway comment that Bill should be the person acting as caregiver to the random WWI soldier

a throwaway comment about not wanting to repeat himself about the smacked bottom

so that's a solid eight that run through a good part of the episode. lot of people have written about why this was bad, so I'll just say for this rating, honestly the gall specifically of m*ffat to talk about sexism of the past, when his era was taken to fucking task for that exact issue

PLOT-POINT: Bill is definitely Bill, because she has all of Bill's memories you see, and what are people but an amalgamation of memories, don't ask questions about where the Bill-with-Heather went... so Bill is dead I guess? (fuck off, she's with Heather, or maybe they had a dyke-drama falling out for a bit and they're travelling separately whatever floats your boat -- according to the giggle, her consciousness is alive and out there so!)

I note how much this episode functions for very similar purposes to Heaven Sent, but we'll get to thaaaaaat. but for one the companion is (basically) dead and functions solely for the Doctor's development in a way that feels like it wants to give a shoutout to the companion, but instead reads to me as the companion only matters for the sake of the doctor's development and not for their own story

COMPLEXITY: I like that this episode is fundamentally not about some terrible evil coming for the Doctor. there is no evil plan. I find it misses the mark on what the plan is, because it's a rehash of the idea of a big database, which m*ffat has done several time, and doesn't in any way interact with that in a way that recontextualises this idea, so clearly it wasn't an intentional callback to idk. do anything interesting with any of m*ffat's own ideas

I'm also (and yes yes I know I'm probably an outlier here) not a fan of the use of the Armistice for this plot -- which I go into down in politics, but the tl;dr is that the Armistice isn't plot so much as backdrop and politically suspect for the British tendency to completely erase why we still talk about WWI, but I shan't rehash (yes I do write these points out of order, as was probably obvious before)

and then, shocker, I also don't enjoy what this story did to Bill. I mean WEAT + Doctor Falls were messy benches in terms of Bill, but she was cool in them, and she was a character, and she did have a happy end, but this story is... hmmm

you know what this story is? basically Heaven Sent Pt.2 but less interesting or experimental, and the thing I disliked about Heaven Sent -- (gorgeous episode, beautifully acted, set, shot, Rachel Talalay who also directed this one is a fantastic director and this one looks good too, it's just... a not-very-good-script so what can she do?)

(sidenote: best artistic newness to come out of this era of who is Rachel Talalay, so happy she also directed for the specials, hope she continues on!) --

BUT the thing I disliked about Heaven Sent was that Clara was a non-entity. the idea of grief as a character just there to ask you questions, the sort of... retro-DW where companions suffered sometimes for not getting to do things other than prop up the Doctor (RIP Sarah-Jane's journalism career in her original run)... for an episode ostensibly going "ohhh look how sexist DW used to be," it sure did accidentally recreate one of the core issues with classic!who and undo m*ffat's own lore for Bill... one episode later???

ignore ignore ignoreeee.

the Doctor is once more talking with themself (and rusty and testimony) about themself, and fake!Bill is just there to help that monologue without saying anything about who Bill was

but yeah, this episode feels like a mix of m*ffat episode reduxes to me in construction, with Mark Gatiss thrown in there for... idk. something. he's not a bad actor in this, but it goes back to some feelings I have about the Armistice "plot" (see below)

CHARACTERS/LORE/PLOT: the Doctor regenerates! pretty big one. the other big thing is that the Doctor gets their memories of Clara back. (I've gotta be honest I was confused about the not remembering Clara stuff from the 9th season, but I'll rewatch it at some point and know a bit more about where it's going. m*ffat was never very good at clarity imo)

and that! is in fact it. actually, wait, kay, a little unfair, because I kind of like the idea of an era ending on a quieter character analysis and this episode is that in terms of the Time War and the War Doctor and all those titles that the Doctor gets (several of them... during m*ffat era + did anyone use "the imp of the pandorica" in that actual season??? but they mention the Valeyard and the Oncoming Storm too), I like that this episode parks all of that and says "and actually the point is that the Doctor tries to help everyone no matter how bad things get, including in war"

so a big lore Thing is that these ideas that have haunted this era of who are at their end. a new set of ideas are coming. I think that is quite good: "The universe generally fails to be a fairytale. But that’s where we come in"

also I've been bad at acknowledging the music of this era, but did they just fuckn bring back doomsday and the tenth doctor's final song, sung by the ood into this episode???!!! HALP!!!! it does make an explicit connection between the tenth doctor's story all the way through to this point!

COMPANIONS MATTER: lol nope. gooosh I hated the wait, hold on finding my notes: "A life is just memories, I am all her memories, so I’m her." M*FFAT SHE'S ALLEGEDLY NOT EVEN DEAD WHY IS SHE SUDDENLY DEAD???!!!!! THIS NONSENSE! peak "I can still hear her voice" nonsense

non

sense

“GODLIKE” DOCTOR: I mean, I can forgive a finale episode for being all about the Doctor, especially an era finale episode, but I do draw the line at the first doctor just existing to make m*ffat-era look good. I draw it! I am drawing it! gosh this has affected so many of the points lol

but yeah, the line about the fairytale again. I like that. I like Bill hugging the first doctor (out of the context of how the first doctor was written). there's a few lines here and there that go a tad too hard on "you're the only thing keeping all the universe in check" but it's not egregious like, say, s6 and s7 were about that

the Doctor deserves a monologue whilst regenerating. as a Treat

PREVIOUS DOCTOR WHO: I have a sneaking suspicion that this episode is one of the Main Reasons I made this exact point, because of course this is the episode where we've already mentioned that the first doctor gets SLANDERED!!!! ooh I'd be tempted to rate this one even lower for this, because it not only is terrible from a "what is this saying from a meta perspective and how does it let audience members and modern British society (and m*ffat) off the hook for the very real issues with misogyny we face today"

but in terms of this particular Point on the rating system, the general use of first doctor in this story attempts to have the first doctor interact with what is going on with the twelfth doctor and how the character has developed. while I like the idea of the first doctor briefly getting an insight into their future (and then, presumably, forgetting as is general doctor who canon), the main reason for the first doctor being there is soooo self-indulgent in a bad way

(I say, the things I like are ofc self-indulgent in a good way, but argh, m*ffat should never have been allowed to get his sticky fingers on this show, or indeed, any show)

I dislike the first doctor being rewritten to fear regeneration, because it just seems like an excuse to talk about how the twelfth doctor has mixed feelings about their regeneration. it's the same reason there's a bill potts type character, that clara shows up, heck it's the same reason they depict the armistice (we'll get to that down in politics), it's weak writing of characters who aren't the twelfth doctor in order to prop up how interesting the twelfth doctor is

why bring in the first doctor like that if you weren't going to do anything interesting with him, and for that matter, if you weren't, and it was just to have a bit of fun (fair okay, that is fair, see self-indulgent point above) then why was your take on the first doctor -- the character you're bringing in for this extra special appearance -- written so disrespectfully of the character??

how many times has m*ffat brought a popular character back just to fuck with what made them likeable in the first place and flatten them into the most surface-level version of their traits (when not just wholesale inventing terrible new ones): three times?

we do get some fun moments calling back to previous doctors but the big Thing just shows once and for all that m*ffat fundamentally didn't get a lot of the show he was supposedly such a big fan of. he liked the fanfare and the big plots, but the in-depth affection for the ethos of it just wasn't there for the most part

“SEXINESS”: I marked this down a point because I do not see any reason why Bill would bring up professor/student dynamics -- it does get immediately joked away, so it's not egregious in the way it might have been back in s5 or s6. but we do have a System, so it gets mentioned

I mention here that this point definitely got better after s7a, pretty consistently so

INTERNAL WORLD: okidoki, locations locations. Antarctica, no qualms there, that is icy. second location Testimony's ship... is a rehash of Gomez!Master back in s8 which itself was a rehash of the Library in s4. What is the greatest datebase m*ffat!!??? third location is Villengard, callback! um... is it another database, wait. I genuinely am unclear about some of this. I think Rusty just happens to have access to Testimony. but also the Doctor says that the Daleks have the greatest database. so what is the truth m*ffat why so many databases!!!???

Rusty's just vibing, I guess that's fine. fourth location Armistice day WWI. I have opinions on this down in politics, but I guess yeah, there's trenches, there's... no wait does this fit here who knows but those were definitely not Germans. I'm not rating it down for that, I just think it's funny. no germans in the trenches, just british guys with bad accents

not mentioning Tardis because always perfect in every iteration *MWUAH!* to all the Tardis

I guess the question is... do all these locations connect thematically? narratively? I guess? I know hbomberguy didn't like the plottwist that there was no evil plot, but actually I'm fine with that. it's... very loosy-goosy in construction but listen I've been rating m*ffat for a few months now, and a DW fan for a lot longer than that... loosy-goosy is not a dealbreaker for me. sure they're on Villengard now, Rusty the Dalek is there. why not? although it does show how m*ffat runs soooo hard on nostalgia and easter eggs, rather than doing something new a lot of the time... peak this episode

I do agree with his general points that this era (the m*ffat era) keeps throwing in weighty speeches and big Reveals with absolutely no proper build-up or ongoing context, and that is true, but I don't think this episode is the worst for that, it's just very noticeable because it's the last one

BUT... I can see the thread from s8 to here, I can see it. from not knowing why that face to now, I can see it. sometimes it is very difficult to find, but there's something there, and Rusty to me exemplifies that. I get it, I get what you're doing here (I think you should have been more than a cameo perhaps, but I can see it and while it's a larger m*ffat writing Problem I'm strangely more chill about it right now idk. it's the end. feeling chill)

"You are a good Dalek" never sat right with me though, if I'm being honest, but again... I can see what it's trying to do

POLITICS: IT'S WWI! and we're about to have the Christmas Armistice, a famous moment in time when the soldiers put down their arms on both sides and played football on Christmas eve. it's a moment in time that evokes a lot of understandable emotion and I understand it being used here

SO NOW I'M ABOUT TO BE A FILTHY NAYSAYER:

am I being a buzzkill if I say I wasn't sold on it being used here? it's guaranteed to evoke emotions, and so it doesn't need to actually be about anything in a narrative sense. yes it saves Lethbridge-Stewart sr's life, but what I mean is that the armistice itself isn't the story and I think it should have been if it were being used, and not just function as metaphor/backdrop for something else

so what is it doing here? two things, I'd argue:

another excuse to give the Doctor a Great Big Speech, and I wasn't a fan of it: "Never happened again. Any war. Anywhere." really? the factors that went into this particular war, where the soldiers involved were at least partly aware that they were being used as political pawns fed into a meat grinder never came up again in history? nobody ever refused for a second, sat down with people they'd been told to consider enemies, never in some small way objected to the fighting and the propaganda and the violence? not once, Doctor Who? It's just kind of a poor understanding to me of why the Armistice matters as a piece of history that could be a beautiful story in the world of Who, but instead feels akin to how England fetishises the red poppies. war becomes a sort of poetic necessity, and the Armistice was beautiful and then the war continued. Family of Blood did this better when it just out and out said that it was all bullshit and people died for nothing. the Christmas Armistice wasn't important because people learnt to get along for a second, it was important because it highlighted how stupid and pointless the whole thing was

there as a backdrop to the Doctor's development as The War Doctor and wanting to not be defined by that as they move into the next era of the tale, and that is technically fine, I liked that as its own story, but again, not so much about the Armistice itself. this could have been done with another story, why the Armistice, beyond the fact it's a Christmas episode and this happened at Christmas -- all this aside, there is also a general thing with especially m*ffat-era and soldiers. I'd have to track it, but it feels like there's a lot of stories about soldiers, about the Doctor as a soldier, that aren't necessarily about why war is... bad. why the culture that breeds and celebrates war is bad. some of them I think do actually do this (especially, interestingly, in s8 which I felt was very hit or miss), again, I'd have to check, but many of them just use soldiers as random characters because it seems to be a character Type that m*ffat era enjoys

that being said, I like the idea of the Doctor wanting to redefine themself as not the War Doctor or specifically the War Doctor meaning wanting to help just one person live if possible, no matter how bad the situation. I like that as a central thesis for Twelve's era, rounding out the narrative about the Time War

next up is the sexism... sigh, okay we covered it, but it's a mark down, because of how it lets m*ffat (and by extension the viewers) off the hook of examining everything that happens today, including on the show. bastard behaviour

FULL RATING: 48/100 (if I can count….)

gosh where to begin?

m*ffat you and I are not friends, do not pass go, head to jail for six years of messing up my favourite show. that being said, some of this story was good. a lot of the artists involved in making it gave it traits that mean that on this watch, free from the need for things to work, I could focus in on what did work without nostalgia keeping me down

I do feel like this episode is like m*ffat doing a last big "fck you" at people who thought there was real potential in this last season, like all the genderbending regeneration, having a black lesbian as our co-lead who actually feels very involved in individual plots, couldn't quite get rid of all the reasons m*ffat just... kind of sucks as a creator

is that our final statement on six seasons of doctor who? hmmm, doesn't feel so satisfying to me. I'll write out a proper thing about where I left it after all this I think, to get my feelings out properly

to narrow it in on capaldi: you were a great doctor, truly put in the work to elevate the show

gomez is iconic as the master (genuinely I think my favourite next to delgado), pearl mackie stole the show in the one season she was in and I desperately want some bill potts audio adventures, rachel talalay is a great director, and I enjoyed myself

the end

next story

[thunda-bird]

Some years back when I was in nursing school, there was an issue where I failed a clinical placement as a direct result of being given an absolutely incompetent mentor. She hadn't even been a nurse at the clinical location for long enough to qualify as a mentor to student nurses; something I found out about when it was too late to change anything. This woman lied to my face. I'd ask questions, I'd always be assured by my mentor that my performance was great, but she was giving opposite feedback to the college / facility liaison supervisor. I read her feedback and there were incidents described that were utter fiction. The woman who was my mentor was just generally, an awful awful person. I got swapped between 5 different mentors in the course of a month. This was at the height of the pandemic, I'm a 2021 nursing graduate. So my lab time had already been nuked and there were practical skills I never got to practice in lab, and everyone's clinical time was already running on a "condensed" scheduled as a result. So all this time having to be spent proving my skills over and over to new mentors before they could confidently let me care for patients on my own, meant my actual useful independent on-unit time was decimated. My entire experience was botched from day one and my mental health was never worse in my life than it was during clinical placement. I just kept it getting worse and worse feedback and I felt like I was on a treadmill, i was trying as I possibly could and nothing was fixing this shitty feedback I was getting. I learned far too late that these mentors weren't giving me honest feedback to my face and they didn't give a fuck about me. I was having anxiety attacks daily by the time they told me I failed. On one of my last days on the unit, we had a patient who was prescribed Ativan and I was asking questions to my mentor about different medications. I personally have an Ativan prescription because I have severe anxiety. I was asking my mentor "Is it possible to overdose on Ativan? Could Ativan be fatal if given in excess?" and I phrased it all like genuine questions, I pretended I'd never encountered Ativan before. In reality I was trying to get my mentor to help me figure out how much Ativan I'd have to save up to kill myself.

The day before being told I failed, I already knew. I called my parents and told them "This whole thing is making me feel like I don't want to be here anymore. Do you understand what I'm talking about when I say: Don't want to be here anymore?"

They said "This is not a conversation we should be having over the phone. Pack a bag for overnight, we're coming to get you, you're staying with us tonight."

The next day, I was told I failed my placement and I'd have to redo it. Couple days after that, I got a letter in the mail from my college telling me I made Dean's List for my excellent grades that same semester and I broke down sobbing.

I needed time to save up money to pay the fee to redo clinical, and have money in the bank so I could get through 6 weeks of full-time clinical and part-time employment. Seven months later when I redid my placement, I had one mentor the entire time. She was kind, she was honest, she was incredibly knowledgeable. I told her about my previous experience once I knew she was genuine. She told me that facility where I'd done my first placement has an awful reputation for bullying among staff. My mentor told me she'd been offered a job there multiple times and instantly turned it down each time because it is infamous for its toxic, catty work environment. On the last day of my second placement, I was told I passed with flying colors and all was well. At the end of the day I walked out of the facility and I sat in my car and I broke down sobbing in the parking lot because I knew for certain that I would've graduated the first go round if they'd given me a better mentor.

I went through all the notes I'd taken throughout the entire shitshow of my first placement, I pulled out fine-print quotes from student placement handbooks and facility mentor guidelines and I wrote out in full, item-by-item, how badly they fucked up. I had full receipts: dates, times, names, everything. I requested and received a letter from my psychotherapist giving professional testimony that I was her patient, and I had suicidal ideation and extreme distress in a timeline consistent with my placement experience i.e. this is a mental health professional attesting that I was in legitimate, severe distress during sessions on these dates. I wrote out this document and stressed over it for weeks. I had my parents look over each iteration of the document; my Dad works in a HR position in the government so he knows professionalism.

What I wanted was a change to my transcript to indicate a "Withdrawal" instead of "Failure" on my first placement, and a refund of the fees I had to pay to redo it, because I attested with all this proof that these people fucked up BAD.

I submitted the document, I got an answer within minutes from the nursing coordinator at the college, saying that there's nothing they can do because I needed to submit this document within 5 days of being told I failed, to be eligible for an academic appeal hearing. I explained, hey, I didn't do that because I was ready to fucking kill myself because of how bad my first placement experience was. I applied for an extenuating circumstance in appeal submission for health reasons. It was several months of agonizing back-and-forth with all these different admin beaucratic blahblahblah at the college. They wouldn't budge. I looked into a paralegal, it was more money than I could afford to spend on pursuing the issue.

I had a lot of friends in nursing school but because failing my first placement made it so I wouldn't graduate with the rest of my class, I let those relationships fade away. I was too ashamed to tell anyone what had happened. I didn't want anyone to know I failed. I didn't go to my graduation ceremony. I contacted the college and requested they omit my name from any lists of graduates they were publishing from the semester I graduated. When my diploma came in the mail I put it in a drawer without opening the envelope. It's still there, unopened, right now.

A few months after passing my second placement, I got a job offer from the facility where I'd done that placement. I accepted it. I'm still there today. I won an award last month for outstanding feedback from patients & families, outstanding patient care.

I looked over that document the other day and I thought going into it, 'I'm now a few years removed from that bad experience. Maybe I'll look at this and see that maybe I was unreasonable or unprofessional?'

No. I imagine being a third party reading this document and the fact is, that place where I did my first placement FUCKED UP. They didn't set me up to succeed at all. The experience I had there was so fucked up, I still have a lot of issues from it that I think will continue to take a long time to heal from. It's hard to accept that there's nothing I can do about it, nothing will ever be done at this point that can set it right. It's hard to accept that sometimes people get away with being awful.

[candle-wax-and-polariods]

i have the most vivid memory of right before my tryout this past yr (did a late tryout but i ended up leaving bc of injury) and listening to YOYOK and absolutely sobbing, like i had to redo my makeup and then getting told i was trying out with a coach i was scared of (hes not mean he just coaches mostly higher level teams and im not a higher level) and replaying the entire time until i met with the coach i was actually trying out with (i wound up trying out with his co-coach instead) and replaying in my head the lyrics “i gave my blood sweat and tears for this” “everything you lose is a step you take” and “take the moment and taste it youve got no reason to be afraid your on your own kid yeah you can face this your on your on kid you always have been” those random parts of the bridge i still to this day give credit to being part of the reason i placed bc when im anxious my technique just leaves so using those peices of the bridge to calm myself really helped my technique and yea i had the skills for the level i made but the tech is still part of the placement, and without the tech i wouldn’t have wound up where i was pre injury. anyways moral of the story is that pushing through your anxiety to give somthing one last shot before you give up for good can be very good for you, yes it scary absolutely it was but it was so incredibly worth it because it grew me as a person and because my time on the team i was on was so fufilling and fun

[yncu]

this was the worst part. being vulnerable... being pitied. yuna hated that feeling. being babied was always her favorite past time when but it came to dealing with anything that upset her, she preferred to shove it down and let it out on her own time and then get the fuck over it. but something like this was hard to swallow, the loss of trust and the sheer hurt was more than anyone could easily stomach. she wanted to run. to go outside and scream and smash things and cry. the whirlwind of emotions were like a hurricane raging through her. the storm seemed to simmer the moment that yeonjun crossed the space, pulling her into his embrace. what little semblance she had left of holding it together was immediately lost as a sob ripped from her chest. stupid. so fucking stupid, crying over a boy who hurt her feelings. she could barely breathe, but the familiar scent helped calm her. ❛ i'm sorry.. ❜ she murmured into the crook of his neck, sniffling as her hands curled into the fabric of his shirt. the sound of the waiter placing her drink of the table interrupted her spiral of sorrow. pulling back slightly, she carefully dried her tears with the napkin. now that the honesty train had left the station, might as well fess up to everything. ❛ i tried to hide it but i did a shit job, so i'm sorry for being late. i was crying earlier and had to redo my makeup. ❜ shaking her head, she ran her hands through her hair before letting out a shaky laugh. ❛ i don't even know why i'm crying anymore. i'm so angry still but i just want to forget everything. ❜ that wasn't entirely true. she wanted him to hurt as much as he hurt her but that was neither here nor there. turning her gaze to his, she gave him a soft smile. genuine despite the ache that still throbbed. fingers interlaced with his. ❛ thank you. ❜

mentally preparing for the worst, yeonjun's selfish lungs inhaled what they could. praying that the air would add patience to his short temper. yuna being the one that he could contain his composure but now seeing a hurt expression crossing her beautiful features and he was afraid that he would strike whoever hurt her. a tuck of his bottom lip in between his teeth when he copied her movement by resting his back on the chair. waiting for a response when he swore that each second felt like an eternity. "oh?" the breakup being a shock, and he hated feeling an ounce of relief. being anti-san made this seem like a small win in his book. there would be more of a celebration in his voice had he not seen the hurt plastered over the woman he loved his best friend. yuna providing the answer to his dire question hanging in his head. as quickly as his excitement came, it left. now feeling the anger that she might have possessed. "fucking asshole." mostly a mumble to himself. who in the hell would cheat on someone as perfect as her? why ruin a great thing? irritation swirled until he blew hot hair through his lips. yeonjun would have left had this been anybody else. track down san and swing until one of them would be left unconscious. his body fully prepared to stand from the chair and would have except he couldn't pull his eyes from yuna. he stood, but it wasn't to leave. instead, he scooted the chair closer to his best friend. "come here." saying it as his hand tucked behind her neck, pulling her forward until her head came in contact with neck and he cradled her close.

[beanswrites]

Ranking the SADDEST moments from Disney and Pixar movies that broke me

Before we begin may I just say that I had to redo this entire chart because I forgot Tumblr only lets me post 10 pictures so at first this chart had 21 SPOTS and I already wrote it up until like the eleventh when I realized I had to redo it.

GENERAL WARNING: This is sad, people. Like, really sad. The kind of sad that can make you cry, but also the kind that sinks in you for the rest of the day and doesn't leave until the next morning. This is just plain angst, death scenes, break up scenes, hurt scenes, you know the deal. If you aren't looking to be depressed by scenes from children's movies, please scroll away. If you are, welcome, and here's a tissue. You're gonna need it bud.

These are gonna be ranked from the least sad/tolerable to sobbing-on-the-floor kind of deal. Again, I'm sorry, but you know that I had to mix in some good ol' angst in people's dashboards. Keep in mind, this may not be too sad for u or u might feel that I missed some stuff, but these are just scenes that I considered sad.

10. Moana's grandma dying in "Moana"

Coming in on the last spot is the death scene of Moana's grandmother. I genuinely loved her character so much and I was so heartbroken and surprised when she suddenly died. It's ranked on the last spot because she later had an impact on the movie, so it felt like she was still there, which is really heart-warming and how actual death should be seen as.

9. The dad dinosaur dying in "The Good Dinosaur"

I don't know how many of you watched this movie (but you should, it's really cute!), but I think that a death scene of such an important character not even twenty minutes into the movie should be illegal. And they even had a fight before he died, so his son never got the chance to apologise! It's on this list not because it was so emotional, just because I hate when a family member who's very important dies.

8. Ian not getting to see his dad in "Onward"

Okay, I know this is not a death scene, however it still had a huge emotional impact on me. This whole movie resolves around the fact that Ian wants to see his dad, even just for a minute, so when he doesn't at the end, it's really devastating. The gesture he did for his brother is incredible, and I understand why he did it, I just wish that after all the trouble he went thru he could finally see him.

7. Ray's death in "Princess and The Frog"

Ray is one of the funniest characters in the entire movie, and this was one of the saddest death scenes Disney ever had.

Was he too good to die? Yes.

Was this the saddest part of this movie? Also Yes.

Did Disney had to do this? No.

It's really not fair, poor Ray. At least he got to be with his Evangeline.

6. Bing Bong Perishing in "Inside Out"

Bing Bong didn't actually die, however, he just kind of perished. I have to admit, he was kind of annoying to me when I first saw him on the screen, but I immediately regretted that thought when this scene happened. I love how he cared so much about Riley and Joy that he sacrificed himself for them, that was really cute. "Inside Out" all together was a really emotional movie, but I remember that the line "Go! Go, save Riley!" had me tearing up.

5. Bambi's mom dying in "Bambi"

Wow, my fellow angst lovers (I mean.. I'm assuming you like angst since you're already this far.. If you don't, than wow, you must be really curious!), we already made it to top five! The death of Bambi's mom honestly deserves a place on any chart of sad scenes, because some people even consider it the saddest. This scene is so sudden and so genuine that I still cry every time I see it, which isn't every often because I haven't watched "Bambi" in forever. Again, death of an important family member getting to me isn't anything new. But at least that made him closer to his dad!

4. The flashback scene from "Encanto"

Who would have thought that one of the saddest scenes from Disney and Pixar I would ever watch is from Disney's most recent movie: The Encanto. The scene where they showed how Abuela fell in love with Pedro was incredibly cute and heart-warming, which made his death even more tragic. There are three things that broke me about this scene:

1. The way he kissed all of his babies before trying to calm down the horse riders, before his death

2. Abuela's cry, that's so fucking raw and beautiful and horrifying and heart-wrenching in the same time that it did make me cry when I watched this two weeks ago. I think that Abuela crying here is one of the best animated cries ever

3. The entire song "Dos Oruguitas". SO beautiful and SO sad

wow my man Pedro didn't even say a word and I literately cried over him

3. Tadashi dying in "Big Hero 6"

(sorry, I couldn't find a better pic)

listen.

Listen

LISTEN HERE-

"Big Hero 6" came out in 2014 and I'M STILL MAD ABOUT THIS DEATH SCENE 7 YEARS LATER

Tadashi is one of the best (*ehm* and the hottest *ehm*) animated characters of all time and he didn't deserve what Disney gave him

NOT EVEN 20 MINUTES INTO THE MOVIE

There was a period of time I refused to rewatch Big Hero 6 just and only because I didn't wanna se Tadashi dying again. I seriously think that his death was stupid and unnecessary, plus it somehow felt rushed, and without showing his helpful side but replacing it with the "somebody has to help" BS.

Welp, I guess that fanfics are the only way any of us are ever going to emotionally recover from this *aggressively starts writing fanfics where he didn't die, but just got hurt*

2. Ellie dying in "Up"

Coming in at the second place, probably the saddest thing that has ever happened in the first 12 minutes of any movie ever. This love story and the song "Married Life" are already good enough reasons to love this movie. Even tho many people love rewatching "Up" many times, I have actually seen this movie only once. It was a long time ago, but I remember that I was like sad or something, so I decided to watch it because it seemed like a movie that would cheer me up. HUGE mistake. I cried so hard that I almost threw up, so yeah. Definitely deserves a place this high on this chart.

1. Literately the whole movie "Coco"

This is the saddest movie I have ever watched, and in my opinion, the saddest movie Disney and Pixar ever made. This is the only movie I ever watched in a cinema that I seriously considered walking out of, just because I couldn't bear it. You're probably thinking that I'm overreacting a bit, but I lost my grandpa (who meant the world to me) not even two weeks before seeing this film, so it hit me like a bus. After it, I cried for weeks on end because it still bothered me, and to this day I haven't rewatched it (like I do with the rest of Disney movies) and I probably won't. It did have it's humour and I love "Un Poco Loco", but there isn't a sum of money you could pay me to rewatch this movie.

--

That would be all for this ranking! Hope you went thru it without too many used tissues. Tell me in the comments which Disney/Pixar movies scenes are the saddest to you!

The next ranking will be much happier than this one, so stay tuned and if you want me to rate something requests are open!

[heartofspells]

Fic Ask Game

Very late to this game, but ah! @msalexwp, this is a wonderful idea! Thanks for this! (and thanks @fonkeloog for the tag!)

1. Which fic are you most proud of and why?

I’ll probably have a few different answers for all of these, because choices are hard.

At the Healing Edge of Broken will always be my baby. As difficult as certain parts of it were to write, I will forever be proud of how it turned out and the messages I managed to leave within it. 

Devil is Raging (Amen) was another incredibly difficult write, but I’m so proud of that one. The emotions that went into it, the way I think (hope) a reader can feel that heartache and grief of losing someone so completely loved and important to them, the toll it takes on a person...I still look at it and am honestly amazed at what came out of my head.

Also, Blackness Bleeds. For it to have come entirely from random microfic prompts, I’m so happy with how it’s come together (and also sobbing because i’ve got two parts left to post and then it’s over, but let’s ignore that for now).

2. Which fic did you have the most fun writing and why?

Let the Bells Chime True was so. much. fun! Anytime I get the chance to write James and Sirius together, I know I’m in for some hilarity and havoc, but this one was just above and beyond. James’ exasperation at Sirius’ panicking, Sirius forgetting he also lived in the flat with Remus and knocking on his own front door...I still laugh about it.

Family on the Mend, of course. The entire premise of that one was so ridiculous and funny. But mainly it was fun because of @tracingpatternswrites. No further explanation needed there. She’s wonderful. I highly recommend her. All the plotting we did beforehand, and even during, was thoroughly entertaining, and still is.

Twelve Days of Chaos is an old one, but that one still makes me giggle when I think of it. Plotting out all the ways Sirius would be able to drive Remus mad over Christmas holidays was a delight and a half. 

3. Which fic left you emotionally tapped and why?

Double using here, but Devil is Raging (Amen). That one struck, and struck hard. It sat in my head for at least a week before I managed to get it out. I’d be driving to work, or actually at work, doing something so random, and all those emotions would just wash over me. It was more than a little crippling. To say that I had to shake it off myself is a massive understatement. It still lingers sometimes. It was a very heavy thing. 

I have no idea at this point who’s been tagged, so I apologize for any redos. I nominate @veriableflowers, @narcissa-black-supermacy, and @nikialexx! Go forth and brag, babes!

[amyscascadingtabs]

give you my wild, give you a child

"stupid numbers, think they’re so great. i'd love to see numbers give you a baby."

inspired by that one line in 8x08 renewal, because he really did give her a baby.

read on ao3

It's been three days and Amy can't stop crying.

 Sometimes she thinks it's stopped, that she'll finally have a stable moment to talk to her husband or eat a meal in peace or facetime some of the twenty or so relatives on her list, but it feels like it’s never more than minutes before her emotions swim to surface again and something new brings out the vibrating sobs that have seemed to characterize this day. As it turns out, even newly pregnant Amy has got nothing on three days postpartum Amy.

 That she cries about the big, life-changing things doesn’t surprise her. When she wakes up after a night of minimal sleep and sees Mac in the bedside crib next to her, she cries because she’s so grateful; that everything went well, that their baby is finally here and that he's perfect beyond words. Then she cries because she thinks about what could have happened if it hadn't gone well, because she gave birth in a makeshift birthing suite in a police precinct, and so many things could have gone wrong it’s a miracle nothing did. When she gets out of the shower, she cries seeing herself in the bathroom mirror, because she's proud of her body in a way she's never experienced before. Then she cries because she also barely recognizes the person staring back at her, still looking six months pregnant except with hospital underwear and nursing pads in her bra. When she has breakfast after feeding Mac and tries to read the newspaper, she cries because so many terrible things are happening in the world all the time, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to protect this child from a world that sometimes seems to be getting more and more cruel by the day. Then she cries out of guilt for feeling that way, because she’s supposed to be enjoying this baby bubble, and what kind of mother even is she for daring to think about anything but her baby right now?

  As the day goes on, however, her reasons for crying begin to feel increasingly ridiculous. She cries because she’s so relieved to be drinking regular coffee again, then because it doesn’t taste the same as decaf and she’s gotten so used to it that the caffeine tastes weird now. She cries because the coffee goes cold anyway when Mac begins to whimper and suck on his fingers in the way he seems to do whenever he’s hungry and she has to drop everything to feed him another time. She cries when Jake turns on the television and a commercial for diapers comes on, because she can’t believe they get to buy them now. Then she cries when Mac has finished eating because the red flannel she borrowed slash stole from Jake won’t button properly, and she realizes one of the buttons has gone in the wrong hole and she has to redo the whole thing. When Jake offers to help her with it, that makes her cry too, because the way he’s not laughing at her right now but patiently trying to solve her problems is making her feel so loved she doesn't know how to thank him.

  The thing that makes her cry most of all, though, is watching Jake and Mac together. She always knew that sight would drive her crazy, and it’s part of the reason she wanted to have kids with him so much in the first place, but not even in her most indulgent fantasies about their future could she have pictured this. As grateful as she is over the fact that she gets to be a mom, getting to see Jake be a dad is a close second. He loves their son so much, and Mac so clearly loves him too, and Amy has to remind herself of the nine months she's spent carrying this child by herself in order not to feel jealous when Mac stops fussing the moment Jake picks him up. He looks so tiny when Jake holds him, the back of his head fitting perfectly in Jake's palm, and the care with which he’s handling him keeps making her emotional. He's always talking to him, sometimes whispers she can't hear and sometimes praise for her which she can, and that makes her cry too. He even chats to him when he changes his diapers, which Amy hides behind the door frame just so she can hear, failing to stifle a giggle when he asks in a fake interrogation voice what Mac has to say to his defense for making such a mess. He wakes up with her in the middle of the night when she has to breastfeed to get her endless glasses of water and granola bars when it makes her feel starving, and then he lets Mac burp him in the face and spit up on the back of his shirt before he falls back asleep curled up on his chest. He leans his chin on the top of Mac’s head to smell that perfect baby scent, running his finger over those cute neck rolls, and the smile on his face when he looks back at Amy makes her completely lose it, because this is what she dreamed of all along.

  This is what she imagined when they visited her brother Christian’s new baby shortly before they got married and Jake spent the better part of an hour making funny faces to the child in his arms. This is what she panicked over when he said he wasn't sure if he wanted kids, because she had always thought. This is what she thought of those nights after another timed round of unenthusiastic sex, trying to keep the hope alight until that single line would once more tell them not this time. She had felt it in his teary smile when she showed him that first positive test, in how hard he'd squeezed her hand at their first ultrasound when their baby’s heartbeat had filled the room, in the absolute joy on his face the first time he’d managed to put his hand on her stomach just in time to feel their son kick, and now it's right in front of her and almost too much for her heart to take.

 She's so tired, and she's sore and overwhelmed and worried about a billion different things, but she's never felt so grateful.

 That's what makes her cry floods at three a.m. when Mac seems to have finished eating and she comes back from the bathroom to find Jake still sitting up with him in bed, holding him with a hypnotised look on his face. He doesn’t even seem tired, even though he must be, is just looking at his son like he’s holding the entire world in his arms and doesn’t ever want to let go. She always knew seeing him with a baby would be incredible, those surprisingly toned biceps curling around a fragile little human and those heart eyes focused on one thing only, but maybe she hadn’t expected not being able to watch it without breaking into tears.

 “Jeez, Ames,” he says when he looks up, the expression on his face changing to one of concern. “Are you okay? Honestly?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles and dries her eyes again as she sits down on the bed. The skin on her cheeks is stinging at this point. “I just can’t believe this is my life.”

“Why not?” Mac’s pacifier glides out of his mouth, and Jake puts it back with two fingers before he can notice anything. “We’re right here, babe. We’re very much real.”

“Sometimes I thought it was never going to happen.” She hiccups. “All the times we’ve been apart. The months we fought to have him. How freaking long and exhausting being pregnant was. And now I have him, and you, and I’m just so grateful I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“That’s why you’re crying?”

“I think I don’t even know why I’m crying anymore. I’m so sleep-deprived.”

“Yeah.” Jake smirks. “But I get it. I’m really, really grateful too.”

 Mac makes a short gurgling sound that Amy takes to mean he agrees. She reaches out so his hand can wrap around her ring finger, feeling him squeezing it tight in the cutest grip. The grey striped pajamas has little mittens on it to keep him from scratching herself, but Mac gets upset whenever they pull them down, so Amy figures they'll just have to keep filing his nails instead. Their son is already both opinionated and stubborn, and she loves it about him, because she loves everything about who he is. He's perfect, and he's hers, and she still can't quite believe it even though he's right there in Jake's arms. It's all her dreams coming true, and it's making all the hard things feel so worth it.

 “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for giving me a baby,” she whispers. She’s too tired, barely even knows what she's saying anymore, but looking at the two of them, all she can think about is how incredibly lucky and thankful she feels.

Jake blinks in disbelief, grinning at her. “Wait, I gotta make sure I heard this right. Did you just thank me for giving you a baby?”

“Uh-huh?”

“And you're serious about this?”

“Well… yeah.”

“So you mean after nine months,” he says, still wide-eyed, “of you telling me, minimum a couple times a week but pretty much daily toward the end, that I could never understand what you're going through, and then you shouting some lovely descriptions at me whilst you were literally pushing him out, and also earlier this evening when you cried because I can't breastfeed him for you – you’re thanking me?”

“Some of it was a team effort,” she insists. “You helped.”

“Oh yeah, my nards sure are loving the credit.”

“Don't be gross.”

“Sorry.” He smiles, a little bashfully, stroking his fingers back and forth over Mac’s forehead instead of looking at her. “But Ames, c’mon. It was a pretty limited effort compared to what you did.”

“Maybe they’re not the same thing.” She leans her head on his shoulder. Mac is still holding on to her finger, but his grip is getting looser now. “But you were part of it too, babe.”

“Really?” He’s blushing. “What did I do that was so special?”

“Let's see. You didn’t laugh at me when I kept crying at everything the first weeks. Rosa made fun of me on a daily basis, but you just hugged me and told me everything was going to be okay. You let me sleep in when I had days off, even though I pretended I wanted you to wake me up. You fixed food for me without telling me what it was, and put it in front of me before I could feel sick thinking about it.” She shakes her head at the memory of those, few but complicated, weeks, and how hard they’d had to work around it. “You kept telling me I looked great even when my body kept changing and it all felt weird, and helped me pick out maternity wear when I didn’t want to do it on my own. I don’t know that I would have taken barely any bump pictures if you hadn't made me. You listened to all my research about the best strollers and pacifiers and cribs, and you did those courses and read all those books with me, and you came to almost every scan and held my hand so tight every time. You came home with onesies and hats because you thought they were too cute not to buy, and you gave me massages whenever I wanted them, and you even slept on the couch a couple nights at the end when I got angry at you for snoring. You barely even complained about it.”

“I complained a little,” Jake mumbles. “When you couldn’t hear me.”

“Fine. And lastly, you rode a horse through the city to get to me while I was in labor, and you didn’t even act like seeing him be born was gross.”

“I mean, it was a little bit gross.” Jake lifts Mac so he can kiss his forehead when he whimpers. “No offense, bud. I mean you looked perfect, I didn’t think you looked like a slimy alien even for a second, didn’t cross my mind, et cetera.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Point is, babe, you were there. You're here now. I know I did the actual work, but you were the one who made sure I could. I don’t know how I would have made it through without you. So… thank you.”

 He doesn't give her any witty comebacks for that, only a shy smile.

“I love you,” Amy all but whispers through the tears that fight their way through her determination to keep them in. “Both of you. So much.”

“Love you, Ames.”

She kisses him, putting her hands on each side of his thighs so she can reach over Mac. Kissing is a lot more complicated than usual when both his hands are busy and none of them wants to risk crushing their son, but it's still nice, feeling his soft lips on hers and squeezing his lower lip between both of hers for just a moment before pulling apart.

“It's hard to kiss you while you're holding a baby,” she says, and Jake grimaces. “That might be the only bad thing about it.”

“My bad. I’m just going to put him down so we can make out all night.”

“Don't you dare. He currently doesn't have a boob in his mouth and he's still not crying, you're not doing anything to risk that now.” Amy pulls the comforter up to her chin. “Wake me up when he needs to eat again and not a second earlier.”

Jake chuckles at her as she turns out the light and snuggles up close to him, but he makes no move to put Mac down or even protest, and she didn't think it was possible to love him even more. Her heart has definitely grown with becoming a mom, much like everyone told her about, but most seem to have forgotten to prepare her for how much it would also grow when it came to her partner.

 “I still think I’m the one who should say thank you,” Jake whispers just as she closes her eyes, and Amy can't help but smile. “If we're talking about who gave who a baby.”

“Jake, just accept the praise.”

“Oh, yeah.” She doesn't need to see his face to know that he's grinning. “I’ve locked it in a little box in my brain and I’m gonna keep it as gloat material forever, bringing it up when you least expect it.”

“That's great, babe.”

“Mm-hmm. We both know the truth, though.” Jake's left hand strokes over the top of her head, and Amy has to look up to see that Mac is still resting safely on his right arm and doesn't seem to have noticed a thing. Another tear fight its way down her cheek at the thought of how safe he must feel with him. This time, she doesn’t even bother to wipe it away.

 ~

[pascalpanic]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter One

Summary: You live in Bogotá in the ‘90s, and work odd hours. No, you’re not a DEA agent, but a nurse. These odd hours prompt odd habits, like working out at 2:03 A.M. after a shift. Odd hours attract odd people, and you have a chance encounter with one DEA agent by the name of Javier Peña. Warnings: language, blood and violence (both graphic), descriptions of death and gun violence Chapter 1 W/C: 2.3K A/N: you guys! I am so in love with this fic. I already have quite a bit more written and can’t wait for you to read it! I hope you love it as much as I do! Javi deserves some softness... but not too much. this can’t all be fluff when you’re Javier Peña. Okay, this is not super canon-fitting of Narcos, I’m just gonna be honest with y’all. This is between the time of Escobar’s escape from La Catedral and his final capture and death, but also… Connie’s still in Colombia. Additionally, I don’t really have a year in mind, it’s just somewhere in that period. Please note that this is not a very lighthearted story- it begins with a death, though not of a significant character. Javier and reader both have some trauma, so please check the warnings of each chapter before you start reading. If you’re continuing on, I hope you like it! For the most part, if I use italics here when someone is speaking, it’s indicating that it’s in Spanish. I’m okay at the language, but I don’t want to butcher anything, so… just imagine it. Otherwise, it’s just the way anyone would use italics I guess.

next chapter

Chapter One

You watched a woman you didn’t know die in your arms tonight.

 She was beautiful, all dressed up to go out and party, her makeup running down her face with tears. Her lips were the painted the color of the blood that trickled from the side of them, eyes glazing over as she coughed and coughed and ruined the beautiful dress she wore. The nurses had asked what happened, and she had told them, through gurgles of blood: she had slept with one of Escobar’s men. She got too close, learned too much, and they tracked her down. 

She flatlined not long after telling the nurses around you. You had stood in the corner, paralyzed at first. You were an experienced ER nurse, nothing was new. You had seen patients die, but something about her was different. Maybe it was the way she reached out to you right before her body went limp. You didn’t make it to her bedside in time to calm her, the panic holding you down, but you finally took her hand right as she took her last breath. 

After she passed, you threw up in the bathroom, shaking and clutching the toilet. The night air had grown unbearably hot and humid, causing your scrubs to cling to your skin, and the sweat from the heaving of your stomach didn’t make things easier on you. Lorena, a fellow nurse and your best friend at work, had found you and comforted you, rubbing your back and bringing you water. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t reverse what had happened. 

Now, you sit on a bench in the staff’s locker room, redoing the ponytail holding your hair from your damp face. Your shift ended a few minutes ago, but you don’t know what to do now. You don’t feel like drinking; that would only make the visions swimming in your head worse. You know you can’t go home, can’t attempt to find sleep tonight. You look up and spot a bag with tennis shoes and spare clothing and settle your mind on at least one thing: the gym could do you some good. You change into the clothes and put the blood-spattered scrubs in the laundry pile. 

As you leave, you give Lorena a little wave goodbye and exit the building. You’re hyper-aware of your surroundings tonight, and you groan as you look at your watch and notice that it’s precisely 2:09 A.M. here in Bogotá. The walk to your fitness club is short, but your step is slightly extra hurried and your hand is on your pepper spray the entire time, extra vigilant to the fact that a hit went down somewhere around here just a few hours earlier. Surprisingly enough, no one catcalls or bugs you tonight. 

The little gym is run-down and dilapidated, and there’s no working air conditioning, but it’s the only one near you. You paid the small monthly membership fee to gain access, and you were going to use it to get in shape, you’d decided. As you swipe in and enter, the tiny fitness center looks more depressing in the fluorescent lights, no daylight to sugarcoat the atrocities of the center. There are two of every machine, a punching bag and a speed bag, two weightlifting racks, and a couple of benches. 

It’s nice that you get to work out alone tonight, you tell yourself. Even better is the fact that you now get to control the music. Desperate for a taste of home, you flip the large boombox in the corner on and begin scanning the airwaves with the dial. There’s a station in town that plays American music, and you need it more than anything tonight. You listen carefully and nearly start sobbing again as you hear Billy Joel’s voice through the speakers. With a sigh of relief, you lock your bag in the rusty lockers in the corner and head to the treadmill. It’s a beat up old thing, but this is the one you always use. It provides a little bit of comfort tonight, the familiarity of it. You turn it on low and start walking. A few moments later, you up it to a jog, mouthing along to the words of the familiar song. 

As the song ends, you push the buttons enough to enter a running speed. Your feet slam into the treadmill harder than normal tonight, feeling as overwhelmed as when you left the hospital. Your body finally works up a sweat, the physical stress overwhelming the mental stress. 

As the events of tonight replay in your head to some other song from the late 80’s, your eyes start to water. Everything was so overwhelming, and your mind is just starting to process it. You finally allow the tears to fall, mixing with the sweat coating your cheeks. It’s hard to tell which is causing more of the mess, but you let yourself cry it out as you run for the next few minutes. 

The next song that comes on is Venus by Bananarama. You almost chuckle at the fact that it’s a few years old by now, but the song is comforting. It reminds you of home, of a time before you had issues like these. You slow down the treadmill a little, singing to the words aloud once you catch your breath enough. Daring to do a little spin on the rolling surface, you groove along to the music, chuckling a little

After the first chorus, you hear a creaking noise and whip around to find a man standing in the doorway. “Jesus fucking Christ!” You shout before you can stop yourself, hopping off the treadmill and onto the non-moving one before you get flung off. Your heart is pounding from the running, only intensifying the adrenaline rush from the scare. 

The man chuckles a little, but the smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s tired- of course he is, it’s now 2:30 in the morning. “Lo siento,” you offer in Spanish, cringing at yourself and your reaction just now. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here this late,” you stutter, still panting from the running. He shakes his head lightly. “You’re American,” he says simply. In English, in a beautifully American accented voice.

Your sweaty brow furrows, a glimmer of hope sparking inside your chest as you notice that he speaks like an American himself. “So are you.”

He nods at that. “That I am,” he says as he puts his things in a locker, snapping it shut behind him. He looks at you for a moment. You’re not working at the Embassy, or he’d know you. It was rare to find an American down here that wasn’t working for the government somehow. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, looking at how tired he appears in the big mirrored wall. He’s curious, but he’s exhausted. 

You look at him for a moment. “You going to explain anything, like, tell me about yourself? Or do I have to go first?” You ask, hands on your waist as you hop back on the slowly moving treadmill, back into moving. He doesn’t respond. “Fine. I know you’re government. I’m not an idiot.”

He chuckles and tugs on his t-shirt, moving to the treadmill next to you and getting on. It’s been ages since you’ve held a conversation in English, and you missed this, missed how easily your first language flows from your mouth. “And you’re not.”

“Correct,” you nod, turning up the speed a little on the machine until you’re at a light jog. “My bigger concern was going to be why you’re here at 2-fucking-30, but I’m guessing I know the answer. You get called in around here for the hit?” He nods, starting the treadmill up and walking on it. 

“You don’t have to be so guarded, Jesus. I fucking hate Escobar, I’m on your side,” you scoff before turning up the machine until you’re running once more.

Javier shrugs. “Makes sense. How did you know-”

“She died,” you say quickly and firmly, keeping your eyes straight ahead and looking at the room around you. “Add that to your file.”

He nods, understanding a little more now. You knew her somehow. He doesn’t say a word either, cranking up the machine and heading into a jog too.

A few more minutes pass of the two of you silently running next to each other, the American music still playing throughout the gym. It’s a comfort to Javier too. Tonight was shit for the DEA- they had known Escobar’s men would be around here. They had the intel, they had everything ready, but the men somehow had escaped and left a victim in their wake. 

The frustration of everything, of the man being something close to home for you yet being a brick wall, threatens your eyes with welling tears again. “I just wanted to talk with an American,” you sigh and cross your arms, moving back into the walking stage of a treadmill. 

The man next to you gives a similar sigh, stopping his treadmill completely and offering you a hand. “Javier Peña.” You take it reluctantly, feeling the sweat of both of your hands mix, and tell him your name before retracting it and stopping the treadmill too. “So, what brings you to the gym at 2:30?” He asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the center part of the treadmill. 

“I’m a nurse. I work the graveyard shift. Bad night, a patient died because she got fucking shot for having a boyfriend and not knowing he was a narco, I need to get something out, I come here,” you shrug, unconsciously mimicking him by folding your arms as well. 

He nods at that. “I’m here for the same. Shitty stakeout, I’m pissed off, I come here.” He leaves out the part about his favorite call girl being taken, and how he needed another way to get the rage inside of him out. He walks off of the treadmill and to the weight rack, pulling a bench beneath the bar.

You turn again and turn the machine back on, slowly jogging. “I see. Odd hours to be here, that’s why I asked,” you say simply. “And to see another American at such a time. I haven’t interacted with one since I came here.”

Javier nods, adjusting the weights on the bar. “Yeah. Weird,” he nods. “And that you’re an American who isn’t working for the government and you’re down here. What, you got a husband who works for us?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard for a moment. “No, don’t have a husband in the first place,” you admit, adjusting the ponytail holding your hair up. “It’s a long story.”

“We got time,” he shrugs as he gets on the bench beneath the rack, looking at you in the mirrored wall. Even with the sweat and the stress of working out, he notices that you’re gorgeous. You have a nice body, and even your face is pretty while you’re working out.

You shake your head. “Fine, if you really want to hear it.”

“Might as well. It’s that or more of this fucking Wham! music, and I’m sick of George Michael.”

“First of all, first person here gets the music, so mind your manners.” This finally earns a chuckle from the man, and you want to smile but it just can’t come. “I came down here with a man. He’s a citizen here. We were going to get married, but he left me. That was a couple of months ago now,” you admit, the tears beading in the corner of your eye again. “My work visa was still valid, and I renewed it so I can keep working at the hospital. I don’t really have anyone down here except the girls I work with, but I like helping out. They need me.” He nods a little as he listens, breaking his focus as he starts his reps with the bar.

“And you’re government, so that explains everything I need to know about you,” you continue to babble. “One of the girls I work with has a husband who’s at the Embassy. Murphy,” you say offhandedly. 

Javier’s attention is caught, and he sets the bar on the rack. “Murphy?” He asks, and you turn your head to look at him and give him a nod. “No shit. That’s my partner.”

You chuckle slightly and look back at him, stopping the treadmill. “So you know Connie?”

Javi nods. “Yeah, great gal. She could do better than Steve,” he says, sitting up.

You laugh softly at that. “From what I’ve heard of him, I agree. She’s a really great girl, you’re right,” you nod in agreement, looking back at him. “She’s never mentioned you. She says her husband’s in janitorial, but we all know that’s not true. What, you guys CIA? DEA?”

Javier nods again. “DEA.”

“I see,” you say, folding your arms and leaning against the machine. “Can’t make you many friends around here. I learned pretty quickly to keep my mouth shut about being a gringa. They can usually tell though.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles and cracks his back.

You bite your lip as you look at him, your voice watery when you can finally speak again, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion again. “It’s nice to talk to someone in English again,” you admit with a forced smile. 

He can read your eyes easily. You’re a nurse, and you told him that the victim died. You saw it. “It is,” he nods, reading your pain and trying to show you he empathizes with it. Your eyes are beautiful, he notices as he looks into them. So much more hope and trust than anyone else he works with, but the pain in them is unbearable. He looks away, leaning back on the bench to lift again.

“So where you from in the States?” You finally ask when the silence is too long. 

“Laredo, Texas,” he chuckles. “Yourself?”

[blackswan18]

Too Good To Be True - Ch. 19 | kth(m)

Summary: Kim Taehyung is a world famous idol in the hit K-pop group, BTS, and you are his personal stylist. Per your contract with Big Hit, he is absolutely, 100% off-limits, and yet, you are completely and hopelessly in love with him. You’ve spent years trying to shove your feelings down, but it’s getting harder and harder to ignore and hide them, especially considering the way Tae always treats you. He’s affectionate and protective and sometimes outright flirtatious, but that’s how he is with everyone, right? Confused, frustrated, and lovesick, you find yourself wondering if it might finally be worth risking your career and your heart to find out.

pairing: Taehyung x reader

genre: Idol! au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, friends to lovers, slow burn

rating: 18+

word count: 2.5k

warnings: cursing

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Chapter 19: Talk To The Tatas - Part 1

You almost bailed on your date. Almost. After sobbing in the car in the parking garage for the second time in two weeks, you almost said fuck it and just drove home.

But, you didn’t. You pulled yourself together, stopped at a gas station to redo your makeup, and showed up at that restaurant.

Only Minho never came.

Worse than that, he never even called or texted to say he wasn’t coming. You messaged him a few times when you first arrived to let him know you were there, but he didn’t respond. After an hour of waiting alone at the bar, your phone finally buzzed, but it wasn’t Minho that texted you.

[Taehyung 7:56 PM] I’ve tried so hard not to text you because you’re on your date and I know I shouldn’t be bothering you, but I just needed to tell you again that I’m so incredibly sorry for everything. Hurting you and making you cry is the worst thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make it up to you, but I promise I’m going to try.

[Taehyung 8:08 PM] I know I don’t have the right to ask, but could you please just let me know when you get home? I won’t be able to sleep until I know you’re safe.

On the verge of spilling fresh tears, and realizing Minho was not coming, you finally gave up and went home.

Once there you then laid in bed crying, out of embarrassment or frustration or love sickness, you didn't know, until it was late enough to pretend like you’d just gotten home from your date. You had no idea what to say to Tae, but you knew you needed to say something; he absolutely would stay up all night worrying if you didn’t. At a complete loss for words, you sent the only thing that made sense at the time.

[11:25 PM] 🏠

Not thirty seconds later he responded.

[Taehyung 11:26 PM] 💜

The purple heart was Tae’s most commonly used emoji. As the one who coined the phrase, ‘I Purple You’, he was the reason it had become a BTS symbol. He sent it all the time, and to everyone, so it had long lost its novelty, had long since made your own real heart flutter, but him sending it just now felt particularly meaningful.

Even though you were fighting, even though you’d both said hurtful things and you’d walked out on him and ignored his apology, he still cared. With that tiny, comforting thought, you finally fell asleep.

~~~

Tae didn't say anything the rest of the weekend, but you weren’t surprised, nor did you blame him. You hadn’t even sent a one word answer to his apology, you sent a one emoji answer, so he clearly thought that you wanted space. Part of you did, you were still worried he’d realized how jealous you were of Jisoo and were now also mortified for him to know you’d been stood up, but part of you wanted nothing more than text him or call him or just show up at his freaking apartment. Even though he’d hurt you, and you’d then pushed him away, he was still the person you wanted and needed most right now.

You were incredibly nervous come Monday, still unsure what to say or how to act, but it ended up not mattering. The guys had dance practice all morning and then meetings all afternoon so you didn’t actually see him once all day.

Later that afternoon you were in the studio trying and failing to focus on the words contained in the email you had just received from Mrs. Choi. For reasons you will never understand, she had picked your concept proposal for the Dynamite music video. It was a huge opportunity, one you were incredibly excited about, but it was going to mean a lot of extra work. Honestly, though, that wasn’t a bad thing. Now more than ever you needed a distraction.

Around 4:00 you stepped out to grab coffee from the café on the first floor of the building. Their macchiatos weren’t the best, but they were cheap and convenient. Your body was so addicted to them that it preemptively crashed around 3:45 PM every day in anticipation for the boost to come.

You were only gone for about fifteen minutes, but when you opened the door to the studio the room looked completely different.

Spread out all over the place, on top of chairs and the couch and the counters and the floor, were no less than twenty five Tata plushies, each one with a balloon attached to one hand and a Post-it Note stuck to the other.

Most of the balloons were birthday themed; there was a big ‘2’ and a big ‘6’, cake and champagne bottle-shaped ones, and ones of all different colors and patterns that said ‘Happy Birthday’. But, there were also some random ones including a character from your favorite anime show, a tube of lipstick, and one regular balloon that had a picture of a lady with a striking resemblance to Mrs. Choi drawn on it in permanent marker.

As you walked in and got closer to the Tatas, you realized you couldn’t read what was written on any of the Post-it Notes, not because the words were too small or too messy, but because they were all written in English.

You were standing there in the middle of the room, mouth agape, trying to wrap your head around what you were seeing, when suddenly you heard a voice, your favorite deep, husky voice, start singing behind you.

Happy birthday to you Happy birthday to you Happy birthday dear Y/N Happy birthday to you

You turned around to see Tae standing in the doorway. He was holding another Tata in one hand and a small gift bag in the other. Attached to his Tata was a polka dot balloon that said ‘I’m Sorry’ on it and a Post-it Note that you guessed probably said the same. His smile was small and hesitant at first, but instantly grew when he saw that you were positively beaming.

“Tae...what is all this?” you asked in amazement as you gestured around the room.

“This is your slightly belated birthday present and very belated apology,” he said sheepishly.

You looked around the room again as a million questions ran through your mind. How had he managed to get all this stuff over the weekend? Where in the building had he been hiding all of this? How did he set everything up in only fifteen minutes?

You turned back to look at him, an amazed and wonderfully confused look on your face, to find him staring at you with his big, boxy Kim Taehyung smile.

“So, do you want your present first or do you want to talk to the Tatas first?” he asked excitedly.

“Talk to the Tatas?” you repeated with a laugh.

“All of the Tatas have a special message for you, but they only speak English so I have to translate for them,” he said matter-of-factly.

In that moment you were simply blown away by the creativity, cleverness, and uniqueness of his big, beautiful brain.

“Talk to the Tatas,” you said happily. “I definitely want to talk to the Tatas first.”

“Ok then we’ll start with this Tata right here,” he said as he gestured to the one in his hand.

“This Tata is so incredibly sorry for everything. He’s sorry that he forgot your birthday. He’s sorry for making you feel bad about your date. He’s sorry that he hasn’t been a good friend to you lately. And, he’s so, so sorry that he made you cry,” he said sincerely, looking you in the eye as he spoke.

You went to respond, but found that you couldn’t. A little lump had formed in your throat and it rendered you speechless, lest you begin sobbing.

“There’s a lot more that I have to say and explain,” he went on. “But for now I just want you to know that I am so sorry for hurting you.”

“Thanks, Tae,” you finally managed to get out. “I really appreciate you saying that.”

You gave him a small smile as you dabbed at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. He returned your smile, but you could see that he too had gotten a bit emotional. The two of you took a moment to breath and compose yourselves before heading off towards the next Tata.

Around the room you went ‘talking’ to all the different Tatas. Their messages were a mixture of serious and funny, heartfelt and ridiculous, but each of them was so incredibly Tae . Some of your favorites included:

You’re the best stylist ever.

I’m a jerk (who is very sorry).

YOU’RE SO OLD NOW.

Mrs. Choi smells like dead cats.

I missed you.

By the time you got to the last Tata, your stomach hurt from laughing and your heart felt light as a feather. For the first time in over a month you felt like you had your best friend back.

“What about this guy?” you asked, gesturing to the Tata sitting in Tae’s chair. He was holding one of the ‘Happy Birthday’ balloons, but he had no Post-it Note. “Where’s his note?”

“This Tata is very shy,” Tae said quietly. “He has a special message too, but he’s not ready to tell you yet.”

“Right now he just wants to say ‘Happy Birthday Y/N’,” he continued.

Despite everything that had happened over the last month, you could not stop the butterflies that began fluttering in your stomach when he said those first words.

“But anyway,” he said, breaking the little silence that had followed his previous statement. “It’s time for your present!”

At that, he handed over the gift bag he had been holding. You opened it up and carefully removed the tissue paper to reveal a small, cylindrical object at the bottom. Pulling it out and placing it in the palm of your other hand, you realized instantly what you were holding.

It was a vintage-style music box, the kind that snaps open like a clam. It was covered in an ornate gold design of the moon and stars that included tiny diamonds dotted throughout. Opening it revealed an image of the night sky on the underside of the lid and a little dancing figurine in the middle.

Your hand shook ever so slightly as you reached underneath for the winding key. After turning it a few times, you held your breath as you waited for the melody to begin.

Clare de Lune

Just like that, the lump in your throat was back. As you stood there watching the little figure twirl around, you thought for sure your heart would burst.

“I know you love this song and that it helps calm you down. I thought you could keep this with you in case you ever miss your Mom or get overwhelmed or just want a little happy moment,” he said hesitantly.

No words. You had no words. This was without a doubt the most wonderful present anyone had ever given you before. It was so thoughtful and meaningful and beautiful too. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Unable to speak, you did the only other thing you could think of to show your gratitude. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. In an instant, he was hugging you back. Your mind immediately flashed back to the last time you had hugged him, your night at the studio, only this hug was nothing like the friendly one you’d shared in the parking garage. This was an embrace, your face buried in his neck, his cheek pressed to your temple. It was warm and intimate and lasting entirely too long. For a moment, you completely forgot where you were, forgot that you should absolutely not be touching him like this, especially not here.

You wanted nothing more than to stand there and hold him like that forever, but eventually, somewhere in the recesses of the rational portion of your mind, an emotional override button was pressed and you let go.

“Wait, Tae. How on Earth did you get this music box over the weekend?” you asked, finally pulling away from him.

“Oh, I actually had that made like two months ago,” he said, suddenly sporting a light blush. “Right after our night in the studio.”

“I just thought of it one day while I was sitting here and you were humming this song while doing my hair. I knew it would be the perfect birthday present so I ordered it before I forgot,” he continued. “It’s been sitting in my closet for over a month.”

The fact that he bought this for you months ago made your heart swell and almost made you forget that he then didn’t remember to give it to you on your actual birthday.

As if reading your thoughts, his face suddenly grew serious as he sat down and motioned for you to take the chair beside him. He steepled his fingers and brought them up to his face as he opened and closed his mouth several times. His brain was clearly working overtime as he tried again and again to collect his thoughts. Eventually, after several minutes, he took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and looked at you.

“There is so much to say, and it’s hard to know where to start, but I just want to say again that I’m so sorry for how I’ve acted the last month,” he said solemnly. “I got so caught up with recording my song that I wasn't paying attention to what was happening around me.”

“Wait,” you said confusedly, giving him a curious look. “What do you mean by your song?”

Clearly delighted that you had picked up on that subtle word choice, a tiny little grin formed on this face as you asked that.

“So that’s the thing,” he said excitedly. “It ended up being my song that we recorded, not mine and Jisoo’s song, not Jisoo’s song that I’m featured on. My song. Technically, she did the backing vocals for it, but she’s not officially considered to be featured on it. I actually don’t even think she’ll be listed in the credits at all, come to think of it. That’s how little she contributed.”

You sat there blankly staring at him for a whole minute, trying desperately to process all of what he had just said, but you were struggling.

“Tae...I am so confused,” you finally let out.

“I can see that,” he said with a laugh. “But, OK. Time for me to tell a long story.”

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