#the face of a dog who knows from experience that this move may end in getting smacked or bitten

[therealslimshakespeare]

|| Sanchez ||

Requested? ☑️

Circa: October 1943

Summary: Upon being shot down on his last mission, Major Gale Cleven finds himself in the company of a female officer -and not one from the 100th. While already inclined to show solidarity, the increasing threat towards his fellow officer forces him to act. The jeopardy such action puts him in is more than he could have ever estimated, as is the fallout upon finding women he knows in the stalag

Cast: Cleven, Sanchez, Demarco, Brady, Egan, Kendeigh, Lu Smith, Ida Brady

Author’s note: the first portion of this segment is in the immediate time frame of Gale being downed. The second portion follows the events of What Took Him So Long? the mirroring of both these segments will hopefully prove enjoyable but I worry perhaps confusing

Content Warning: due to the disturbing content listed below the cut, I understand some may choose not to read this segment. If you’d like an abridged summary of the events herein to keep up with the series, I’d be happy to supply that 💋🌹

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply 18+ additionally for this chapter there are warnings for depiction of rape. This entire arc was produced on popular request, i have tried to portray the brutal events found herein in the most elevated and respectful terms I found effective. I would not call it graphic, however, it’s not vague either. And it’s rape. Male and female. Depiction of rape and discussion of past rape. Violence as well, obviously, fucking Nazis, ptsd from said assaults, choking, hints of childhood trauma, mentions of medical experiments. General cloud of dread. With light at the end of the tunnel.

Note: my blog and writings are strictly 18+, this means that we are all adults here enjoying free connection and art. The themes of this particular story are mature, at times harrowing and for some, potentially intolerable. No worries if the latter is your case, feel free to move on or block tags. On the other hand, please take responsibility for your reading, I provide warnings as a courtesy but I cannot cover them all and if something doesn’t sit right, please exercise adult autonomy and make your way to the nearest exit. Xo

When Gale extended his hand to aid the next prisoner up into the truck, he hadn't anticipated one so small or so brown. Busted knuckles that had rivulets of crimson pouring over copper flesh; he was mildly fascinated by it. His concussed mind flashed to ‘Lu Smith and her shaded face, before belatedly realizing it was indeed a woman’s lighter frame he was hauling in beside him to the shrill insistence of German threats.

The woman who flopped on the bench opposite him, legs spread wide and boots braced with a brow like a thundercloud, was not Smith. And for that Cleven was relieved.

Last he had seen of Ida and Graham’s fort, they’d been carrying on over Breman, and while he had every reason to think few had made it back, who’s to say they weren’t lucky? And Ida could fly a tin can on the fumes of an alcoholic's breath. Smith wasn’t here, Ida either, and he tried to arrange his mind to that, to not even let the doubt creep in, and instead took to studying the newcomer in between the passing of more downed airmen filling the benches.

The incessant barking of their dogs must have been half strategy, the throbbing in his back working its way into his head as the minutes went by. It had taken too long for them to be brought to Luftwaffe jurisdiction, he knew that much, even with giving them the benefit of the doubt for wartime communication failures and muddy roads. He’d been well read and prepared and braced for the outcome of being downed since before they left the states, grilled his men on procedure, on their rights, their privileges as prisoners of war, also on their duties to silence. The fact he’d never truly thought it would happen to him didn’t mean he wasn’t perfectly knowledgeable about the requirements.

So far Cleven had managed not to say a single word to anyone, the farmer with the pitchfork probably didn’t speak English and a wheezy “please don’t kill me” seemed like a flaccid bunch of last words that Gale refused to let off his tongue.

Instead he let them haul him to the nearest company of Wehrmacht soldiers and had been marched for ages by them, had seen and given Benny a nod when his column of prodded, sheepskin wearing sad bastards merged with Buck’s column of the same. Kendeigh hadn’t been there; crew get themselves killed in a hard landing as often as an exploded plane.

Cleven thought about breaking the silence now to ask the woman opposite where the hell she came from, her patches not what he was used to. But no, bad precedent, he stayed quiet and watchful as the Krauts pushed the last of the men into the overcrowded truck and snapped the tailgate shut. Someone could easily make a run for it by jumping out, but the jeep following behind at a steady few yards with a bristling assortment of machine guns suggested against it.

Once the truck began to move, Benny leaned forward beside him on their jostling journey and motioned in an ingratiating arc at the woman’s patches. “I don’t know those.” he said what Gale had been thinking, half yelling over the clamor of voices and the roar of the truck engine, “Looks half like varsity shit.”

Gale wasn’t sure his kindhearted co-Pilot meant those sorts of digs out of innocence or as a tactic to get reticent folks to defend themselves with the very information they might has previously withheld. As said, Gale didn’t know, but he knew it never failed. The woman went from scowling at Cleven -a pastime she had set herself to with such diligence that every time he tried to make discreet observance of her she already had her eyes on him- and turned to Benny.

“201st, fighters.” well that explained nothing and everything. “Sanchez.” she offered Benny after a beat, maybe knowing her name was hardly damning considering her looks.

Kinda like how Benny looked and sounded likely to have a name that started with “De-“ and a dog named meatball. “Eagle Wings, huh?” Benny nodded at the patch. “And a uh, uh triangle.” he couldn’t make it out all the way from his seat, but Buck could -the patch read ‘Mexico’ above a magnificent spread of Eagle Wings with a green triangle as the body.

They were all a long way from home.

“Aztec,” Sanchez tweaked it, “Aztec Eagles.”

“Mexican?” Benny asked, the accent wasn’t one he commonly heard in Philly but even crappy shows and movies got some things right, and Benny had seen his fair share of westerns.

“Sanchez.” she repeated instead and was back to scowling at Buck.

They seemed to drive for all day, until the light began to dim and what was a pleasant day turned into a misty chill as evening grew near.

The truck came to a halt at last, barbed wire and mud about them and the painted checkpoint arm whirled by as they drove into the dulag and came to a final stop. In the quiet that followed the cut of the engines, the rain was suddenly audible, pattering on the canvas above them. At the resumption of barked order and harsh commands the prisoners stood up, gingerly hopping out of the truck with just enough quickness not to be hit and just enough slowness not to be shot. Didn't help much anyway, muzzles were pointed quite liberally around here and you just had to hope the trigger fingers weren’t so generous.

The dulag guards turned away a good seven of those remaining after the packed truck had dispensed its human cargo. They didn't have enough room.

Go up further, to the next one, go to Frankfurt -those seemed to be the directions.

Directions their drivers and guards took poorly; it was late, it was drizzling and Buck could guess how little they enjoyed the on-edge detail of ferrying outnumbering prisoners around the countryside. They cut down on the number of guards, five to go with: a driver, two in the jeep, one more in the cab and another supposed to be with them in the truck back.

After a bit more haggling, the Dulag accepted three more prisoners. Cleven made sure to stay put, he didn’t know the foreign arguments well enough to decipher all but half the protesting seemed to be over who got Sanchez. And he sure as hell wasn’t leaving her here without a superior officer as defense. A dulag guard had hopped up into the truck and shined his flashlight at Buck’s markings, that’s when he mentioned something about Frankfurt.

Benny didn’t move without Cleven and so, when the truck took off again into the evening gloom, it was Buck and Benny and Sanchez and another hapless kid who looked all of fifteen and was, according to his over liberal offer of conversation, a scared shitless waist gunner.

“They’re arguing over you.” Cleven finally chose to speak up. It could get rough, the guards’ distinction of her. He felt it with a premonitory dread that came from too many right predictions as a child. He hated this feeling, he hated how right it usually was, he hated how it was usually met with folks telling him he worried too much. He’d taken to not saying much the older he grew, watching things play out, grieving over foreseen misfortunes all on his own. Until he met Bucky. But right now he had to speak up, this time he had to.

Yet Sanchez remained scowling, “They argued over you.” she retorted.

Gale gave her a tight smile, “I’m a major.”

“I’m a lieutenant.”

“I can see that.” he proceeded cautiously, “But they just took in a baker's dozen of lieutenants. No problem. But they didn’t take you.”

“Didn’t take him either.” she nodded to Benny.

“His captain’s ass never left the seat.” Cleven said, “You were on the ground, ready, they put you back. I’m tellin’ you, if they can’t decide who you are, where you go, I’m gonna need your assurance you’ll fight like hell with me. For recognition of it.”

-Just don’t say I worry too much, Gale thought desperately, he could almost feel Bucky’s gentle squeeze of his shoulder, like shaking out the tension in a cat as he said the same; his back was so stiff he thought it might snap if Bucky did it now but -but John wasn’t here. Thank Almighty God.

“You know you look more German than most of our guards.” Sanchez replied and Benny suddenly snapped to attention beside him at that. “I’m not assuring you of shit.”

“He’s not a damn spy!” Benny insisted, more loudly and vehemently than was maybe best with guards all around.

“You know this how?” she asked, unmoved.

“He’s my goddamn co-Pilot.”

“Pilot?”

“Ya think he just ripped his own cheek open for a part?”

Sanchez swayed with the jerk of a pothole and shook her head, “Maybe you both are.”

Smart, and a worse worrier than himself. Cleven liked her immensely and stared out the flap of the tarp, watching the rain pour down, dusk fully settling over everything outside and the trailing jeep’s headlights poured into their little haven, whiting-out his vision of the road.

“I’m not leavin’ this seat ‘till a Dulag takes you.” he told her, it was all he had to give. For her part she seemed determined to wait and see before expending any thanks. He didn’t expect it.

They weren’t in any city when the truck brakes checked them in a squeaking lurch, followed by the sound of tires turning off gravel and into squelching mud and then the echoing silence of the engine being cut once more. This wasn’t Frankfurt, and this was no engine failure. From the headlights of the following jeep, all Gale could make out was trees. So many damn trees. It had stopped raining.

“This isn’t Frankfurt.” He remarked to the guard sitting with them, the sullen fellow had not said a word for five hours and he didn’t start spilling now.

The others made an appearance when they joined them in the truck, hopping up with muddy jackboots and the clatter of what seemed to be a portable camp stove, along with rucksacks, utensils and the like. They unwound rope from the cloth neck of one sack and poured out oats, and another seemed to have been wrapping some preserved sort of meat. Gale eyed the discarded rope where it lay on the floor with the lust of a man used to working with what he was given, while Benny stared with barely concealed longing at the now simmering concoction on the tin stove.

These guards made conversation, or at least they tried. But not even the scared little gunner was in the mood to reply, and so it remained one sided. His boys hadn’t eaten since chow this morning at the crack of dawn, and Cleven didn’t blame them for their hunger but his own stomach was in loathsome, uneasy knots, and by observance of Sanchez’s wary sullenness, he figured he wasn’t alone in that. A dinner break for the Germans was one thing, he guessed, but the solitude was oppressive along with the forced proximity of all these grinning enemies stirring and chopping their porridge bits and laughing amongst themselves on the benches and floor next to them.

When they offered Demarco a hunk of whatever they had prepared, to his credit, Benny didn’t even acknowledge them. Their offer had been mocking enough, even without understanding the language.

“You must be hungry, ja?” The one with sergeant stripes cajoled, greasy teeth flashing, the muggy smells of rain and sweat and steaming food were all so noxiously trapped under the tarp, Gale had to bite his cheek to keep down the salient precursors of vomit.

The sergeant tried it on Sanchez next, insistently holding out a hunk of the meat impaled on the knife tip. She wouldn’t even look at him and that was an admirable thing until it served to anger him, and the man reached out, hand snagging in her waistband and hauling her smaller body beside him on the bench with ease. Benny was almost to his feet when Cleven fetched him back with a grip of his own, sitting him down firmly.

He managed to keep his voice perfectly neutral when interrupting the man’s flashlight lit perusal of Sanchez’s frozen features, “Hey, she doesn’t mean any harm, you let her go now.”

The sergeant looked up, less surprised to have gained a reaction from Gale but maybe at hearing his voice at last. “Only trying to be good hosts, ja? She von’t eat. Neither you?”

“Just not hungry.” Gale countered mildly.

“But ve must thank you,” the Sergeant laughed, and Sanchez stayed stiff as board in his grip, shying away from the still offered meat as much as the touch “so many parcels of gifts you drop.”

“Let her go.” Gale insisted, gently.

“She not drop zeez parcels?” The sergeant asked.

“She’s not a bomber.” Gale grit his teeth, “I do the dropping.”

The sergeant pulled her jacket apart in curiosity, thumbing at the patches, “Not’z a bomber?” Cleven felt his tongue go numb as the man tugged at her clothes, it was a curious inspection so far and yet- “Then it’s you should be given meat, ja?” The man left off his tugging and rose from his squat on the floor to approach Gale, the man was huge upon closer acquaintance, “For Hamburg,” he insisted through gritted teeth, his anger more palpable up close, and he pressed the meat to Gale’s tightly shut mouth, “and for ze little ones you turned to ash with your parcels.”

Gale kept his jaw locked and his mouth shut, eyes meeting the sergeants’, unblinking and unsorry.

“Open!”

Gale didn’t obey. The man sighed as if he were actually a host turned down. Gale could feel Benny’s eyes on him, wary, careful, his whole posture shockingly good at blending in, a damn good man to have next to you in a place like this.

“We have no beer,” the man confessed, knife and meat still pressing insistently, “or else we would offer it for such heroes. But not to fret, you have provided refreshment, ja? Full belly and beer iz ze best, full belly and a voman iz better.”

Carefully Gale turned his head away from the offered chunk, “That's a prisoner of war, not a woman.” He saw how little effect that had and added for benefit, “And your superiors are waiting for her.”

The man scoffed loudly and turned towards his men who were, Gale could now perceive past his bulk, scraping the last of their tin plates without so much as looking at the bowls -they were eying her. With intent. The kind of intent Gale wished he didn’t recognize but he did, carnival dins and race tracks after dark being hardly the best places to grow up unless you wanted to learn how often folks really would act on their worst impulses.

Not tonight, not if he could fucking help it. By Benny’s taut posture beside him, he knew he had an ally in the assumption that this would end in a fight. He eyed the rope lying on the floor.

“Eat with us.” The sergeant insisted, “She von’t be alive to tell on you, prisoners make a run for it all ze time. Must be shot. Ve’ll let you fuck her too.”

Oh Jesus- “Your superiors know-“ Cleven reminded, voice starting to shake in rage from the keyed up adrenaline he was barely keeping a lid on.

“-zey know emergencies happen.” The man snapped, almost annoyed at Gale’s persistence, as if he expected less protest from an airman at the prospect of one of his own being abused. “Zey would send more guards if zey cared as much as you ‘sink.”

The men had finished their bowls, they set them aside on the bench, pushing the stove away as well. Clearing the floor.

“Or fuck, oh fuck.” the gunner kid, who Gale had almost forgotten about on his end of the bench, began to panic, sounding like he was retching his prayers.

Gale met Benny’s eyes, then down to the rope on the floor, then back up. It was good to have a man who got it. Always got it, his Benny.

“Can I go first.” Gale asked, and held his breath.

“Vat?” The sergeant lowered the knife in surprise, the meat chunk slid and fell to the floor but neither cared.

Gale let his lips twitch, his eyes conspired, “I don’t wanna catch whatever shit you fuckers got.”

He could hear more than see Sanchez begin the thrash on her bench but she made no progress, maybe already being held. “And you von’t tell?” the sergeant asked.

Gale gave him a look that could be universally interpreted as ‘whadda ya think?’ and bent to retrieve the meat nugget from the muddy floor, right by the sergeant’s boot, the rope was just out of reach. When he straightened his back he popped the soiled peace offering in his mouth, he chewed it loudly, the rush of an imminent attempt thrumming so strongly in his body it replaced the queasiness for a moment. The sergeant clapped his hands together, once, in appreciation for the despicable deal.

Gale knew they wanted nothing more than sport of him, it was no comradely favor to allow him to go first, it was blackmail and it was likely something worse once he got his pants down. But they could all play along, he just needed to get close to her. They had her jacket off already, her boots, too.

This didn’t really have a chance in hell but if she was like Ida, or Smith or anyone else, she’d rather be shot barefoot than have this happen to her. Gale supposed dying with German ham stuck in his teeth was about a draw with being killed via pitchfork prongs through the belly.

He didn’t process much when he stood up: not beyond the two paces it took to get to her, the men holding her on the bench seat and wrestling at her clothes, the way Benny didn’t say a word. He really was thinking of Benny in those paces, hoping his co-pilot was ready -it didn’t occur to him even once that Demarco might be as fooled as these sick fucks around them, letting go of her all too quickly at the prospect of a degrading show.

Cleven had his hand around her necktie, pulling her off the bench before he’d even really registered being close enough, he’d forgotten how to hold his face for this act but maybe the mad determination passed for lust, he didn’t think of anything but yanking her up when he felt a sudden, stinging slice against his right cheek. She’d been waiting for this moment, smart thing had a penknife hidden somewhere, it was something one of the Banshees would have pulled, and the mirroring slice was disorienting enough that he wasted a good two seconds in smarting surprise as warm blood trickled down his chin and the guards began to shout.

Someone else wrested the knife from her grip, someone else held onto her wrist now, his moment of shocked pain wasted his fucking plan.

Still, he tried.

Cleven yanked her further toward the middle of the space, spun her around despite her incessant clawing -and maybe the actions seemed to the guards in accordance with his plan, plus some anger from the wound. He didn’t know what they thought, he only knew that no one halted him, they just gathered closer to see, never expecting it, just as he didn’t expect to manage it when he got her turned to the open flap of the tarp and bodily hurled her out its back, into the night.

Benny must’ve tripped the first one, a clunky helmet clattering as the guy fell flat at Cleven’s feet, right as he turned around to help. It wasn’t ever gonna be a nice fight, or a likely chance for her to have even a ten second start but it was something besides sitting on a bench and watching them violate a fellow officer. He’d have done the same for Benny. Just as Benny now looked pretty resigned to dying in this fight, getting in a couple of excellent, unapologetic punches with the next guard who manned up and realized what was what. -It’s gotta be a let down to be keyed up for a nice orgy in the woods only to end up having to play guard again. Gale wanted to manage to kill one before he got shot, that’s all he really wanted anymore.

And for the girl to get out, for all the girls to get out wherever they were.

He was grappling with the closest one, the guy nearest the flap who almost managed to give chase to her right away, when he felt something that gave him a chill of horror he never expected. Rope; he registered it slipping down his chin, making him let go of his opponent to try to slip his fingers between the twine and his collared throat -too late. He felt himself bodily yanked back, a burn in his throat all consuming and the sudden deprivation of air turning him into a desperate mess, nothing useful about his scuffing feet and clawing hands.

They were giving orders to go after her, and two men were scrambling out the back as Gale began to sag. From his new position gasping on the floor, Gale could see that they had a gun to Benny’s gut, while the gunner kid hadn’t needed such firmness, he was braced at the back of the truck in absolute terror.

Well this was over faster than desired but -to be expected. Fuck.

“Halt.” Cleven felt the sergeant’s boot kick at the side of his head, emphasizing his order to cease his struggles.

World grew fuzzy then, not at all like drowsy sleepiness in a hammock but instead like being caught in the river current when you thought you’d managed to strike the ford just right. Gale’s pulse thudded between his temples like the blows of a sledgehammer on his skull, his lungs burned, the cuts on his cheeks blared their pain like screaming infants demanding to be heard above the rest of the pain and terror and fury. He could taste the blood gushing out of them from the pressure, the cuts spurted and dribbled down into his already choking mouth.

What a way to go.

He felt cold air, he felt himself drug and a painful drop to what was likely muddy ground, felt himself dragged some more and his own finger -wedged between the rope and his throat- hurt him worst of all, that knuckle digging into his windpipe.

When some slack finally came, it was minimal, only enough for his body to heave and gag and try to force air into collapsed pipes, enough for sounds of cries and shots and clanking metal to flood into his consciousness. He was either at heaven’s gate or on the cold hard ground at eye level with the beaming jeep headlights -that would explain the blinding glow in his vision.

Or else, heaven wasn’t half what it was cracked up to be.

Someone or a few someone’s, were standing over him and he could see then that he was tied by the makeshift noose to the trailer hitch of the truck, tarp flaps widened far above him like stage drapes. Was Benny still alive in there?

“Maybe you defend her because you too are female?” One guard suggested while prodding at his crotch with a boot, and that made Gale’s frozen, sluggish, oxygen deprived blood begin to pound. “Hübsch.” they complimented him repeatedly -pretty, so very pretty. Too pretty for a man. “We should check, ja?”

He spared one single hope, that Benny wasn’t watching. He didn’t hope they wouldn’t act on their threats, and he hadn’t any hope left that he could actually save Sanchez from what they were even now wrestling her to the ground for. But it felt worsened somehow at the idea of his co-pilot seeing him this way, he yanked his head against the noose and regretted it after. The constriction made his eyes burn, and all his efforts were once again concentrated on grappling with his breathing as they tugged at his clothes and made sport of discovering he was not, in fact, lying about being male.

They laughed, they touched, they said he was some mistake. A face like that had no business owning a cock. He wished he knew less German, in fact he knew little but there are kindnesses and there are cruelties that need no articulation to be understood.

The earth beside him, the mud beneath Sanchez’s hands, was tilled up from her nails, like furrows for planting and her face was so near his when they threw her down, he could make out the spit and blood on her lips.

“Should I?” One was saying and they had their knife out, Gale’s panicked mind had a generous moment of hope that they would cut the rope, that he would soon be able to breathe again. Or else his throat, and he’d not breathe anymore. Both sounded perfect.

They cut open his flight suit instead, a hand heavy on the back of his head, turning him fully over, and then there was the feeling of a warm and sweaty body beginning to roll on top of him.

The mud was cold beneath his cheek, smooth on the forest floor, none of the rough gravel of that endless road, only mud and pine needles sticking to his face now, their knobby little ends roughing up the older wound on his cheek. Every time the guard pushed closer, it scraped him -that blade to his other cheek. The metal tip glittered in the periphery of his one good eye, shining from the headlights.

Sanchez had begun to scream.

Hoarse, wounded, fox like.

It felt very much like a demented dream, even down to the hunter’s attitude above him, the grunts, the prey-like waiting for the lethal blow. He wasn’t sure how long he had floated with only her wounded cries as a grounding agent when he felt a splatter against his lower back and consciousness came back with a heave of his chest and a revolt so strong he fought again against the noose. Predictably, it only tightened. There was cold on his skin then, when the man drew away, fresh night breezes mocking the mess he’d made of Gale, kerosene and exhaust fumes ruining the smell of soil beneath him. Then the heat was back, someone else draped over him, and Gale dug his fingers into the earth too, readying for what the other had spared him. It didn’t matter, if they tired themselves out with him, that was one less -now two less- to use her instead. There had been only five.

This one flipped him over, Gale went easily, both hands occupied straining to get even a finger between the asphyxiating pressure of the rope and his throat.

“He is easier now.” he heard the man laughing, foggy, hazy, unfairly. “The bitch has gone quiet, maybe he will make music, huh?”

Gale frantically turned his head to seek her out, desperate to find her alive -she couldn’t be dead. Not just from this, surely not, what could they do to kill her?-but his own vision was spotting and his throat spasmed in protest. They surely could kill them this way, they could do anything they wanted because they could kill them. And no one would ever hold them to account.

His poor girls. What were they doing to his poor girls?

It burned enough to jolt him awake again, both the forceful entry and the smack to his cut cheek. They wanted him awake, aware, he refused to look at them. This was reminiscent, bright lights and unwanted hands and all but the carnival music missing. He kept staring to the side at her, and at her face, at the way the headlights lit them both up like a carnival spectacle and cast the shadows of their tormentors in looming, grotesque proportions against the treeline. She had her eyes closed, face almost suffocated in the soil, balled fist growing lax beside his own, just out of reach. She didn’t even react when the next replaced the other. There were only five, Gale repeated to himself, there were only five.

No, no, no.

“Smith,” he begged her, “Smith don’t fuckin’ give up on me now.”

His poor girls.

Gale’s own voice made him cringe, how hoarse it was, how young, what a beg it sounded like, how punctuated each word was with the winding pain of a fresh thrust. But her eyes flew open at his call.

Sanchez, her name was Sanchez, he reminded himself. And Smith was with Ida, probably throwing the ball at the flack house after making it back from Breman. She had to be. He didn’t want to live in a world where Lu felt what he felt now as the man shuddered inside him, used him like a skein, a shell, a vessel, hot breath stinging at his cuts.

“Stay with me Sanchez.” he muttered, wondering if he had it in him to do the same. He didn’t have the luxury of ignoring his tormenter any longer, he felt his face gripped and turned, cuts smarting beneath calloused fingertips, cheeks being squished like Bucky used to do in play. The yeasty splatter spit landing on his own tongue was somehow more revolting than all the rest. He gagged, he struggled, his body was on fire.

Smith was screaming again.

There were only five.

He refused to remember more until there was a sudden absence of the heat and the breath and the tearing pain, and if he wasn’t so drugged on misery he might have thought everyone seemed a little rushed at the end. Not how he expected them to be with all the time in the world to wipe their pricks, close their pants, pull out a pistol and deliver a headshot. One apiece here in the mud. See ya there, Benny, he thought dismally, not bothering to open his eyes.

But then there were sounds of squealing tires and the roar of engines and the white bright glow behind his eyelids grew in intensity until he realized -in a fumbled state of what felt like being redressed- that someone else had pulled up to this horror show. There’d only been five and now- now, oh fuck, he didn’t think he could, no, no, no, he yanked at his noose, half hoping to strangle himself or at least be caught fighting this.

If he didn’t know much German when lucid and keen, he certainly wasn’t adept at deciphering the angry babble above him when half dead, half uncaring about listening for an order to flip him over for the next or to blow his brains out. No, no he was far away in the Silver Wings and Maureen’s boot was dug into his shoulder as she turned himself and Egan into scaffolding, all to smoke the club’s ceiling with testament of their survival for their 20th. No big bash like for 25 but it had been a milestone, as terrifyingly hopeful as it had been all too fortunate. He’d seen her cry for the first time that night, hands shaking, admitting she felt in her bones they’d not be lucky, that she’d never really thought about this part, not when she joined up, about getting so close and now she wanted to see it through she was sick to death of the idea of seeing it though being a fiery death. Well, Gale knew now she’d managed to jump, she’d not known fire.

But what else, oh what else?

Next time Cleven woke he was face down on the same old bench seat from hours before, burning ribs nothing compared to the lapping flames below his waist. The truck beneath him was moving and his cut face was only partially gentled by the feel of someone’s meaty thigh beneath him. Horrified, he startled up, hating the idea of being someone’s pet after-

-but it was Benny, looking busted as hell but alive and holding onto him lest he jolt off the bench with the next pothole. As far as he could feel, Gale had his clothes on, muddy and cold and it was daylight and they were moving. A guard he didn’t recognize was on the opposite bench near the flaps, watching them curiously with a rifle slung easily over his lap. He had wings on his lapel.

Sanchez was sat as far from him as possible near the front of the truck, alive and looking for all the world like she might kill the sniffling and unharmed gunner on the floor.

“Luftwaffe.” Benny informed him and Gale winced at their good fortune before giving his friend a pat and letting the sludge of insensibility take over again.

————���———————————

“What was done to you: I am horrified.” Lt. Hausmann’s eyes were warm but his smile was cold, as cold as the holding cells, an odd dichotomy, opposite to most but not foreign to Gale. “I have heard they had intentions to hang you, yes? You, a prisoner of war. An officer. Horrifying, base, cowardly, I can only apologize for my countrymen’s attitude, they will be held to account. Was there anything else? I shall make a note. Are you well? Was there anything else?”

“There was a fighter pilot with me.” Cleven did not miss the eagerness in the man’s body language when he let loose his voice at last, hoarse from the rope and suppression of his cries. He’d been sat at this frigid desk with its proffered whiskey and smokes for half an hour already. “She was brutally raped, Lieutenant. And it is my understanding she is under Luftwaffe command now. Held here. I’d like you to make note of both, treat her accordingly.”

“Appalling.” Haussmann insisted, pen scritching away at his pad, “Noted, I-i will see that they are brought to account. Appalling. And you, Major, were you treated well? Besides your throat, I mean. Satisfactory? Honorably? I will make a note.”

The gnawed and broken thumbnail he’d bitten off hours ago slipped from between Gale’s molars. His teeth grated against each other for a split second. It was the only sound that filled the room. There’d been only five.

He passed Benny in the hall when they drug him back to his cell. But he never saw Sanchez again.

———————————————-

He didn’t see Sanchez again, not until a month later when she came with Smith. And all the others. Not until after a month of a John Brady biting through his lips with well placed anxiety over the absence of their female fellows. A month of Gale acting like he actually thought they were alright. As far as he knew, the boy’s sister was fine. Until she came through that gate, head shorn, cheek disfigured, half her buttons missing and a look in her eye that was half fury, half woe.

He was angry for Ida, but she didn’t belong trapped in a dog run with all these men. So Gale protested.

“If it can happen to you-“ John Brady had the gall to suggest at the gate, to suggest something Cleven had never confirmed. But Brady was like that, and Cleven had stopped his fight against the girls' inclusion all the same. Perhaps his fight had been less about the rules being broken, and more at the idea of having to see any more of their mistreatment, being witness to it, his rank proving useless once more. Never again. Not if he had to barter the golden gates for their safety.

———————————————--

“You ok?” Cleven asked Brady on the second day after their arrival as he counted out the syringes on the rough hewn table, one by one. He didn’t doubt the kid’s promise to get the supplies but instead the stalag doctor’s elusive provisions and willingness to comply. But sure enough, there was one for each of the girls, and a spare.

Brady gave him a tight lipped nod before expounding, “Sunnuvbitch wouldn’t dish on the iodine, I could see the damn relief package right there behind him but -no swabs. Dry stab. I guess.”

“It’s ok.” Cleven insisted, eyeing him still; he had his coat bundled about him even indoors but the buttons of his shirt beneath were redone, Gale knew that because they skipped one and started again wonky, wrong buttonhole, twice over. Like they’d been redone in haste. It hadn’t been that way when he left. “These are what we need.” he glanced up from his task at Hambone who was animatedly informing Benny of his visit.

Cleven had tried at subtlety, listening in with discretion but he couldn’t help it anymore, too curious himself. “You went with him, yeah?”

“Yes sir.” Hambone gestured to his newly smoothe cheek, stitches gone.

“So, what’s he like? The doc?”

Hamilton gave a signature sneer, “Weird as fuck and a little weirder than that. Wouldn’t fuckin’ shut up.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Yeah!” Hamilton insisted, pissed off by it apparently, “On and on about psy- psycho -sam-“

“psychosomatic.” Brady rescued him boredly.

“-reflexes and shit. On and on. Just want the stitches out, ya know?”

“Yeah.” Cleven agreed. Waiting for the shoe to drop. He stared at the extra shot, his stomach curdling. “Just want some shots.” he added, eyes drifting up to land on Brady and his sightless stare at the opposite wall that bunked his motionless sister.

“Yeah, that was a whole other debacle.”

“Oh?” Cleven prodded, the picture of nonchalance as he started to divide the shots into groupings. He was seeing things, he was projecting, he was doing what Egan told him not to ever do -assume what has been is now what is. What he’s experienced is what everyone else has. He knew that deep down, but there was a brittle bravery to Jack Brady these days that reminded Gale too much of his own fraudulent brand of survival.

“Hammy it’s- how about you leave off.” Brady muttured. “Don’t bother the major with it.”

“Weird as fuck.” Hambone confirmed stubbornly.

“I’m the one who asked you if you thought he was weird.” Brady corrected, irritated enough by impression to continue.

“And it was! I said he was.”

“I’ve been telling you guys.” When Brady said it, it was without heat. “Him and his stupid little hammers.”

“Yeah what was all the hammering for?”

“Reflexes, Hammy. Psychosomatic.”

“Weird as fuck.”

Gale bit his tongue so hard he hoped it cleared his head before daring, “He make you take your shirt off for it?”

There was a pause in the slapping sounds of the card game ongoing behind him, Kendeigh and Demarco and Crank all freezing at the question.

“He keeps checking the shoulder.” Brady finally said, it was admittance enough.

“And the fuckin’ knee.” Hambone chipped in.

He shrugged, meeting Cleven’s eyes stubbornly, “He’s obsessed with reflexes.”

“You hurt your knee landing?”

Brady’s flat line of a mouth tugged up wryly, his eyes flitted over to his sister's motionless form. “A tad. Uh, the shots sir, he said they go in the hip. Didn't have the pamphlets, no instructions.

“I remember.” Gale had some knowledge of it, they’d all gotten a few vaccines in training, and he knew enough to ask for them in the first place, to help with whatever the poor girls might have contracted. His own eyes skittered to Kendeigh who sat at the table, making a poor show of holding her deck of cards. “Well, you first?” he pleaded.

She looked a little cross but she didn’t fight him, she rose from the table with stern imprecations on anyone skipping over her turn and cast about for a place. Gale put his hand on her shoulder and gently guided her to a corner by the bunks, it was really all the privacy he had to give.

“You’ll have to undo my belt, Ida had to do it up-“ she flashed her swollen hands again, “-my hands.”

“I got you.” he whispered, gently reaching around and loosening the belt so that her borrowed trousers sagged enough for him to get at the meat of her hip.

Johnny was rolling Ida over in their bunk beside him, and Gale wasn’t sure who should give Ida her shot but he supposed her brother was the best candidate. Much as he hated the boy having to. But, perhaps, it wasn’t the worst thing he had to do tonight, and that made Gale’s stomach sour. He willed his hands to steadiness and undid the cap off the needle.

“Jesus Christ.” Johnny was suddenly exclaiming, hoarse and infuriated, Gale glanced aside and saw the boy had uncovered a hip alright, with his usual meticulous precision, and still, there wasn’t a spot of skin on Ida not green or else blue or else near to black. Gale stared back at Maureen and the jagged little scratches on her hip, crescent moon ditches, the blooming bruise here and there and swore not to count his blessings.

What did he know? Nothing, he knew nothing about any of them really. Except he knew such injuries didn’t have to show to hurt like hell. He drove the shot home with merciful force, squeezed in the stinging contents and retracted it, smooth and fast as anything.

“Hell, fuck, damn! Son of a carpet wearing Methodist-“ Maureen hopped around on her one good leg in barely contained frenzy at the sting.

Gale tried not to smile, “Bad huh?”

She scowled back at him in between pained giggles, “If I could give yours just for pay back, I would. Damn!” she held her hands up up once more and Cleven kept his eyes above, “But I can’t, sorry, can’t help with the other girls either, fucking useless.”

Johnny was standing, straightened up again, syringe empty, sister still just lying there. Bucky Egan out cold beside her. Gale couldn’t even allow himself to question if those two would be alright. They had to be, he didn’t think he could make it without them, make everyone else make it along with him. “She didn’t even budge.” Jack muttered.

What was there to say to that?

“She didn’t make it all the way here just to fuckin’ die.” Kendeigh assured him while straddling her chair again, voicing her peculiar brand of kindness and her true opinion on Ida Brady, “She’d never be so wet. They had a whole day to kill her on that train and they didn’t manage to.”

A day? A train? Gale didn’t know what to make of it; he was just glad that Bucky was dead to the world for now and not getting riled again by every new tidbit so that Gale would have to talk him down and also administer shots to a bunch of traumatized women.

“We’ll help sir.” Crank offered to him as he stood over the divided piles of syringes again.

“Alright,” Gale agreed, “but some may wanna give it to each other instead, you let them. Give ‘em space. I don’t think they’ll fight it, they know they need ‘em.”

Benny sauntered up beside him, flicking at the supplies, “This one yours, Buck?” he asked casually, fiddling with the spare.

Gale glanced at Brady and found him looking back at him. “Yeah.” He told Benny. “For the cuts.”

“Here, let me-“ Benny was already at it. Gale tugged his waistband down to assist, just enough to expose a sliver of pale hip and leaned a little over the table, there were bruises on his hipbones, he knew, but they could be from anything.

It did sting like hell.

“Alright you take those, and that’s enough for, yeah-“ Gale divided the supplies to each man, lingered just a moment as they went into the hall to brush by Brady, and murmured to him him lowly, “That was real thoughtful, thanks. You need one?”

To the credit of his poker face, the boy didn’t startle a bit, except for an infinitesimal flutter of an eyelid. “No sir?” he asked as if that were an idiotic question.

It was the only way Gale knew to ask him: to ask about something more. -Tell me son, just tell me you need a shot and I’ll know I’m not imagining shit. That I’ve not become paranoid and irritable and callous, too.

But then, “No sir?” and that incredulous face that left even the strongest man feeling like a dunce.

Well, that was it.

“I’ll help you tell them.” Maureen was by his side suddenly and Gale appreciated that, Smith was the only other female Lieutenant and he could use Kendeigh’s unapologetic pragmatism. “Ida told them she’d ask for remedies. Think she meant for pregnancies but, this is a start.”

There really wasn’t much of an announcement to be made; who didn’t understand what penicillin was needed for? It was needed for the dreaded thing that was hung over every bathroom stall door at canteens and on the underground in London, warning of having too good of a time and catching something. No one needed explanations, even though Gale watched their faces as Kendeigh announced and helped distribute the shots one room after another, he was trying to detect if any were hesitant or unconvinced. He found none.

He did find Sanchez, across one identical wooden room and still in her jacket with the eagle patch. She must have washed her face with the others, the mud was gone. When they locked eyes he saw a hard and warning look harden her eyes further; it made his cheek throb. Stonefaced, she broke the stare after a moment and advanced to grab her allotment, even as her fingers dragged along his palm, even when she passed him, Gale could not get her to resume it.

In one of the last rooms he went in alone -Maureen was delayed with one of the girls doing poorly, one who was not well enough to rise from her bunk. “They about drowned her” Maureen told him casually, and that was something else he dreaded learning about.

“Drowned?” he’d repeated a bit dumbly, and he deserved her

annoyed face.

“To get info from us.”

“Us?” he repeated again, low and slow, “You too?”

She gave him another of those looks before nodding at the last parcel in his hand, “Go take care of Smith’s girls before Johnny gets to them first and helps them with all the tenderness of a mortician.”

When Gale had stepped back into the hallway, Johnny’s voice could be heard still two doors down with Benny, fighting a fine line between helping and making themselves scarce. Personally, Gale felt Johnny was a gentle fucker when he needed to be. This wasn’t one of those cases, none of the girls wanted pity from them. Or acknowledgement even, judging by Sanchez’s cautioning venom.

In the last room, Smith and Tong had the girls sorted efficiently, and it was a little thing to ask the ever obliging Graham and the other men to step out briefly. Same old script here as before, Gale felt in a numb sort of loathing for his lack of originality -he distributed a shot a piece and apologized for the lack of iodine to sterilize the injection site and they all assured him it was fine, and everyone knew he was apologizing for far more than the lack of iodine and they knew that they’re assurances were more than about it either. Gale liked these girls for how well they knuckled under, it had made them pretty great in the crews after a shaky mission. They shoved a bad thing down as well as the next man, and if they punched their bed frames at night or cried in the showers, just like how it was for his men, that wasn’t Gale’s concern.

Only Lu Smith’s face went off script when he pressed the needle and its cartridge in her hand, something besides tight lipped thanks or a nod of efficient understanding. There were questions in her eyes, dancing slow and swirly and blatant as sorghum specks in molasses. A rich dark pool of uncertainty. Some girls were already discreetly headed for corners of the room to make the stab or else rolling up a shirt sleeve and insisting to the giver that they wanted it given there. Lu glanced away from him only to watch these proceedings with something like fear and then she was looking back at him, a hesitant plea written on her face. He didn’t know she was scared of needles.

“Major, is Ida awake?” his lieutenant asked, voice scratchy and a little closed, like how it got when she tried her hand at professionality or had to present a solution in front of a crowd. “I need to ask her something.”

That was a remarkably vague sentence, not at all professional. “No, she’s not.” He told her, watching as the fear grew more pronounced around her mouth and chin, “You ask me, Lieutenant.”

“May I?”

“Course,” Gale nodded his head toward the door, “step out here.”

He strode down to the very end of the combine, by the locked double doors, just far enough away from the windows not to invite a guard to come in and give them shit about it. The bright orange lights of the camp came in from the general darkness outside, glowing through the always dusty glass and making Smith’s skin shine a pretty bronze, even with the dark spots on her chin. Those made his blood thud quicker. It was quiet down here, as private as he could get.

“What’s up Smith?” he urged.

“I’m sorry sir I-I’ve got a few questions.”

“Told you to ask, Lieutenant.” Gale reminded, “So ask.”

“Yes sir.” She’d developed a tick since he’d last seen her, an odd sort of hugging of herself, arm crossing her chest and hand gripping her opposite clavicle, fingertips curling just over her own shoulder. “It’s about the shots. Ida’s been teaching me but she never mentioned about those.”

Gale took a deep breath, only the faintest bit of mirth left at the reminder of the ‘condom balloon’ incident. Ida had needed a stiff drink after taking her engineer aside and informing ‘Little Lu’ those were rubber socks men put on their members, and not in fact balloons. And yes, Benny had lied out of niceness, and yes men’s bodies sprayed things like cattle’s did when they got excited, and yes it’s for the purpose of making babies. Gale had heard all this from Ida after three stiff shots she’d downed like medicine, she’d relayed it in a perfect montone and Gale had not asked but she told him all the same, then said she needed to hit the sack and Ida Brady was gone while Gale remained at the bar with his cider and shaking shoulders. The memory had been amusing only weeks ago, when Douglass came to loot Benny’s footlocker for more rubbers and they’d all made a joke about Smith having beat him to them -for balloons.

“Everyone else seems to know and want them and I’m the slow one again.” Smith was muttering, a petulant look of annoyance crossing her young face, angry at herself.

“It’s about the guards.” Gale murmured.

Smith looked so hurt by that he wasn’t sure where he’d misstepped, but then, “Is it for what they did? Or is it such a sure they’re gonna keep hurting us and these- how do these help, sir?”

Gale startled and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder out of pure, gut instinct to impress on her his next words, “Not a single thing is goin’ to happen to you again, not like that, you hear me, Lu?” he shook her a little and it dislodged her own hand from her chest.

“Yes sir.”

“These are for anything you might’ve caught.” he tried to explain, coming up short and he knew it. If Bucky were here he’d use all manner of crass slang and common vernacular phrases to jog the poor girl’s memory about magazine advertisements, the sorts that warned of ‘diseases’, the underground posters and the bathroom stall flyers urging chastity or safety. Gale could not manage it back then and he couldn’t now. “Diseases Lu.” he tried again, “Men who aren’t- careful, or- disciplined, they, they spread diseases to the girl they’re with. Uh, with- intimately. If they’ve been with other girls before.”

He hoped to God that Ida had used the word ‘intimate’ when educating Smith on these finer yet so utterly crude aspects of human interaction. ‘Intimate’ seemed like a word Ida Brady would use, he thought he recalled her accusing him of being intimate with Kendeigh. Maybe the accusation had been ‘fraternizing’. Or ‘getting familiar’. Gale wasn’t sure, he only recalled that it had not been complementary and he had blushed into the floor under her stare but her accusation had been vague. He knew Ida had been vague.

Was she equally vague with Smith? Did that mean Smith was as uneducated as she’d been before Ida gave her an ineffectually Catholic lesson?

“They can spread it with-“ Smith paused only a minute before deciding to trust him, “-with their bodies? Like a wound?”

Gale gave her nod, trying to stay teacherly, “With their bodies. Yeah. They don’t need wounds it comes from- well, other places. Intimate places they- look, Smith if you weren’t hurt that way, you don’t need the shots.”

Grueling as this conversation was, nerve wracking as her dense innocence could be, it fed that traitorous bit of hope he’d been harboring since he lost all hope for himself that she might’ve been alright. It wasn’t fair to Kendiegh or Ida or Sanchez or any of the others to hope for that, but none of this was fair anyway. Maybe her lack of comprehension was a kindness.

Smith’s eyes were latching onto one surrounding thing and then another, a good long beat between each new object, not darting but roving, now latched on the doorframe and now on Gale’s coat buttons and then on to the glass window panes beside them as if she could see through the bubbled glass out into the dark yard. He could tell by her change in breathing more than the light when she began to cry.

“I didn’t want the girls to think I’m stupid.” She admitted, and she was definitely crying, “I’m their officer, I should know these things.” she explained, lips going into a full tremble, all the harmless jokes of before suddenly not a bit funny, “But I don’t know at all, I didn’t know they’d-“ Gale kept his hand on her now jolting shoulder, spending a little too much time thinking how to mould his own face to some correct expression for this as she began to crumble, it was better than watching too closely as she broke apart, “When they beat us and put the bags over our faces I- I expected it. It wasn’t right, we weren’t treated like prisoners but, I expected it. Ida had told us. Then they started saying things to her, the ones that could speak English and I-i really didn’t know what they meant, not at first until they started- oh Major, they, they started touching her, like lovers in a movie.”

Lu had her eyes squeezed shut like that would get the image out somehow, one brief flash and Gale could remember everything about laying there and seeing Sanchez’s face -and he knew nothing wiped the image out. “They had her chained to a bar and they kept doing that,” she went on, “It was over her head, the bar was over her head and I could tell how much she hated it, and she couldn’t do anything and they weren’t hurting her anymore, they were- they were touching her. They stopped beating her and started touching her, sir and I- that’s when I realized that, there could be something worse. They wanted us to start giving up ranks, and they kept doing that until we did and I wanted to give up then more than any time else. Just to make them stop doing that to her.”

Gale squeezed her shoulder and she jerked under it but cried afresh, she stayed still next to him and just kept crying. “Smith, right here and now I need to know if you’re alright.” he steered her away from memories back to now, as gently as he could, “Ida is gonna be alright, and she’s proud of you, and she expects you to take care of her girls, you hear me? And I need you well for that, Lu. I need to know if you’ve been hurt.”

Smith pulled herself back into a shaky composure, her neck still trembling so badly her head made tiny little jerks from time to time. “They did hurt me.” she agreed.

“Hurt you where you need these shots?” he gently clarified, hoping she was catching on, dreading the confirmation all the same.

“They put -they kept putting themselves inside me.” she got it out, her face dazed like she still didn’t understand it even as her voice cracked from a soul deep knowledge of the wrong done, “I didn’t know they could- they could use their bodies like that. I didn’t know. They kept doing it.”

-There had been only five.- Gale felt his belly lurch, some bowel deep memory of the same torture taking over him, like a haunting he couldn’t prevent. He’d thought he had it locked far down enough, hardly thought on it these days, but maybe he’d shoved it down to where it hurt in the first place, with his belly in knots all again and Sanchez’s cold face sneering and Benny’s worried eyes making his stomach shake and salt flood his mouth. He wanted to vomit.

“Oh Lu.” he muttered ineffectually, “C’mere.” and he had her hugged and cradled to his ratty jacket before his ingrained and temperate habits could interfere. He had her turned to the doors, her sobbing eyes pressed into his sweaty layers and it was better that way. With his lips pressed to the crown of her head he watched the rest of the hallway go on without them, men going back into the rooms once the shots had been administered, Benny darting into one with a bucket in hand. Gale saw Brady as Brady saw him, only making a small pause in his stride as he watched Gale hold Smith before he turned away, face still a blank slate, the boy went back to his sister.

Maybe if Gale had been closer or the hallway brighter he might’ve seen the same hurt and tears there as he and Smith were sharing, but Brady wasn’t close and he wouldn’t say and maybe Gale was a fool to think his own experience wasn’t a fluke. But Brady just went back to Ida, and Gale still felt the damning weight of the shot in his palm even as he hugged Smith’s narrow shoulders.

His own hip still smarted from the injection, -the shot for his cuts. Just his cuts.

“I’m sorry sir.” Smith was trying to say in between sobs, no doubt finding her emotions galling in the face of her prized professionalism.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be fine-“

“I know.”

“I’ll be fine i just, I didn’t know-“

“I know, Lu.”

“It hurt so much.”

“I know.”

She pulled her face away, he was glad to see that while it was puffy and reddened, she looked far calmer. The suddenness of her recovery should have warned him. “Do you sir?” she whispered, pained.

“What?”

“Do you know, sir?” she asked again, harmless yet intent, “Did they hurt you that way too?”

Gale felt a rush of heat, heat and numbness where his hands fell from their grip on her and shook by his sides instead, and he hated his limbs for that betrayal. Heat, like she could see it so clearly on his face, like the harmless cuts on his face really spelled it out. Everyone’s suspicion of them put him on edge, wondering what was wrong with his bearing, his walk, the way he took a seat, that somehow exposed him. With her dark, pitying, horrified little face staring up at him, he felt like he was back on the bench with Benny holding him there, knowing most likely why he had to lay on his belly and not his back.

“Smith you can’t-“ Gale sounded young again and he hated it, when he was ready he began again, and this time he sounded like Major Cleven, “-don’t ever say shit like that again, alright? You can’t say shit like that. Not about- men. Not about me.”

She looked affronted and close to tears again, but his tone couldn’t be helped, last thing this stalag needed was news their Major had been so easily overcome. “I was just asking sir-“

“Not something you ask a man.” he informed her. “Like ya said, there’s lot of things you don’t know, it’s alright. But you don’t ask that, Smith.”

Harsh but necessary, he told himself again. Except she looked less hurt now and closer to something like anger, if her kind self could be angry. He’d seen her get angry when someone kicked a dog once. He’d seen her angry after a shit mission. She looked close to it now, like some grave injustice was firing her up. “But it can happen to men.” she was suddenly wise and he picked a cuticle bloody in trance-like distress, his face was motionless, “I know because they- they can put themselves both places.”

Fury took the place of numbness in his being and he grabbed her again, pulling her close and tucking her under his chin, she made a wounded noise when their chests collided despite the layers, but she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed back. “They’re never gonna do that again, Lu, never again. I’m gonna make sure of it. Bucky’ll make sure of it.” he swore, his voice gone so low it shook. “They hurt you other places?”

Smith shook her head against his chest, “I’ll take the shot, sir.” she murmured meekly. “Would you give it? I don’t want the others to-“

“Sure, Lu.”

He waited until she pulled away, her eyes downcast but the look on her face broke no argument that she wasn’t in a humor to be less than her rank. Gale shifted the shot in his palm and bit his lip, willing away any sentiment about it.

“Goes in the hip. Mark my words, those bicep shots that Tong went for- gonna hurt for ages, you don’t need that. Lemme put it in your hip.”

Smith nodded and cast a furtive glance behind her at the empty hall, only looking down again to undo her belt when Gale moved his body to block any hapless onlooker.

There were bruises when he gently aided her in tugging the drab olive aside, some nearly as dark as the ones on Ida and welts from what looked like a belt strap, even on the high swell of her hip. Gale knew the smarting bite of a belting.

“Did you wash these?” he whispered to her, crouching to better see his work as he made a harbor of unmarried muscle between his thumb and index finger, bunching up the meat of her leg and holding it for her to relax into his touch before he jammed the shot home.

“When we showered.” Lu wasn’t crying anymore but her voice matched his in its softness, tense anticipation for the jab mellowing the longer he kept her staid under his hold.

“Good.” he commended her, voice muffled by the needles’ cap between his lips.

She only stiffened when he drove it in, pressed down on the plunger with his thumb, kept his hand gripping her hip, shaking the muscle just so, “Loosen up.” he ordered, it would hurt less that way. Cleven heard her take a breath and try.

When he stood straight again he took the cap from his mouth and clicked it back on the needle, acting like it took great concentration and focus to do so, all while she pulled her trousers back up and refastened them discreetly. Her cheeks were wet once more, either from before or she’d begun crying again.

“You ok?” he asked.

She gave him a long series of nods as she got on top of the embarrassed anger. “Yes, thanks Buck.”

“I’m right down there.” he reminded, thumbing at his own quarters. “You feel the least bit sickly or- or anything, you come get me. Same for your girls.”

“Yes sir.”

“Alright, well get in there Lu,” he patted her toward her room, “one thing the krauts are picky about here is bedtime.”

Smith sucked in a breath between her teeth, a shuddering thing, “Alright, I’ll remember. Bedtime.”

“So you’re gonna remember bedtime and what else?” Gale catchized her.

“Bedtime and that…you’re -right down there.”

“Very good, Smith.”

“Night, Buck.”

“Night, Lu.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[soapoet]

describing your next love...

...because i'm just as nosy as you are.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Lucky people by Waterparks

they have a very sunny energy. the kind that peaks out behind the clouds after a fall of rain. rejuvenating, always welcome. they try their best to stay optimistic, for loved ones and strangers alike. it feels a little tragic because there is a darkness inside them that they choose to ignore. their sunny disposition seems less like a mask and more like armour. it's what has gotten them this far. they may have had a rough childhood, and their heart may have been wounded particularly by one of their parents. they struggle with mental health and might be neurodivergent. they're the kind of person to end a depressing sentence with 'lmao', or turn a therapy session into a stand-up comedy show. they cope with their struggles through humour, because if they take themselves and their problems too seriously and lean in too close to where it hurts, the pain becomes overwhelming. their heart is much like a dam, holding back tons of tears of almost biblical proportions. even still, if they opened the floodgates they'd find a way to muster a 'noah, get the arc' joke to force some sunlight through the clouds.

despite their dance around their own feelings, they're encouraging of others expressing theirs, and stand firmly by their side and always have a shoulder to offer if needed. they love to make people laugh, and aren't afraid of making a fool out of themselves if it puts a smile on someone's face. they'll gladly cast themselves as a jester if it makes their loved ones feel like royalty. they're very excitable and fun to be around. at their best they are a firecracker, bursting with an energy so infectious and bright. they're creative and very passionate about their hobbies, often to the point of obsession. it seems like all they do they do with such love. like a show is never just a show, but a whole world of its own to explore and come to know as home. they love the escapism of foreign lands, fictional and real, and something about them makes a simple trip to the grocery store an adventure with many memories to one day share.

you either already know them, or will meet them very soon. especially if you're in a transitional period, moving away, changing jobs or applying to schools, then this is a person you'll meet in this next chapter of your life. this has friends to lovers written all over it. you might be in the same friend group, or meet them through a mutual friend. their hair stands out for some reason. it could either be in the literal sense because it's messy, perpetual bedhead, or they have a unique colour or cut. perhaps they change their hair frequently and have a bit of chameleon vibes in which they become unrecognisable with every change that they make to their appearance. they're average in height but could look taller than they actually are. their posture isn't the greatest, especially if they're an artist of some kind. they have golden retriever energy and may be a dog person in general. for some, they have freckles or dimples, or prominent birth marks. there's a lot of mutual pining involved before anything happens. they're a little bit oblivious, too. someone else might have to step in to spell things out for either of you.

02.

Shufflemancy: Into you by Ariana Grande

being playful and flirtatious can get you in quite a bit of trouble, and they know this from experience. they're attractive, and seem very aware of it, though there is less legitimate arrogance and more playful cockiness involved. they like to make an effort to look good, and have a strong appreciation for a partner who does the same. generosity may be a way they show this appreciation because they understand the time and maintenance this effort can take, and are of the mindset that they ought to reward what they like rather than simply expect it or take it for granted. they're likely involved in business such as investments or trade, or could be working on building a business of their own. they're physically fit, and might frequent the gym or be into sports. they have a lot of stamina because of this, so do with that information what you will.

they could have a bit of a reputation due to an unscrupulous past, and it is one they have done much work to rewrite. they want to settle down, but haven't found someone they could commit to. a big issue for them is the way fun gets sucked out of things too quickly in the relationships they've been in. they're very spontaneous and have a big capacity for romance, but they often find themselves lacking space and time to do anything special. like how you would decide to clean the house to surprise your mother, only to have her call and ask you to do just that, ruining the gesture. similarly, in their relationships they may find themselves cornered, and in the suffocation of their freedom and passion their capacity and desire to impress and to woo begins to fade like a smothered flame, which in turn causes strife. and the nagging that so often followed turns them into a complacent shell of themselves, wherein it's better to nod along than risk discord. they seek an equal. somebody powerful in their own right, who can support them and be supported in return. they want love to be an adventurous undertaking of a power couple ready to seize the day.

this feels like a right person wrong time -scenario. when you meet they're probably in a relationship with someone else, or you are. you could meet at some sort of social gathering or organised event like a fundraiser or a concert. there's a distinct sense of delay here, though the interest is mutual and very persistent right from the beginning. they could hold themselves back from pursuing anything with you at first because they want a clean slate. it may at first to you seem like frustrating indecision and make you question their intentions, even integrity, but they may just be untangling their life and closing chapters. they yearn for the long-term and would like the house and the kids and whole nine yards, but need to make sure their life is upright, straightened, and ready for it. there is a playful glint in their eyes, which may be hazel or brown. there is a distinct warmth to them and a loving gaze feels especially adoring from them. they would make a very good and attentive parent and spouse for the right person. there could be a noticeable size difference between you. if you're softer and curvier, they're more angular and dense, and if you're shorter, they're taller, etc.

03.

Shufflemancy: Great shipwreck of life by IAMX

oh, how charming! they're gregarious, and attract quite a few admirers. though it seems they take few, if any, seriously at all. their popularity may be a byproduct of an important or visible position that they hold. they could be a prominent figure within their community or be very successful in their field of work or hobbies. their schedule is often packed with meetings, events and social obligations. they could travel a lot too, both for pleasure and for work. for their work they may spend extended periods of time away from home. in spite of their sociable persona, they keep their private life very private, under lock and key, and may even be secretive about it to an extent. they may be unapproachable or simply be unattainable by people outside of their established circles. there is an element of social games or hierarchical factors present in their life, and whilst they're good at networking, climbing ranks, or beating records, they may actually find many around them to be uninteresting or outright obnoxious. where they spend their professional hours draws a lot of similar types of people together, and their tastes differ quite a bit. being married to their work in a way leaves few options for them in love since they look for something outside of their norm, which they have little time to explore.

there could be a fear of being taken advantage of. like they can't seem to trust people easily, and expect everyone to have ulterior motives. to use them or get something from them. these trust issues run deep, and either they have been burnt before or have watched somebody close to them fall from grace and are afraid they'll share that same fate. there could also be legal reasons for their caution, as they may have signed contracts or taken an oath that dictates what they can and cannot share, particularly if they work for the government or a big corporation.

this connection might begin online or otherwise have distance involved even if you meet in person first. lots of messages or calls. they revel in good banter and enjoy entertaining more out-there ideas. they feel starved off of deeper conversations because their life seems to revolve around a lot of simple niceties and professional talk with tons of things redacted, edited, and filtered to fit into a very narrow box deemed correct and good and appropriate. it's very tiring and wears them out, even though they won't show it. they really appreciate things that differ from the norm or breaks the status quo in some way. what they consider their type is also very different from what would be expected of them, and their peers would be shocked to hear what they find ideal both in terms of a partner and a life that they would like to lead. their voice seems important too. they have a very attractive voice, could be a great speaker or an artist. their hair is either longer or shorter than average (shorter for women, longer for men), and their physique leans slimmer and angular, not a lot of curvature just lots of straight lines and sharpness.

04.

Shufflemancy: Willow by Taylor Swift

they probably don't get out much. most if their life occurs behind closed doors. they could work or study remotely, and their schedule might be different from the usual nine to five. their friends and family may live at a distance, too, which leaves them few reasons to leave the house. they need mental stimulation and might be a little high-strung, their nerves like violin strings wound too tight. independence is of great importance to them and their boundaries are clear, almost like austere walls protecting a castle. they appear aloof and don't say much, especially around strangers. though their shyness is often overruled by their intrigue. they like to tinker with things and minds alike, and may often step in to play devil's advocate just to stir the pot. especially in their boredom they may seek out discourse as a form of entertainment. they have strong opinions, but are not stubborn or unable to bend. in fact, something they abhor is weak convictions and mindless agreement. they respect admittance of ignorance far more than the parroting of popular opinions if there is a lack of substance behind them. they really do not seem to mind different views at all, and may surround themselves with people of all walks of life and various temperaments and opinions. this is in part driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge. it's as though they've made their quest in life to seek information and learn everything they can in one short lifetime. they are open-minded and curious, and have great respect for anyone who has something to teach them. and they're a great teacher themself! even if they do not literally teach as a part of their work, they might have been told by many that they should consider it because they really have a way of adapting information, hand-tailoring it to their audience, so that even complex things get delivered and comprehended.

where they may be a great source of knowledge and advice to those around them, they aren't the greatest in terms of emotional support. they are a problem solver, and they can't fix tears. they try, but it feels clumsy and awkward. though that can be a little charming, too. they care a lot, more than people might expect. they're just terrible at showing it through big and extravagant gestures and displays of affection. they're more likely to give praise or take on tasks to unburden you. they like routine and solitude and seek someone who rivals the comfort of their peace and quiet. they could die happy if they could simply share a space comfortably with someone without constant noise, buzz, and attention. they could be strangely private about things that don't necessarily call for privacy. like, they might easily drop childhood lore in a casual conversation, but find inquiries about what they did yesterday suspicious even if they didn't do anything special.

because this is a bit of a 'rapunzel, rapunzel, let down your hair' -type of situation where they're very comfortable in their ivory tower that gets no visitors, it might take a while before you meet them. they're far more social online and you could meet through common interests like online games, subreddits, discord, or through mutual friends. if you already know them, there may be a sense of unrequited love for a while. they rarely act on their infatuations and just wait it out, enjoying the feelings for what they are but do little, if anything, about them. alternatively they participate in very indirect chasing that appears more like making the other person chase them. they have attractive hands, could be ambidextrous or they fidget a lot with their hands. they may be a writer, play an instrument or play a lot of video games. they always appear deep in thought or even a little irritable, even if they're actually not. not so much RBF as simply spacing out. their eyes seem hazy. whichever colour they are it looks desaturated and blurry, like there's mist covering them. blues lean greyish, greens look muddy, browns look more true and lack the amber warmth. they might wear glasses or contacts. regardless of race they're a little paler and may have some health concerns or struggles.

05.

Shufflemancy: I want you to want me by Chase Holfelder

there is something broken here. their home, their heart, or perhaps their mind. it'll be difficult to break through this shell because the exterior is harsh and uninviting. whatever it is that haunts them, it really shows in their relationships. they walk a path seemingly unlit and full of horrors, leaving behind them a trail of broken hearts. pieces of both their own and those of past lovers scattered along the way. to some their love is suffocating, draining and overbearing. when they get attached they latch on with a powerful grip that seems unyielding. they're a rock that could weather the strongest of storms and they're used to being a pillar of strength. but it seems as though their past is full of people who would have needed the room to bend with the winds and were left feeling too restricted. they may have a jealous streak that's rooted in fear of betrayal, likely from past hurts. they could struggle with a mental illness or have history of abusing drugs or alcohol to numb what haunts them.

they really want a partner in crime. someone who is similar to them and understands their turmoil. they have a big capacity to understand and deal with heavy burdens and mental issues in a partner too and aren't easily fazed by emotional outbursts or any type of spiraling mentally or emotionally. they also remind me of the quote 'a hero will sacrifice the person they love to save the world, a villain will sacrifice the world to save the person they love'. they seem a bit like an outcast or a misfit, and those closest to them may also be underdogs and form a very tight-knit group. they're a little bit of a hopeless romantic and have a soft side. if they're musically inclined they might write you a song, or otherwise use writing as a way to express their feelings in a deeper way. their cold and rough exterior is there to ward off the most frail and flaky. they don't want to ruin dainty petals or have their own ripped out by players.

funnily enough they actually look like one themselves. they have that quintessential heartbreaker look to them. the one all the movies deem nothing but trouble. a villain in the story of many but their own and those closest to them. there is a feminine energy close to them that they're very protective of, like a sister or mother. for some they might be providing and caring for a sick relative. they have an unusual job or field of study, and peculiar working hours. they might work a graveyard shift, gigs, or do work that's seasonal or done on the go. music plays a big role in their life and you could meet them at a concert or through another kind of relation to a band or artist you both enjoy. they take a keen interest in the strange, and the mysteries of life. they might study the occult, enjoy conspiracy theories, true crime, etc. they're distinctly cool toned, blondes are dirty and ashy, browns are void of red pigment and lean darker, almost black. blue eyes are very cold and piercing, and brown eyes are very dark and may appear black. they have piercings, tattoos or scars and may bruise easily, or be into those things in others.

06.

Shufflemancy: Trust by Boy Epic

somebody send this person on a mandatory holiday. i really should not have left this one for last, because the energy is really heavy. their life seems unbalanced, like it is all work and no play. there is a jittery energy here as though they are running on fumes and caffeine to fuel a big machine with hundreds of intricately moving parts. they might work in real estate, management, law, IT, or have a lot of people they're in charge of who depend on them. they have impeccable memory and somehow manage to stay on top of things with ease. they like being personally involved and may be hands-on with many of their projects. task management comes naturally to them. it's as if they're playing a game of chess with life and stay aware of every possible variable and reach outcomes long before they show in the present. this spills into all areas of their life and allows them to map out goals with great precision, leaving very little room for uncertainty. they're very stable and competent. but they're also miserable. even though they enjoy their work for its challenges and the heights it allows them to reach, it may seem to them as though they are wearing themselves out without real purpose beyond the accolades. like they're building an empire in vain because there is nobody to share their glory. they want more from life, namely a home. their home is as big as it is hollow and they don't like it there. it lacks a lot of love and light and they wish to bring some of that into it through children and a spouse.

they may come from a big family themselves, even one of good fortune. their discipline and work ethic is likely something instilled in them by a father figure, and there could be a bit of an eldest child complex at play, wherein they have always felt the need to set an example for their younger siblings, but also feel embittered by what they cannot get away with that others so easily can. they could use with a bit of whimsical and carefree energy in their life. they're aware of it too, as they find a bit of chaos oddly attractive in a partner. in previous relationships they may have been with people far too similar to them, allowing them no place of restoration and solace, but instead a constant movement of the goal post. they seek someone comfortable and more easy-going who can help them relax and live a little. they are generous and would spoil a worthy partner rotten, but are also afraid of gold diggers and don't want to be taken advantage of, as they may have run the risk of in the past.

out of all groups, this one leans the oldest. depending on your age they could easily be 5-10 years your senior, and if you're very young it will likely take some time before you meet them. you might meet through work, through coworkers, at a work related event, or if it is a leisurely occasion it's one with a mixture of age groups like a family gathering of sorts. for a few, you could run into them a few times at random whilst running errands and going about your daily routines. either way interest is established quickly, even though they may seem stand-offish or even stiff at first. in actuality they busy themselves with observing, and throughout your interactions, and your interactions with other people in their presence, they size you up and try to figure you out. they could be very taken with you, but they try their best to not show it. they're cordial, but keep their cards hidden. once they decide to pursue you everything happens very quickly. again, because of their game of chess having played out various scenarios while they figured out their feelings and rearranged their life to fit you into it. they're eager to please, and one-on-one you may be surprised by their sensitive and softer side. they're doting and have a lot of adoration once they fall, and out in public where they seem level-headed and collected you can easily distract them and have them stumbling a bit. they're very protective and are bigger or stronger than you. their features lean darker and they may have an earthy look to them, like green or hazel eyes and auburn hair. this one has the strongest indications of marriage.

[enluv]

ex-boyfriends describe their relationship with the same person w/ txt’s choi line!

choi yeonjun x fem!reader, choi soobin x fem!reader, choi beomgyu x fem!reader

warning(s): swearing, itty bitty angst, mostly fluff, mentions of past relationships

word count?! ooo ermmmmmm good question…it’s long…

coco's love note: this is based off a video made by glamor titled "3 ex-boyfriends describe their relationship with the same woman", I may make this a series so lmk which other idols you'd like to see (from who I currently write for)!

video preview starts: now!

[y/n sits comfortably in a chair as her interview begins]

Y/N: How would my exes, describe our relationship?

[the video cuts to a pink screen with the words that follow it below]

We brought in three of Y/N's exes:

Ex #1 – Choi Yeonjun [he is seen smirking at the camera]

Ex #2 – Choi Soobin [he smiles shyly at the camera in front of him]

Ex #3 – Choi Beomgyu [sits nonchalantly while "shooting" the camera]

And asked each about their experience dating her.

[y/n will ask all the questions presented in bold unless stated otherwise]

— So we met at?

Yeonjun: A dance studio near the area we both worked in.

Soobin: The bakery my aunt owns that I sometimes work at on the weekends.

Beomgyu: A pet store near my house.

— My type is?

Yeonjun: [he contemplates his answer before saying] Well me of course...just kidding she likes fun guys, the confident ones.

Soobin: The sentimental type maybe or the party guys.

Beomgyu: A guy who can hold their own but still love her.

— He was attracted to my?

Yeonjun: Her dancing of course. The energy along with it was always so captivating.

Soobin: Her smile was really pretty.

Beomgyu: Her energy, she was always smiling or laughing and I really liked that.

— And I was attracted to his?

Yeonjun: She always told me she loved the way I could "light up" a room just by walking in so I think the energy I gave and how I present myself.

Y/N: The way he presents himself to a room full of people he's never met will always leave an impact on me.

Soobin: My height and if she tells you otherwise it's a lie!

Y/N: His...caring nature? [she laughs as the producer calls her out for her blatant lie] okay okay! His height was crazy!

Beomgyu: My handsome face! [he gestures to his face and raises an eyebrow]

Y/N: His stupid jokes, as cocky as he seems the guy is funny as hell.

— Who made the first move?

Yeonjun: I did definitely.

Soobin: Surprisingly it was me, she would never.

Beomgyu: It was me she was too "nervous".

— Who made the first move? (cont.)

Yeonjun: It was during a performance we did together, all the emotions were super high so at the very end of the dance, I pulled her in and kissed her. Yeah best time of my life, the crowd went wild.

Soobin: She came in super late to the shop and asked for whatever croissants we had left but we didn't have any so I offered to make her some if she went out with me the next day

Beomgyu: We had been hanging out and I was bored so I just asked and surprisingly she agreed.

— His first impression of me?

Yeonjun: I thought she was going to be this cold partner that I wouldn't get along with, but obviously I was very wrong.

Soobin: She was a bit quiet but really sweet, then you get to know her and it's the complete opposite!

Beomgyu: I swear I thought she was crazy. I walked into the pet shop for some bird food and there she was fighting the clerk because he called her dog overweight. She is crazy but man I was scared.

— Our first date was?

Yeonjun: It happened right after that performance when I kissed her. We went out together and had burgers, then stayed up well past morning just messing around and talking at a playground near the venue.

Soobin: I took her to play mini golf. It didn't go too well since it has mini in the name and well...look at me. She laughed the entire time and instead of me helping her, she helped me.

Beomgyu: We went to an arcade and I beat her in every single game, then she pouted for the rest of the day till I promised to let her win next time we went back.

Y/N: no comment...

— Our first kiss was?

Yeonjun: Well you see...our first kiss kind of started it all.

Soobin: In her car after our, second or third date.

Beomgyu: Ha she was way too scared to kiss me so I did it when I walked her home after we hung out.

— We bonded most over?

Yeonjun: Our love for dancing and performing.

Soobin: We both had an affinity for baking?

Beomgyu: In the beginning our pets and then gradually just everything.

— I introduced him to?

Yeonjun: She introduced me to this entirely different view in life, it was just so uplifting.

Soobin: A new way of cooking, I dreaded it but turns out it can be fun if you do it right.

Beomgyu: A lot of new music came from her, my playlist if filled with it all still too.

— He introduced me to?

Yeonjun: A new outlook on dancing.

Soobin: So many places to eat and drink.

Beomgyu: To not worry what others think whatsoever.

— Did we say, "I love you?"

Yeonjun: [he leans forward and cups his hands around his mouth] We did but I said it first not her and if she lies then it's because she's a liar and hates me.

Soobin: She said she loved me after she met my family for the first time, and of course I said it back immediately.

Beomgyu: Yes, it was a phrase we often told to one another.

— In the morning I would?

Yeonjun: She wouldn't let me get out of bed to cook or shower or even pee. I mean not complaining too much but damn woman I had to pee.

Soobin: She would give me kiss then get up to cook.

Beomgyu: We didn't get up till like 11 if we were together we liked to just be with each other.

— In the morning he would?

Yeonjun: I always woke up first but never got up first since she would cling to me.

Soobin: Um hit snooze? Stay asleep.

Beomgyu: I would wake her up.

— He would call me?

Yeonjun: I didn't have one designated name for her but to get her mad I'd call her sugarplum or something really cheesy.

Soobin: Arm rest. [a smile finds its way on his faces as he's asked to elaborate] There isn't much to say she was my arm rest.

Beomgyu: Fiesty or crazy.

— I would call him?

Yeonjun: She was so mean she called me stupid head all the time.

Soobin: She always called me really nice things or something super mean like giant.

Beomgyu: She called me stupid head a lot and big baby.

— The best thing he did for me?

Yeonjun: I helped her open up a lot more I think.

Soobin: I always made sure she knew how special she was.

Beomgyu: No matter what I always spoken highly of her.

— And the best thing I did for him?

Yeonjun: She helped me with communicating. I get very upset very fast but she always made me feel better.

Soobin: She lessened a lot of my insecurities and that really boosted my confidence.

Beomgyu: Take care of me in a way no one before had ever done.

[the screen cuts back to a pink background with the words below appearing on it]

So who knows her best? (next segment)

— I'm really good at?

Yeonjun: Dancing.

Soobin: Making people feel comfortable/comforted.

Beomgyu: Getting her way? In a good way not bad I swear.

Y/N: Dancing definitely but also teaching others.

— I could be better at?

Yeonjun: Singing because she loved to dance but singing...wasn't her forte.

Soobin: Packing for trips. She overpacked a lot.

Beomgyu: Not fighting with the pet store guy.

Y/N: Being on time or toning down when appropriate.

— I loved to travel to?

Yeonjun: Any place with good food and people.

Soobin: Oh she liked going to sunny places.

Beomgyu: Where didn't she like to go.

Y/N: Places with good food or a nice sun.

— He knows I'm really proud of my?

Yeonjun: How far she's come with dance.

Soobin: She always took pride in how quickly she learned to be on her own.

Beomgyu: Just her life in general, she is doing what she wants and not many people get to do that.

Y/N: As much as I am proud of my dancing, I am so proud of how quickly I was able to go out and do things on my own.

— He knows I hate?

Yeonjun: When people criticize her but have absolutely no background knowledge on what she's doing and why.

Soobin: People who project or are just bullies.

Beomgyu: Not being able to be independent.

Y/N: Not having freedom to do things I know I should be able to do.

— My greatest skill?

Yeonjun: Her passion for wanting to do things.

Soobin: Dancing, I probably haven't mentioned it but she can dance really well.

Beomgyu: Her brain is huge and she uses it well.

Y/N: I know how to make people feel comfortable and I can cook really well.

— I've always wanted to buy?

Yeonjun: What kind of...man I don't know. Clothes? She had a lot of clothes.

Soobin: Shoes maybe, also like jewelry.

Beomgyu: One of those big extra dog houses for her dog.

Y/N: I want to buy my dog his own house.

— I have a talent for?

Yeonjun: Being herself and taking no crap from others.

Soobin: Making people comfortable.

Beomgyu: Tossing small candies in the air and catching them in her mouth.

Y/N: I can make people laugh I think.

— My biggest pet peeve is?

Yeonjun: People adding their opinions in situations that don't involve them.

Soobin: When she feels like she's being restricted from doing things she loves.

Beomgyu: People calling her dog fat of course!

Y/N: When people call my dog fat!! Why would they ever be so mean to him!

— Who takes longer to get ready?

Yeonjun: Definitely me…but only because I need to make sure my fit is good you know?

Y/N: Him always.

Soobin: Of course her! We never made our dates on time but honestly she was so pretty it didn’t matter.

Y/N: Me but only because he has such a nice style he puts his outfits together so quickly!

Beomgyu: Her, no questions asked.

Y/N: Bye it was so him, he is so indecisive!

— One word that best describes me is?

Yeonjun: Amazing.

Soobin: Kindhearted.

Beomgyu: Soulful.

Y/N: Unforgettable.

[screen behind y/n changes to a different color indicating a shift in the types of questions being asked]

— We dated for?

Yeonjun: Three years and two months.

Soobin: Eight months.

Beomgyu: Two years.

— We broke up because?

Yeonjun: Our paths were moving in different directions and we began to not really know one another in a sense.

Y/N: Our lives were moving in different directions and we started to argue a lot, so we decided to split.

Soobin: I think we realized that our relationship was more like friends than a couple.

Y/N: He’s like my best friend, and that was all we started seeing one another as.

Beomgyu: Our communication was really bad, and we had a hard time being honest with one another.

Y/N: We weren’t completely honest with our feelings and thoughts towards one another. It caused a lot of problems for us.

— My worst habit was?

Yeonjun: She didn’t believe in herself enough.

Soobin: She had a really busy schedule and prioritized work.

Beomgyu: Workaholic.

Y/N: Impostor syndrome was BIG.

— His worst habit was?

Yeonjun: Didn’t spend enough time with her.

Soobin: I wasn’t the easiest to communicate with.

Beomgyu: Prioritized my bird over her dog.

— He hated my?

Yeonjun: She could never sit still, always needed to be doing something, could never relax and take care of herself.

Soobin: I didn’t and still don’t hate anything about her, honestly.

Beomgyu: She was bad at communication and so was I so it was hard to get things out.

— And I hated his?

Yeonjun: Probably my friends, she said they liked me too much.

Soobin: How serious I was all the time.

Beomgyu: I couldn’t take anything seriously, we’d fight and I’d laugh it off.

— Were we in love?

Yeonjun: Definitely, always will be.

Soobin: I think at the beginning yes we definitely were.

Beomgyu: Yeah no doubt.

Y/N: Yeah I loved them all, I think Soobin was more of a friendly or brotherly love but Beomgyu and Yeonjun were love love.

— We always fought about?

Yeonjun: Never seeing one another.

Soobin: Being with each other too much.

Beomgyu: How we never communicated with one another.

— I got over the break-up after?

Yeonjun: I wish I could tell you.

Soobin: After we both realized we wanted to same ending.

Beomgyu: What kind of question is that? I don’t know.

— He got over the break-up after?

Yeonjun: Am I even over it? [he chuckles and looks away from the camera]

Soobin: It wasn’t too long, I think I’d accepted it long before it was over.

Beomgyu: Never.

— How did things end?

Yeonjun: Not the best, but we’re better now. We grew apart and it will take time to get back to a great place but right now it’s good.

Y/N: We hadn’t been a real couple in a long time so when it ended it was hard, it hurt both of us a lot but I think we’re getting better.

Soobin: It ended super well I think?

Y/N: It took a bit of space but we’re happier now.

Beomgyu: We argued so much, and that hurt our relationship a lot. I wouldn’t say it ended well.

Y/N: It sucked so bad at first, like I really loved him so much so the end not ending well hurt a lot.

[ending music switches on and the background behind y/n changes colors for one last time]

— Would we date again?

Yeonjun: I think if our schedules and paths aligned with one another, then yes we could.

Soobin: No! But I adore her always.

Beomgyu: Ummm well like assuming we’ve grown and gotten better at communicating with one another then yeah maybe? I don’t know? Yes?

Y/N: I don’t know, I guess only time can tell.

— Are we still on good terms?

Yeonjun: I think so? Could be better.

Soobin: Oh definitely. We have movie nights together.

Beomgyu: Could be better, but our animals have play dates so there’s that.

Y/N: Yes! I love them all, and like yeah some terms could be better but we’re working on it!

— We stayed friends because?

Yeonjun: I don’t think I could live a normal life without her.

Soobin: She’s like my best friend, of course we’d stay friends!

Beomgyu: I think I’d die if she wasn’t in my life, not to be dramatic or anything.

— He would say he misses my?

Yeonjun: Personality, she made me super happy and we had a great time together.

Soobin: I see her too much I have no answer for this!

Beomgyu: I miss her dog, but like I mean like living with him not just co-parenting him.

— I would say I miss his?

Yeonjun: Cuddles, I give the best ones.

Soobin: Can you really miss something of someone’s when you see them all the time?

Beomgyu: My jokes definitely, we laughed a lot.

— Best memory of our relationship was?

Yeonjun: One time we danced in the rain because she said it was on her bucket list of things and I wanted to do that for her.

Y/N: He helped me check off a lot of things I wanted to do in my lifetime and I appreciate that so much.

Soobin: When we made a giant, I’m talking four foot tall, gingerbread house for a contest and still lost but it was fun to do it.

Y/N: We have so many good ones don’t ask me to pick please!

Beomgyu: Walking in the park at night when it was peak golden hour and she looked so damn beautiful.

Y/N: Weekly walks around the park near his apartment.

— The best thing to come out of our relationship was?

Yeonjun: I think I gained a lot of knowledge from her and our relationship in general.

Soobin: Our friendship.

Beomgyu: I grew as a person definitely.

— He would tell my future boyfriends?

Yeonjun: Oh don’t even get me started, good luck is number one. Have fun.

Soobin: You’re very lucky, she’s amazing.

Beomgyu: [he adjusts in his chair and looks the camera dead in the eyes] I hate you. She’s mine. [he flashes a smile after]

[screen flashes back to y/n and all three exes sitting in our shot together]

Interviewer: Would you do this again?

Y/N: Possibly? I think it’s been fun to see their answers especially because they’re all such different people, special in their own ways definitely.

Interviewer: Okay Y/N, that’s a wrap! Thank you so much for coming and thank you boys for agreeing to participate in this video today.

All: Thank you!

[screen pans as the words “ENLUV” flash indicating the ending of the video and we watch y/n and her exes walk off screen]

txt taglist! @yeoforce @nikis-mum @bloom-bloom-pow @gyuuss @yourlocalhotgf @kyublr @spooooooooooon @enhacolor @butterfly-skinnylegend @dinosdance @simpforsung @misschubswrites @junityy @soobin-chois @fairybinie @lolalee24 @ja4hyvn @syrxiee2 – (bold can’t be tagged, & if you’d like to be removed from the taglist or added please let me know!)

coco’s love note: HELLO TOOTS! this is my first “fic fic” back!! tbh idk if I like it, it took such a long time to write and I feel like it’s not my BEST but I’m warming back up to writing so I promise I’ll get better again soon 🫶🏼 thank you so much for reading and feedback is always welcomed/appreciated!! if you liked it please let me know!! (p.s: i was stuck between gyu & jun so 😮)

[jokingmisfit]

Not Yet Forgotten

Platonic Future Hamato Brothers x Neglected Reader

Warnings- Angst with Happy Ending, Reader is Casey Jr's Sibling, Neglectful Parental Figures, Severe Injuries, Mentions of Blood and Broken Bones, Near Death Experience, Hurt with Comfort, Head Injury, Mention of Reader having Mystic Powers

Notes- I may make a different version from 3rd person pov to show how bad the boys felt. I don't know anything about medicine so please forgive me for any incorrect everything. Wrote this right before therapy and I think it shows. Lol, Enjoy!

Your breathing was fast, but muffled through your hand. It felt like your lungs were on fire. You don't know how far you've run, but you hope that it's far enough.

Only an hour earlier, Krang dogs surrounded you and your crew. The rest were already dead... You were frightened and angry. You knew that if only they'd taught you how to fight as well as they had Casey, then you wouldn't be in this situation. They didn't care for you. Your brother being far too important, apparently, for you to be cared for at all. 

Made sense in your mind. You didn't look like your mother like Casey did. Didn't share a name or even blood. Just another "stray" she'd picked up, but she loved you. In her own way. Too bad when she died the knowledge she left you with was all you'd be given. No sessions with Leonardo. No kind words from Michelangelo or Raphael. No scolding on health or knowledge from Donatello. It was like you were invisible. Unimportant. 

You and your team had done so much. Achieved amazing things, but every achievement was overlooked. Every injury was ignored. Perhaps you did learn a few things... Fending for yourself. That didn't help now, though.

Climbing the rubble. You could feel the parts of your body move in ways they weren't made for. You were strong but how strong would you have to be to defy death itself. You had sent out the SOS so long ago, yet it seems as if nobody will come.

Your blood stained broken concrete rocks. You prayed to whatever higher being was above that, just this once, they wouldn't overlook you. That the people who were supposed to care the most would save you.

You finally collapsed at the top of the heap. Only small peaks of the red sky could be seen. You were safe, for now, but you were bloodied and broken. Your stash of medical supplies were carried by a dead man. You wouldn't last, not long, at least.

You hit the alert again seeing as the purple light went out. Hitting the button over and over as your breath thinned. It felt harder to breathe with every second. 

An alert came back to you. A communication. You heard April once say it was like a phone call. Whatever that was. You pressed the button to hear the voice on the other end. It was Donatellos.

"Are you there? Can you hear me?" His voice was wavering. Something you'd never heard before.

With a raspy tone you whispered out your response. "You got... got te loc-location right?"

He sighed on the other end. "Yes we have it. A rescue team has already found the rest. Where are you hurt?"

"Hehe." Your laugh is cut off by coughing. Blood bubbling up in your lungs and throat. Looking at the gashes and stuck out bones, you answer. "Every- Everywhere..."

Silence met you on the other end. Silence and the clicking of the keyboard.

A deep breath, and you talk again. "I know... I- I know you all... Probably don't- don't care... but I don't wanna die... I don wanna die." A sob escapes your mouth, cutting off your sentence.

The pain and fear causing tears to cascade down your face.

The clicking stopped at your words.

Donatello responds after a few seconds. "They're almost there... I- You need to stay awake and you'll be fine. We- I won't let you die."

"I'm- I'm so sorry..." Your breath stops in your chest. "I shoulda- should of done better... I try- tried so hard... Was never good enough. I can't- can't breathe." Your words are heavy and painful as you sob them out.

"HELLO!" You heard Leonardo yell.

Before you had a chance to answer a light came from your gear. The communication line ending and sends an alert to the other mutant.

Footsteps could be heard from multiple beings. Talking and panic is heard as you stare at the broken roof with blurry eyes.

Raphael's face coming into view before anything else. If you weren't in so much pain you'd smile at him. Instead you stare as he picks you up gently. His words sound soft but melt in your head making them unknown. He holds you close and moves quickly. 

A whisper escapes you. "you came..." The statement soft and broken from your lips. The only evidence he heard you being the tilt of his head as he stares with worried eyes.

You held on tightly to your consciences. You held on for however long it took to be laid on a table. Long enough to have something put over your face. Long enough to feel a hand pet your head slightly as your eyes finally close.

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

It hurt. Everything hurt. Your eyes flutter open, but they're unfocused.

"They're awake!" You heard someone yell.

You flinch at the noise. A whine escaping the back of your throat from the pain.

"Be quiet. They're not going to react well to loud noises." You heard another voice scolds matter-of-factly.

You huff out heavy breaths. You try sitting up only for a large hand to, gently, hold you down. You blink several times to try and see better. Figures, shapes, and colors bounced around but nothing appeared sensical. 

"How are they?" A voice says nervously and stern at the same time. Their footsteps stop towards you.

The hands that were moving on and around you pause for a moment before an answer. "They're discombobulated."

"What the hell? English, Donnie." The voice answers.

Your voice is scratchy and comes out in squeaks. "Don- Donnie?"

Your question goes unanswered, but you were glad you finally knew who one of the voices belonged to. You were with Donatello.

"They had a head injury, so their brains jumbled. They can't see straight... At least we can be sure that they can hear fine." He answers with distaste.

A hand sets itself on your head and plays with your hair. The voice above you talks nervously. "So shouldn't we be talking to them? They're probably so scared right now. Aren't you?"

You realize that the end was directed at you, but you lost the energy to answer. You tried to speak, but nothing came out, as if your body didn't agree with your mind."

"Mikey’s right," The deep voice spoke. "We need to comfort them right now."

You wanted to tell them not to force themselves. That you knew they were only here because you were hurt. That once you were better they'd go back to the way it was before. But you couldn't speak, and the feeling of actually being cared for felt so nice.

The weight in your chest may have been painful, but it felt so good to be loved. If your head wasn't so fuzzy you might have cried.

Your name was called, almost urgently. You hadn't realized you weren't listening. So caught up in your own head that you forgot to listen.

You looked slightly to the person calling out to you.

"You still in there, kid? Lost ya there for a second huh?" You could hear the smile in his voice.

That was Leonardo right. He's the one to smile when things are bad. That means the deep voice was Raphael... All four of them were there for you.

You wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Maybe you were imagining things?

"You need to relax. Your heart rate is spiking..." Donatello tells you strictly.

Raphael's voice picked up from the foot of your bed. "Don, I don't think they can necessarily control that... Y'know?"

"Sigh," Donatello answers him. "I'll fix it myself."

You felt the bed adjust, setting you up slightly. You felt his hand on your arm fiddle with something sticking out of it.

You felt calmer, almost, instantly. Surprisingly, your vision cleared slightly. Things still blurred but you could make out their faces so much more.

A crowd of turtles that left no space to see what room you were in. The lights still felt too bright, yet they were dimmer than any room you’ve been to. The blue lights gave you more of a clue. The screens lights bouncing and reflecting off the men. Was this Donatello’s lab? It had to be.

With your eyes now clearer you were able to hold them onto the figures separately. Their blurred faces held concern, fear… It was definitely a sight.

“You feelin’ better?” Raphael asked sweetly. He loomed over the edge of the bed, yet still he managed to keep a distance.

Despite the medicine making you feel better your head and chest still layed heavy on the bed. The only response you could manage was a broken noise from the back of your throat.

Leonardo laughs sadly. “Y’know maybe we shouldn’t ask them too many questions, heh.”

If you could shake your head in agreement you would. The other three certainly did, or at least it looked like they did. 

You took a deep breath in and out letting everything sink into your skin, into your bones. You had your own list of questions you wanted to ask them. Like, how bad is the damage? Why are all four of you here, there’s more important things to do? Did any of the others live?

You could feel all four eyes on you. Feel them stare like you were the only thing worth looking at. It confused you, so you turned your eyes to the only one who you knew had all the answers, Donatello. 

“Right, well I suppose you want answers. Yes?” He asked, oddly nervous. “Where to start,” he whispered to his screen before sighing. “You have a major concussion, obviously, you have two broken ribs, a broken leg, a sprain in your right arm, you have large lacerations on your abdomen, and you had punctured one of your lungs.” He lists off easily. “All of which have been cared for, however you will be immobile for quite a while. I estimate approximately 12 weeks and 3 days. Do you understand?” He asks you calmly.

You huffed at him, hoping he would understand that you were listening. He seemed satisfied with your response and went back to typing on the screen. Of course you were slightly confused by this as you hoped he’d elaborate on why they were all there.

Clearly noticing your confusion Raphael talks with guilt. “I think they’re confused on why we’re here…”

He says it like he can read your mind. 

“Why would they be confused about that?” Michelangelo laughs out shakily.

“Probably, because we’ve neglected them for years.” Donatello answers within seconds.

Leonardo being the next to speak, like they were taking turns. “We really fucked up that bad, huh kid?”

You couldn’t hold his gaze. The guilt was so evident on his face. You’d never imagined they’d realize what they’ve done. You pictured you’d grow into an adult and leave the Resistance without anyone knowing you were gone.

“Listen, I know- We know we should’ve done better for you…” Leonardo sighs. “You are just as important as everyone else. As the Resistance. As Casey Jr. I was always so caught up with him and being a leader I forgot that I had to be there for you. You always seem to have a hold on everything. Always seemed so sure. So confident… I never thought you might need help to. It was such a terrible mistake and I should have known better, should’ve been more and done more for you,” He leans over and grabs your hand gently. “I promise to never act like that again. I will never let anything hurt you like this. I will never leave you alone again. I swear on my life kid I will do anything, everything to make this up to you.” Tears from his eyes fell onto your clasped hands.

You couldn’t hide the shock from your eyes as you were crying too. It was like your body finally jump started and tears fell so freely.

“You were always so strong,” Raphael starts. “I don’t think any of us thought that our lack of attention would hurt you so much. You always shined so brightly on your own.” He chuckled sadly. “I never thought you’d need us so much, Jr’s strong too, but he relied on your mom more than you so when she died we- I thought you could handle yourself. You’d never seemed to waver. I’m so sorry.” 

The regret he held in his words weighed heavy on your mind causing more tears to fall from your eyes.

“My turn already?” Michelangelo laughed, tears in his own eyes. “Heh, I remember this one time I was talking to one of your group members, she seemed so excited to join your team. I remember I asked her what she was so excited for… It was you. She told me that she had seen you and your team fight. Saw how well you worked together, but she was mesmerized by you. She told me years ago she idolized me for my mystic abilities,” He laughs quietly. “But she admitted in this conversation that she idolized you even more. Because you were more like her than I was and your mystic abilities were so strong…” He pauses with a sad silence. “A part of that conversation fortified in my mind that you didn’t need anyone. You were able to figure everything out all on your own. Lead your own team. Fight and save lives like a pro. I should have taken into perspective your feelings. I used to be so good at feelings, but it seems I’ve lost my way a little bit. But I promise not anymore. You’re never going to feel left out again. I guarantee it!” He ends off happily

Silence fills the room. The only thing truly heard was the buzz of machines and various sniffles.

The silence was cut off again by Raphael. “Donnie… Are you going to say anything?” He asked both encouragingly and authoritatively.

“Sigh.” Donatello stated tiredly. He turned to face you more. “I’m not good with emotions. They were never something I could grasp fully. I’ve worked hard on fixing that, but I see in some areas I have… failed. I personally assumed if you needed help you would come to me, however looking back it’s clear you had and I pushed you away.” He states uncomfortably. “As an adult I should have been more prepared and I wasn’t… You were just a child, you are a child, and you’ve experienced so much on your own. I can assure that we plan on remedying that.” He ends sincerely.

After listening carefully to all their words your heart swelled with happiness. You were still afraid that they may not be true, but you were hopeful and so glad to finally be seen. The love you felt radiate off them in blissful waves made you smile. You forgave them as soon as their words left their mouths. As soon as they told you they cared. There was nothing better than feeling true love for what felt like the first time. You couldn’t help but be happy.

“Get some sleep, Kid,” Leonardo says. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

[horsemenoftheapocalypse-if]

(First ever collaboration IF between the Author of King's Despair and Dragon's Edged.)

Writer's Links: Dragon's Edged & King's Despair

(Warning: 18+ The story includes the following: Violence, , self-doubt, cliché’s, child abuse, torture, trauma and many more will be added in the future.)

Kroz&Author

"Greetings, Reader!

You are about to enter a world of darkness, danger, and deception.

A world where a child has been sold to the most powerful underworld company known as the Fates. A world where you will have to make life-or-death decisions for them. This is not a typical story of an orphan or a survivor.

This is a story of a child who has to learn how to kill, lie, and manipulate in order to survive in the dark side of New York City. A city where crime never sleeps and where the Fates control everything from the shadows.

You are not just a passive observer of this story. You are an active participant. You are the voice, the intuition, the gut feeling of the child protagonist. You will have to guide them through their trials and tribulations, their choices and consequences, their victories and defeats. But be careful, Reader.

The Fates are watching your every move. They have plans for you and the child. Plans that may not end well for either of you.

Are you ready to take on this challenge, Reader? Are you ready to face the Fates? Reader I beckon you to join them on this extraordinary adventure, where danger lurks at every turn, and the stakes are unimaginably high.

Through your unwavering presence, you will empower our young hero to face their fears, outsmart their enemies, and ultimately shape their own destiny.

Prepare yourself for a thrilling and immersive experience. Brace for the adrenaline-pumping encounters, the unexpected alliances, and the heart-wrenching decisions that will test the limits of our protagonist's resilience.

The fate of our young protagonist lies in your hands. Choose wisely, for their life depends on it. Decided are we?

Then come closer, and let me tell you more about this story…"

Introduction:

You were a kid, was a kid, now your a cold-blooded killing machine.

Dispensing justice and vengeance using your guns and knives. A modern robin hood you ask? Nope your not wearing any leotard pants or cap.

You're a merciless executioner, killing anyone who crosses your way. But underneath all that bloodshed and brutality, you still have a soft spot for kids.

It all started when you were taken by a prolific assassin, who decided to make you his protege. Armed with guns and knives, he taught you how to kill, track and hunt. But there was one rule that he made you live by, "No children, we never hurt them". That code fueled your respect for the man.

Through rigorous training, you became an expert in sharpshooting, knife throwing, and stealth. You even surpassed the master assassin, becoming the leader of your own hit squad. Together you and him started cleaning the streets from drugs, hoodlums, pimps and mafias. That made you a hero to the poor and downtrodden. But you were known by the authorities as a murderer and vigilante.

Despite all the havoc you reaped, you kept your code. Whenever you had a child captive, you would send them back to their families or orphanage. But one day, rumors of a powerful entity known as "The Fate's" were spreading they deal with guns, prostitution, alcohol, guns for hire, and mercenaries.

It was said that they're the Top Dog of the black market, the consigners of death and terrorisms. You know because your were one of the victims in their child trafficking business.

Now it's up to you to take down "The Fates", the only problem is that you couldn't seem to find any hard evidence against them. It was rumored that they cover their tracks so meticulously.

Until one day a member of their organization was sent to the hit list.

The client? The Fates their selves wanting to kill one their own. Yet there is one problem, your just still a rookie under the eyes of your teacher and he's not getting any younger.

"We need you to get a team and a back-up plan," your mentor said. "To get to The Fates, we need to be ready for everything they throw at us."

Despite his worring tone, you were confident that you can end this once and for all.

Now it's up to the great assassin and their protege, to bring the dark side of the world to light and serve justice to those who deserve it.

"It's time, kiddo," he smirked as he patted your back. "You've proven yourself more than ready for what's ahead, you will be leading this team but under my supervision of course!"

This was an exciting step towards finally taking down the Fates. With your mentor and you leading the team, you were sure it will be successful. After all, this was his legacy, and you will be a part of it. Together, you and him gathered a group of skilled mercenaries, sharpshooters, and information brokers.

You knew it wasn't going to be an easy mission. The Fates were known for their ruthless methods and their underhand tactics. To take them down, you needed to be able to outsmart them.

But this wasn't a rite of passage or even a battle of egos. This was a race against time, a race to save countless souls like you, who were trapped and used for the Fates' twisted plans.

Elizabeth Baker, The Rider of Death

"Appearances can be deceiving. I don't have to be gentle with my words to save your life."

She was once a respected doctor at a prestigious hospital, admired by colleagues and loved by patients. Her passion for saving lives and talent for surgery were well-known. However, everything changed when she uncovered the hospital's dark truth. They were charging exorbitant fees while using second-hand equipment and expired drugs. The medical director was involved in a corruption scheme, siphoning off millions of dollars.

When Elizabeth confronted him, he responded with threats and violence. In self-defense, she accidentally killed him with a scalpel. Fleeing the scene, she left behind her career and reputation, going into hiding. In the underworld, she became a freelance doctor, offering services to criminals and outcasts.

Operating in secret locations, she used whatever tools and resources she could find. Her prices were high, but she maintained high standards. Morality and legality didn't matter to her clients as long as they paid well and respected her rules. With a sharp tongue and a cold heart, she became the most sought-after doctor in the underworld.

Over time, her skills grew, and she began performing complex procedures like organ transplants and limb replacements. You and your mentor have made countless deals with Death, even cheating him a few times, so you know how to handle someone like her.

~

Nate O'Neil, The Rider Of Conquest

"The beauty of an explosion's light surpasses that of a sunrise!"

Nate is an unpredictable force within the group. He excels at causing explosions and demolishing obstacles, making him the go-to person for such tasks. Nate embodies chaos and has a twisted love for destruction.

Recklessness defines Nate. He thrives in dangerous situations, embracing the adrenaline rush that comes with each explosive endeavor. With a devil-may-care attitude, he charges into any situation, leaving destruction in his wake. His disregard for personal safety often leaves his comrades on edge, unsure of what he might do next.

Nate's passion for pyrotechnics is unmatched. He finds beauty in the chaos and destruction that fire brings, taking pleasure in watching things go up in flames. His eyes light up at explosions, and his laughter echoes through the chaos as he revels in the fiery spectacle. He is a true pyromaniac, using the world as his canvas to paint with flames.

But Nate is not just a reckless demolition expert; he is also the life of the party. With his larger-than-life personality, he fills the room with infectious energy. His boisterous laughter and dark jokes keep everyone entertained, even in dire circumstances. Nate can turn any situation into a comedy show, ensuring there is never a dull moment.

He possesses an innate talent for determining the right amount of explosive power needed to achieve the desired result, whether it's breaching a secure facility or creating a distraction with a chaotic firework display.

Nate is also one of the most loyal members of the group. He always has their back, regardless of the situation. He willingly puts himself in harm's way to protect his comrades and will fight fiercely for them if necessary. His bravery knows no bounds, and while his recklessness can sometimes lead to trouble, it is ultimately his heroic actions that make him the beloved daredevil he is today. Nate O'Neil is a wild card, a dynamo of destruction, and the heart of humor in the group. He reminds everyone that even in the darkest times, laughter and explosions can still exist, and he is always ready to ignite excitement wherever he goes.

~

Haley Jones, The Rider Of Famine

"When I look through the scope, all I see is you."

Haley, a Texan country girl, was born and raised on a ranch. She had a fiery spirit and a talent for precision. While she was no stranger to hard work and the thrill of the open fields, it was the touch of cold metal and the weight of a sniper rifle that truly ignited her passion.

From a young age, Haley displayed an uncanny talent for marksmanship. Her ability to hit headshots with unwavering accuracy earned her the title of the best sniper in her town's academy. Instead of pursuing a military career, Haley chose to become an assassin, targeting key figures who committed heinous acts.

Haley's movements were as precise as her shots. She never missed a target and always completed her missions efficiently. Her sass and flirtatiousness added to the mystique that surrounded her. She often used her curves to distract opponents, giving her time to get into optimal shooting position. People said that if you heard Haley's rifle, it was already too late - you had been marked and there was no escaping your fate.

Despite being an elite assassin, Haley never lost sight of her roots. She took pride in her Texan heritage and maintained a strong work ethic. After every assignment, she would return home to the ranch to decompress from the chaos. Among familiar faces, she would tend to the fields or go horseback riding, finding solace in the simplicity of her upbringing.

~

David Garcia, The Rider Of War

"I don't engage in meaningless conversations. Prove your worth or go away."

David is a mysterious and versatile individual. In private, he is quiet and reserved, preferring simple communication. However, during missions, he surprises even his closest allies with his various personas.

David is quick-witted and can easily become a charismatic trickster. With his clever wordplay and silver tongue, he can turn the tide of a battle without using force.

Flirtation comes naturally to David, and he uses it to manipulate and gather information. It's hard to determine his true intentions when encountering him.

Regardless of the roles he assumes, David is always dedicated to completing his missions. He will do whatever it takes to accomplish his tasks, whether it's infiltrating an enemy stronghold or uncovering a sinister plot.

[crossroads-system]

Watching 'syscourse' arguments about what constitutes a 'true system' or what is and isn't multiplicity often feels like watching a dog chase its own tail. Once in a while, it may actually catch it; but to what end? What exactly does this type of arguing accomplish? What does attacking someone else's lived experience add to your life? I get that we may have a slightly different view of multiplicity overall due to our cultural connections, but we truly just don't understand what's to gain by invalidating others.

We were diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder. For a long time we considered ourselves traumagenic. But as we worked through the amnesia barriers, memory blocks and time loss to actually get to know the rest of our system and help each of us face and heal from our traumas, the more we came to realize the true community we had. We no longer take our system for granted. Working through our trauma over two decades has taught us to communicate and switch with much more ease and much less memory gaps. We have reached a place we're a large number of us (not necessarily the whole system. But alot of us) have finally moved passed alot of our traumas. And we came to the realization as we worked on trauma work and reconnection to our people that multiplicity is just who we are and how we operate.

Our system is absolutely amazing and the individuals who abused and used us do not get credit for the gambit of amazing people who reside in our system. There is a deep sense within our system that we would still be multiple even without the horrific situations people put us in throughout our life. It is an innate part of who we are. No one gets credit for that. All trauma did was put up amnesia barriers and caused time loss. It cut off our ability to communicate with each other. It took away our ability to build our internal community. That's all. It did not make us. It did not fragment us. It just gave us all PTSD. That's it.

Part of this realization for us came from reconnecting to our people and learning about multiplicity within our culture. But we won't get too deep into that right now. We've rambled enough. - The Crossroads System

[zombocomme]

Between The Lines, Episode 2: Fangs too long

Enjoy.

*SFW:PG13:*mentions pet loss, vet office/needles, blood, allusion to death not specified*

"...That is the Rollercoaster, that is life..." -Papa IV

🌌🕊🌨⚘️🐀✨️🦇🫲🙂‍↕️🫱🦇✨️🪦🥀🌨🪽🌌

Secondo lifted Copia's chin, "That rat was a mean old one eyed bastard who was a danger to himself and others, and yet you loved that little shit so much you cared as best you could and loved him to the end..."

The vet office was quiet aside form the muffled sounds of kenneled animals. A box of tissues sat on the table looking lonely on the stainless steal slab, where an empty rat cage lay open and unoccupied.

Pirate the rat had been wonderful until one day he snapped. He bit copias thumb so hard, Copia's blood spurt in time with his thundering heartbeat. Secondo looked down at the thumb now, where grew a deep scar that still looked pink.

Primo wanted to release him as a garden rat, liking the idea of the rat belonging to his garden. 'Tersero' had suggested sending it to a sanctuary. Secondo called for it to be put down. Copia had put off his decision. Such a weight to carry at 11 years old,having to be responsible for life and death. He never wanted that burden. And yet it seemed one that wanted to land on him... unfortunately, fate would intervene for the little creature - and at his old age, he broke his leg falling in his cage for which copia blamed himself... he was too old to save. Too tired. And too damn mean.

*The pet had become a menace, with Copia having to shoo him into a bucket trap to clear out the cage and keep it clean. And Pirate with his one eye would launch himself against the cage in feral screeches and squeaking, repeatedly bitting at the bars and not letting go even if someone simply walked by. God forbid their hair or clothes get to close. Its aggression was unsuitable, and contributed to making his own life miserable, to be trapped and moved and towelwrapped...the poor little beast.*

Copia looked up at Secondo, who was his reluctant guardian for today. Tasked with accompanying the boy to the vet, to "put that vermin down." As Seestor so emphatically put jt.

Secondo may not have been a good babysitter, being hard in his exterior as a young man, but when he heard one of Copia's little pets (pests) had bitten him and sent the boy crying down the hall bleeding, it was everything in him not to immediately rush into Copia's room and snatch up the wretched animal himself and dispatch it to feed to his pet snake... yet even as Copia looked in Secondos eyes, the boy asked a difficult question that gave him pause...

"Secondo... do, do rats go to heaven?"

The silence felt worse now that the little animals body was being taken to the next room to the vet to be given the final shot to the heart that would make it stop forever.

"I don't know... I don't know if animals go to heaven when they die"

"Oh." Copia said softly. His little leather shoes kicked gently as he was too short to touch the floor on the bench. Knowing he may have to be ready to say goodbye to his pet, he wanted to make sure he looked proper to go to the vet. To appear a responsible pet owner. Afraid of unsolicited advice and rebukes of the grown-ups he was used to. Though one deep glare from Secundo at the check in counter shut that down quickly. He stood like a giant guard dog to the boy who's nose barely peaked over the high reception desk as he reached his little gloved hands to set the cage up, "like a big boy should".

Secundo felt it was important for the boy to face this experience head-on... the first death of many the boy would ever face in his life, though Secondo prayed a person was not next. It was better for him to chauffeur the kid who asked hard questions he didn't even want to know the answers to himself. And so, while he 'voluntold', he rather do it than not.

Primo was always busy either tending his dark flock or his garden. Terzo, as usual, off somewhere or getting into trouble. Secundo wanted nothing more than to be left to his sciences and devices, his books, his charcoals, his poetry writing. His his quiet hermit like behavior earned him a reputation of "being available" for errands like this. He was sure he'd have to grab a shovel later to make a tiny grave somewhere...

Yet even as he tilted Copia's chin up to him, he realized the words leaving his mouth came from somewhere deeper than his usual portrayed indifference. It came from that secret place people didn't often see, "Bambino, it is ok to be sad about it. It is OK to grieve. Grief is what happens when love has nowhere to go; it is the perseverance of love, and you have so much of it to give. You are good to be kind merciful to a creature like, that." he said tensely, trying not to be a total dick. The kid looked skeptical and looked at Secondo up and down. Copia was young, but he knew when adults were just saying things, they didn't mean to make themselves feel better. Secondo could see he wasn't quite reaching the boy. He sighed.

*What would Primo say...*

Primo, ever patient and wise seemed to almost always know what to say, and his sentiments echoed in his mind at that moment. The eldest brother's words, Secondos only older brother, touched Secondo's heart then, "Kindness , compasison, love for even the most humble of the earth's creatures. Now that, that, is a good seed. That is the seed to water." Primo had said, with a hint of admiration. It eas when Copia decided to keep Pirate in a cozy cage instead of in the wilds of The Ministry gardens.

It was because Copia felt guilty; if the poor creature found itself in a trap or something else's meal, or a victim of the elements, it would be an end undeserving, as Copia's lack pf attention and resulting blindness on the rat's part. would have been the reason for it. Pirate lost an eye while in Copia's care and it wasn't noticed until it was too late because Copia could barely get close enough to that damn cage, for the vermin to come charging like a little deamon hell bent on drawing blood.

But fuck. The kid loved the mean little bastard. And Secundo wanted to listen to his own big brother about how to handle this situation. The way he hoped the boy might listen to what he had to say.

"Carry that love in your heart where that loss lived. It won't replace anything, but it will keep your heart full. Even if only for yourself, you can't pour from an empty glass, si?"

Copia looked down at his empty lap where his hands twitched nervously. Like he was stimming. The boy was skittish and hid his hands under his thighs, and Secondo realized he had only just noticed it.

He set his other hand on the boys shoulder, turning from the bench on his toes to kneel in front of the seated little deacon, to get on his level and make this moment stuck. He felt it surging from his consciousness, and it tasted like an ill omen, as much as it tasted like a blessing.

"Love transcends death, and time. You will never walk alone."

There was a momentary pause where Copis chewed his lip anxiously.

"Like, like ghosts? Do you beleive in ghosts?" Copia asked, his eyes pleading, his lashes wet with tears.

Secundos face softend, the sympathy in his face making the skull makeup intense and saddened. "No, not like ghosts, because wll ghosts, they can be anything. Allot of times they're just wishes. Energy we name to be of comfort -" but he knew that wasn't what the boy wanted to hear. He knew the boy wasn't ready for such a hard truth.

It was a truth that made Secondo tired and broken, angry, enraged even, having lost his best friend, Rafaél, last summer...Somone he loved dearly. Somone he truly missed. Somone who one day it seemed snapped and couldn't hold on long enough to see his 21st birthday. The pain of such a tragic loss had made Secondo cold and recluse. He had shut out the world where he could, looking for a reason his best friend did something so awful. It had killed anything left of the child inside, leaving only a stoic young man in its place, with much fewer friends and dreams to believe in...

*Let him dream a little longer. Let the kid hold that innocence a little longer. Even if it only is ever pretend...*

Secondo thought, and then took a deep breath, unlocked his jaw, and softened the furrow in his forhead, letting his own tears wet his eyes as he restarted, "Maybe Pirate will come back a ghost, maybe he won't. Who knows. Anything is possible here, " he said almost to himself as he saw himself reflected in copias watery eyes, "I hope he comes back,"

*He did. He had looked everywhere for an answer, a way to bring Rafael back to him and have him in his arms again... and nothing... nothing but heartache and frustration, disappointment and anger, had come of it*

And now his lip trembled as he spoke, "It would be nice if he did, hmm? Maybe he will walk by and brush your hand, maybe feel a warm touch once more when you reach out to pet him, even if he is gone..." he choked up, his voice wavering as it pitched higher, trying to squeeze the sob in his throat painfully down.

All was quiet. Only the sounds of the animals in the back kennels muffled through the small crack in the door, and the tiny thump of the hands on the clock hanging near.

Then, Copia, a touch deprived child trying to make sense of the world and the way it turned, his face solemn with a wisdom beyond his years, for indeed, he was beyond his years. He regarded Secondo kneeling in front of him, stood up, and at once threw his arms around Secundos neck, hugging him tightly, patting his back softly even as he hitched back his own little sob.

Secondo, for a moment, gasped and felt stunned. Then quick as the shock hit him, it left him and he matched the intensity of the boys embrace...He held Copia in his arms, with a look of feirce determination but to no avail. Quickly they had their faces in each other's shoulders as they cried, Copia's little breath warm and his tears streaming. Secondo knelt before him, clutching the boy like a life-line in a storm, trying to hold fast.

*Secondo knew it, he that they were brothers. The other brothers knew, but not the kid. He couldn't know, and Secondo resented it even more, since it meant he was often being ripped from his brooding solitude and made to take the boy everywhere he had to go. He rebeled, often ditching the kid half the time to smoke or drink with his friends and neglect him, acting like a jerk. Nowadays he seemed to bare his teeth at the world and its gods out of spite, and even the boy wasn't safe from his outbursts and harsh words.

*None of the family or Ghoule were allowed to speak of it, it was especially forbidden to let Copia know that the rumors were true, that he was an Emeritus; He was one of the "stronzino brothers", lauded and feared because of the dickhead they shared blood in common with, Nihil. Copia was the old man's Bastard son... A Prime Mover...*

But Copia was only a boy, wanting to belong. To have a family. He was undeserving of the ill treatment he got for being different, being sneered at and bullied, for being neglected and ignored rarely if ever hugged. He was a sweet boy and deserved to go to heaven with his little rat. A rat so vile it deserved time in the pit.

But the kid was better than him. Copia had nursed the thing to health as best he could, giving the wretched thing every chance to prove himself worthy of the boy's love... Copia at least had hope left. He had compassion and so much of it. The fact that the young boy showed mercy to such a mal-adapted creature that was so angry and fearful that it attacked anything and anyone that came near...was a blessing in the open for him in this moment of shared comfort in one another's grief.

*Secondo felt an overwhelming sense of love and protectiveness as Copia threw his arms around his neck. He knew the young boy had been touch deprived, a product of his circumstances and the way his life had played out to this point, and yet, even in his young age, he had wisdom beyond his years. Wisdpme to be the moste beautiful thing in the darkest of moments... his little sunshine, who could take a sad song and make it better...*

*As Copia's breath shuddered, Secondo held him tighter, feeling the weight of the boy's affection and all the years of loneliness and isolation rest on his shoulder. As he knelt before Copia, he finally saw it...the depth of the boy's love.*

*Secondo was struck by the realization that Copia had known all along. He didn't know how or when, but Copia had understood. It was undeniable in the way the boy looked at him, the way he leaned into his embrace. Little Copia loved Secondo, and they had hardly if ever touched, yet that precious boy, had all along loved him... *

Copia sobbed with Secondo, and even as Secondo's crying subsided,and Copia's too, even when he caught his breath, he wouldn't let go of that little warm kid that he was holding, kissing his hair whispering words of comfort and sympathy, holding him the way he wished somebody had held him when Rafael left this world to be free... yet he knew Rafael had loved him, and Secondo's love for him had been real too...

And Rafael wouldn't want him trapped in a cage, protecting his broken heart away from somone who needed his love now more than ever. He had to do it...

* He had to let love in. He had to fill that emptiness laying on the cold planes of his heart.*

Secondo prayed harder than he ever had before. He prayed in hisbheart as he held Copia and kissed the tears from his sweet face, comforting and crying with him, finnally being there for him...

Secondo had vowed he would never leave his littlest brother behind ever again, a promise he would make when in time Secondo would be blooded a Child of the Night; Such a transformation for life eternal came with a price; it came with certain features that made him beg from deep within that empty Rafael shaped hole in his heart, where a Copia sized loved was filling it to the brim even if he didn't deserve it, "Please, darkness, my old friend.. please," Secondo prayed through gritted teeth as he rocked Copia softly, holding the sniffling, hiccuping child in his strong arms, "Please..." he kissed Copias head once more. He whispered as he buried his words with a kiss , like a blessing into his baby brother's heart, "I don't want my fangs too long..."

[camojacketfag]

when do you stop feeling like you're waiting for your life to start? im 22 and ive accomplished nothing, it feels like im at a standstill.

Well, for starters, I had a breakdown in a meijer parking lot at 8:15pm yesterday, sobbing to boygenius as I was telling myself that I’ve paused my life for the past four years to try and heal from crippling childhood trauma and therefore I haven’t really had the chance to truly have fucking fun and live life man.

My 20s have been a lot of healing and slowing down as life continues to move past me so fucking quickly. I told myself I was gonna have fun this year and instead I got my heart broken, I relapsed in my OCD, I cut ties with a shit therapist who invalidated me time and time again and I played far too many video games. Through out it all I also lost so many friendships who don’t fully understand how debilitating OCD truly is and my current social life consists mostly of imaginary conversations I have inside my head. But hey, we’re still fucking kicking! What really defines an accomplishment man? Whose timeline are you comparing yourself too? Most of the lives constantly being lived so publicly are led by neurotypical people with such big opportunities very different from lives like ours man. Therefore you’re doing yourself a disservice to try and compare your life to theirs. Acceptance is the hardest pill to swallow. I truly despise patience. Yet I also have to come to terms with the fact that I move at a much slower and methodical pace than everyone else around me. I know in the long run I’ll be grateful I decided to heal now as opposed to later but I still feel so fucking robbed man. Of time. And opportunities. And life. Time that I may never get back. Time in which others my age spent developing their careers or social relationships, I was stuck in my little room listening to sad lesbian music and having no one around but my dog and the obsessive thoughts that felt intensely unavoidable. I’d say life, or at least the life you’re talking about, will never truly start man. That life is just a piece of fiction. I guess what I’m trying to say is that life has already started, it’s just waiting for you to notice. Your perception is just warped, much like mine, but I know that although I can list all of these awful things that have happened over these past four years, I know that nudged somewhere in between it all, I’ve still lived. I saw some sick ass concerts, I gave myself my first stick and poke, I got drunk and shared to much, I allowed myself to question love and it’s mechanisms and meaning, I started a photo blog and have steadily worked towards creating what I see everyday in to something others can relate or come back to, I got punched in the face, I busted my lip trying to open a bottle of vodka, I drank to much caffeine and felt like I’d ascended to a higher state of consciousness. After I relapsed, I felt broken man. So much new trauma I’d have to go back to and stitch up all caused by trusting a professional who only made me believe that my own personal experience of the things I’d gone through was actually wrong. Yet somehow, it ended with me finally believing myself once more. And vowing to never let anyone make me feel like she did ever again. 11 years of trauma and hard work doesn’t deserve to be so easily destroyed just because you have a degree and I don’t. Still, I believed myself again. I believe myself now. And I know going forward that if we continuously compare ourselves to lives being lived that will never cross paths with ours then all we’re gonna do is spend eternity wondering when it will ever finally fucking begin. I promise you, it already has, and although I don’t know you, and you might believe that it’s been more bad than good, or that it’s not as valuable when compared to others achievements at your age, it’s still yours, and there’s still time, and it’s always been there, it’s just waiting for you to notice.

[fismoll7secinv]

15 questions, 15 people:

I was tagged by dear @a-very-fond-farewell 💚I hope you get your lobster sanctuary! 💚

-

1. are you named after anyone?

nope

2. when was the last time you cried?

I don't know, I don't really cry

3. do you have kids?

never

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

yeah, quite casually in everyday life, but I try to tone it down

5. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

I'm bad with faces, I might not recognise someone who's new to me after interacting with them every day for 2 weeks (based on a true story) xdd so what I notice at first is the overall vibe they present, which is a combination of their posture and body language, clothes and accessories, facial expressions etc. This doesn't tell absolutely accurately who they are, but it shows how they want to be perceived mixed with some unconscious elements they might not notice themselves, which is interesting to me

6. what’s your eye color?

eh idk, people say they're blue when I'm in a blue pool, green when I'm among greenery, grey when it's a bit dark. I guess they're a subtle mixture that looks like nothing until there's something external that brings out one of the colors. it's a bit annoying tbh, so I usually just say grey

7. scary movies or happy endings?

i love horror, very high on my list of fav genres, but I also love happy endings, just not necessarily in horrors. In media other than horror I need HE or I feel down. So i'd say: both

8. any special talents?

I've had a music talent since I was little, couldn't understand how other kids didn't know how to play the flute or keep the rhythm. I've also heard various ppl say that I somehow know how to arrange things to be aesthetically pleasing, but I could never explain how to do it, it just looks better a certain way. A bit for drawing, considering how fast I improved compared to some other people, but I haven't pursued it farther than sketching. Sport comes pretty smoothly to me and my body, I've always been "the athletic girl"

I may sound like i'm bragging but i try to be objective for my own self. After all "talent" means nothing and is just bitterly wasted if you're not practising, so for me it can be more of a shameful thing that I let rot rather than something to be proud of. It's also so useless when teaching others, because you don't know how to explain shit when you do it intuitively, which tripped me a lot of times while trying to teach someone. Very annoying and sometimes isolating in a sense that you just vibe with yourself instead of sharing the experience with others

9. where are you born?

in a hospital

10. what are your hobbies?

reading, writing, taking care of plants, pen & paper rpgs, collecting weird trinkets and paintings, drawing, horror movies, detective stories, listening to podcasts

11. do you have any pets?

we have a dog but I moved out of my family home recently and the doggo stayed there, I still visit often and walk him, but it doesn't feel like he's really mine anymore :(

12. what sports do you/have you played?

I did gymnastics and horse-riding for a few years as a kid, used to jog in middle/high school, I also go on a trip to the mountains at least once a year to hike bc I'm obsessed with it. Recently I like to do yoga and fitness to bring my body to its limit and stretch all the pains that keep accumulating. I almost didn't move from my desk for over a year some time ago because i was too busy with uni, work and a few other big things, and it ended up in a neck injury that escalated to a few months of rehab. Now I move a lot so those nightmarish pain and several contusions don't repeat

13. how tall are you?

taller than most women and many guys

14. favourite subject in school?

all languages, math, biology

15. dream job?

neuroscientist, astronaut or pilot of small planes

-

I have no idea who did this already, feel free to ignore as always. Tagging @prommethium @miyakuli @still-gathering-roses @carmine-sunlight @wikipedie

[lawsend]

Murder at Vista Heights Chapter 2

Series: Law’s End

Episode 1: Murder at Vista Heights

Fandom: The Royal Romance (loosely, there’s not much canon in here).

Pairings: None yet

Word Count: 2,622

Rating: MA

Warnings for series: adult themes, any given chapter may contain murder, violence, language, drinking, drug use, etc.

My other stuff can be found on my main blog @angelasscribbles here is the Master List.

They pulled up in front of a row of buildings. Walker and Son Investigations sat near the middle of the block; the name emblazoned on a plate glass window that overlooked the street. A dry cleaner on one side, a coffee shop on the other.

“Can you believe I found parking on the street?” Riley gloated as she parked the Tahoe at the curb.

“I’m pretty sure this is tow away zone, Riley…”

“It’s fine, we won’t be in there that long!”

Max heaved a long-suffering sigh, knowing from experience it was fruitless to argue with her when she was hot on the trail of a story. She became focused to the point of being obsessed, stubborn, pigheaded, and bossy.

Not that he didn’t like the bossy part.

She also became excited, exhilarated, and spontaneous. Her eyes sparkled and her enthusiasm was contagious. Despite the abuse and neglect of his precious Estelle, he enjoyed her single-minded determination very much. His adventures with her were worth the risks to his car.

A dark-haired woman looked up from her desk when the bell tinkled as they entered the tiny office. “Welcome to Walker and Son Investigations, how may I help you today?”

Max peered around Riley, “Hey, Savannah!”

“Oh, hi Max!” her face lit up in recognition, “What are you doing here today? Who’s your friend?”

“This is Riley. We’re looking for Drake. Is he in?” Max’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the other three desks in the room, all empty.  

“Yeah, he’s in the back, moving boxes of files into storage,” She lifted her head and raised her voice, “Drake!”

It took a minute but a man appeared from the hallway at the back of the office, “Do you really have to scream like that? You could have just-Oh! Shit, sorry! Didn’t realize we had company!” He wiped his hands quickly on his pants to get rid of the dust and extended one toward Riley, “Drake Walker, PI, at your service! And you are?”

Riley shook his hand as she took in his appearance. He looked to be in his late twenties to early thirties, tall, broad-shouldered, definitely worked out, with chestnut hair that hung just below his ears. His eyes were the color of gold-flecked copper as they bore into her, and his touch sent electricity jolting down her arm. She certainly wouldn’t kick him out of her bed.

“Riley Brooks, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.”

“Sure,” he grinned at her as he motioned to his desk, “Have a seat. So, what do you need?” He asked as he settled into his chair across the desk from her and Max, “Cheating husband? Lost dog? Background check on a new boyfriend?”

“No, nothing like that,” she laughed.

He leaned forward with a smirk, “So you’re single?”

“I am. Why do you ask?”

“I find it hard to believe that a woman with your…” his eyes dipped down her body and back up, “attributes is single.”

She rewarded him with a coy smile, “I could say the same about you.”

“Maybe we could discuss it over dinner sometime?”

The grin on Riley’s face broadened but Max leaned forward, clearing his throat, “Yeah, she’s too focused on her career for serious dating. Could we get back to the subject?”

Drake barely glanced at Max before asking Riley, “What’s the subject?”

“What do you know about Katie Sloan?”

Drake turned his head to give Max a suspicious look before returning his gaze to Riley, “Who’s that?”

“The wife of Sloane Enterprises CEO, William Sloan.”

Shooting an accusing glare at Max, Drake snapped, “What makes you think I would know anything about her?”

“Because you had me follow her!” Max blurted out.

This time the look Drake gave him was murderous, “Have you ever heard of client confidentiality Beaumont? What the fuck?”

“I….” Max’s shifted nervously in his seat, “Not really…”

“Well, if I did pay you to follow someone, then you’re bound by the same standards I am with regard to client privacy!”

“No one told me that!” Max gulped.

“Savannah!” Drake bellowed at his sister.

“What? I was rushed that day; I didn’t get a chance to cover everything. I sent him home with some paperwork.”

Drake heaved a long-suffering sigh as he muttered under his breath about being surrounded by incompetence before snapping at Max, “Did you read it?”

“No…” Max admitted, “It seemed pretty boring.”

Drake shook his head as he looked up at the ceiling as if asking God himself for guidance. After several deep breaths, he returned his attention to Riley, “Why are you asking questions about Katie Sloan?”

“Because Max photographed her with Trenton Hayes.”

“So?”

“So he’s dead. Someone just shot him.”

Drake froze for a moment, his face expressionless as he gazed at her. “That’s unfortunate for him, but I don’t know anything about it. What did you say you do for a living? You’re not a cop.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know. Now who are you really and why are asking so many questions about a homicide?”

“I’m an investigative journalist.”

“You’re a reporter?”

“Investigative journalist and true crime author.” She corrected him.

“Anything I’ve read?”

“I don’t know. Do you read true crime?”

“Not really.”

“Then I’m guessing not.”

“Well, Miss Brooks, sorry I couldn’t help you, but even if I theoretically hired Beaumont here to follow this Katie Sloan, I couldn’t tell you.” Drake pushed away from the desk and stood up.

Riley stood, but made no move to leave, “If you theoretically did hire him for that, what might be a theoretical reason?”

“Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

“What’s the harm in playing a game of theoreticals?”

“Nice try but I wouldn’t stay in business very long if I went around-“

“I’ll go to dinner with you!”

Drake froze again, “What?”

Max also froze, “What?”

Ignoring Max, she took a step closer to Drake, reaching out and adjusting the collar of his shirt, “I said, if you’ll indulge me in a game of theoreticals for a moment, I’ll go to dinner with you.”

“I….” Drake stood unmoving with his arms crossed over his chest as he fought an internal battle. He already knew what his father would say. And Savannah would probably rat him out if he did it.

Still. The girl was hot.

Max shook his head, “No, Riley, you don’t have to-“

“Shut the fuck up, Beaumont!” Drake finally moved as one hand shot out to strike Max in the chest. Eyes locked on the brunette bombshell in front of him, he licked his lips and then agreed, “Okay, but everything I say is just theoretical, right?”

 “Of course!” Riley fluttered her eyelashes for added effect then asked, “If you were theoretically following Katie Sloan, what would be the theoretical reason?”

“I can’t speculate on something like that, but I can tell you that the most common reason anyone hires a private detective is to catch a cheating spouse.”

“So, William Sloan thinks his wife is cheating on him?”

Drake shrugged, “Theoretically if he hired a PI, that might be why.”

Riley’s eyes widened, her head swiveling between Drake and Max, “Was she cheating with Trent? Because that would be motive!”

Drake held his arms up in front of him, “Whoa now! Don’t be jumping to conclusions! We have no proof of any cheating! And I’ll tell you this because it’s a matter of public record, but if you say the information came from me, I’ll deny it….” He leaned forward and lowered his voice even though they were the only ones in the office, other than his sister who sat watching the whole exchange with amused disbelief, “Trent Hayes and Katie Sloan used to be engaged.”

Riley’s eyes widened, “Oohhh, an ex-fiancée! That’s interesting! Why’d they break up?”

“You’re an investigative journalist, look it up. Shouldn’t be hard to find. She was a fucking heiress before she married the rich guy.”

“Right. So, society pages. Max-“

“Already on it!” He told her as his fingers flew over the keyboard of his smartphone, “Katie Vanderhilt, college graduation…..engagement announcement….inherits grandmother’s fortune….second engagement announcement….wedding to William Sloan….ah, here we go….the gossip page! Hmmm…..just an article saying she suddenly dumped Trent and went on a cruise….no reason given….speculation was that once she inherited all that money, she knew she could catch a bigger fish. Sorry, dead end.”

Riley turned her attention back to Drake, “Is there anything else that I should theoretically know?”

“Can’t think of anything,” he gave her a scorching look, “but if I come up with anything else, we can discuss it over dinner.”

“Absolutely!”

“Tonight at seven?”

“Sorry, can’t tonight.”

“Hey, we had a deal!”

“Yes, and I fully intend to live up to it, just not tonight. Here,” she handed him her card, “call me later and we’ll get it set up! Come on, Max, let’s go!”

“But-“ by the time he glanced up from the card, Riley and Max were already out the front door.

“Dad is going to eviscerate you,” Savannah told him gleefully.

“You could just not tell him…”

“In exchange for what?”

Drake’s head fell back with a sigh, “I’m not letting you drive my car, Sav!”

“Just for one night! It’s my high school reunion! Besides, if I tell Dad what you just did-“

“Fine! One night! But I swear to God, Sav if there’s one scratch on it when I get her back-“

“Oh, cool your jets, I know how to drive,” she turned her head to the plate glass window, “Your new girlfriend just talked her way out of a parking ticket.” 

“Did she now?”

“She did. And she’s parked in a tow-away zone too! You’re going to have to be careful with that one. I’m not sure you can handle her.”

“Shut up, Sav.”

Outside on the pavement, Riley climbed back into the driver’s seat of Max’s Tahoe, “See? I told you it wouldn’t get towed!”

Max shook his head ruefully, “Yeah, well, if that had been me talking to that cop, I would have gotten a ticket and gotten towed! I got to hand it to you….you always seem to get your way.”

“It’s a gift!” She laughed as she threw the car in gear and pulled out into traffic.

“Are you really going to go to dinner with Drake?”

“What?” She glanced at him and then back at the road, “Yeah, why not?”

“I don’t know….he doesn’t seem like your type.”

“Trust me, he’s my type! Besides, a deal is a deal!”

 “I guess,” Max thunked back against the seat with a heavy sigh, “Where are we going now?”

“Seventh precinct!”

“Why?”

“Because we have to tell Liam that William Sloan has a motive for murder!”

“Is that the only reason?”

“I mean….if we happen to stumble across some more information about the case while we’re there then so be it!”

“That’s more like it!” He grinned, his good mood returning at the promise of further adventure.

Built in the early 1900s, the seventh precinct stationhouse took up most of the city block that it sat on. Three stories above ground and two below, the many renovations it had endured over the years made it a labyrinth of hallways, stairwells, and a sometimes confusing mix of old architecture and new. The homicide division was located in a warren of offices on the second floor.

“I need to speak to Detective Rys, I have some information regarding a murder,” Riley told the desk sergeant as they entered the building.

“Second floor,” The officer waved his hand in the general direction of the one lone elevator.

“Thanks!” Riley chirped as she grabbed Max’s hand and drug him away from the elevator and toward the stairwell. Lowering her voice, she told him, “I don’t trust that thing! It creaks, groans, and shakes like it’s hanging on by a thread!”

“Yeah,” Max agreed with a backward glance at it as he allowed himself to be pulled up the stairs, “It probably hasn’t been inspected or maintained in a hundred years!”

“That would be a violation of the fire code,” Riley quipped, “How ironic since the 112 is right across the street!”

“Yeah, well…”

They exited the top of the stairs, made their way down a long hallway, took a right about two-thirds of the way down, and found themselves in a large, open area filled with desks, filing cabinets, and a few scattered couches. The wall to their left was covered from left to right in giant casement windows. Directly across from them were doors to private offices and to their right a myriad of doorways and hallways lead off to places unknown. A water cooler gurgled in the corner.

“Can I help you?” A tall, pretty redhead asked them.

Riley adopted her best professional stance, radiating that she had every right to be there as she replied, “Yes, I’m looking for Detective Rys. Have you seen him?”

“He’s around here somewhere, that’s his desk,” she pointed to one close to the windows, “I’m sure he’ll be with you in a moment. I’m Lilith,” she offered her hand.

Riley took it, “Nice to meet you, Lilith! I’m Riley. Are you a homicide detective?”

“No, just a sketch artist,” she smiled.

“Oh? Are you working on the Hayes case?”

“Miss Nevrakis!” a voice called across the room.

“Oh, that’s me, gotta go!” Lilith gave her an apologetic smile as she scurried over to a desk near the water cooler to talk to the man who had called her name and a nervous-looking woman standing next to him.

“Hey! That’s Liam’s boss!” Riley squeezed Max’s arm, “Aren’t you two related? Go see if you can get any information out of him!”

“I don’t think so, Riley. He doesn’t really like me….”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, something about our family’s money being tainted and me taking it.”

“He doesn’t take any? No trust fund? Nothing?”

“Nope. Can’t you tell?”

She cocked her head to one side taking in the off-the-rack suit and shoes that had probably come from Mervyn’s or Sears. Bertrand Beaumont looked like every other police detective in the department. Eschewing the Beaumont money, he had risen to head of homicide on his own merits. A good twenty years older than Maxwell, he viewed his young cousin as irresponsible, frivolous, and entitled.

“Okay, fine. But that’s a little judgy. Not taking the money won’t wind back time and fix what your great-grandfather did.”

“That’s what I said!” People fell into two broad categories when they found out he was a Beaumont. They either judged him on his family’s history of having built its fortune from organized crime, or they wanted to use him for his money and family connections. Riley fell into neither of those categories. It was just another reason that he liked her.

“What are you two doing here?” Liam’s voice was so close behind her that she jumped.

Whirling to face him, Riley answered, “Looking for you!”

“I already told you that I’m not giving out confidential case information, Riley.”

“Well, then it’s lucky for you that I’m here to help you!”

“You’re here to help me?” Liam scoffed, “How?”

“I know someone that might have a motive for killing Trenton Hayes.”

Liam’s mouth fell open, “How the hell did you already find out the name of the vic? We haven’t issued any-“

“Detective Rys!” Bertrand’s voice boomed out as he strode across the room, clearly seething.

Confusion spilled across Liam’s features, “Yes sir?”

Bertrand waved a page from a sketchbook in the air, “Do you want to tell me why the main suspect in your murder case looks exactly like your brother?”

[kemihaydeestantonva]

"Power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less."

You know what?? Nobody I know cares about both Hazbin Hotel and A Song of Ice and Fire, but since these two series live in my brain rent free I'm going to be the one to say it: Alastor is so intriguing to me because he's a LOT like Varys. Like, take Varys, make him an arrogant narcissistic serial killer and put him in hell.

Not the HBO "Game of Thrones" version of Varys - I'm talking about BOOK Varys.

Varys is an enigma. He appeared out of nowhere and clawed his way to power not with brute strength, but with wit, manipulation and mental warfare. NOBODY knows where his true intentions lay, nobody trusts him, but everybody needs him and fears him. He grew up in a troupe of actors, and we know that throughout the ENTIRE series he is putting on an entire persona to disarm people and pull all the strings in the background. His soft, powdered, simpering persona is his "smile". Yet, in the brief moments he allows his mask to slip, it's clear that his intentions are insidious. Sound familiar?

SO MANY PEOPLE seem to think of Alastor as this all-powerful being, but he isn't. He is a powerful overlord, sure, but he isn't the MOST powerful overlord - and at the end of the day, even if he was, overlords stand zero chance against Goetic demons, against the deadly sins, against Lucifer or any of heaven's top dogs. Overlords are not all that. Alastor is so overpowering and overwhelming because he analyzes every single person he interacts with and maneuvers himself in a way where he APPEARS much stronger than he actually is. He even tells Charlie his most useful trick straight up.

But it isn't his ONLY tactic. He observes his surroundings and pinpoints any and every mental weakness he can find. Yes, the obvious example is Lucifer, somebody who threatened Alastor on SIGHT, so Al targets his insecurity as a father by buttering up Charlie and rubbing his face in their bond. But he also does this with Zestial, who I suspect is also much stronger - Zestial from what we've seen is a bit of a gossip, he seems to enjoy and insist on being in the know. Alastor *deliberately* acts even more aloof than usual, like you go girl give us NOTHING. He makes a point to hit Vox directly where it hurts him the most - trashing his public image. The list goes on.

Even with somebody like Pentious, who is objectively weaker than Alastor, who just wants to be noticed and acknowledged - is constantly prodded with stinging remarks like "Who are you?" "Do I know you?" "Thanks for another *forgettable* experience!". He positions himself in a way where people see his power and influence, but are never quite sure exactly how powerful he really is, so they err on the side of caution and don't test him to find out. Him losing to Adam was NO surprise to me in the slightest.

Varys does the non-hellish, non-murdery equivalent of this. Despite not being a lord of anything at all, everybody calls him "Lord Varys". Despite having no army to speak of, nobody dares to touch him. Nobody knows what kind of information Varys is hording, what kind of influences he may have behind the scenes. Yet he is a part of everything, in everyone's confidence, adjusting his mannerisms and behaviour to the individual in order to manipulate their actions and move them about the board... only to reveal in the very last chapter of A Dance with Dragons that he's been the mastermind sowing division in the realm all along.

[fatuismooches]

Smooches!! Hello sweetie pie! ૮꒰ ˶´ ꒳ `˶꒱ა ♡

I just thought this out of nowhere and honestly it may not work but basically, reader (maybe even fragile!reader I’m just a complete sucker for fragile!reader) and Dottore going out of the laboratory and into the icy land that is Snezhnaya to get some materials Dottore needs. But while you two are out, suddenly (somehow) you two get ambushed by maybe some treasure hoarders or perhaps some more elite enemies. And you end up getting hurt in the process. Maybe even to the point you end up bleeding. (Would this actually happen? Probably not bc let’s face it, Dottore is so intelligent and strong like you’ve said before even if this did happen the only other situation I can think of is the Traveler 😭) I also just want to see Dottore be like angered and pissed off at whoever dared to hurt his darling. (Like yes come be my protector Dottore boo boo 😭 💕)

But yeah this may not make any sense or even work but it’s okay!! As I’m writing this we finally got rain here!! And it was a thunderstorm to top it off so hopefully this heat goes down soon. Also to answer your question about my baby <333 (dog) we actually don’t know since we’ve never gotten her tested and we had originally gotten her from the middle of the street. She’s a small dog and a creamy colored with a few darker patches. Although she does look to be like a shih tzu! Okay I should stop talking about my baby 😭 if I could send pictures I would!!! (Also if it’s okay with you: I have a bunch of ideas that I hope to send before I have to inevitably start school, so if you see me spam your inbox I’m so so sorry :c )But I hope you enjoy your week and also enjoy this last week of July!! May all your days be filled with love and happiness, as I give you lots and lots of kisses on your cute cheeks and forehead. And a bunch of cuddles too! Please make sure you’re staying well and not tiring yourself with writing. I love you loads and so does everybody else!!! Mwa mwa!!

-from your dear boo boo bear 🎐 anon! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Dottore's lover getting hurt by someone else always fills my brain with too much brainrot 🚶‍♀️ I too love the idea of a cold "i don't care what happens to anyone + I'm too strong to be hurt" character becoming uncharacteristically angry when someone they care for gets hurt. And yes as you said the chances of you getting hurt are practically in the negatives since he plans for every possibility and circumstance... if there's even the slightest chance you can get hurt he won't do it (ESPECIALLY if it's fragile reader, that's a no-no) but for the sake of fanfiction 🥰 if you do get hurt, oh boy. He doesn't show much emotion on his face other than that cocky smirk usually. But when you get hurt he just has no expression at all, and speaks with absolutely no emotion, no mocking, nothing. And that's how you know he's upset. Now we know that Dottore really doesn't care if his experiments suffer or not, but when he gets the people who hurt you, he'll make sure to conduct the most brutal experiments possible. Not caring when they cry and beg for forgiveness. Debating whether he should kill them or forever drag out their suffering.

...Moving on from that- at least you get the most advanced possible treatment in Teyvat, which means you won't be hurting for too long. And ahh I'm glad you got some rain 🌧 ! Hopefully things cooled down over there, I cant imagine how hotttt it is for you 😭 And omg your baby sounds so cute!! 💖💖 And of course I will always welcome your brainrots! I don't mind the spam at all! Good luck in school too, I know its hard but you got this 💞🥰 Make sure not to push yourself too! Hehe I'm giving you more kisses and smooches! I will enjoy this last week of July, we're one step closer to the fall haha. Ily too!! Make sure to take care of yourself as well 🫶🫶

[olath124]

Round two for the otp questions (I hope I didn't fuck up and chose some you didn't already answered lol)

4, 5, 18 and 30 pls!

4. How do they compare to each other's exes? Are they the same "type" or an upgrade/something different?

Of course I'm also a member of the Kusie church!

So, there could not be anything more different than Violet in Kurt's eyes.

On one hand Vio can't really behave and doesn't even care about making a good impression on others. She's a street kid at heart, so she's smart, observant and can mimic the behavior of the people around her, but is not really well-read or cultured.

On the other hand… she can't really behave and doesn't even care about making a good impression on others! And that means she's really open about her relationship and doesn't care a lot about how other people perceive her partner. So, introducing him to her acquired family and friends after one month is not a big deal. And also it means being really open with PDA if there isn't any business meeting involved. She doesn't care if other people think they are together or not. And when it becomes real she doesn't see why hiding it.

Violet has a lot of “casual relationship” experience, but had only one real relationship during her life and it was with Jackie when they were way younger.

So, Kurt and Jackie: those two are also from two different planets.

She was more in line with the general view of life and family value of Jackie. They were really in synch on that side. They worked together well and had the same goals.

On the other hand they really weren't in synch on sex. With Jackie everything was more goofy and tentative (both at their first experiences) and Violet isn't really into that. Scary as it may sound she's never found someone she's compatible as with Kurt on that side.

5. How do they sleep?

They are both used to sleeping alone.

So in the beginning they start all cute and cuddly, but at the end of the night they're both on their side of the bed. She tends to move a lot, steal blankets and throw her arms and legs everywhere, so he may have been awakened with one of her limbs in his face more than once. It happens.

18. Would they have kids together?

Her answer is: “Why?”

His answer is: “Why not?”

They are not planning anything anyway.

On the other hand the two dogs are not doing anything to avoid it.

Violet (normally really careful) is too stuck in her head and doesn't have a lot of time to live, so… who cares, I'd be dead anyway.

He is too caught in the situation to really think about it too.

And he quite enjoys her careless and impulsive behavior in that side. It also makes him feel special and unique because she doesn't seems to be afraid of any consequence of their relationship.

So… planning and projectuality: 0

Don't know what they will do if it actually happens… He'd probably be happy, she'd be terrified.

In the end? Who knows.

30. Where is their relationship the strongest?

Sex life.

No, kidding. There is one thing where they are completely in synch: fighting together (with other people).

The way they fight is so harmonic and in synch it may looks like a dance.

They don't have to think. Don't have to talk. Don't have to pretend anything and lean into what they know how to do best.

Both of them can be quite scary in a fight on their own for different reasons. Together they really feel unstoppable.

In their sick minds it also make for the best foreplay so… two birds with one stone.

(Another thing she'd be deprived off after the operation/coma)

[thelittlestspider]

i don't know how to do the netflix edit, but i still wanted to do a show summary for carry me. so here it is. this is kind of a rough outline of what to expect, and the titles/content will probably change as i get further in.

taglist: @marcspector616, @cassettetapecryptid, @rosesonneptune, @jackieburkhrts. (ask to be +/-)

Carry Me to Places I Have Never Traveled

SUMMARY

An orphan brainwashed into being a sleeper agent tries to put together his fragmented past.

A struggling actress tries to survive under her mother's suffocating management and the grueling expectations of show business and fame.

The two form a bond during one unassuming summer that changes the rest of their lives forever.

Can their friendship survive Scott's horrifying, hidden past? Tune in to see the thrilling conclusion of Carry Me to Places I Have Never Traveled!

EPISODES

Death of Innocence:

Scott's mother is murdered and he is forced to move in with his grandparents, who are not what they seem.

Ray struggles under the weight of her mother's hatred and resentment of her, and suffers a humiliating experience with a director.

Friendship Bracelet:

Ray and Scott meet at a book club party at their mutual friend's house. They feel an immediate connection, and a brief peace for the first time in their lives.

Pain Mosaic:

Scott deals with bullying from kids in school. Ray tries to piece together the code that is Scott.

Camp Nightmare:

Scott struggles to remember the events of the nightmarish summer camp his grandparents forced him to go to (that he's disturbed to find might not even be a camp at all).

Hounds:

Scott has a recurring nightmare about a memory he repressed involving an evil man and the dogs forced to carry out his dark deeds.

He begins to form dog-like characteristics his mother warned of years before, and worries he is becoming a monster.

Ray represses her attraction to rival dancer Alec during rehearsals for Swan Lake.

Blank Spaces For Faces:

Scott tries to draw the faces of his fellow campers, but comes to a troubling discovery.

Ray finds out her mother has stolen all of her money, leaving she and her father in poverty.

The Unraveling Thread:

Scott experiences a terrifying encounter with his grandparents after falling asleep in his apartment.

Ray is threatened by a masked assailant after making a public statement of her philanthropic intentions for the Slums. Alec hints there may be worse things to come.

An Unexpected Ally:

Ray meets the charming, enigmatic young wife of Agony, a sadistic vampire funding their production of Hamlet. The two become friends and make a plan to reveal the atrocities committed by Bellam City's elite.

Scott is confronted by someone from his past.

The Mistake:

A spy follows Joe, Ray, Scott, and Carter, revealing their plans to dismantle S.O.U.L., leading to them being kidnapped at the annual ball. Ray narrowly escapes, fearing for her life and her friends.

Scott wakes up at the Ranch, realizing he is trapped in the place of his waking nightmares.

Trial By Fire:

A coup breaks out at the Ranch. Scott is pulled out of the fire by his tormentor, and forced to find a way back home while still feeling the effects of drugs.

Ray tries to convince Alec to help her find the others.

The Funeral:

Joe, Ray, and Scott navigate the aftermath of Carter's death. Meanwhile, Owen watches from the shadows, preparing to strike.

There Will Be Blood:

Joe and Scott plot the deaths of the surviving members of the Ranch.

Ray mourns Carter's death and tries to figure out how she fits in with Joe and Scott's relationship. She ends her longtime tumultuous relationship with Alec.

[blogger360ncislarules]

Rishi Nair’s first day on set as Grantchester‘s new vicar began with a bang — a scene in which he had to punch his new costar Robson Green. Not surprisingly, Nair was a bit nervous about smacking the veteran actor and original cast member. “Then you get there,” he says, “and everyone’s so lovely and makes you feel welcome that the nerves kind of go away.”

Taking over for Tom Brittney’s Will Davenport in Episode 3 of Season 9, Nair becomes the third handsome young vicar the English village has had in a decade, and the first one who wasn’t white. So while the actor may have felt at home on the popular PBS mystery series from day one, his character, Alphy Kottaram, whose parents moved to Britain from India decades earlier, has a more unfortunate introduction: He’s mistaken for a burglar by Green’s character, police detective Geordie Keating.

“We are in 1961, we’re in Grantchester, which is a very white British town,” Nair says. “It was important to me that when I came in, that was acknowledged.”

Over the season’s remaining six episodes, Alphy does face prejudice and misconceptions, but he also finds acceptance in the community and forges a connection with Geordie, who asks Alphy to assist him with his investigations, just as he did the clergyman’s two predecessors. But the newcomer wants to stick to delivering Sunday sermons, at least initially.

“At first glance Alphy doesn’t like Geordie, doesn’t want anything to do with him,” Nair previews. “But as they spend more time together, he learns that Geordie has a lot of empathy, which he assumes no police officer has.”

Robson Green and Rishi Nair, with Milburn and Dickens (Courtesy of Kudos, ITV, and MASTERPIECE)

As the season progresses, a friendship develops. “They’re both very loving to each other in a kind of masculine way of ‘I’m never going to say it to you,’” Nair previews. “But they’re there for each other, which is lovely to see between two male characters, especially in that time.”

Alphy and Geordie encounter their share of dead bodies — in a manor house, at an archaeological site — as Grantchester, now the longest-running current Masterpiece series, reaches 59 episodes. (That’s seven more than Downton Abbey had when it ended its run.) Women in the community are more than happy to get to know the handsome, single vicar, who takes off his shirt 10 minutes into his first episode. But Alphy’s appeal isn’t just skin deep.

“He’s very chilled and relaxed, but there are certain things that can really annoy him,” Nair says. “When he sees people exploiting their position or taking advantage of people, you see that steel beneath Alphy come out, which is really interesting.”

Nair, a former cast member of the British soap opera Hollyoaks, describes shooting Grantchester as a “lovely experience,” especially filming on location in the Cambridgeshire community it’s named after and working with Green. “Just being on set with Robson every day was some of the best days I’ve had filming,” Nair says. “He’s such a joy to work with, he has so many great stories. I would just sit there and listen.”

Not as chatty, but equally fun, was four-legged costar Dickens, who has been the vicarage’s pooch since he was a puppy. “I’ve never seen such a well-behaved dog. He hits marks better than I do,” Nair says with a laugh.

More challenging was driving Alphy’s red Triumph convertible. It stalled in the middle of filming a scene, a photographer caught the ensuing action and the picture — of Green and some crew members pushing the car while Nair tried to jump-start it — wound up in a British tabloid. “We found it quite funny,” he recounts.

Although Nair was raised in a Hindu family, he adds that “there’s so much of Alphy’s religion and his faith that I still resonate with. It’s his moral values that he has because of his faith.” To prep for the role, the actor went to services at the grand Liverpool Cathedral to observe how a vicar delivers a sermon and interacts with the congregation.

He also used music — including swing, Motown and Elvis Presely — to immerse himself in the era. “For the first month of filming I was just listening to music from the ’60s,” Nair says, “whether it was at the gym or whether I was driving to work or on the weekend. It’s not like I’m in a scene and I’m thinking of the song, but subconsciously I have that information in me somewhere and, hopefully, that helps.”

Although Nair and Brittney don’t interact onscreen, they were on set at the same time and got acquainted. “He gave me some great advice on how to deal with Robson when he’s hungry,” Nair teases, before adding, “And he kind of left his door open. If there’s anything I ever wanted to ask him, I feel comfortable being able to message him, which is really nice.”

[theadventurerslog]

Chuchel | Part 2

The Adventurer's Log

Part 2 and finale of this zany trip: the cherry chase continues. I had an alien to deal with. I was given several options every time I clicked on it. They all result in getting blasted. The alien was not impressed.

Even some lovely guitar playing! The guitar was fried...

After going through some options there was one to get angry. Chuchel basically threw a fit at the alien and it went away. Have a problem? Yell at it until it goes away.

So another alien can come down.

Much like the first instance I had multiple options to try including some very ridiculous things.

Like...

summoning a dinosaur! It was surprisingly ineffective but certainly entertaining. Offering a flower, however, got results in a sneeze fest that caused the blob trapping the cherry to get knocked aside. I mean, then a UFO showed up so things still weren't good for our friend here.

Writing this is almost as much of a trip as playing this. I was once more given many options to try none of which worked.

But after goofing around with a few things, who should show up but Kekel of course. Kekel in a hot air balloon. Kekel who proceeded to stab the ufo with scissors, causing it to deflate.

Kekel, who then, well, took the cherry away because that's just what Kekel does, isn't it? So, this led to another multi-screen chase this time armed with a blow pipe as we try to get Kekel. Down.

Utter chaos

More chaos.

We may have crashed the moon.

And the cherry continues to remain out of reach!

Well, okay, he did get a hold of it, but played enough by now to know that never sticks.

Especially when there's cute ladybugs to be distracted by and poke and...

And get chomped by. Ya kind of brought it on yourself, Chuchel.

Things progressed as they do and I ended up in a screen of blob frogs.

Kekel had escaped with the cherry through the pipe so I needed to get up there. That involved some reorganization and bounciness of these fellows that did take a bit of fiddling and some trial and error but I got there.

There were situations. There are always situations but I ultimately ended up in toothbrush land.

Thanks to Chuchel and Kekel fighting over the cherry it got flung into the glass with the teeth. I was able to get knock the teeth out by knocking the glass over, but the teeth still prevented me from just going in to get the cherry. There was toothpaste, and moving toothbrushes, and tubes. This was another one that was a little trickier for me, but I managed.

Cherry.

The teeth wasn't gonna let that stand and summoned more of their brethren. Already have a ready-made escape route though, so Chuchel fled back up the goo into the pipe.

Which led to a dark space with a single light switch. Flicking the light switch off and on caused a variety of effects and shenanigans including grim reapers showing up and playing the switch while taunting Chuchel instead...

But the torment came to an end only to result in the next level seeing both Chuchel and Kekel contained in beakers for experimentation.

I had to make three selections: pill colour, some kind of liquid with different effects and happy or angry mood. The right combination turns them into an angry dog and cat like critter respectively and they can break out. But of course there was other combinations to experiments with too along the way.

The day didn't get any better though. Sure they escaped, but the cherry is still the ultimate goal here and the ol' giant hand came back to wave it in our faces. So the chase began again.

Until at last we meet the hand's owner...

Hi.

Things got kind of gross for a bit here. Big fella there swallows cherry then Chuchel and Kekel end up getting into its mouth. There were teeth.

I had to move through while avoiding getting bounced back by being bitten. Just kind of gross.

Then there were angry teeth? And I had to punch them away. Because why not!

But that led to a biiig tooth showing up which we then hitched a ride on.

There's gotta be some kind of tooth or molar joke in here somewhere, but I got nothin'. You can maybe guess where this is going.

Yeah, stomach time.

You have to rotate the stomach to drop Chuchel down the right paths. I had an 'oh no' moment of dread, but it wasn't too bad actually and I did it quite quickly. I got dropped into another 'room' where Chuchel got knocked out or fell asleep to give us a good ol' dream sequence.

Oh that dreamy cherry.

Until...

UNTIL

Mean green Chuchel locked the cherry in a cage. So there were lots of options here and a lot of them led little mini games, like snail racing! But none of them were the solution. Just fun to be had. Instead it's a simple matter of running off to the left to use screen wrap-around to sneak in behind green Chuchel and knock the cage off cherry over green Chuchel.

Victory!

Then Kekel woke Chuchel up.

It's back to working together--still trapped in giant meanie after all. We ended up at its brain where there was a switch to make him happy instead of angry.

And it turned him a happy orange! We got out and he carried us back home.

After all of that, the rivalry, the aid, the adventure, the clinginess, the cherry greed... Chuchel splits the cherry in half and they share. How sweet.

Then more cherries rain down...

The last gift from the big fellow. And an ecstatic Chuchel.

But you know things come in cycles and while Chuchel got his cherry what about this orange giant?

Pear!

And then...

Another adventure! But not for us. We can only wish him well...

Just a happy end for Chuchel and pals over here.

I missed the screen the actually said The End. But, here's a nice ending screen anyway. Look at 'em all.

And that's that! Cherries were gained, happy day.

Time: 1:57

--

Final Thoughts

It was fun! Completely goofy and absurd, but entertaining. I do prefer Botanicula and Samorost of their library that I've played at this point, but I'm glad to have given Chuchel a shot too.

There were some bits I felt went a little too long even with how short of a game it was. Nothing game breaking just my preferences.

I don't want to say it's easy or not too hard because everyone varies on what they find difficult but I found it mostly fairly easy over all. There's also a hint that will become available after a little bit but is totally optional to see or not.

Not much else to say really. It's very much an Amanita Design game with all the wackiness that brings.