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hernando-valdez · 7 months ago

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Don't Call My Name || A Chase & Nando Production

ft. @chasemmccoy

tldr: Alejandra ded trigger warnings: death, blood, depictions of violence including guns

Although Hernando and Chase had been planning this for months, Hernando still felt the weight of it all as they sat on the boat, zooming through open waters into Amsterdam canals. He was grateful that the boat was at least bigger than the plane they had been crammed into for hours. It wasn’t like they could exactly fly coach so their best option had been a sympathetic bombardeo who was willing to fly them for a price. If shit wasn’t about to get so serious he might have actually laughed about it. Like the two of them were in some buddy movie, encountering as many obstacles as possible along the way. That’s what the recent months had felt like. He had left town so quickly, there was a foolish part of his brain that thought he could solve this all quickly. But the reality was that he couldn’t get revenge in 24 hours. It just didn’t work that way.

Especially when the person he was looking for was so damn good at not being found. She had made a true art of it and Hernando had spent countless days trying to figure it out. He and Chase had followed up on so many leads that at one point it just felt like they were moving in circles. At least Chase was still in town but Nando had been staying for so long at his safehouse, he was starting to believe that he’d never get home again. He still hadn’t fully figured out how the fuck he was going to casually blend back into Tonopah Valley society. It wasn’t like he could exactly just fix the shop up and keep on going.

But all of these thoughts started to fall from his mind as he looked at his phone and saw they were getting closer to their destination. He took a deep breath and looked through his bag a few more times to make sure he had everything with him. “You know, if we do this shit, we might actually be able to get a drink in this fucking city before cutting out. I think Lyla would be pissed if I didn’t come back with a souvenir,” he said with a laugh but it felt like the truth. As the boat slowed to a stop, Hernando glanced at Chase.

They were under a tunnel now, entering the building from underneath tunnels. Something that seemed almost too convenient but he was sure this was the same way Alejandra came through whenever she really didn’t want to be seen. Which was probably always. “You ready for this, hermano?”

“About as ready as I��ll ever be considerin’ all the unknown variables.” Chase replied as he ensured he had all of his weapons strapped to his person. He finally met Hernando’s gaze, lips quirking into a smirk. “Been waitin’ for this a long time. Catch.”

He tossed a pair of tactical goggles over towards him before securing the balaclava around the bottom half of his face. One of the only advantages of his new work with The Enterprise was the access to more advanced tech, and he’d made sure to grab a few pieces before they’d left. The goggles could toggle between night vision and thermal, and assuming Alejandra did everything in her power to put as many obstacles between her and them, they could come in handy to minimize casualties.

Chase hadn’t been surprised when they realized she’d holed herself up on the top level of the night club. One of the best ways to hide was in plain sight, and how were these revelers to know that they were providing safe harbor to a heartless harpy?

“No shit, damn, Jack Reacher ain’t got shit on us,” Nando joked as he hung the goggles around his neck before getting out of the boat and sliding the driver their payment. He waited until the guy drove out before moving with Chase to the door. He looked around out of precaution, especially for cameras as he accessed the lock on the door. It had been a long time since Nando had done something so undercover and though there was a little rust, he was remembering just how much experience he had. And how prepared he was for this exact moment.

“Bingo, bango, baby,” he muttered as the door beeped and opened. “No going back,” he said more to himself as they stepped inside of the ground floor, clearly a storage of all things forgotten. Hernando figured it was a way to make this place seem like there wasn’t much going on. He moved slowly, one of his guns already drawn as they moved along. Everything was still too quiet for his liking but as they ascended the stairs, the loud music from the club could be heard through the walls. Hernando was about to turn the corner up the next set of steps when he heard a voice and paused, motioning at Chase to stop.

He glanced upwards and saw two of Alejandra’s men making their way down the stairs, both of them taking out a pack of cigarettes to smoke. “Terrible time for a smoke break,” he muttered before signaling to Chase that he would take the one on the right. As they stepped down, he stepped up, smiling behind his face covering. “You know, they say those things will kill you,” he told him, flicking the pack up into his guy’s face before burying the muzzle of his gun into the guy’s stomach and firing off four times before letting him fall down the stairs. He waited for Chase to take care of the second guy before they started up the next set of stairs and finally made it to the club level. It would be elevators from there on out and according to the floor plan, the only way up was through.

“Let’s get this party started,” Hernando said before inching the door of the club open. “After you,” he told Chase and waited for him to lead them through. “Try not to get too distracted, I know how much you love to dance.”

“Wanna tie a rope to each other so we don’t get lost?” he joked back over the music, chuckling as he stepped out onto the floor. The heavy bass rattled the floor beneath their feet and he made sure to keep the safety on his gun as they maneuvered through the crowd. The last thing they needed was for someone to grind into one of them and be met with a bullet in the leg.

The place was packed and he half wondered if they’d manage to make it to the elevators undetected, but it didn’t take long before people took notice of their tactical gear, giving them a wide berth and drawing the attention of the security guards posted up around the perimeter.

“Got company. Your four and six,” Chase spoke into their comms, flicking the safety off his pistol. He aimed, pointing the end of the silencer in the direction of the guards approaching on the left and shot two rounds into each, one after the other. Out of the corner of his vision through the goggles he noticed the other guards go down as Nando’s shots hit true, and suddenly the sound of screams from those around the fallen bodies rose above the music.

Chaos erupted on the dance floor, club-goers shoving one another in an attempt to reach the exits first. More guards filtered out of the elevator coming from the upper levels, guns at the ready, and the pair switched into autodrive. Bodies littered the floor by the time they’d reached the waiting elevator. Alejandra was no doubt aware of their arrival by now.

The doors closed and the elevator rose up towards the top floor. Chase inspected the wound on his shoulder, a knife having found purchase before he’d had a chance to slit the ambushing guard’s throat. “This is it.” He looked over to Nando meaningfully. “Whatever happens, it’s been an honor kickin’ ass with you.”

There had been a version of this plan where they were going to go in quietly but they had collectively decided that wouldn’t last very long. Which was evident to how quickly all hell broke loose. But it was the exact reason why Chase was the only person Hernando would do this with. It was clear in the in sync way they moved, that even with the cuts and eventual bruises, they had one goal and that was to survive long enough to accomplish what they had come here for.

“You know, these people should be grateful, that DJ was shit,” Hernando joked, catching his breath as he wiped some blood from his cheek. He reloaded his gun, glancing over at Chase with a grin. “That makes two of us, man. Let’s do what we came here to do.” He met his eyes for a moment longer and nodded. No matter what happened on the other side of the door, they weren’t going to go down without Alejandra going down with them.

The floor numbers went up and up and Nando gripped his gun tightly, ignoring the bits of blood on him or the way his knee ached from someone trying to kick his knees out from under him. He definitely wasn’t some young kid anymore but he had enough. It had to be enough.

The elevator doors opened and Nando was the first one out, shooting the first guy he saw in the head, another army of bodyguards charging towards them. Hernando opened fire without hesitation before ducking behind a pillar for cover. He told Chase to hold up and grabbed one of the smoke grenades from his belt, sliding his goggles back on before he threw it out in front of them. On his count, they both charged forward. Hernando tackled one guy before shooting him, fighting another in hand to hand combat before he won the battle. Not without a cut to his side but it didn’t stop him from moving forward. There was no stopping until he and Chase stood at the final door, dripping sweat and blood.

And then, there she was. As they entered the last room and she sat calmly behind her desk, her hands already on her gun as she looked at both of them. It hit Hernando then, just how long it had been since he had seen her in person. How much time stretched between them now. He saw no semblance of the woman he had once loved deeply. Once believed in. Once had followed blindly.

“Qué sorpresa. Te tomó bastante tiempo.” She spoke first and Hernando almost faltered as he held his gun up and started to inch forward.

“Yo podría decir lo mismo.” He responded. He had been sure that she was going to find him first and take him out. It had felt so certain and yet he had come to realize that maybe she had underestimated him. Or maybe she thought she could still convince him to stay loyal.

The rest of it happened so fast, Hernando wasn’t sure he could even parse out the details yet. She reached for her gun and shot at both of them, catching Chase in the shoulder and causing him to stumble backward. In the next moment, Hernando caught her right on her hand. Quite literally shooting the gun out of her hand as he descended on her.

“You okay?!” He called back to Chase as he put one hand around Alejandra’s neck and put the tip of his gun to her forehead.

“Fuck!” Chase cursed, hand shooting to his shoulder to staunch the flow of blood spilling down his arm. “Yeah, I’m good. Her aim’s as shitty as the people she sent to off me.”

Hernando locked his gaze with Alejandra’s, grip tight on her throat. His adrenaline was rushing as he looked her in the eyes, he was actually surprised at how he felt nothing. At how her actions had broken him so deeply.

She didn’t plead with him, only told him how much of a coward his father had been, how much of a coward he was. How all the men who had come before him were cowards. How without her things would crumble. Ho-

Hernando didn’t wait to hear much more before he pulled the trigger and put a bullet between her eyes. There was no time for delaying, not time for eulogies or apologies, especially as they heard the ding of the elevator and a whole new group of people spilled out in hopes of catching them.

Chase wished he’d had a little longer to revel in this moment, to relish in the knowledge that Alejandra Eguia would never again terrorize their lives. Unfortunately, the bullet zipping past his already injured shoulder and embedding in the wall behind him was a clear sign that wasn’t an option.

“Time to fly,” he called to Nando, shooting out the glass from the window before running and swan diving through it into the canal below. Chase heard the muffled sound of Nando splashing into the water beside him followed by shots shot from above. He slipped the mini tank of oxygen from his gear and slipped the breathing apparatus into his mouth, motioning for Nando to do the same. Though the tanks were small enough to be portable, they provided enough oxygen to keep them under for a few minutes until they reached their getaway.

The boat’s driver helped haul them both over the edge and Chase sprawled out on the floor as it took off and put as much distance between them and the club as possible, his chest rising and falling as he gulped down air. He looked to Nando, a smirk taking over his face. “Ding dong, the witch is dead.”

#self para #sp #two unserious men LOL #death tw #violence tw #guns tw #injury tw #its long but we also got straight to the point LOL #shoutout to bri for co writing this w me <3 #this is basically a buddy comedy

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thechanelmuse · 4 years ago

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The Tulsa Race Massacre at “Black Wall Street” Took Place 99 Years Ago Today

In the span of about 24 hours between May 31 and June 1, 1921, a white mob descended on Greenwood, a successful Black economic hub in Tulsa, Oklahoma then-known as “Black Wall Street,” and burned it to the ground. Some members of the mob had been deputized and armed by city officials. In what is now known as the “Tulsa Race Massacre,” the mob destroyed 35 square blocks of Greenwood, burning down more than 1,200 black-owned houses, scores of businesses, a school, a hospital, a public library, and a dozen Black churches. The American Red Cross, carrying out relief efforts at the time, said the death toll was around 300, but the exact number remains unknown. A search for mass graves, only undertaken in recent years, has been put on hold due to the Covid-19 pandemic. Those who survived lost their homes, businesses, and livelihoods. Property damage claims from the massacre alone amount to tens of millions in today’s dollars. The massacre’s devastating toll, in terms of lives lost and harms in various ways, can never be fully repaired.

Following the massacre, government and city officials, as well as prominent business leaders, not only failed to invest and rebuild the once thriving Greenwood community, but actively blocked efforts to do so.

No one has ever been held responsible for these crimes, the impacts of which Black Tulsans still feel today. Efforts to secure justice in the courts have failed due to the statute of limitations. Ongoing racial segregation, discriminatory policies, and structural racism have left Black Tulsans, particularly those living in North Tulsa, with a lower quality of life and fewer opportunities.

On the 99th anniversary of the massacre, a movement is growing to urge state and local officials to do what should have been done a long time ago—act to repair the harm, including by providing reparations to the survivors and their descendants, and those feeling the impacts today.

Under international human rights law, governments have an obligation to provide effective remedies for violations of human rights. The fact that a government abdicated its responsibility nearly 100 years ago and continued to do so in subsequent years does not absolve it of that responsibility today—especially when failure to address the harm and related action and inaction results in further harm, as it has in Tulsa. Like so many other places across the United States marred by similar incidents of racial violence, these harms stem from the legacy of slavery.

There are practical limits to how long, or through how many generations, such claims should survive. However, Human Rights Watch supports the conclusion of the Oklahoma Commission to Study the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921 (recently renamed the Tulsa Race Massacre Commission)—a commission created by the Oklahoma state legislature in 1997 to study the massacre and make recommendations—that reparations should be made.

Some historians call this the “Tulsa Race Riot.” It was not a riot; it was a massacre strictly towards Black people. Calling it a “riot” takes the accountability off of white people and remixing their history...as usual. It was an ethnic cleansing at the hands of angry white mobs who took their asses over there to the Greenwood District to shoot and drop bombs (provided to them by government officials) on Black victims. They hated the existence of Black people succeeding, happy, minding their damn business, solely supporting Black businesses, and displaying economic growth that they couldn’t get their hands in. Still do.

The rest of that article above goes into extensive detail on the need for reparations and the aftermath (education, health, redlining, etc) for Black Tulsans now.

The video below from Vox goes into details “Black Wall Street” before the ethnic cleansing with footage included from that time, as well as the massacre itself and the aftermath. For example, white people distributed photo postcards of the ethnic cleansing as souvenirs:

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Dr. Olivia Hooker was the last survivor of the Tulsa Race Massacre. She passed away in 2018 at the age of 103. She was a professor and psychologist for children. How interesting. Seeing something so traumatic done to your people as a child and dealing with PTSD to then go on and treat children. This was her:

#black wall street #tulsa oklahoma #tulsa race massacre #dr olivia hooker #1920s

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

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...surprise part 3

{part1} {part 2}

I got there in the end!!!! sorry I felt like this dragged quite a lot but just quite happy to get it done ahah. Any feedback / advice would be greatly appreciated :)

TW: this is pretty heavy angst, miscarriages / thoughts of self harm / death pls don't read if this could strike a cord x

Summary: Y/n has absolutely not a clue how to tell Tom and that only strains the both incredibly.

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The drive home was deathly silent. Tom’s Audi seamlessly drove down the near-empty roads on a sleepy Sunday evening. The whole time Y/n sat with one leg curled up by her chest as she absently stared out of the passenger window. Honestly, though, she was not taking anything of the view in, all processing power in her brain was in overdrive. Souly focused on how the fuck she was going to tell Tom what she had done. She knew Tom kept glancing over at her, with the panicked hint to his eyes- no matter how comforting he was trying to appear. His grip on the steering wheel was every tightening, he felt as though right now that was the only control he had. Still with no idea what was going on - but this time his mum knew too. And his mum when she came to get him from the living was not calm either.

Something he always admired about his mum was how cool she was in a crisis. Even if Paddy likened her to the ’rage monster’ at times when she was pissed because he’d left the freezer door open, or something equally as stupid, when it came down to it, when there was a really serious issue… she was composed. Calm and collected. So when she came in and called Tom, taking him away from his brothers, he could tell something was wrong by the look in her eye. She was upset, that was clear to him, but there was something more. It wasn’t straight up panic (not like if Y/n had passed out or something) but it was… it was a quiet urgency.

It meant it was bad.

Without the need to ever consider it, Tom knew this wasn’t anything to do with Y/n being unfaithful. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. And that meant, something must've happened personally to Y/n - which maybe scared him even more. If it was a betrayal of him, that would principally hurt Tom himself - which would kill him, but he would deal with it. It was the fear of the unknown and the complete powerlessness in this situation that had Tom wishing the drive away so he’d finally understand.

The drive felt painstakingly long for Tom… yet far too short for Y/n to come up with a plan.

When the pair finally pulled into the driveway, they both didn’t even exchange glances before heading out the car and slamming the doors shut. The crunch of their shoes on the gravel path to the front door was deafeningly loud as Tom fished the keys out of his pocket - this time with a sense of dread that contrasted so strongly the excitement he’d felt less than 24 hours ago doing the exact same thing.

Tom held the door open for her, as she fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve; eyes still glued to the floor. He flicked on the light to illuminate the hall as she slipped off her shoes. He mirrored her action and then for the first time since his parents' house looked her in the eye. Just that action had him near spilling his guts about how worried he was about her, before Y/n beat him to it.

“I’m…I’m gonna take a shower.”

And it had him floored. How could she just ignore the bloody massive and luminous elephant in the room? He couldn’t even respond, his brain was so confused as to what the fuck was going on. So she just nodded smally and headed straight upstairs. Leaving him in a stupor by the doorway.

Meanwhile, Y/n was just about holding it together until she got behind the locked door of their ensuite. Then it broke. She broke.

She pulled the clothes that drowned her off frantically, scratching and grabbing until the garments ripped off her body and were thrown across the room in haste. In the mirror, the reflection of the person that stood there somewhat had her transfixed. Tilting her head to the side, Y/n took careful steps up toward it - her eyes transfixed on her exposed abdomen. She was hollow. So very empty and it had her hypnotised. How barely weeks ago she was growing a real human inside there - creating something that should’ve gone onto laugh and smile and grow and learn. And love.

Now she was empty.

The poor thing though had been so deprived by their own mother; so unwanted and hated. They had been starved of all love by the person who was supposed to love them the most. The person who was supposed to be half their world for the first few years at least.

It was her fault.

Y/n hated herself, heck she wanted to punish herself for what she’d done. And yet, there was something so pure about her stomach, about where that angel had been. She wanted to punch herself, to kick and hurt, to make her feel pain. Except for this little life force, or the remnants of them - had her respecting it. Instead, she gently rubbed her stomach, which was flat rather than full like it should’ve been, and yet it felt like a relief. At a snail's pace, she trailed the tips of her finger across her belly just drawing (what she thought were) random patterns - however to anyone else they would have noticed the silhouette of a small human.

She took her time int the shower, having the water close to blisteringly hot but not quite there - using it as an attempt to purge her body of the thoughts, of the guilt. Eventually, though she couldn’t drag out the bathroom routine any longer, she had to go and face him. In reality, Y/n was well aware of how unfair this was on Tom - he had been terrified on the way back here, she knew that. But the thought of admitting to him this truly abhorrent thing she’d done, selfishly she didn’t want to tell him tonight. Just one more night sharing a bed with him, one morning of seeing his puffy eyes and bed hair, one last time hearing his gruff morning voice. Before he found out the real her and before he left.

Thankfully, when she finally drew the courage to unlock the door and leave her sanctuary, their bedroom was empty and she took that opportunity. As fast as she possibly could, Y/n changed into an old nightshirt before huddling under the covers. Tom had been so careful with her feelings today, he might just leave her be. Delay the conversation till tomorrow. It was the dream.

And dreams don’t come true.

Tom walked in, she could hear the soft pad of his feet on the cream carpet as she tried to act fast asleep - regulating her breathing and relaxing every muscle she could. When in fact that the whole process was the opposite of relaxing, she was on such high alert, waiting for a sign of him leaving her alone for the evening. Quite expectedly though, it didn’t quite go down that way. She heard him sigh, felt him sit on his side of the bed as her body rippled with the dip on the bed, felt his eyes piercing her.

“Y/n…” the tone of his voice had her wincing internally, he was hurting. “Y/n please… just talk to me?” She was too scared to move. “ I know your awake Y/n we both know who’s the actor here” Y/n knew Tom was trying to lighten the mood, trying to make her feel a bit more comfortable but then he switched back to an underlying hint of desperation. “Please talk to me.” She didn’t have a choice, he wasn't going to let up - Y/n could tell. So she rolled over and opened her eyes facing him.

“I’m tired, Tom. Can we do this tomorrow?” His face completely morphed and she knew she fucked up. He wasn’t upset or worried or scared any more.

“I’m sorry but that is not fair.”

“Please just-“

“NO. ah” He sighed, as if disciplining himself for the instinctive angry tone. “Look- I-I’ve been going at your pace. I’ve been treading on eggshells all day. I didn’t want to push you but I’m bloody terrified! I mean you told my mum! And she’s worried so that means I’m even more stressed and-…. Just please Y/n. You know I’d never judge you I’m just worried because I care.”

And just like that, she didn’t have a choice. She was really hurting the man she loved.

As a result, Y/n pushed herself up into a sitting position, still hugging the duvet around her in a protective blanket as she looked into his glassy eyes. It tore her heart out.

“I’m really sorry” she pursed her lips blowing out an exhale, trying to collect all her thoughts, feelings and emotions together. “I’ve been trying to all day but-.. it’s just I’m finding this really hard to express in words.”

“I don’t mind if it takes all night, just I-I want to understand.” He was just too kind and she didn’t deserve it. So picking at the duvet while pulling her legs closer in protection she nodded.

“Okay, so-so I just take you through it chronologically? And-and then I can go to Y/f/n’s place so.”

“Why would you got to hers?” He asked, his eyebrows drawn tightly together in confusion. He knew you hadn’t been unfaithful - his mum most definitely wouldn’t have reacted in the way she did had Y/n betrayed Tom.

“Just… just listen first.” She didn’t want to answer that question, to speak it into existence. Him kicking her out, in a rage of fury and anger at how evil she could be. She thought he’d just reply and accept it, not feel the need to calm her.

“I could never ever hate you Y/n please, it’s a bit insulting to me that you think I would.”

His words had her a little shocked - she had definitely not expected that reaction. His offence.

“Umm okay just… just don’t promise till you hear.” He gave her a stern look, not enough to make her back down or change her mind from what she thought was inevitable. “So. So it was when you were away. You’d just gone to Atlanta I think and-and I woke up one morning and was sick and it was weird I don’t know… um so I took the day off but I was okay until the next morning and-and I was sick again. It was weird so I took the next day off because you know Elliot I work with? He’s-he's got some broken immune system or something so we really can’t go in if we are ill. But I was fine until the next morning again and-and then it kind of hit me. I hadn’t had a period in ages and-and yeah.”

“Your pregnant?” Tom asked, trying to wrap his head around the current situation and what she was saying.

“Was…” Her voice wavered and she paused a second “ I-I was. I was shocked you know? We…we weren’t ready.” Y/n shifted uncomfortably, pushing herself closer to the headboard. “You said you didn’t want kids now and I mean … we- we are barely adults ourself right? It-it was so stupid but I couldn’t tell you could I?… Phone you up and say by the way I’m pregnant with a kid you don’t want!...” She dared to look at him, only for a second, seeing the way he just stared at her as though transfixed. She couldn’t keep looking at him.

“So I was waiting till you would get back … er next week, well when you were supposed to be back anyway.” She scoffed lightly at that, how the whole entire situation had been completely flipped on its head. “I would have had the scan then. And-and I went and it so stupid because they were a blob but-shit. They were so beautiful.” She hadn’t even noticed, suddenly absorbed in what she was saying but Tom leant over to grab one of her hands because it was trembling so vigorously. It wasn’t that he wanted to comfort her, he needed to. Because really? When it mattered, he hadn’t and that was already eating away at him.

“And I stupidly…. So fucking stupidly… I thought what if? I got excited and in my head… I don’t fucking know I just thought that I-it, it might work. I really - really thought it could work.” She couldn’t feel it but Tom wormed his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her into his side. “But by that point, I’d already filled them with so much hate. I wanted them out for so long and…and then I just- well I got what I thought I wanted.”

For the first time since she started her speech, Y/n wasn’t absorbed in retelling the story. Noticing her position with Toms arms protectively wrapped around her, she dared to look up into his eyes. And they weren’t right. It was wrong. Because here he was still looking at her with these incredibly soft warm brown eyes, his thumb rubbing up and down on the back of her shoulder blade.

“Love, I’m so so sorry.”

She was bemused. What the hell was he doing? Was this just a double bluff, acting all soft before he was about to rip her heart out - even if it was what she deserved, that was exceptionally cruel?

“No Tom your not listening. I-I couldn’t keep your baby alive! I-I wished them away… I wanted them gone!” Now she was plainly hysterical, shouting and yelling at Tom as her hands shook.

It broke Tom’s heart. He knew this was his fault - at least a little. Clearly, she should never have been in a position to have to deal with this herself, that was obvious. And it made him guilty… but what hit harder? She had very clearly implied she was worried about his reaction, he should never have let her worry. Because Tom knew he loved Y/n unconditionally, at this point that should be a given - for all he cared there was nothing, within the limits of reason, she could do that would make him seriously reconsider his opinion of her. Even then, if his opinion were ever forced to change so dramatically... he still knew he wouldn’t be able to stop loving her. Loving isn't an option, it is not a choice. You helplessly surrender yourself to it. And yet she was apparently less sure of this fact.

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with this by yourself.” And he meant it. He truly meant it. However, Y/n was not having it at all - in her state, in her frame of mind, this was him just torturing her; acting it out only to break her heart. His words and her position wrapped protectively in his arms dawned on her. It had her leaping up from the bed, tears streaming down her face as she gestured wildly.

“Tom that’s not fair! Don’t you get it? I KILLED YOUR BABY! They were alive and then I wasn’t enough for them! IT’S MY FAULT!” To put it simply, she looked insane. Screaming, with tears streaming down her face, arms flailing about as she yelled at Tom, who was still sitting on the bed.

He’d never seen her like this- with so much anger. What was even more disturbing was the fact that it was targeted so inwardly at herself.

“This isn’t your-“

“BE ANGRY TOM. For fuck sake… I-“ She choked out a sob “I murdered your kid! RAGE AT ME SHOUT AT ME it’s-it’s what I deserve.” It was insane but the look in her eye was one that seemed to Tom as though she needed him to hate her. As if in some fucked up narrative that was how the story should end.

He was not having one bit of it, tearing his eyes away from her maniacally shaking frail frame and instead to the corner of the ceiling. There was no precedent, no guidebook on how to deal with this, no past experiences to rely on. Unlike if Y/n had had a shit day, Tom knew then to subtly keep her within reach, to silently be there so she could literally and figuratively lean on him when she was ready; unlike when she was angry at ignorant politicians, he knew not to argue but prompt her to explain more, give a more reasoned argument so anger became thought through intellect; unlike when her grandma had died, when she just needed his contact, she needed his thumb rubbing against her hip, needed to sleep listening to the rhythmical thumping of his heart. None of these were applicable - his touch seemed to make her worse; his words seemed to anger her more; his mere presence didn’t seem to be doing an awful lot of good.

And yet, he couldn’t leave her even if it seemed to be the most logical option. Because she was wild, not herself and not logical and he, for the first time, was terrified of the danger she could be to herself.

Y/n stared at him, wide-eyed, waiting for him to react. She saw his Adam's apple bob up and down - readying his voice to scream at her. She saw his brown eyes collect a sheen of tears of rage - ready to bore holes into her skull as he degraded her to what she was worth. Which was very little. Then, as if in slow motion, his sharp jawline tilted back level and his eyes met her. He was frozen as if a statue, ready to rage at her.

“I love you both. So much and equally.”

Tom was pretty sure he could imagine Y/n’s runaway train in her head slam on the breaks. Her eyebrow twitched a little, as she stood completely still trying to analyse his words. Because to her, it didn’t make sense. So he took this moment of (at least surface level) calm to smoothly and slowly stand up, actions much like mirroring how someone approaches a spooked cat on the streets. Movements slow and preplanned, trying not to set off the fight or flight response on the women in front of him.

“That little baby you made… I didn’t know he ever existed till minutes ago but…but I know for a fact I love them.” He was trying to both figure out and decode his own emotions while explaining them in a way Y/n would accept and understand.

“I love them because… they are made by the love of my life. And that’s incredible and indescribable and just… just part of you, an extension of everything you and me together are… They would never have been perfect right?” Tom softly asked, though realistically knowing he wouldn’t get a response from a still motionless Y/n - besides a single tear, which appeared to have a mind of its own, escaping over her bottom lash lid. Tom watched it roll down her cheek as he composed his next words. “No they wouldn’t, no ones perfect… neither me nor you. But they would’ve been safe and have been loved. They were loved, you-you loved them right, even if you didn’t think you did or when you were terrified?” This time Y/n nodded minutely and Tom mirrored this, taking a small step a little closer to her. “And I did love them while they were in your stomach because they were part of you and I always always love you…. So they were so full of love okay? There's no rhyme or reason to why what happened happened but it’s… it’s definitely not because they were starved of love okay?” Y/n still didn’t have appeared to have released a single breath since Tom stood up, so he made a calculated and risked assessed movement to reach his hand out to touch her upper arm. In reaction, she sucked in a sharp shaky breath and then expelled it just as quickly - just like Tom knew she would. He physically felt a pull in his chest seeing the torment in her glassy eyes, now barely a rulers length from her.

“This, it’s an awful… awful situation. It’s sad and heartbreaking but I really need you to know that it changes nothing about how I feel about you. I need you to really understand how much I love-and always will-love you, and how I love them too.” Another tear escaped the same eye and Tom reached up with his other hand so his thumb could brush it away before the glassy orb met her pronounced jawline. To be honest he was quite grateful for the moment as he felt his voice getting a bit sticky in the back of his throat. She still wasn’t ready to speak yet and he was okay with that.

“We’ll never forget them and we will always love them, but I want to do that with you, as we get older together. They tie us closer and I refuse to disrespect them and force ourselves apart….a-assuming you don’t want to either?” Still cupping her cheek with his left hand Tom felt as well as saw her nod, this time more emphatically, her eyes darting between focusing on his left and then right eye - as though she was just checking they were saying the same things as his mouth.

“I’m sorry I-“ Finally feeling the connection between her brain and voice box, Y/n stated to jiltedly speak but was interrupted as Tom tentatively feathered his lips on hers. “You can be sorry for scaring the crap out of me today, you can be sorry for shouting and you can be sorry for not telling me at all… I don’t think you should, but if you’re staying sorry that’s all you can be sorry for.” He was barely speaking, more like just moving his lips against hers, yet they knew and understood each other completely Y/n got everything. So she sighed and repeated.

“I am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for you not having the faith to know I’d be happy, that was my fault. I’m sorry for not being here and not noticing when you were struggling on the phone. I’m sorry I crept up on you last night. But I don’t think there’s anything else for either of us to apologise for.”

“Okay” Y/n then pressed her lips firmly and almost desperately against his, feeling his warmth wrap around her, as he literally wrapped his arm around her waist, from where it had been on her upper arm. And really she was very incredibly desperate since it was very very incredibly clear now with him pressed against her that he might’ve been all she needed this whole time. Tom went with it for a couple of moments, but then broke them both apart - it sounds odd but he sort of felt like he was taking advantage of her.

“Darling you’re grieving. We can tackle this together …. But your grieving so we need to look after you first. And, and we’ll remember them and face this. But we gotta look out for each other too and…”

“I’m ill aren’t I?” He was oh-so relieved that she could see it too.

“I’m not a doctor but I think so… think we need to get you eating properly.”Y/n nodded and Tom kissed her forehead, pulling her completely against his chest - only exacerbating and exaggerating his awareness of how boney she felt. It hadn’t gone unnoticed how she’d spent the whole of Sam’s dinner pushing the meat round on her fork - rearranging it numerous times- whilst picking at a few carrots. “We can do whatever you feel will help you this evening but you need to tell me what you want to eat.”

You agreed but you still felt incredibly nauseous, so managed to put off the whole snacking thing in lieu of cuddling up on the sofa with Tom. You were still incredibly confused, feeling slightly detached from reality if you were completely honest. And you knew Tom was a good actor, his career kind of speaks for himself yet, all the same, the sheer truth in his eyes, voice, heart. It had you feeling safe. He no longer felt a flight risk and although you still couldn’t understand why he was forgiving you so easily, you believed he was. In the softest voice, he kept just saying ‘your grieving’ when you tried to challenge his logic- admittedly proving difficult in your scattered and hazy mind.

So you found yourself lying almost completely on top of his right side, your head tucked underneath his chin, a fluffy blanket weighing down on your back to keep you nice and toasty. Silently Tom had trailed his fingertips tentatively, under the hem of your t-shirt, round over the top of your hip to his stomach. Initially, it had felt like the worst and most alien feeling in the world- but he told you to relax and you listened; he told you to take deep breaths and you listened; he told you he loved you and you listened.

It must’ve been incredibly boring for him, I mean the TV wasn’t on neither was the radio and you knew his phone was in a pocket you were currently lying on. He didn’t complain though, he just let you lie there. Just sort of being with him.

At some point Tom realised she’d drifted off, after a long time fighting exhaustion, as though she were worried about what Tom would do once she finally gave in to sleep. It wasn’t surprising though, considering her energy intake from food for today was limited to a couple of roasted carrot slices, Tom knew her falling asleep on his chest was inevitable. The time it took had also given him enough time to fully digest and process the whole day as well as for deciding what he needed to do. So once she appeared fully out of Tom dared to worm his hand between their bodies and, with a few muted grunts of effort, phish his phone out his back pocket.

‘Hi, I know this asking a lot but would you mind getting Sam to make that pasta bake Y/n likes and dropping it round? Just she’s asleep but I don’t want to leave her alone but could do with getting something in her?’

‘Sams already on it and it doesn’t take long. I’ll be at yours in about an hour, shall I just let myself in?’

Tom was so grateful for his family, and for how they’d taken Y/n in to. Although she’d never admit it, her tougher than average upbringing always had her feeling a bit isolated- she never had ‘her’ people. The people who completely accepted her for who she was and never judged her. But as soon as he’d introduced her to them, it was as if she'd always been there. He endlessly appreciated the talks Nikki and you had, the way his Dad would come over when she was home alone to help with the simple stuff like knowing what lightbulb to buy for the lamp that had blinked out.

She had a place in his family.

Quite impressively, Sam had managed to bake the dish and then Nikki had managed to drive round before barely three-quarters of an hour had passed. Y/n was still completely out, so when he heard his mum unlock the door with her spare key, he felt able to wiggle out from under her without disturbing at all. He met Nikki in the kitchen, leaning against the door frame as he watched his mother fly about the kitchen - preheating the oven on a low temp to keep it warm while pulling plates and cutlery out the drawers so it was easier for Y/n and Tom when you woke up.

“Thanks for all this” Tom announced his presence with a soft sigh as he padded further into the kitchen. Nikki instinctively threw her arms round her eldest’s shoulders, squeezing him tightly.

“You guys okay?” Tom replied with a rather uncertain hum, before recounting the evening to his mum in a low voice - as though Y/n could be disturbed from the other side of the house. Nikki was in two frame of minds at this point, clearly heartbroken for the pair; but also incredibly proud of her son because it appeared he’d reacted and said exactly the right things.

“And you?… it must’ve been a shock?” To be quite honest, Tom hadn't thought about his own emotions yet, he’d put himself on the back foot for the time being.

“I mean it’s just a bit surreal… I don’t know I didn’t really have anything to do with it but - I just know that it's made me so certain that one day we will... you know?” Nikki hugged her son again with a little nod.

“Well I won’t outstay my welcome but I do want you to give this to Y/n too.”’ With those words, she fished a square box out of her handbag - it was about the size of two matchboxes and Tom raised his brows in curiosity. “She’ll understand when she sees it.”

And with a brisk parting gesture, Nikki left, Tom tucking the box into his side pocket before getting the pasta ready.

////////

Waking you with a gentle rub on your upper arm, you mewled a groan and pushed your head hard into the sofa below you in an attempt to alleviate the tension that instantly rippled through your skull. With hazy eyes, you blinked heavily, slowly focusing on the pale yet soft skin of the boy crouched opposite you.

“Hey darling, nice nap?” Nodding gradually, you still tried to completely recollect and piece together everything that had happened today “… you need some grub before we head upstairs yeh?” Again you nodded in compliance because at this point, even having been asleep for the last however long, you really didn’t have the energy for any conflict or disagreement. With a little prompt and poke from Tom, you reluctantly sat up, grasping the plate he offered to you while still rubbing one of your eyes. Busying himself with running back to the kitchen and grabbing his own plate and drink, you had time to look at the food and notice what was served to you. Tom plopped himself next to you and turned his head with a small smile, meeting a bemused and slightly suspicious look from you.

“You didn’t cook this…?” Really it wasn’t a question. You knew for a fact Tom was not and would never be a good chef. No judgement though, since neither were you, meaning the pair of you heavily relied on the ingenious invention of uber eats most evenings. Tom chuckled at your perceptiveness and admitted defeat without even trying to feign it.

“Nah mum dropped it round. Though I think Sam cooked it so a joint effort.”

“-didnt have to-“ You hated feeling like a burden. You hated people worrying because you just felt bad. Not worth the attention and effort. And Tom hated you feeling like that - naturally then, he had the need to shut you down instantly.

“No, you’re right. But they did.”

The air was filled with the quiet clinks of ceramic against the silver or the cutlery as you forced mouthful after mouthful down your throat. He was trying to be subtle, and yet you could feel Tom’s concerned glance checking you were eating. Truthully, you really didn’t feel like eating at all (even if it was Sam’s gorgeous tomato and sausage pasta bake - an odd combination but it worked). However, what more crucial in that moment was not disappointing your incredibly sweet boyfriend.

After having consumed as much as you physically could - which Tom deemed suitable with a small nod- he took your plates away and came back to sit beside you. More and more silence.

“Are-are we okay?” Whispering quietly you felt Tom’s body seize up into a rigid state, his face whipping round to look at you. He chose to reply with actions first reaching up so that his hands cupped your cheeks, he turned your head and then slowly leaned into to press his lips softly against yours. Once retracted, he pressed his forehead onto yours.

“Of course. I bloody love you and we’re going to get through this together.” His eyes were almost intimidating, with the seriousness he placed in his gaze - just to make sure you knew he meant it.

What you had done to deserve this boy you’d never know. But you were so incredibly grateful for him.

It gave you the confidence to take the first move this time, pressing your lips against his, holding for a moment before arching away - a small yet real smile on your face.

“Oh… nearly forgot” He muttered, leaning forward and grabbing a black leather box that you’d failed to notice had been placed on the coffee table. For the second time this evening, you were caught off guard and bemused as to how he’d sourced this item within the time frame. “It’s from mum… she wouldn’t tell me what it is but said you’d understand.”

His words had you biting your lip, in a weird way eager to see, purely because you knew Nikki understood you. And understood what you were going through. With one last look to Tom, you reached out and grabbed the box, thumb running over the sleek leather exterior. Once your thumb reached the bottom you flicked the lid up, unveiling a simple silver chained bracelet. It had five dainty silver charms hanging off it, they looked a bit like leaves but were kind of too small to tell. Moreover, it looked a little worn and preloved but it didn’t stop your eyes from watering when you saw at the bottom another charm, not yet attached that looked newer and pristine.

5 charms already attached and 1 new one.

“Oh” Tom muttered, also clearly very much intrigued, hovering off you left shoulder to see properly. ”That’s mums bracelet. She never really takes it off… that’s nice I guess?” He was obviously confused and it had you chuckling wetly, at how oblivious he could be. You did love your dear idiot.

5 charms for her 5 pregnancies… and now one for yours. One to wear forever, to love, to keep close to your heart.

They were tears of happiness, you were certain of, however, Tom was not at all sure why your flood gates opened again and was worried.

“You-you don’t have to take- I mean if you don’t like it don’t worry-“

“I love it” You breathed, looking up at him with glassy eyes before hastily picking up the extra charm and with shaky fingers clasping it onto the chain next to it. Tom perked up, if still bemused, wrapping his arm around your shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know how you convinced her to take it off, I’ve been trying to buy her a new bracelet for years but she’s always stuck with this old thing.”

“Because it’s beautiful!” You yelped in argument, making him laugh at how suddenly you’d switched into a happy and overexcited mood. Though don’t get me wrong, he was loving it.

“You Holland women I will never understand.” He whispered into your ear whilst you looked back at the chain, fixing it round your wrist. His comment made you freeze up, as you felt his grip tightening on your waist as he realised exactly what he might have just let slip out. “No I er- I don’t mean… but-but one day maybe if-if you wanted.”

“I love you” You sighed, kissing him once again to save him the embarrassment of watching his cheeks flush and ears pink up.

“I’m serious though… one day because… because you’re my family and when it happens our family will grow too.”

He was right. And you would, one day,

But you would never forget the two little lives remembered on this bracelet.

tagging people that might be interested (sorry if u don't care ahah): @wayfaring----stranger @vanillanestor @333dolans @thevelvetseries @whitewolf51

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #dad!tom #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland x y/n

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fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

Text

Bruises

Read Bruises on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 30 - Goodbye

Bruce picked up his phone on the second ring. It wasn't unusual for him to get phone calls at eleven o'clock at night - he was a busy man, after all. What was unusual was the fact that the call was from an unknown number. Bruce very rarely gave out his personal number. "Hello?"

"Bruce?" a tiny voice questioned through the phone.

"Emilie?" Bruce recognized her voice, even though it had been ten years since the last time he spoke to Emilie Graham de Vanily (now Emilie Agreste). He never knew what had happened to her, just that one day she stopped answering his emails and her phone number was disconnected. Bruce wanted to reconnect with her, but at the time it seemed like Emilie chose not to speak to him on purpose.

"I'm sorry for calling so late at night. I know we haven't spoken in a long time, but I'm in Gotham and I need your help."

Bruce didn't hesitate for even a moment. "What do you need?"

Twenty minutes later, Bruce pulled up in front of Gotham International Airport. He didn't recognize Emilie at first, not until he got out of the car and she called his name.

"Bruce!" Emilie had changed. What surprised Bruce was that the first thing he noticed was not the black eye that marred her face, but the little blonde boy who stood at her side.

"Hello, Emilie," said Bruce, pointedly ignoring the fact that she hadn't told him about her son.

"Hello, Bruce. This is Adrien," she introduced.

"Hello." Adrien greeted Bruce quietly, his eyes trained at the ground. The white cast on his arm was decorated with little doodles. Bruce assumed that Emilie had drawn them with the pen she tucked behind her ear.

They all got into Bruce's car with little fanfare. Emilie sat in the passenger seat. Adrien sat in the back and was asleep before they left the parking lot.

"Did your husband give you that black eye?"

Emilie didn't waste words explaining the situation. "Yes."

"What about Adrien's arm?"

"I told Gabriel a long time ago that if he ever touched Adrien, I would leave him. Either he forgot or didn't believe me. I'm keeping true to my word. In the morning I'm going to a lawyer to file for divorce papers and a restraining order, and to press charges for Adrien's arm."

Bruce nodded, "I have a whole team of lawyers that you can use." He kept his eyes fixed on the road even though all he wanted to do was stare at her. It had been ten long years since he had seen her face to face.

Bruce first met Emilie during his junior year at Gotham University. He'd been a mess before that. He could barely stay sober long enough to go to class, and his grades were a testament to that fact. Emilie Graham de Vanily came to Gotham University as part of her study abroad program, in which she would spend two semesters at an American university, then return to Paris to finish her degree. She was Bruce's exact opposite: no-nonsense and dedicated to her studies.

The first time Bruce met Emilie, she slapped him in the face. It was the first day of the semester, and he was incredibly hungover. He only showed up to get the syllabus so he knew what the best days to skip were. Bruce sat down next to Emilie Agreste and started flirting with her, an action he had gotten very good at over his years at Gotham University. Emilie told him three times to knock it off, getting increasingly less polite until she eventually slapped him across the face and stormed out of the classroom.

Emilie must have slapped some sense back into Bruce because decided to apologize. She didn't forgive him immediately, but after a few weeks of sitting together in class, they decided to study together. By the end of the semester, they were meeting up every weekend to hang out. Bruce stopped drinking so much, started going back to Wayne Manor on the weekends, started talking to Alfred again.

Bruce asked Emilie out at the beginning of her second semester. To Bruce's disappointment, Emilie declined, but with a gleam in her eye that let Bruce know that there was a chance that their relationship could become more than platonic. They spent the semester together, sharing meals and inside jokes, study rooms and secrets. Bruce was certain that when he asked her out a second time, as they both stood in the airport, waiting for Emilie's flight to Paris to board, she would say yes. Instead, Emilie pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him, "Third time's the charm, Bruce." Then she got on her flight and they never spoke again.

Bruce found out three months later that she was recently engaged. He was never sent a wedding invitation. He tried his best to forget her entirely, after that.

"We're here," Bruce broke the silence as he parked the car in front of Wayne Manor.

From the backseat, Adrien rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Maman?" he mumbled.

Emilie got out of the car and opened up the backseat, helping Adrien to his feet. "Tu es en sécurité, mon fils," she whispered to him, assuring her that he was safe here.

Alfred opened up the front door and welcomed Emilie and Adrien into the house, offering to escort them to their rooms. Bruce was suddenly reminded of the time difference between Paris and Gotham. 1 AM in Gotham was 7 AM in Paris - early morning. It had been at least 24 hours since Emilie and Adrien last slept.

"Are you sure we should go?" asked Emilie, yawning through her sentence.

"Of course. I'll get everything for the lawyers taken care of by morning."

Emilie nodded. "Thank you, Bruce."

Emilie and Adrien left the foyer, following Alfred. Bruce made his way to his office and got to work.

Some time later, Alfred entered the room. “Miss Graham de Vanily and her son have just gone to bed.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“You should go too."

Bruce shook his head. "I have too much work to do. I need this paperwork ready for my lawyers in the morning." At the top of his desk were divorce papers for Emilie, papers for the termination of parental rights, and two restraining orders, one for Adrien and one for Emilie, both against Gabriel Agreste.

"What you need, is some sleep. You'll be no use to Emilie and Adrien if you're dead on your feet tomorrow morning."

Bruce sighed, casting one last glance at the half-filled forms. "Alright."

----------

At the breakfast table the next morning, Adrien and Dick had become fast friends.

“If you were a superhero, what would your name be?” Dick quizzed the younger boy.

“That depends on what my powers are.”

Dick wrinkled his nose in objection. “You don’t need powers to be a superhero, you just need training.”

Bruce was certain that he had said the same thing to Dick at one point. Dick heeded the words like gospel - now he spent most of his free time training to be Batman's partner. Though Bruce had already told Dick that he wasn't allowed to fight crime until he was thirteen, Dick seemed to think that enough skill might make up for the two-year difference.

"Okay. What would your superhero name be?" asked Adrien

“I would be called Robin, after Robin Hood.”

“I’ll be called Peregrine. Did you know that the peregrine falcon is the fastest type of bird? They can reach speeds of up to 240 miles per hour. I learned that from one of Mom's movies."

Bruce could recall that Emilie narrated a few nature documentaries in her rather brief film career.

Emilie walked into the kitchen, her black eye hidden by a thick layer of concealer. "Good morning, boys." She looked a bit startled, and Bruce realized that he hadn't told her about Dick.

"Emilie, could I talk to you in my office?"

"Sure."

As they made their way down the hall, Emilie remarked to Bruce, "You didn't tell me you had a son."

"I was.... distracted, last night. I adopted Richard a few months back. I was there when his parents died and he reminded me of myself when I was his age."

Emilie nodded. "I'm glad Adrien has someone to talk to here."

They continued down the hall, stopping at the door to Bruce's office.

"So what is it that you wanted to talk about?" asked Emilie as she entered his office.

Bruce held up the forms on his desk. "Divorce papers, restraining orders, termination of parental rights, and a police report for the injuries he caused. I wanted to know which papers you wanted to be filed and when. "

"I want them all filed, as soon as possible." Emilie's voice was hard.

"Are you sure?" Bruce didn't want to ask, but he felt the need to double-check.

"Bruce, I spent ten years of my life with Gabriel. I let him manipulate me into thinking that he was a good man. And he had his good days. There were days when I remembered why I fell in love with him in the first place. He was so passionate..." Emilie's wistful voice turned cold. "But passion turned to obsession, love turned to hate, and he couldn't stand me but he couldn't let me go either. I was willing to give him second chances when I was his only victim, but I can't let him get away with hurting Adrien. If I don't leave now, if I let him get away with even one of the bruises he's given me, then Adrien and I will never be free of him."

Bruce nodded. "We can get to work on these after breakfast."

"Wait." Emilie gently grabbed his elbow. Bruce turned to face her. "Once the divorce is finalized..." Emilie paused and took a deep breath. "Remember what I said at the airport, when we were both young?"

Bruce nodded and quoted her, "You told me: 'Third time's the charm, Bruce.'"

Emilie gave him a small smile. "Third time's the charm. If you still want me, ask me again."

Bruce knew that Emilie had been through a lot these past few days. He didn't want her to make a decision she would later regret. "Are you sure?"

"I've said goodbye to you one too many times, Bruce. I never want to say goodbye to you again."

There was a deep, earnest honesty in her eyes. Bruce knew that there was no longer anything holding her back. There wasn't anything holding him back, either. "Whatever you need, Emilie, I'll give it to you."

Emilie smiled, a hopeful look on her face. "Tell me I can stay."

"Forever."

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #bruce x emilie #bruce wayne #emilie agreste #MaribatMarch2021 #my work #miraculous ladybug fic

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litttlesilkworm · 4 years ago

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Is it true that Gorbachev never supported Valery Legasov? Did he have a "court" as they say, or did he realize that Legasov was an expert one should listen to?

Thank you for a great ask, Comrade! 💜💛💚 And please forgive me for such a belated answer! And the same goes to all the authors of all the other anon asks I received but have yet to answer - I deeply value each and every one of them and promise to respond to them very soon!

I do think that David Dencik’s Gorbachev, though not without charm, comes across as this kind of annoyed and needy monarch in the show. The real Gorbachev, with all his shortcomings, was a lot warmer - in a folksy kind of way - and much more personable. Look at this photo for example, of a room from which the Politburo meeting room was modeled in the show, and how Gorbachev sits together with the rest of the members, and not at the head table like a king:

And as to your question more directly - I actually have just the kind of a fascinating text here that I think, will speak for itself as far as the extent to which Gorbachev listened to and trusted Valery Legasov. The text is a transcript of the Politburo meeting that took place in the morning of May 5th in 1986 - merely a week after the accident. It actually is kind of a riveting read - a glimpse into how all those decisions had to be made in real time, with only meager - and constantly changing - information available.

I wanted everyone to enjoy it, so I translated the discussion section from Russian (please see below).

Legasov really shines in this meeting and one can easily see just how much respect he instills in people around him. There is a rather amazing passage where Legasov voices his disagreement with Velikhov’s plan on how to drain the water from under the reactor. Gorbachev immediately takes Legasov’s side and approves his plan. He then sends Shcherbina out of the room during the meeting to make an immediate phone call to Chernobyl to instruct them to ditch Velikhov’s plan and start implementing Legasov’s. That was my favorite part.

Legasov also consistently sounds like the calmest person in the room. Just calmly and intelligently doing his job, solving what is essentially a scientific problem. Even from the transcript it is easy to extrapolate how much respect he commands around the table.

I took the liberty to include some of my own notes/comments in the translation as well. And I am happy to answer any questions I can!

@elenatria, @alyeen1, @shark-from-the-park, @drunkardonjunkyard, @green-ann, @valerafan2, @johnlockismyreligion, @attachedtofictionalpeople, @the-jewish-marxist, @potter012

SHCHERBINA: We found ourselves in front of a situation that has not been considered before, which is why there hasn’t been any protocols in place for this type of an occurrence. The very project itself is built upon never allowing such a situation. There was an uncontrollable speeding up of the reactor. Immediately after the accident, there has been a lack of preparedness on-site to evaluate the situation. The Civil Defense did not warn people. Until the evening there were weddings being held in the city. The fire had to be smothered as soon as possible, and the radioactive fallout had to be reduced. 4 thousand tonnes of materials have been dumped at the reactor. We were able to knock the surface temperature down from 500 to 200 degrees. What shall we do beneath the reactor? People have approached the pool. It is possible that there is an opportunity now to release the water.

LIGACHEV: Don’t get ahead of yourself.

RYZHKOV: We’ll need to see about that. The most important thing is to avoid the explosion.

SHCHERBINA: The most difficult thing is deactivation.

(Note: Deactivation refers to the clean-up and burial of contaminated soil and water, etc - LSW)

GORBACHEV: The most important is to deal with the danger that is below.

SHCHERBINA: People are working selflessly.

(Note: It seems like they might all be talking over each other in an agitated manner. Wish we could hear a recording of this - LSW)

LEGASOV: The work is organized the following way: Comrade Shcherbina is in charge of organizing, Comrade Meshkov studies the reasons of the accident and I work on recommendations regarding prevention of the further spread of the fallout. There are also groups in Moscow conducting the analysis.

(Note: Legasov truly shines here, stepping in calmly and intelligently to get the discussion back on track. - LSW)

The considerations regarding prevention of the consequences of the accident that are being voiced in the West should be taken into account. These aren’t just guesswork, but a result of studies, conducted with other past NPP accidents taken into account. We had to do all the calculations on site, because we didn’t have any established protocols in place.

GORBACHEV: Plus in this case, there is water under the reactor.

LEGASOV: This was done to save money, otherwise one would have to build two separate buildings. Minsredmash did not agree with that. If we had 4-5 pipes that would be stretched away from the reactor and into some distance, this would not have been a problem. This is a miscalculation of everyone working in the energy industry.

GORBACHEV: What about the containment structures?

LEGASOV: Considering the force of the explosion that took place, a containment structure would not have saved anything.

GORBACHEV: We need to focus on what comes next.

LEGASOV: 10 hours later, we were able to stop the reactor. But it continues to emit radioactivity, because after a year of being in operation, it has accumulated a lot of isotopes. The heat output of those debris has been 14 megawatt in the first 24 hours, while today it is 8.5 megawatt. This is like burning 60 tons of coal every 24 hours. Besides that, graphite is burning, too. There is 2.5 thousand tons of graphite there in total. One ton burns up every hour. This equals 24 tons per day. The graphite will burn up completely in one-third of a year.

The number one task is to create a way of filtering out the radioactive isotopes. Right now the amount of them that gets emitted into air is 100-fold less than there would be without taking measures to drop sand and other materials on the reactor from the air. The area located in the vicinity of the reactor has been sacrificed, because dumping the materials from the height of 200 meters raised dust, which increased radioactivity near the power plant.

Currently, the mass that has been melted in the reactor is moving downward. This is difficult to control, because there hasn’t been monitoring devices installed that would allow doing that. This is my fault, too. But, not a single NPP in the world has something like that.

(Note: Remarkably, Legasov accepts blame for something he hasn’t even designed. Only that he hasn’t voiced his concern about this highly improbable scenario. Or maybe he did but doesn’t think he did it strongly enough? - LSW)

On the first day after the accident, the temperature of the melted mass was 1100 degrees, while yesterday at 18:00 it was 20 degrees. It goes up by 135 degrees every day.

(Note: “20 degrees” is clearly a typo and should say ~2000 degrees, as a quick calculation can confirm: 1100 + 135 x 7 days = 2045 degrees. - LSW)

Last night, an experiment was conducted: the melted mass fell into water, and there hasn’t been an explosion. However, if the melted mass from the reactor reaches the water below, there will be powerful formation of steam.

The situation continues to be troubling. The reactor needs to be cooled from below. An underground tunnel needs to be created, and liquid nitrogen needs to be delivered via it. In 2-3 days, we need to allow the circulation of air. Yesterday, there were no air drops to enable the draft.

Regarding the potentially dangerous zone. It cannot be larger than 250 kilometers. Within which the active zone would be 30-50 kilometers. Our institute has previously considered a “Backstop” scenario, concerning this problem. So we have exact calculations on that account.

GORBACHEV: What would happen if the fuel reaches the ground water?

LEGASOV: This is where Velikhov and I could not find common ground. The pool needs to be emptied of water by pumping, not by shooting at it to pour it out.

GORBACHEV (to SHCHERBINA): We should let the site know, so they don’t shoot at it.

(Comrade SHCHERBINA steps out)

LEGASOV: And as for adding the concrete layer, that’s the final operation.

GORBACHEV: What about the remaining three blocks?

LEGASOV: The first two are in working condition. Barring another explosion, they will be fine. As for the third block, it might catch fire if there is another emergency.

GORBACHEV: Should we invite the foreigners? We shouldn’t do it in vain. But if we have to, then don’t be deterred by it.

LEGASOV: We were shown the cipher telegrams regarding this. Only two things were unknown to us: the French foam and the remote controlled robots from West Germany. So there is no need to send a general SOS message, whereas all the ideas originating overseas should be sent to the group for consideration.

RYZHKOV: If the strategy with pumping the water out via a pipe works, can the same pipe be used to pump the liquid nitrogen in?

LEGASOV: Yes. But it doesn’t cancel out the idea of a tunnel.

RYZHKOV: We should do both.

SHCHERBINA: I was just informed that the water pumping has begun.

(Note: looks like Shcherbina returned to the room after calling the site with this information. So, within this brief time span, Velikhov’s plan of shooting at the bubbler pool (with some sort of a projectile?) was rejected and Legasov’s idea was not only approved by Gorbachev, but actually started being implemented in real time. Amazing. - LSW)

(Note: another interesting takeaway is that they were arranging to bring Joker from West Germany way earlier than it was portrayed in the series. - LSW)

ALEXANDROV: Legasov reported everything correctly. Regarding the foreign assistance: it would be good to bring doctors who specialize in bone marrow transplants.

ALIEV: This type of a specialist is already working.

(Note: this must be Robert Gale. - LSW).

LIGACHEV: Is there a possibility of a chain reaction?

ALEXANDROV: There is. But not an explosion, i.e. a momentary process. But there would be major steam generation.

SLAVSKY: Our Ministry is participating in limiting the consequences of the accident. My first deputy is there on site. One of the reasons for what has happened is that the Atomnadzor (Note: a nuclear watchdog/inspection agency - LSW) has done zero work. What is being done right now is correct. No further suggestions.

BREZHNEV (minister of transport infrastructure): Together with Comrades Shchadov and Usanov we went on site yesterday to survey the situation with approaching the water through drilling. The start of pumping is eased by its location. After the pumping, one must start pumping the clay-concrete mix. The drilling is complicated by the fact that the reactor cannot be approached to a distance closer than 250 meters. We have arranged with the military for them to deactivate the area so we could approach to a closer distance, 50 meters.

GORBACHEV: We should be picking up the pace. We should be working not only as if this was a wartime situation, but a nuclear one - around the clock.

RYZHKOV: Comrade Brezhnev should return on site and organize this work.

GORBACHEV: Yes.

GROMYKO: What’s the percentage of the fallout that enters the atmosphere?

LEGASOV: The SO is exceeded 22-fold. There will be zirconium. First, there was iodine coming out, and now it’s the rare earth minerals. The zone in the radius of 30 kilometers is dangerous. Iodine decays halfway in 8 days, and after 80 days there will be nothing left.

SEDUNOV (Deputy Chairman of Goskomgidromet): We are watching the situation with radiation from airplanes and the land sites. The spread of radioactivity depends on wind direction. First, the cloud went north, then west and south. There was a spread of radioactive air into Poland, Scandinavia, then into Romania and Bulgaria, yesterday - into Turkey. In Kiev, its level increased 80-fold above background, this morning it is 45-fold. A norm for the public is considered 10-fold above background over a year. In Minsk and Lithuania it’s 3-fold. In the North Caucasus, 2-fold. We suppose that in Kiev, it will start receding. But if the wind changes, the cloud can head toward Moscow.

(Note: Goskomgidromet is the weather forecasting agency. - LSW).

SHCHERBITSKY: Someone confused roentgens and milliroentgens.

(Note: not sure what he is referring to? - LSW).

SEDUNOV: It is important to watch the isotope content of the precipitation. Iodine goes into milk. Today that’s where most of the danger is coming from.

GORBACHEV: What to do with the cattle?

SEDUNOV: No need to destroy it. The Kiev water reservoir may become polluted.

LYASHKO: The water probes are being taken every hour. Radioactivity was only found in upper parts of the Pripyat’ river. We banned the public from drinking water from open sources there.

SEDUNOV: In Moscow everything is normal so far.

SHCHADOV (minister of coal industries): It is dangerous to break through the wall. Water should be pumped out and then the mix should be pumped in. If necessary, we’ll dig under the building.

(Note: Shchadov circles back to talking about the water problem and backs Legasov’s strategy. - LSW)

AKHROMEEV (deputy defense minister): Task number one is controlling the radiological situation. We started the deactivation of roads and other sites. Three thousand people are working on it. Today we will finish preparing the deactivation plan and report to the working group.

SOLOMENCEV: How effective is the cleanup?

AKHROMEEV: It reduces radioactivity by a factor of 3 to 4. We have to create burial sites for topsoil and water. We also have set up medical facilities at 7 thousand person capacity.

LIGACHEV: What does Akhromeev think about approaching the water under the reactor?

AKHROMEEV: My opinion is to break it with a cumulative projectile.

(Note: I think this means an anti-tank missile. A true military man’s response, and one vote for Velikhov’s plan. - LSW)

RYZHKOV: There are enough people.

AKHROMEEV: If needed, we will bring more.

LYASHKO: The Dnieper system provides water for 32 million people. The water samples are taken every hour. Yesterday there was no alarm until the evening. But today, there is. On smaller rivers, radiation levels have increased and are now 10^-4, with 10^-8 being the norm. (Note: Units? - LSW). These areas were instructed to switch to water from closed sources.

Luckily, there are artesian wells here. If need be, we will bring water tanks. What would be more difficult is if we would have to dump the water out of Kiev Reservoir. There is already a water shortage in the South. We need Gosomgidromet’s recommendations on how long we should hold the water in Kiev Reservoir.

GORBACHEV: How are the evacuated people?

LYASHKO: Evacuation was carried out in 3 hours in place of planned 6. One bad thing was that we had no protocol in place for this kind of scenario, no training has ever been conducted. The food for the evacuated has been organized. There turned out to be a disconnect between the services of the 3-rd Minzdrav group and the regional medical services. (Note: Minzdrav is the Ministry of Health Services - LSW). They were kept too secret. I spoke to Comrade Burenkov about it. The situation is getting better now.

The census of the evacuated has been complicated by the fact that there were many who have left on personal transport for the holidays to other towns, to visit family, etc.

Construction workers were sent to other objects. 3.5 thousand people were assigned to the “Mayak” factory. Many went to work at agriculture jobs. They will receive medium wages. Because of property loss, people will have to be paid a compensation out of Gosstrakh (Note: a state insurance agency - LSW). The people from the countryside should be given a one-time amount of 100 rubles for the head of the household, and 50 rubles for each family member. The public insists on being provided more information and guidance: what to do in the situation they are in.

SHCHERBITSKY: It is very important right now.

GORBACHEV: I thought we have already decided to provide such information locally.

LYASHKO: We need the minister of health and the scientists to speak and broadcast these regionally. Water from under the reactor should not be let out into soil, even if it goes into a pit. A pool should be built. We can build this type of vessel. We also need vessels for the deactivated soil. But places like that should be guarded.

VLASOV: We will do that.

LYASHKO: The school year continues. The primary school needs to be let out in a week, the tenth graders should finish as usual. All the children, evacuated ones, should be taken into summer camps. I am requesting openings for them. The milk gets doubly checked. If there is contamination, it is being sent for butter and cheese production.

GORBACHEV: We have got the project of the resolution. What should we add? We should take into consideration that the situation is very difficult in all aspects: radiation, an enormous territory. There will be no definitive answers from scientists as far as the future goes. That’s why we need to work by the worst-case scenario. The top priority should be the reactor with all the options considered. The working group must consolidate all the necessary resources and mechanisms.

At the same time, the work with the public needs to be underscored: living conditions, jobs, healthcare, etc. Water is a special question. What should we do? We should carry out all the calculations, all the forecasts. Especially planning all that needs to be done in the danger zone.

Separately, we must decide how to be with the outside world. Information must be provided in a calm and balanced manner, without overconfidence but firmly. Panic is the luxury of the subordinates, and not of the Politburo or the government.

The local channels in Ukraine should broadcast more expanded information. Across the Soviet Union, primarily the facts should be broadcast. Maybe the informational frame can be expanded to the outer world, as well. Our adversaries are asking us questions that would on one hand, allow them to judge us as a whole, and on the other hand - smear us with mud. If we add more information now, it will be natural, because the time passes, and with that the amount of facts. But we should not create a picture of overconfidence. We are facing the fact that this situation is a signal to everyone. The public’s opinion should be turned toward the steps we are taking towards nuclear disarmament. This accident, on a nuclear object, tells us that a nuclear war should never be allowed to happen. We should talk about this at a press conference. So, the information needs to be added to, but responsibly.

As for bringing the foreign specialists? As I understood from Legasov, there is no need for it. If there will be a need, then we’ll decide.

DOLGIKH: This is written in the next to last section.

GROMYKO: I agree with what Mikhail Sergeevich had said. It is correct that the situation remains serious. In the second section of the project it says: to consider.

GORBACHEV: It should say: approve the proposed measures and intensify the work.

GROMYKO: Section 10. We raised this question at the United Nations. We should use what we’ve already talked about previously.

SHCHERBITSKY: Section 9 needs to be expanded, to mention informing the populace regarding the situation.

GORBACHEV: Add this.

MEDVEDEV: Perhaps we should make a mention of periodically informing our friends.

GORBACHEV: It is already in the project. I suggest incorporating these suggestions and approving it.

POLITBURO MEMBERS: Agreed.

GORBACHEV: Boris Evdokimovich, you said that the analysis of the causes of the accident has been completed.

SHCHERBINA: Yes. On 25th of April, the power plant started conducting an experiment to test the reliability of its functioning, which has been approved by the Chief Engineer. It has been a crudest mistake to conduct such a test without taking the reactor functioning into account.

GORBACHEV: What kind of experimenting was it? This is a nuclear power plant.

SHCHERBINA: These kinds of experiments are conducted at power plants. But the nuclear watchdog agency should have been informed of that. The first scientific deputy hasn’t been there.

GORBACHEV: What about the version with hydrogen?

SHCHERBINA: No. There were two explosions inside the reactor.

GORBACHEV: What about the automated systems?

SHCHERBINA: None of the three systems worked.

GORBACHEV: There has already been resolutions regarding the improper operating procedures at Chernobyl NPP.

SHCHERBINA: The personnel have not been properly chosen.

CHEBRIKOV: We have two reactor systems - two-line (the more reliable ones) and the single-line ones. This is a single-line reactor. It doesn’t tolerate fluctuations in the operating procedure. Unplanned things lead to adverse circumstances. There are three systems in place to stop the reactor everywhere, but this one only had two. Capturing the extra heat output - that’s what the experiment was for. Its planning was done without involving the reactor designers.

SHCHERBINA: The hydrogen version was discarded right away. The problem was with the reactor vibrating and speeding up.

DOLGIKH: We should wait for the results of the final analysis.

GROMYKO: We should start discussing this in Central Planning. A big misfortune had struck us. Someone made an oversight, committed a crime and must be punished. What sort of thing they decided to experiment with. The decision should be such that many generations would not forget about this fact.

GORBACHEV: I suggest approving the resolutions regarding the liquidation of the consequences of the accident at Chernobyl and inviting Hans Blix to the USSR.

POLITBURO MEMBERS: Agreed.

The resolutions are approved.

#chernobyl #valery legasov #boris shcherbina #mikhail gorbachev

72 notes · View notes

brittledame · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Semi Eita/Reader

Tags: Teen and up audience, Post-timeskip, Canon divergence, Coffee Shops, Meet-cute, Fluff, Musician Semi, University student reader, POV changes

Word Count: 6.6K

Summary: In which a broken coffee machine leads you to meet an attractive musician also inhabiting the only coffee shop near campus open at an ungodly hour. The lack of sleep and the stress of your assignment are eased by the nonsensical tunes the unknown musician struggles to compose a significant song. Unknowingly, you both indirectly help each other through mental roadblocks and inspire him to write a hit song. It wasn't until your next fateful meeting that you were able to thank each other.

Current situation aside, you were usually a diligent student. You preferred to finish an assignment at least a full 24 hours before editing and submitting it, rather than leaving it to the last minute and handing in a half-assed attempt. However, this one particular assignment that had crawled from the bowels of hell was the exception to your characteristic conscientiousness. The assignment had blindsided you, slipping under your radar as other more pressing assignments drew your attention away from it. Much like an ignored weed problem, under your wilful neglect it compiled into an unimaginable mess. There was no possible way for you to get this done without pulling a soul-sucking all-nighter.

Another exception to your quickly spiralling out-of-control life was the fact that your prized coffee marker in all its shiny black plastic glory after five long years has finally turned in its resignation of being used and abused by you. So not only were you frantically rushing this twenty-one-page report due in not even eight hours, your one source of liquid determination is completely off the books.

Standing before the hunk of useless machinery refusing to even turn on, you stood there in silence as you mourned the loss of a good friend and an alright cup of coffee every morning. This did not help your current situation and you knew that you would not make it without some form of caffeine and you refuse to take the final dive into the uni student life and take no-doze tablets.

No, you refuse go that low just yet.

Although they are starting to sound tempting as the harsh wind tugs at your clothing and nips at your skin like you weren’t wearing two layers in the middle of normally warm Spring night to make a trip to the only local coffee shop you knew of open at this ungodly hour of 2 am. A faint orange glow grows steadily larger with each hurried step. You rushed to both get out of the wind and continue the futile act of completing your assignment to a decent enough standard to pass the subject.

The high expectations you entered the semester with had all but been eviscerated at this point. You would be outrageously thankful to pass at this stage in the semester.

As you push through the door, you crush the unwanted thought of your academic score plummeting. Oh well. Que sera, sera.

Glancing around the small and dimly lit establishment, you were surprised to note that it wasn’t deserted. In total, there were three people inside, excluding yourself. Two being workers and the other being a figure sequestered to the distant corner of the small cosy shop.

Behind the counter sat a bored-looking barista scrolling on his phone and a person with a very familiar face wiping down the benches.

“Jin! I didn’t expect to see you at this hour.” You exclaim while walking up to the counter while simultaneously fishing out your purse from your bag.

Said brunette turned at your voice, smiling when he sees that his ears didn’t deceive them.

“Hey! Didn’t expect to see you right now, either.” He grins amiably.

You had to give it to him, even at 2 am, his friendly smile put your stressed heart at ease. That was the true power of one Jin Soekawa, asides from the heavenly caffeinated ambrosia he concocted.

“Yeah, well if my coffee machine didn’t abandon me in my darkest hour, believe me when I say I’d be at home in my pajamas.”

Jin laughs as he rings your total up without question and starts the process of making your usual order. A perk of visiting at least three times a week was getting to know the friendly day baristas. Placing the exact amount of change on the counter, you move down the counter to catch Jin’s words.

“I never took you for a night-owl.” You scoff and shake you head at him, noting the teasing glint in his dark eyes.

“I’m not,” you bemoan, “this is punishment for putting off a big assessment and thinking it wouldn’t take long to finish. And to top it all off, my main source of night-late fuel ditched me.”

Jin nods sympathetically at your whining, not wanting to disturb the other regular shop patron in his also stressed-fueled all-nighter.

“No one with sense would be up at this hour working.” The angry-looking brunette you’ve never seen before mutters loudly.

Jin looks at the male, thick eyebrows furrowed reproachfully. You raise your eyebrow at Jin, wondering if he always had to burn the midnight oil with someone that looked like they were ready to quit and walk out at any second.

“Don’t mind Yunohama, he’s just pissed that he got tricked into the graveyard shift by the manager along with me.”

His cheery tone contrasted greatly to the gloom surrounding Yunohama. Smothering the laugh that wanted to come out at their polar opposite personalities, you instead turn to cough quietly into your hand.

Your gaze locked with chocolate brown irises that even at this distance, you could tell were mesmerising. The male’s eyes widen as he realises he was caught staring at you and quickly turns away and busies himself with the papers littering the table.

Well that was odd.

You stared at the back of his head full of shoulder-length ash-blond hair, waiting for him to turn back around. After a beat, you shrug to yourself and turn back to a busy Jin.

“Do you mind if I grab a seat and start on my work?” You point a thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the seating area.

Jin nods his head and gives a cheery smile that didn’t fit the sleepy night-time atmosphere.

“Sure! I’ll bring it over when it’s done. It shouldn’t be much longer now.”

Shooting him a thumbs up, you hike the bag strap further up your shoulder and select a table to slowly lose your mind at. You end up choosing one that was about three tables away from the stranger, not wanting to intrude upon his stressed-out vibes. From the short glimpse you caught of his face, he seemed quite attractive. If you weren’t as tired or stressed as you currently were, you might have had the guts to sit closer and sneak subtle glances, but the sword of Damocles currently swung menacingly above your head.

As you walk over, you notice a dark blue Ashton-branded acoustic guitar leaning against the chair on his lap. You also notice him frantically scribbling down on paper, pausing and then staring at the paper like it insulted him. You file this in the back of your mind, saving it for a later time.

You almost felt sorry for the odd guy. If it weren’t for the burden of your laptop holding an unfinished assignment due in exactly seven hours now, you would spare some sympathy. Sighing, you plop yourself in the seat and quietly go about setting yourself up. Logging into your laptop, the not even half-filled word document met your weary gaze. God, even with the smell of coffee and warmth surrounding you, no motivation welled up like you hoped it would. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself for a long night-slash-morning.

Focused on your work, you failed to notice Jin coming over with your order, sitting it out of the way of your work with a quiet “good luck” . The cup of hot coffee was left forgotten as a decent-sounding ideas flashed through your mind unprompted. It was safe to say that by the time you did notice and started drinking it, it was lukewarm.

Grimacing after taking the first sip, you lean back in your chair and look at the ceiling to give your eyes a break. A soothing tune of random string plucking fills the air. For a brief second, you were confused as to when background music started playing, only to realise it was coming from the hot guy you caught staring at you earlier.

Attracting your attention, you glance over to his table. The guitar was now propped against his lap and lovingly cradled in his arms. The position accentuated his biceps partially concealed by white cotton V-neck tee, not that it stopped your appreciative looks. Fluorescent pink guitar pick in hand, the ash-blond musician continues to strum a few nonsensical tunes that your stress-filled mind failed to name.

As if remembering your existence, he whips his head around to meet your interested gaze. Flustered at finding you already staring at him, the male holds his hands out in a placating gesture.

“I’m so sorry! I should have asked if you were okay with me playing. I mean the baristas said it was okay but that was before you came in…” He rubs awkwardly at the back of his head.

Giving him a friendly smile, you shake your head.

“No, don't apologise. It’s fine.” You assure him. Immediately, the tension drains from his features. Man, the poor guy must have dealt with his fair share of assholes to respond so visibly at the prospect of pissing people off by playing out loud. That had to suck.

“Besides, who am I to deny the arts?” You continue, lazily waving your hand in the air.

He laughs at your unusual response, hands settling back into their designated positions on the instrument. The sound was completely unexpected. You sat there in shock as the rich-sounding rumble rolls through the air. Sure he was good-looking but damn, to have a nice deep voice on top of all that? He was truly blessed. To top it off, he gives you a smile that should be outlawed for how attractive he is.

Damn, awkward music guy was hot.

The belated thought had you flustered. Hiding behind your hand as you brush back hair out of the way, you recompose yourself. Meeting his gaze once again, you notice a twinkle that you didn’t spot before, confirming your initial suspicion of his eyes being mesmerising.

Blinking yourself out of the stupor, you inwardly scold yourself for staring at the poor dude that didn’t come here to get stared at by someone dressed in comfy clothes and a whole collection of lilac bags under their eyes.

Ignoring the questioning look you receive at your odd facial expression you unintentionally made, you turn back to your laptop and dive head-first into the report. It was a nice escape from the embarrassment that wanted to choke you at acting like you’ve never seen an attractive person before.

God your tired self was an embarrassment.

He continues on playing the guitar, now strumming out a soft lingering song that soothed your frazzled mind and weirdly energised you to keep going.

From the very moment that you stepped across the threshold, bringing with you a wisp of chilled air that nipped at his nose, Eita could pick that you were an overworked university student.

Your lilting voice filled his ears as you had a friendly chat with the amicable barista. He ignored the noise as he stared at the blank manuscript paper before him, frustration bubbling within him. This was the seventh attempt at writing the final song for their break-out album in just as many days. An invisible clock hovered over his head as the hours tick by, closer and closer to the deadline their production manager had set.

The other songs came so freely to him - serving as an outlet for the experiences he’s had or heard about from close friends and family. But this last song? It fought against him tooth and nail, refusing to be put on paper. Eita had a vague concept and a tune, but the words evaded him. That was the most frustrating part really, but it happened to the best musicians so it shouldn’t surprise him that writer’s block finally hit him like a truck on a foggy night. Hard and seemingly out of nowhere.

Eita wanted the final song on their first album to be about his last relationship, as conceited as it may sound to some. He found it was the best way to close that messy chapter of his life. It was never fun to be strung along whilst your partner was looking at - loving - another, and yet refusing to let him go. Plus, people love break-up songs and their up-and-coming band needed something to round out the alternative rock songs they usually played.

Fragmented and incomplete thoughts filled his mind as you continued chatting, now with the mean-looking barista joining in. Easily pulling his attention from the anger-inducing blank white space, Eita gets a good look at you now that you're standing closer. Wearing comfy-looking clothes and a tired expression, you looked like the poster child for the average student and yet Eita felt inexplicably drawn towards you like a magnet to its opposing pole.

Unexpectedly, you turn towards him, catching him in the act of checking you out. Eyes clear despite the tired lines etching into your face, lips pulled into a slight smile that had his heart miss a beat. Okay, wow. Maybe he’s been out of the dating scene for far too long to react like that. Breaking the eye contact, Eita whirls back around in his seat and starts messing with the papers spread before him to feign being busy.

A hot blush seared across his cheeks as he mentally groans at his inappropriate behaviour. The cute university student probably thought that he was a creep now, great. While Eita wanted to do nothing but bury his head into his hands and scream until his throat was raw, the blank page laying innocently there taunted him.

God damn it. He hadn’t felt this frustrated and inadequate since high school. No one wanted to revert to their high school selves. Scrubbing at his eyes, all Eita wanted from tonight was a simple song, that was all. Nothing more. Nothing less. Yet it still felt like a herculean task. The picture of his ex with a fake expression of hurt rises to forefront of his mind unbidden.

Ah yes, there were other times he'd experienced this intense frustration. It hurt to walk away from the first real relationship he’d been in, but she was bad for him in a lot of ways that he was blind. That was until his friends lifted the rose-tinted love goggles and pointed out each and every red flag he had missed.

Suddenly, Eita was struck with the perfect words to encompass the maelstrom of emotions within him, namely bitterness and helplessness.

Not wanting the words escape him , Eita captures them with frantic hands. Scared of their ephemeral nature, here one second and gone the next. Those few words grew into a verse, much to Eita’s elation. He still needed a chorus and an outro, but the intro was looking fine and Eita knew not to push his luck.

Reaching for his guitar and pulling a pick from his jean pocket, he gives his prized possession a quick strum. Judging it in-tune, a few warm-up melodies are played as his hands move without much thought.

Looking back at the sheet of paper sitting before him, incomplete but much better than before, he suddenly notices that the sound of your rapid typing in the background has stopped. Panicked at annoying yet another person angry at the world, Eita turns around quick enough to instill the fear of whiplash.

Met with your inquisitive look, he’s glad to see that you’re not frothing with rage like how some of the less-forgiving people get with his playing. After awkwardly apologising, he concludes you’re not mad in the slightest, instead giving him a weird response and shrugging off his disjointed apology.

There was definitely more than meets the eye with you. Even while being obviously exhausted, you were still kind to him, a stranger, while rushing to complete what he can only assume to be an assignment of some sort. From the short conversation, he couldn’t get a proper gauge for your personality, although he somehow just knew that you would have the most fascinating stories to share.

Eita fails to notice your flushed cheeks due to his laughter, instead he was admiring how your eyes wrinkled at the corners as a smile lit up your entire face. It was entirely too cute for him.

Abruptly, you turn away from him and return to your work, eyes fixed on the screen and furiously typing and clicking away across the room. Bewildered at your sudden change in mood, Eita leaves you be. Following your example, Eita turns back to his own business. There was a reason that he was in a deserted coffee shop in the dead of night, or more like morning at this point. He had work to do and a lot of it.

Despite that, he couldn’t help his eyes straying towards your figure as he strums out one of the first songs he learnt on guitar. From the corner of his eye, Eita notices at how the harsh light of your laptop highlights the exhaustion the soft lights of the shop smoothed out. Concerned at how tired your eyes looked, Eita knew that the coffee you sipped at was not doing its job to chase away the threads of tiredness that threatened to pull you under.

His examining looks go unnoticed by you, surprise, surprise. From what he overheard earlier, it’d make sense that a final assessment would take precedence over one’s self-awareness, not that he knew what that felt like. From how exhausted and slightly panicked you looked, he was glad he didn’t submit to his parents pestering, instead filing straight into the work force while he worked on his aspiring music career.

A sudden scene took his mind hostage, not letting him go until he payed it attention. Muses were odd like that, one minute he was daydreaming about his life’s choices and the next he sees you physically deflate in your chair as you hit a mental roadblock as he blows past his.

Hand possessed with words that filtered so fast through his mind, he couldn’t afford to process them as he messily tries to immortalise them onto paper before they leave him forever. Like the opening of flood gates, abstract scenes flash before his mind’s eye, constructing an intricate life for the unknown person before him and likening them to moments in his own life. You looked tired, overworked and under pressure to complete whatever you were toiling over.

Eita vaguely wonders what brought you to this coffee shop at this god forsaken hour. Was your roommate being too loud? Were you working through a bout of insomnia? Maybe you wanted to get some decent coffee while getting ahead in your course?

Whatever the reason, Eita is thankful for the pure happenstance it was for fate to place you before him. Before you showed up, exasperation was clouding his mind and creating minute tremors his hand. It was never a good mindset to have when puzzling together a significant song for both his band and his own closure.

Slowly, the disjointed verses and chords became stanzas and melodies, forming a fully-fleshed out song before his eyes in what seemed like a blink of an eye, but was most likely a few hours. Reading over the words and chords, Eita mentally sings the verses and then hums the chords out loud, checking that it flowed and it wasn’t a chaotic mess like the last iterations turned out to be.

Smiling at the fruits of his labour, Eita mentally pat himself on the back for persevering and not caving into his band mate’s insistent offers of assistance. They were all versatile in this industry and each had multiple roles within their rag-tag group. The least Eita could do was offer to compose the songs for them to play. Writing them was also a good outlet, he found. Since high school, he’d composed a few short jams, not that they would ever see the light if he could help it.

Pushing his joy back to regain focus, his eyes flit over to your hunched over figure. Even after all the hours that have passed, your fingers still tirelessly flew across your keyboard before pausing and correcting a few spelling and grammar mistakes as you go. Sending you a telepathic “good luck”, Eita once again picks up the instrument with the intent of playing what hopefully will be the final version of this song.

Now knowing that you wouldn’t mind his playing, he went ahead without holding back. Eyes following along with the keys written down, fingers plucking and strumming away at the strings. The notes blend together and softly swells and peaks with each repetition of the chorus. While he knew that you didn’t mind his playing, he didn��t want to distract you, so he mouthed the lyrics as he played.

The last chord hung in the air before fading into nothing. There were a few places that could use a few alterations, either a change in pitch or pace, but all in all it was a decent song accounting for the fact that it was written in less than a night. Now all it needed was a name.

Coming up with an appropriate name was always the hardest part of the process, Eita thought. Typically, if an artist wanted their song to be found easily, it was best to name it after the chorus. Scanning over verses and chorus, he pauses over the words ‘honey go home’.

Eita didn’t even have to turn around to know that you were running on fumes. If he had the confidence to strike up a proper conversation, he knew he would voice this sentiment to you. Pushing aside the thought, he writes the potential name in the top margin with a query next to it.

The song itself needed approval by the rest of the group and by their production manager, but he was overall very proud at completing it under the pressure of a dreadfully close deadline and the absence of a muse. That was, until you walked in.

Without even realising it, you served as the catalyst to the intense emotions that Eita felt in that futile relationship.

That wasn't to say that you reminded him of her. From what he could tell, you weren’t like his ex in the slightest. In fact, he was tempted to say from your short interaction and mannerisms that you were the polar opposite to the stiff and stand-offish demeanour his ex possessed. Still, you somehow triggered a part of him that he’d been unknowingly out of touch with since his break up. it was freeing in a sense, a weight lifted off his shoulders.

Calling it a night, Eita begins to pack up his mess of papers and stack dirty coffee mugs. Organising the sheet music into neat piles, he tucked the newly composed song in a sleeve separate to the half-baked songs written earlier on in the night. Throwing the folder and other miscellaneous items into his tote, he briefly wonders about when would be an appropriate time to message the team and notify them of his success. Checking his phone, Eita was not surprised to see that he stayed up so late from how groggy he felt. It definitely feels like almost six in the morning.

Tucking his phone away in his pocket, he grabs the bag and slings his guitar strap over his shoulder. Without even realising it, Eita looks back over to your table. Still in the exact same position, now with a half-empty cup of coffee cooling by your elbow as your emptily stare drills into the word document before you click something and fix whatever mistake you could find. From your unhurried pace, Eita assumed you were in the editing phase of the assignment, close to the end.

He was tempted to walk over to your table, to both say thanks and to get your name. You didn’t know how thankful he was of your presence obliterating his two-week long writer’s block and he wanted to make you aware of it. If he just so happens to offer to thank you over a drink or dinner and you accept, then that'd be a bonus of getting to know you.

As Eita walks towards the exit, he still tosses up whether to approach you or not. As he nears, you sigh heavily and message your temples, signalling that maybe you weren’t in the best of moods to make friendly conversation. That’s alright, Eita thinks as he bypasses your table at the last second. He really didn’t want to be the cause of breaking your focus, especially when you looked so done with life right now.

Like a fool, Eita lets the opportunity slip trough his fingers. Sparing you once last look over his shoulder, he pushes the door open and leaves the shop just as the sun kisses the horizon with her golden rays.

As he makes his way home, in the back of his mind he hopes that you get to go home soon to get some well-deserved rest.

Watching the monster document upload slowly on the café’s slow wifi was torture in and of itself. Sipping the last dredges of the cold coffee, you stare unblinkingly at the loading bar, hoping that it wouldn’t pop up with an error and terminate the upload. If that happened, you were going to scream. And maybe break something. You’re sure Jin wouldn’t mind so much. He knew you would pay for whatever damages you caused in your hysteria.

A small green notification confirms the upload and gives a receipt of your submission. The time stamp was enough for a cold sweat to break out along your skin. Ten minutes longer and it would’ve been late and you would've receive a big fat zero for it. The professor was an asshole to have that stipulation, but you were well and truly too exhausted to be angry at this point.

Shutting down the device, you recline back in the chair and swivel your neck that was stiff from holding it in a weird position for hours on end. God, your whole body was aching from unconsciously holding tension for the entire night.

The faint sunlight filtering through the windows suggest that it was time to pack up and get some much-needed sleep before your class today. Mid-day classes were the best, you cheered. Thankfully you’d be able to get at least a few hours before having to survive the rest of the day. You still had other assignments and module quizzes after all.

After neatly placing all your stuff away, you turn to seek out the attractive musician. At the sight of the empty chair he once inhabited, your heart sinks. You hadn’t even seen him leave, too wrapped up in rushing to submit before the rapidly approaching deadline.

Dismayed at the musician’s absence, you crush the unwarranted thought of being lonelier than you thought to fall for a stranger after a short conversation. If it could even be called a conversation since it was mostly him apologising.

Sighing out loud, you grab your bag and wave at Jin as you stand.

“Thanks for the coffee. You’re a miracle worker I swear.” Your compliment made him smile as he continued to sweep behind the counter.

“Good to hear that you enjoyed my coffee even though they were probably cold when you drank them.”

You chuckle at that and give a good bye as you leave the shop. The trip home was a blur in your mind. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow. As blissful unconsciousness enveloped you, the image of the ash-blond musician pops in your mind.

Eita was torn between cursing ever meeting you or thanking every god that existed. No that was a lie. He definitely didn’t regret meeting you. What he did regret was telling his prying room mate about the unexpected form his muse appeared as, after being asked how he pumped out a song so quickly.

Satori had a field day about his incompetence in asking for a someone's name.

“You have the looks and charisma of a modern day Adonis and yet you are the most awkward person I know when it comes to flirting.”

Eita had no grounds to defend himself. He knew he was hopeless when it came to dating. That was probably why he stayed so long in his last one, knowing how hard it is to put himself back on the dating scene.

“Yeah. I know.” He replied, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It did nothing to alleviate the headache he felt coming on.

“Have you tried going back there to meet them again?” Satori looked at him questioningly while upside down from where he had his head thrown over the back of the lounge.

Yeah, Eita has tried going back there. All at varying times that he was out and about and had succumbed to the urge to go back there and see if maybe you were there. On his tenth visit there, he was sorely tempted to ask the barista with the thick eyebrows that you spoke to on that fateful night for your name. Common sense was quick to convince him out of that idea, he really didn’t want to come across as a creep.

Satori didn’t have to know all of that, though, so he stayed vague with his answer.

“Yeah I have, but they weren’t there.”

“Well,” Satori dragged the word out for longer then necessary and Eita felt his eyebrow tick in irritation. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Like Romeo and Juliet but with less death.”

Shaking his head at the analogy, Eita silently agrees with the flamboyant red-head. Maybe meeting you once was enough of a miracle that he should be thankful for and just accept his star-crossed meeting with you.

Still, he had a lot to thank you for. You served as a catalyst for became the most popular song in their first album, 'Honey Go Home' shooting up in the charts every passing day. Since then, they’ve been booking gigs left and right. Not that you ever knew it, nor would you ever since he hadn’t seen you since that fateful night.

A text from their manager pulls him out of the bittersweet reverie, notifying him of an impromptu meeting to cover the packed schedule for the next month. Running a hand through his hair, he contemplates if he had enough time to get dressed and grab something to eat along the way.

Judging that he could, but it’d be a tight fit, Eita shoots off into his room to chuck on random articles of clothing before heading out. He hears Satori snort at his outfit combination and ignores it in favour of beating the lunch-time rush.

By the time he makes it into the business district, Semi had a handful of minutes to spare to grab lunch before what he assumes is going to be a long meeting. Spotting a takoyaki stall not far from him, he was soon waiting in line with others that were won over by the delicious savoury smells permeating from the stall.

The order turnover was pretty quick, still he eyed the time on his phone’s home screen with worry. His band mates wouldn’t let himself live it down, hell he himself wouldn’t let it go. No one wanted to be that guy holding everyone up from going home to their lives. Generally, they all got along like a house on fire but with their recent schedule, it was hard not to want to spend lost time with friends and family.

Hearing his order called out, he rushed to collect the bag. There was no time to eat it now, so he’s have to eat during it, which wasn’t the worse thing to ever happen. Picking up his pace whilst answering a text, he doesn’t see the person he ends up crashing into, too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

They gasp as he slams against their back and start to tilt forward before he reaches out and pulls them by their shoulder to get back their footing.

“Sorry! Are you okay?” His eyes sweep down the person’s body, ensuring he caused no physical damage. As the person turned around to face him, Eita met the face he'd least expected to see. Taken aback, Eita stared at you in shock as you mimicked him.

It was a humorous twist of fate that he would quite literally come crashing back into your life, after trying to find you for entire week.

It took you a moment to recognise him, trying to place his face to someone you met while his eyes roam your face. Once you do remember, you flushed at the close proximity of your bodies, his hand still clasped on your shoulder.

You both stared at one another as the world passes by, unknowing of the second fortuitous second meeting of the pair. Shock was the predominant emotion reigning inside of Eita, followed by gratefulness.

He suffered a full week of teasing from Satori and his band for acting like a hapless fool in love with some nameless person. There was no way in hell he was going to let you slip through his fingers again without at least getting a name.

“Hey, I know this sounds weird, but can I ask for your name?” He cursed the way his voice cracked at the greeting, wanting to scream at how awkward he was being again.

For whatever reason, it seemed that you were charmed by his latent charisma trumping his stiff question and you respond with your name. Testing it, he says it back to you and you respond with a nod at his pronunciation.

“What’s yours? I can’t keep calling you hot music guy.” You query in kind.

A light blush covers his cheeks at the compliment. He knew he looked good, people never failed to remind him, but it was always an ego boost when someone that made his heart flutter gave a compliment.

“I’m Semi Eita.”

He realises he was still holding your shoulder as they jump up as you silently laugh at his adorable blush. As if you burned him, he snatches away his hand as the blush intensifies. Eita was sure his face was bright red now.

“Well, hi Semi. I’m glad I got to meet you again. I wanted to thank you for playing that night, it really pushed me to keep working.” You glance off to the side, not meeting his surprised expression.

A soft, warm feeling fills him at your words. The power music possessed was a mysterious thing. To know that his playing had such an effect on you was incredible. It was extremely flattering.

“That's funny, because I actually wanted to thank you.” The words pour out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.

A curious look lights up your face and urges him to continue.

“In a round-about way, you inspired me –“ The shrill ring tone of his phone cut off his explanation.

Giving you an apologetic look, he looks at the screen and grimaces when he sees the contact name of his manager paired with the time. He was late already, so what was a few more minutes? He might as well shoot his shot, Eita concludes as he denies the call and meets your beautiful gaze.

Under the sunlight in light clothing for the warm spring-time weather, you looked stunning. The lack of tired lines etching your face and eye-bags soothes his heart, knowing that you got some decent sleep last night. It was weird how he barely knew you and yet he wanted to know if you got some sleep. Eita barely knew you and he craved being able to take care of you on those long nights when you were unable to do so yourself.

“Was that important?” You tilt your head at him and Eita had to refrain himself from visibly showing how much the cute action affected him.

“Ah, yeah, it kind of was,” Came his stilted reply. You bit at your cheek as Eita wanted to bang his head against a wall. What was it with him losing his cool with you around? Usually he was pretty good with small talk, or so he was told. His phone starts ringing again in his hand and he doesn't even bother to look at it.

Time had run out, it was now or never.

“Can I have your number? I’d really like to thank you when I’m not being rushed.” The words rushed out of him in a single breath, the split second of courage proving to be his downfall. As he regained that breath, he realised how fast he spoke. It was highly likely that you might’ve not caught them. Okay, now he was ready to bury himself alive.

R.I.P. Semi Eita.

Cause of death: trying and failing to ask for your number.

You stared at him blankly, mind taking a moment to process the word vomit, unknowingly watching him as he has an internal melt-down. His question suddenly hits you and it takes everything in you to not blush at the thought of a kind and talented musician asking for your number.

“Oh! You want my number?” You ask, pulling out your phone and pointing at it in question.

Relief sweeps away the embarrassment that threatened to surpass all logic and just leg it away from you and forget about ever meeting you entirely.

Not trusting himself, Eita nods. Pulling up a new contact and handing over his phone, you wordlessly do the same. Standing there filling out contact details, his accomplishment didn’t strike him until he thanked you and promised to text you soon after you urged him to get where he was needed.

While it wasn’t exactly the way he envisioned your first proper conversation to go, it did end with your name, number and a promise of a future meet-up. It was hard to keep the grin off of his face as he enters the room filed with unimpressed people. Once he explained his tardiness, the mood turned on its head as they gave him encouraging pats on the back and a few hair-ruffles that he batted away.

The entire time he sat there, his phone felt like a lead weight in his pocket. It took all his self-restraint to not text you right then and there.

In the end, it turned out you were the one to send the first text. If anyone saw the way he reacted to receiving that text as he walked out the building, he would refute any and all claims of him lighting up like a Christmas tree until the day he died.

Unlike asking for your number, it took a while for him to gather the courage to ask you out after a few easy-flowing conversations. With your enthusiastic response, he felt on top of the world.

Eita never made a habit of looking back at the past, arguing there was nothing one could possibly gain from doing so. Although, after the short few months since meeting and consequently dating you, he found himself often looking back to that quite night in the dimly-lit coffee shop. By all means, that stress-filled night should not have lead to him finding his other half. But as Eita had come to learn, even the mundane becomes extraordinary with you by his side.

Notes: I wrote this in a night and had to stop myself from posting it without editing because I have no self-restraint sometimes. Critiques, Comments & Notes are always welcomed!

#semi eita x reader #semi eita #reader-insert #fluff #meet-cute #haikyu!!#Haikyuu!!#haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu!! fic #haikyu!! reader insert #shiratorizawa #I couldn't turn away the idea of running into him in a coffee shop #musician!semi #canon divergence

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ravnicaforgoblins · 4 years ago

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Ravnica for Goblins

The Azorius Top Ten Most Wanted

Navigating the social dynamics of a city where demons run nightclubs, lich run food stamps, ghosts run banks, and a dragon runs utilities can be a daunting & confusing experience. One can’t roll initiative every time one sees a minotaur in a china shop, or a vampire at the post office, or a giant covered in barbed wire and blood in a dark alleyway. These are everyday occurrences in Ravnica and odds are if you attack any of them on general principle, it is you the cops will be arresting. You don’t want to find yourself in the situation where you’ve attacked a Medusa shopping on Tin Street and they inform the Azorius Arresters that they will be pressing charges against you.

But fear not! For there are still plenty of threats one can absolutely go to town on! All of the individuals listed below are recognized as wanted criminals by the Azorius Senate. Meaning bringing any of them in can bring one renown among the lawmages, reputation on the streets, and/or coin in the pocket. This could be your ticket to recognition and glory! Just make sure you know what you’re getting into with these individuals. The reward means little if you’re dead.

#10 Ritjit, aka "Ogre Jailbreaker"

Affiliation: Guildless

Crimes: Break-in at Vitu-Ghazi (Selesnya Guildhall), destruction of Tin Street, and escape from Udzec Maximum Security Prison. Target is considered armed and dangerous, but not particularly intelligent.

Ritjit wrecked 81% of Tin Street’s market stalls in under 20 minutes, meaning he’s both faster and more destructive than your average ogre. He’s also a notch above your average ogre in terms of intelligence. While that isn’t saying much, believe me when I say you will prefer your ogres stupid. This is the difference between an animal and an animal that’s discovered how to use tools. Ritjit’s iron ball & chain combines range and destructive power. Expect serious property damage, substantial speed, and a whopper of a multiattack.

Recall the old adage, “I used to be an adventurer like you, then I took an arrow to the knee”, but replace “arrow” with “100lb iron ball” and “be an adventurer” with “have legs”. Give the #10 spot the respect he deserves.

Last seen in the vicinity of Selesnya’s Saproling Nursery.

#9 Ruzi & Kuma

Affiliation: Formerly Selesnya Conclave

Crimes: Theft & destruction of Azorius files, arson, assault with trained wolf as a deadly weapon, transportation of contraband across rooftops.

A single Ledev Guardian isn’t that great of a threat. What you’re essentially fighting is a Knight riding a Dire Wolf. Their true strength comes in numbers, formation, and cooperation. A Ledev acting alone must rely on stealth and precision to gain the upper hand in a situation, so count on some serious Stealth and Investigation skills. Speed and Acrobatics as well, given their escape via rooftops. Odds are, any encounter with these two will be less of a fight, more of a chase.

Ruzi & Kuma are rogue operatives on a mission pertaining to the Cult of Rakdos. The exact details are unclear, as the fires used for distraction and escape caused damage to much of the floor, thus complicating the process of which files were taken and which burned. Speculations that it has to do with the massacre of Selesnyan missionaries in the Rubblebelt by a Rakdos assassin are, just that, speculations.

Current whereabouts unknown.

#8 "Lotleth Troll"

Affiliation: Golgari Swarm

Crimes: Non-ritualistic cannibalism, resisting arrest.

The Lotleth Troll is a former corpse eater who decided to save a step and eat other corpse eaters, then random citizens, then law enforcement officers attempting to bring him in. His hunting has effectively shut down all nighttime transport in the Canal District, and his use of the Ravnican pipes system has allowed him to evade capture.

Picture a Troll. Now strip back some skin, add in some Golgari Fungi providing both protection and camouflage, and throw in a trapper-spider method of stalking prey. Now make him a cannibal. Congratulations, you now have pure nightmare fuel for the average Ravnican citizen.

What we have here is an ambush predator that combines savagery, tenacity, durability, and elusiveness. If you fail to take it down in one shot, it breaks for the sewers and pipes. Its troll genes will allow it to regenerate quickly so that by the time you chase it down, it’s back to full health, has homefield advantage, and has gained the element of surprise you’ve lost. High strength for grappling prey, inherent stealth, easy navigation of its surroundings, and if there’s a nastier way to die than being eaten alive in a sewer pipe, I don’t want to know what it is.

The one light in this darkness is that the creature is not particularly choosy about its victims. Its career began out of impatience, so drawing it out may be the easiest part of dealing with it. That said, few want to volunteer as bait for a rogue corpse eater.

#7 Senka, aka "Stealer of Secrets"

Affiliation: Unknown

Crimes: Breaking & entering, theft (contents unknown), agitating the wildlife.

The one called Senka is a Guildless operative with the nerve to rob House Dimir. While the shadowy Guild claim the Dinrova building to be open to the public, in reality only the lobby has full access. The higher floors and particularly the basement are strongly warded to prevent intruders of all caliber.

And this woman slipped passed them all, walked out of the building with a lumpy parcel described as moving, and set loose a Horror kept in the basement to cover her escape. It tore through the lobby, broke out into the streets, and devoured a passing Orzhov Debt Transport (think bulky, land-based Nazgul).

What we have here is clearly someone with extensive knowledge of Arcana, Perception, Stealth, Sleight of Hand, and apparently some remarkable Animal Handling. Tracking her down is hard, nigh-impossible, as even the Dimir haven’t found her. If one does manage to find her, however, she is likely not difficult to bring down.

The real issue will be whatever she had in that bundle. Her loosing of the Horror kept in the basement suggests an affinity for these Undercity monsters, meaning she might well be raising a baby Skitter Horror as her loyal pet. That would be top-quality Bad News.

#6 Bori Andon

Affiliation: Izzet League

Crimes: Destruction of Orzhov cathedral, disintegration of Orzhov theater, partial explosion of Orzhov bank, excessive & reckless experimenting, mass property destruction, and illegal launch of a Viashino.

The Orzhov Syndicate is willing to pay top coin for this one’s head. That said, he’s well-respected within the Izzet League, who consider reckless experimenting a solid asset to one’s resumé and personality.

What you’re likely dealing with is a variant Blastseeker whose most dangerous feature is probably going to be his experiments and laboratory. Izzet labs are prone to explosions, Wild Magic, random bursts of elemental energy, and an unhealthy level of encouragement for any experiment, no matter how dangerous, as long as it produces “results”.

Izzet labs also tend to reflect their owner’s personality and “quirks”, so with Bori’s preoccupation towards propulsion, expulsion, and explosion; there’s a solid chance his lab will try to eject you several hundred feet in any given direction. If the lab is on a high enough floor, this could prove instantly fatal to any character unable to levitate, teleport, or sprout wings. Ravnican buildings range from small office buildings to cloud-piercing skyscrapers. Minimum, 5 stories. Maximum.... there are buildings & structures almost a mile high. Buildings. Plural.

#5 Krenko, Mob Boss

Affiliation: Guildless, Foundry Street Gang

Crimes: Theft from Ghost Council quarters (contents unknown), illegal use of a portal, illegal use of a thrall as an incendiary device, instigation of a riot in Sawtooth Prison, and violent escape from Azorius arresters during transfer to Udzec Maximum Security Prison. Target is to be brought in alive for questioning. Any attempts at unsanctioned questioning or interrogation of subject will result in immediate imprisonment by Azorius authorities.

Krenko’s jacket is mostly available in the GGtR. While he’s not a particularly difficult fighter (he’s a final boss for a Level 1 campaign), getting to him can still be a nuisance. Krenko isn’t a lone troublemaker you can just corner; his main power comes from his connections to Ravnica’s criminal underworld. It’s a fairly simple matter to upgrade his contacts to reflect the party’s level. Thugs, brutes, cutthroats, crooked guards, officials on the hook, and, of course, the mysterious “Mr Taz”.

The real trouble comes from getting involved with one of Mr Taz’ personal projects/associates. This would make Krenko a loose end. The Azorius Senate will only pay up if Krenko is brought in alive for questioning. Under no circumstances is the goblin boss to be questioned independently, and if either of these requirements isn’t met, you’ll find yourself in hot water with the Senate. However, if he starts talking to try and bargain his way out, you can expect to find yourself green-lit by House Dimir.

What does that mean? It means you’re going to be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. Give up on sleeping at night, you’ll make it too easy for them. Every NPC you encounter, every random citizen you pass on the street, the members of your own guild; anyone could be a Dimir agent. Every dark alley, every shadow on the wall, every noise you hear in the night could be a deadly threat. Or nothing at all.

Best case scenario when they get to you, they wipe your memory. It’s standard Dimir protocol, but it can only affect memories from within the last 24 hours. So if you’re already passed that threshold, your options get dicier. Get Feebleminded, get killed, or get on the hook. If you have information, authority, or renown that can be exploited, they will use you to cause serious damage to your guild. If you don’t comply, they green-light your friends & loved ones.

Krenko might be the easiest on this list to physically wrangle, but he comes with a lot of bad attention from scary people. Unless taking on House Dimir is one of your campaign goals, his bounty to the Azorius is not worth the Dimir’s bounty on you.

#4 “The Cozen”

Affiliation: Orzhov Syndicate

Crimes: Unsanctioned executions, bribery of Azorius officials, illegal use of Detention Sphere for purposes of torture.

Real name unknown. Contract killer for the Orzhov Syndicate, trademark is “creative interpretation of contracts”, see below:

The contract specified an appendage for a missed payment. Read the fine print: the head is an appendage.

So, start with an Orzhov Giant. Give him (or her or them) a respectable boost in ability scores, particularly in the Charisma department. Throw in at least a couple of powerful magic items to reflect the high standing of a powerful enforcer within a guild that revolves around both hoarding and grand displays of wealth. Include an Advokist (aka Mage) or two for that sense of organization and official-ness the Orzhov always try to project in their dealings. Have some Azorius NPCs on the take to negotiate targets to the desired location/killspot. Last but not least, fashion yourself a Detention Sphere magical item; most likely an item holding charges for various flavors of confinement, restraint, and submission. These potential spells will probably go all the way up to Force Cage and/or Imprisonment. However, as this is a modified Detention Sphere, each spell also comes with the ability to inflict pain on the target.

All things considered, this will be one of the easier and more straightforward targets to locate. While storming Orzhov property is certainly no walk in the park, The Cozen is a pretty active figure in Orzhov debt collection, meaning one could conceivably see them out on the streets. The main concern one should have is to avoid the Detention Sphere, as being immobilized will turn the encounter into an execution. It’s highly unlikely The Cozen will have the opportunity to perform multiple executions in a single combat, but it’s even more highly unlikely that any member of the party will volunteer for instant death. That said, this one is certain to drop some sweet loot.

#3 Damir, aka "Voidwielder"

Affiliation: Guildless

Crimes: Opening spatial rift without a permit, erasure of evidence, conspiracy against Ravnica, conspiracy against Guilds, conspiracy against Guildpact.

Welcome to the Top 3. Each of the individuals listed is designated as “Kill on Sight” to reflect the extreme dangers they pose, both to individual victims and to Ravnica as a whole. Taking down any of these three will grant city-wide recognition, a massive boost to one’s renown within their guild, and the most sincere gratitude of the Azorius Senate. But be warned, all of these figures have remained at large because they’ve slaughtered, petrified, or erased anyone who’s stood against them.

The renegade mage known as Damir owes allegiance to no guild, no group, no organization, nor even to Ravnica itself. He is a madman even the Izzet won’t touch or defend. He holds a grudge against the Guildpact and has accused every guild of mass murder. Through use of portals and rifts, he seeks to reverse time itself. The rifts are of particular danger to airborne creatures of limited intelligence, like drakes, who fly into these sparkly ripples in the atmosphere without care. On the ground, his trademark method of dealing with anyone who interferes with his work is banishment, obliterating all evidence of his crimes from existence.

You’re definitely looking at an Archmage here, for starters. With a focus on the School of Conjuration, because he’s definitely the sort of guy who’s thinking with portals. As far as “How do I turn a 20ft doorway into a weapon?”, the answer lies in where the portal goes. A Gate to the Fire Plane is effectively a 20ft tall FLAMETHROWER. A Gate to the Water Plane is a tsunami focused into a geyser. A Gate to Nowhere is like opening an airlock in deep space. Given Damir’s general contempt for humanity, he definitely seems the sort of mad mage who would prefer uninhabited planes for his terrorism, but whose to say he doesn’t open up a Gate to one of the nastier Realms of existence and all the beasties within if he wants to? Odds are he hasn’t had much of a dialogue with anyone besides himself and his Unseen Servant(s) in a long time. Who’s going to talk him out of anything?

Damir is smart, extremely smart. Given most portal spells require concentration, the ability to concentrate on more than one spell at a time feels appropriate for maximizing his destructive potential. While it’s true that only the Gate spell can actually reach other Planes, once you have it up, you can pop an Arcane Gate inside that Gate and give yourself another 10ft tall elemental disaster at a location of your choosing. Better yet, Gate lasts only a minute, but Arcane Gate, once set up, lasts for 10. Time Stop seems like a given, but since Damir’s goal is reversing time, as opposed to just stopping it, saving that 9th level spell slot for Gate seems more effective. Let Time Magic be the plot device, not an actual spell. In addition, lots of teleporting for evasion (Misty Step is your friend), and you definitely wanna give him Chromatic Orb so he can do the void magic attack on his poster. Furthermore, while Banishment seems to be the logical choice for, well, banishing anyone who interferes, in actuality it lasts only a minute and can only send creatures to their home plane of existence. It’s more of a delaying tactic than anything. If you really want to maximize portal magic, Plane Shift or Scatter are much more permanent. Counterspell to prevent other mages from interfering. As far as other offensive spells, Evard’s Black Tentacles and Otiluke’s Resilient Sphere both feel very in-character. Especially if combined....

You could also open up a portal to the Past, but since, as mentioned in earlier posts, most of Ravnican history before the last 100 years is an absolute nightmare to figure out, make sure you’re prepared before you jump into it. Plus side, if Damir’s plan is to go back to before the Guildpact, your party might get to see dragons! Downside, your party will be walking into a 10-way war.

Already stated this, but, yeah, it’s worth stating again, kill on sight.

#2 "The Unseen"

Affiliation: Golgari Swarm

Crimes: Plagiarism of Azorius statutes for the purpose of phlebotomy and murder.

Murder of Judge Azka by heart removal

Murder of Arbiter Zivan by bloodletting

Murder of slumlord Branko One-Ear by extraction of brain

Prime Suspect in disappearance of Arbiter Relov

To some, an urban legend. To others, a secret cult. Whatever the identity, the assassin known on the streets as “The Unseen” has been steadily acquiring followers to mesh out their perverted sense of justice on present and former members of the Azorius Senate.

So, yeah, Vraska has a grudge against the Azorius. In all fairness, it’s pretty justified. Think V from V for Vendetta, except it’s a Gorgon Planeswalker Assassin Pirate Queen of the Undercity. So, yeah, think really hard before getting involved in this particular dispute. However, if you are determined to step into this ugly situation....

Vraska, as stated previously, combines all of the most lethal features of an Assassin, an Undercity Medusa, a Pirate, and a Planeswalker. Vraska’s stats should reflect those of a Guildmaster. Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, and Charisma scores at-or-above 20. Legendary Actions, Legendary Resistances, Assassinate/Surprise Attack, Sneak Attack, Evasion, Cunning Action, and a Petrifying Gaze that brought down Isperia, Gargantuan Sphinx Guildmaster of the Azorius Senate. Just so you can properly understand the ramifications of that takedown; that means Isperia’s +11 Constitution (with Advantage) failed the save either by 5 once or by any amount twice. Basically, Vraska is a walking/slithering deathwish either by damage or by instant petrification.

So, step one in surviving against her is to make sure you surprise her, not the other way around. Step two is making sure she goes down, instead of planeswalking away. Meaning when you hit her, you hit hard, and you leave no chance at survival. Don’t go for the kill, go for the overkill. Plus side, although Vraska has considerable influence and followers within the Golgari Swarm, she still values her privacy & secrecy. So, if you can find her Lair, you can conceivably get the jump on her. Get that surprise round, take advantage of her squishier Hit Points as a Rogue, hit her with everything you’ve got, and pray.

Or you could just leave her alone and live a bit longer.

#1 "Massacre Girl"

Affiliation: Cult of Rakdos

Crimes: Murder, mass murder, unsanctioned execution, inciting chaos, inciting riots, massacre of Selesnyan missionaries in Rubblebelt. Prime suspect in 47 open murder cases. Additional information lost during fire at South Records Hall.

Vraska may be the toughest on this list, but the crazed murderer known only as “Massacre Girl” definitely holds the highest body count. She has openly promised to kill any official who investigates or detains her and is a favorite follower of Rakdos the Defiler. Whether she performs under orders or just for her own twisted delight, no one can say. Her trademark is high body counts.

Build-wise, you’re looking at a Rogue/Fighter combination. High Dexterity, Charisma, Stealth, Deception, Sleight of Hand, and every buff the Cult of Rakdos can offer someone. Surprise Attack, Sneak Attack, any ability that involves blood could work. But in order to really let Massacre Girl live up to her reputation, give her as many opportunities to attack as physically possible. Multi-Attack, Bonus Action, Reaction, or possibly even Legendary Actions. With Massacre Girl, quantity is going to be key, as her main weapons are only likely to be a spiked chain and a magic dagger of some rarity. Multi-Attack should include at least 3 Dagger attacks, possibly even up to 5. Utilizing the spiked chain for a Bonus Action to grab potential victims could work, as could leaving behind caltrops or other sharp objects while disengaging or dashing.

Her driving goal will be to inflict as much damage on as many targets as possible. Meaning she’s most likely to turn up somewhere with lots of innocent bystanders and immediately start slaying people. Much of the difficulty in dealing with her will be in getting through the crowds of people running away, and not losing sight of her in the chaos. If she gets behind you, you’re looking at a nasty flurry of stabs with advantage. Make no mistake, she’s going to do everything in her power to turn the encounter into a bloodbath, and no matter how hard you try, someone is going to die.

While you bury the last of her victims, let the knowledge that Ravnica no longer has to live in fear of this murder-crazed psychopath help you find peace.

#ravnica for goblins #ravnica #d&d #roleplaying #dungeons and dragons #azorius top ten #killer #jailbreak #medusa #voidwielder #ledev #lotleth troll #massacre girl #vraska #krenko #mr taz

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brooklyn2006 · 4 years ago

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The cafe

MENTIONS OF ABUSE AND RAPE

After three failed serious relationships, love just seemed silly and meaningless. You were almost certain you’d never find true love. It was you that was the problem, the reason the relationships never worked out. You were too clingy, fell in love too fast, spoke too much and never did enough for your supposably other half. At least that was the last thing said in arguments before the men you loved walked out of your life. All those things were true and you had come to terms with it, taking it on board with every relationship you got into, but it still always ended and was still because of you. You decided to prioritize work over love after Hunter left, he broke it off because you’re ‘a lazy ass who doesn’t make any money and relies on the people you sleep with to pay the bills’. With a stable job and a good income, this was the one sentence you didn’t believe said about you, but it still made you work even harder. You had two jobs to keep you busy. A primary school teacher three days a week and a café manager, but inly worked on sight for two days.

-May 23rd 2019-

It was Thursday today which meant working at the café. You got there around 4:30AM to prepare all the sweets, but you didn’t officially open until 6AM. You were in the middle of making a cinnamon scroll when you heard the bells jingle at the front door indicating someone had walked in. You looked over your shoulder at the clock that read 5:17AM and sighed. You finished off putting the second round of scrolls in the oven and walked to the counter with the first freshly cooked ones. There was a tall man standing near the end of the café looking over some of the books, then picking one up and flipping through the pages after reading the blurb.

“Good morning sir, can I help you?” You asked softly, not to startle him.

“Oh sorry, good morning” He smiled turning around to face you, his pupils dilating at the sight of you standing there in your apron with icing sugar all over your face. “Um-“He starts but then cutting himself off with his thoughts, suddenly forgetting why he walked in.

“We aren’t open yet, but if you’re on the go I can make you a quick something?” You offered, kindly letting him know you’re not open.

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t realise you weren’t open, I just saw the lights on and assumed” He put the book back on the shelf and walked towards you.

“That’s alright, can I get you something?”

“Um, if it’s not out of your way, could I just have a black coffee?”

You smiled up at him and put it into the cash register then walked to the side to make the coffee.

“What brings you walking around at 5 in the morning?”

You make conversation with this man for what feels like hours, but was really half an hour until opening time and you had to get busy.

“Oh before you leave sir-“

“Harry” He puts his hand out for you to shake

“Harry, would you like a freshly made cinnamon scroll for your travels? Made by me of course” You say already getting it ready without giving him time to say no.

“Would love one” He says getting out his wallet

“On the house Harry, for keeping me company this morning”

“Then keep this as a tip, for the friendly service” He says sliding the 10 dollar tip over the counter towards you.

“Oh, no Harry, take it back please”

“Come on, I insist” You hesitate but take the money and exchange a small smile, before he leaves the café. When you hear the bells ring to indicate his left, you bring the money out of your apron pocket and put it in the tip jar.

It was a pretty normal day at the café. You’ve been working at the café pretty much since you started university 6 years ago, you were a trusted employee, which lead to the owner resigning and asking you to become manager. It was around 7PM when you peeked outside the window to see the pouring rain hitting the side walk. You lived a short distance from the café, so you walked. Now regretting your decision to leave your rain coat at home. You grabbed the last two scrolls and jelly slices to take with you on your wet walk home. As you closed the doors, you saw a familiar figure standing at the window of your café, but looking at the book section.

“Harry?”

“Hey- uh… I didn’t get your name earlier, sorry”

“Y/N” you smile. The majority of the day, this man standing in front of you consumed your thoughts. Something about him was so chronic. By the way he looked, he should be a dick, a heart breaker, but he wasn’t. Well he didn’t seem like it.

“y/n” he repeated smiling at himself. “Closing up?”

“Yup” you say holding up the bag to show that you were packed up.

You spoke back and forth for a while until your phone buzzed which reminded you of the time. “I should get going now, before the rain gets even worse”

You both looked around at the weather. “You’re walking home?”

“I didn’t realise this morning when I left it would be raining and I like to walk before a long day at work”

“Let me give you a lift” He stated more than asked.

“Thank you Harry, but I couldn’t ask you to do that, not after your tip this morning”

“The tip you put into the tip jar and didn’t keep for yourself?”

You looked at the ground not being able to hold in the smile. He was watching you, even after he left. You let out a small laugh, making Harry chuckle, something so small that you did was contagious to him.

“Let me take you home” He say once again stepping closer to you so you can be shielded underneath his umbrella as the wind picked up and pushed the rain in your direction.

You gave him a look saying ‘are you sure’, to which he replied with a smile and a nod. Moments later you were getting into his car, giving him your address, then last minute inviting him in to say thank you and for another sweet you made this morning.

May 24th 2019

It was a late night of small conversation over desert and wine between you and Harry. The late night an alcohol opened you both up about your lives. Not too much, but enough to lose sleep over thinking about him. He left just after midnight, promising he’d come bright and early the next morning for his black coffee and cinnamon scroll.

He held up to his promise, coming nearly at the exact same time, 5:31AM.

“Good morning y/n, how’d you sleep?” He asked walking through the doors, pulling of his grey beanie.

“Good thanks” You replied already getting his black coffee ready.

Much to Harry’s dismay, he didn’t get much sleep last night. He could blame it on the alcohol and say that’s why you were on his mind for hours until his useless alarm went off. But, the alcohol wasn’t to blame because it’s not the first time his mind only held you. He wanted to ask you out. To show you a good time. A good time with him.

“What are your plans for tonight?” he asks shaky at first, but finishing strong

You thought for a moment. “Uh- no plans tonight”

“Would you like to make plans with me tonight? I could use the company” he asks hopefully

As soon as the words hit your ears, butterflies explored your stomach, almost making your legs weak. You cursed yourself for feeling this way, even after promising yourself you wouldn’t fall again. Oh, how you wanted to say no, how you wished he wasn’t so damn resistible to make you say “Sure”.

“How does the bar sound? The one down the street?”

7:30PM

Your floor was a mess after throwing unapproved dresses on the floor. Again scolding yourself for putting this much effort into looking good for someone, who you don’t want to look good for. Finally you came upon the perfect dress in your closet. It was a basic, tight black dress that reached your mid-thigh with sleeves that wrapped around your forearm. You tied up the string covering your exposed breast. You grabbed your clutch, put on your black heals and sat on the couch waiting for Harry to knock on your door.

Just as you were getting lost in your thoughts, you heard the knock you’ve been waiting for. Checked your appearance in the mirror once more before unlocking the door to the gorgeous Harry Styles. He looked unlike you’ve ever seen him before. You wanted to stare, to run your fingertips over his partly exposed chest and trace over his butterfly tattoo. It took more than mental and physical strength to stop yourself from doing just that. You brought your eyes to the floor, too embarrassed by your vibrant red cheeks to meet his eyes. Harry using your lack of eye contact to his advantage to look at you. He didn’t want to take his eyes off you.

“You look really nice Harry”

“Y/N- you- uh, you look gorgeous!”

You internally roll your eyes, just as your blush was disappearing, he makes it come back up.

You meet with his eyes as he holds out his hand for you to hold.

It was a comfortable silence on the way there. Both of you stealing unknown glances at each other’s complexion.

You arrived at the club and headed straight to the bar, to buy your first drinks. It two shots and 15 minutes until you let your hair down and had fun. You danced the night away with Harry. Swaying chest on chest to the beat and singing to your favourite songs. You felt happy with Harry, dancing with him here, right now, you’ve never felt safer with anyone before. It scared you, but the alcohol in your system plucked the emotion from your mind for your sober mind to deal with. The drinks were catching up with your bladder, so you left Harry’s side for the first time tonight so you could relieve the throbbing feeling. You fix yourself up and go to head back to Harry when you felt someone’s eyes on you that had a different vibe to Harry’s. You mindfully twist your head over your shoulder, only to see your most recent ex- boyfriend, Hunter. You agreed that Hunter was your worst boyfriend. Taking your self- doubt and insecurities to his own advantages. Cheating on you, then making you the victim. Said the most disheartening comments on your appearance and personality. You sucked in a breath when you met his gaze, thinking back to the physical and mental abuse he caused you the last time you met. You quickly turned your gaze back to where harry was. He was sitting in the booth at the back waiting for you to come back. You quicken your pace before a hand grasped your elbow pulling you to a halt. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You were praying Harry would look over and see what was happening. You knew what Hunter was like when he had a few drinks in him too well.

“Hunter, let go of me” You state sternly. In your relationship, you’ve never spoken to him in that tone or even defended yourself like you are now.

“Well, hi to you to honey” ‘Honey’ a name he called you, in which only brought back graphic images into your head. You looked around back at Harry frantically trying to see if he noticed, to your concern, his still invested In his beer.

“Hunter, let me go” You almost yell, looking him dead in the eye.

“What makes you think you can talk like that to me” He pulls you in closer, close enough you can smell every drink that’s gone past his Tounge. “HUH” he yells. You flinch, trying to pull away your arm as well as covering the fear your eyes hold. Come on Harry. You think.

Hunter starts pulling you towards the front of the bar. His grip so tight on your wrist you can ear your bones clicking, like when you crack your knuckles.

You yell repeatedly, for him to release you. Given up on trying to hide your fear. You look back over your shoulder, no longer in view of Harry.

Hunter pushes your body up against a wall, were intoxicated people are In a heavy make-out session. He starts to untie the strings around your breast, the only thing other than your too tight bra keeping them from spilling. His other hand slowly rising up your leg from your knee to your crouch. He push at his chest, screaming for help, but it’s the silent part of the club. For all the terrible things Hunter has done to you, you’ve always gotten away from him before his threatened to go this far. You unfortunately knew how his routine worked. He’d hurt you, sometimes mentally, sometimes physically. You’d get away after cleaning up the shattered glass from his beer bottles or thrown objects that missed you by inches. You’d ‘fall asleep’ shortly after him making sure he can’t hurt you when his passed out. The next morning, it’s like nothing ever happened. This was how he fooled you: claimed “I don’t remember doing that shit, sorry Honey, it won’t happen again” kissing your cheek, then isolating himself in the garage where his beer cans were stored.

His now kneading your breast he got free from your bra, still pushing and playing with the bottom material of your dress. You’ve given up on yelling, its no use. You felt this was the end of your life. as dramatic as that sounds, you didn’t think any therapy could fix the damage he would cause to you, if he slides his dick in.

Just as he was sliding your panties to the left you felt he suddenly, forcefully being pushed away to the right. You opened your eyes for the first time since being shoved up that wall. Its Harry. You almost didn’t recognise at first, but you met with his eyes. You felt yourself let out a breath as he held you. You slid yourself off the wall onto the floor where Harry was now kneeling to comfort you.

Two security guards where handling Hunter, but you didn’t care, you didn’t want to have one last look at him for his last time of freedom. He yelled words of hate as he was getting pushed out of the club and into a police car. That’s when you let it out. All the tears you forcefully held in, came pooling out onto Harry’s exposed chest. Everything felt dark around you, like finally after all the torture, you broke. Harry rubbed reassuring circles on your back, whispering sweet words of comfort in your ears. That safe feeling that Harry had brought to you had vanished.

After continuously apologising for what this night could have gone to, harry finally offered to take you home. The whole way home, Harry held you. Wheatear it was your hand or your body, he never let you out of his touch. He held your hand and put his arm around your waist as he led you up to the front door of your apartment. He grabbed the keys out of your clutch he was holding and unlocked the door to a chilly breeze. For the first time in almost 2 hours (what felt like longer), his touch had left your skin. Usually his warmness would linger on your skin, this time it felt it wasn’t even there. It could be the cool in your home or the processing, but it wasn’t warm anymore.

Harry knew when he looked at your emotionless face that this wasn’t a rare thing for you that the man who hurt you tonight, has hurt you before. Harry was known for his heart healing, but he wasn’t sure if he could heal this heart. He gently rushed back to your side on the couch and you instantly rested your head on his lap. You were exhausted from all the crying and mental convincing that you deserved this. You fell asleep almost as soon as his fingers raked through your hair. Harry wasn’t going to be leaving your side for as long as you needed him to.

#harry styles #harry fan fic #harrystyles x reader

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counterpunches · 5 years ago

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This is going to be an utterly rambly mess of like three or four separate essays in one, but it’s only been like 24 hours and I have a lot of feelings and need to just get them out so here goes: (huge spoilers below, obviously)

Ultimately I think Frozen 2 comes down to having some really interesting ideas and things to say that ultimately didn’t entirely go far enough to succeed.

As satisfying and complete as Elsa and Anna’s relationship was in the first movie, I can’t help but feel a little bit of the opposite this time around. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for intertwined, co-dependent people becoming more healthy and independent and thrilled at the end note. I love the journeys the characters took, I just wish they actually showed it better. I didn’t believe it even though I agreed with it.

The catalyst of the movie hinges on Elsa’s sudden apparent need for more when this thought has never previously been expressed. We’re not given a reason enough to doubt Elsa wasn’t happy and didn’t have everything she always wanted.

Not that ‘show don’t tell’ is the single gospel truth from a storytelling point (there are ways to do the former very effectively through the latter) but the movie played the central character’s purpose and secondary tension to the plot as something only passably mentioned if at all. This new reason and purpose, the drive for answers and feeling like she never truly belonged wasn’t built enough to override and supplant her previously established central purpose and tension: Anna.

A few of the film’s other weaknesses play into this.

I expected more of the Northuldra. I liked the few characters we saw, and I get that there’s a lot of material for the main characters to go through so cut for time, but if by the end the main lead gives everything up to stay with them, then you gotta build them up enough to match. If Elsa’s gonna stay in the north and not with Anna, then there has to be more of a pull for her. The Northuldra people aren’t magical themselves, but they do trust nature’s magic. So I guess, that means Elsa has to stay there? It’s only been 35 years since the mists fell, but they don’t even seem to know more about the spirits than Elsa herself had discovered. “This place suits you” isn’t enough to ditch her world that came before it. All the movie gives us is “Elsa’s the Fifth Spirit (which, WOW, I have a million follow up questions to that) and suddenly has a thirst for adventure and nature, so I guess that means she has to stay???” and we’re supposed to accept that as-is. But they have to give us more because if anything, this movie teaches us the importance of choice. We can’t control what happens, but we can control how we act and what we do about it. We can’t change the wrongs of the past but we can work to right the wrongs in the present. Elsa didn’t have to stay. But the movie is telling us ‘Elsa wants to stay and does’ and there’s no reason to back the weight of that choice up.

The confusion starts right in the beginning with ‘Into the Unknown”.

Did Elsa wake the spirits, or did the spirits wake her? It’s not clear and the difference is important to Elsa’s drive throughout the rest of the movie. She sings happily with Anna in ‘Some Things Never Change’: I'm not sure I want things to change at all. These days are precious, can't let them slip away”

Then expresses similar concerns in ‘Into the Unknown’: “if I heard you, which I don't, I'm spoken for, I fear. Everyone I've ever loved is here within these walls. I'm sorry, secret siren, but I'm blocking out your calls. I've had my adventure, I don't need something new. I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you.” This is THE previously established building blocks of Elsa’s character: she loves her family, happy being part of the world she shut out for so long, loves quiet books and being at home, and doesn’t need anything more than she’s got (which is more than she ever expected to have).

But then, ten seconds later she sings “are you someone out there who's a little bit like me? Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?” Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the phone. Since when has Elsa felt like she isn’t where she’s meant to be?? That Arendelle and her family wasn’t enough? That she’s never felt like she belonged there? Sure, an hour ago she was distracted during charades because she heard magic music calling to her. But losing a round of charades isn’t reason enough to feel like she doesn’t belong. The siren call seems to be a recent development and something that hasn’t been happening that long or hinted at during her childhood.

She seemed happy and content during ‘Some Things Never Change’, at the ending of the first Frozen, during ‘Olaf’s Frozen Adventure’, and ‘Frozen Fever’. So what the fork happened for Elsa to go from “I’m as settled as I ever want to be and don’t want to risk losing everything I finally have” to “I’ve never felt like I truly belonged and have always wondered where I came from” in the span of a single song?

The missing linchpin to this is Iduna, but more on her later.

Anna gets to love Elsa but we don’t get to see Elsa shower that same type of love to Anna. Let Elsa show Anna some darn affection! Anna cradles Elsa in bed the way their mother used to, soothing her to sleep. She rushes to her side in moments of danger. Elsa, rather characteristically, shows her affection and love for Anna by trying to protect her from danger, even if it means risking herself in the process. But even at the end when she rushes back on the water horse after saving Arendelle, she just stands there, arms outstretched, like the idiot she is. This isn’t the first movie, where it’s the first time they’ve touched since they were kids. They aren’t standing on the newly melted fjord after she discovers the key to her powers for the first time, shyly holding back. Why Disney didn’t have Elsa running into Anna’s arms saying “You did it, I love you,” is just ajkhgajksdhgasycsdmc so frustrating.

To Sporky’s point, sure - Anna’s coronation didn’t have the pomp and ceremony from the first movie, and we don’t know the reason why. Perhaps Anna didn’t want it to be a big deal, that’s why there wasn’t an audience Elsa and Kristoff weren’t present for the actual ceremony, I get it. But for Elsa not to be there at all? For such an important moment for Anna? There needed to be a small sisterly moment. Maybe Elsa giving Anna a pep talk before the ceremony, something that mirrors the one Anna gave her after the left the wreckage of their parents’ ship. What about an “Are you ready?” from the first movie being re-contextualized in an absolutely loving, adoring, supportive tone.Something. Let Elsa be a big sister. Let her be the one to run into Anna’s arms. If she’s trying to follow their mother’s footsteps, what a great place to start, being part of that bridge between Arendelle and the spirits. Let that relationship come full circle and lead to a healthy place.

And poor Kristoff I felt was a little misserved. As Sporky said, the engagement should have happened at the end of act 1. He got a reindeer friend, yay! (Jason Ritter, great as usual) but I felt like his central conflict was ultimately...Anna’s about Elsa: Again, you're gone off on a different path than mine. I'm left behind wondering if I should follow. When you're gone I'm the one who sees you home. But now I'm lost in the woods and I don't know what path you are on. Where am I, if we're not together forever? Who are Elsa and Anna now if they’re not together forever?

There are two outtake songs that were cut, which is a shame because they would have helped fill the holes of what’s missing and gnawing at my unsatisfaction.

‘Home’, for Anna, on the surface is a light song about Arendelle and the citizens within it. But lyrics like these: Wandering through the town with everyone doing all of their stuff, Somewhere in my heart I feel I’ve not yet done enough, For these people I know, this place that I love so, My home” sets us up beautifully for the Queen Anna endgame. Anna, who loves her home and loves everyone in it, still doesn’t feel like she’s done enough for them. She wants to give more: to them, to her home. It’s not just about Elsa, Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf. Anna expressing this earnestness connects her to leading her people much more than the ending they give us presenting her as an alternative, the second daughter, the spare queen, the extra (which we know from ‘Just The Spare” outtake from the first film).

Then the later lyric: I’m grateful for this castle and for everything we’ve got, especially my family. We’ve all been through a lot. I know how fragile things can be. If I lost them, I’d lose me’ (x) calls directly into Anna’s true solo, ‘The Next Right Step’ where she faces this exact fear - the fragility of the family they built. She’s in the dark cave, lost Kristoff, Elsa and Olaf presumably dead, fears losing herself and giving up. Instead she faces that darkness and does what’s right; despite her heartache, she gets up and saves both of her people: Arendelle and the Northuldra. ‘Home’ connects Anna’s fear of losing her family and her desire to give more to her people. It pairs off beautifully with ‘The Next Right Thing’: The life I knew is over. I can't find my direction, I'm all alone. The only star that guided me was you. How to rise from the floor when it's not you I'm rising for?”

“Home” is a perfect setup to the ending, giving Anna more agency to her crown and the happiness and solidity that she’s able to forge in a new arrangement once Elsa leaves. It connects Anna’s journey from the first film (“I’m not alone anymore”) and bridges it into the journey she ultimately goes through in the sequel.

It’s a good song, a great one for Anna, but ultimate the plot doesn’t suffer without it, so I understand why it was cut for time even though I wish they didn’t.

But then there’s ‘I Seek the Truth’. In it, Elsa sings to her mother, expressing the unease she feels as her power grows stronger, the questions she’s been feeling, the longing she feels for her mother, her role as queen. She seeks the past through her mother to find the truth of her magic and her identity through the pages of a book her mother left her with clues to the answers. “I seek the truth. What are you teaching me? I'm ready to learn, can't retreat once again. And so I turn to you back then. You left me messages and they hold the key. I need to know what they mean, to know who you want me to be. How do I come from this land, with a power inside that I can't command? It's growing and speaking a language that I don't understand.” (x)

This, THIS song, perfectly sets up the central conflict of the film; Elsa expressing that she even wonders where her magic came from, who she is, what she was meant for, and what secrets her mother held. Without this song, we’re left with a gaping hole around it. The movie makes the Queen absolutely, vitally central to the plot and the girls' identities (and choices), (in a way that parallels the Father’s from the first film) yet she was somehow strangely absent from all of it. We’re left with a very unsatisfying shape to what’s missing.

Why does she keep her identity as Northuldra a secret from her children and husband? What is served by leaving that a mystery? Wouldn’t it have been much more interesting if once Frohana made it through the mist, they saw Arendelle soldiers and people bearing the same pattern of the scarf that their mother used to wear? It immediately connects Elsa and Anna to these people much more than the drop later on. It wets their curiosity and plants that seed in Elsa about desiring connecting to the Enchanged Forest and wanting to stay instead of ruling Arendelle.

I didn’t even realize during the first viewing that the second voice singing in Ahtohallan during ‘Show Yourself” isn’t also Idina Menzel- it’s Iduna dueting. The movie tried to intertwine Elsa’s journey with her mother’s past but ultimately fell short of both. The movie desperately needed a few more moments between Elsa and Iduna. The skeleton is there in ‘I Seek The Truth’ but without it, the movie doesn’t stand straight up. (Whatever, I know that doesn’t fully work but metaphors are hard and you get what I mean)

The ending was supposed to tie Elsa and Anna’s journeys as well as that of Arendelle and the Northuldra together. Others not me (hi helen) have already gotten into the complications of race and lack of stakes the ending presented, but yeah, it super bears repeating that Arendelle should have been destroyed. If anything it would have re-framed Anna’s journey (home about people, giving more to them) and the sisters’ past (rebuilding). That made zero sense. Let there actually be stakes! Were there any stakes? The people were safe. Either the town should have been still filled with people still to give Elsa a reason to save it or let it be destroyed and give Elsa and Anna a reason to build it back up together. Have the flag of Arendelle fly, finally earn it “standing for the good and the many” as they all sung in the beginning during ‘Some Things Never Change’. Let Elsa tell Anna that there’s still more she wants to learn about what it means to be the fifth spirit, so she wants to stay in the north and figure it out.

Better ending: Anna, the idiot she is, is running around on the bridge she’s actively working on getting destroyed (pot calling the Elsa kettle black for running into danger without thought to her own safety THEY ARE SISTERS FOR A REASON). The dam successfully breaks, but Anna falls into the water. Our other heroine presumed dead. But no! The spirits awaken with the freeing of the waters. Anna’s courage to do the right thing frees Elsa from her frozen state. Elsa falls into the water, knowing instantly what Anna’s done. She also senses the danger and there are two choices in front of her - she can either save Arendelle or her sister, there’s only time for one. Obviously she chooses Anna and rushes to save her as she tumbles into the waters below. Arendelle falls. Elsa and Anna rebuild it together, maybe some of the Northuldra people help, along with Gale and the earth giants. Anna has her coronation, makes vaguely BSDM comments to Kristoff, which Elsa gags at. She says how beautiful Anna looks, so much like their mother, and their parents would be so proud. Elsa leaves, she waves her hand and threads some pretty ice magic jewels into Anna’s crown and says “See you for game night Friday?” and rides off on her horsey.

Ok, so the gay thing:

They really doubled down on the queer analogy for Elsa. Yes, ‘Into the Unknown’ slaps but I mean, ‘Show Yourself’? Woof. What a gorgeous anthem that clearly parallels ‘Let It Go’ with a message of self-love, pride, and identity. Why didn’t they go further? I get it. It’s Disney. There’s the China market to content with, primarily. But that still leaves us with...its Disney. If ever there was a company that could affort to survive the right-wing and Chinese boycotts, it’s this one. “If Disney really believes in the kind of progressive representation it pretends to stand for, then its choices to barely depict LGBTQ people in its films — while simultaneously winking to let us know that, yeah, Elsa’s totes gay — are more than just irritating. They’re an abdication of the moral code the company vaguely genuflects toward having, in the name of higher profits.”x

I mean, Honeymaren was right there. I want to ship them, but it’s so thin that I can’t even get much further than “they talked like once and it’s an age-appropriate female who isn’t a family member.” Disney was never going to give Elsa a girlfriend, c’mon. But they could have at least given her a girl friend. A connection between the two of them would have made more sense for the ending as well - Elsa deciding to abdicate the throne and stay with the Northuldra. Give Elsa a more tangible connection to the place she chooses over Anna. The minimum they could have done without putting anything at risk would have been queercoding Elsa and Honeymaren, but there wasn’t even enough to give us that. But “where the queer subtext for the character in the first Frozen seemed mostly to arise by accident, it feels more intentional in this movie” and yet also deliberately given a wide berth so that they couldn’t be accused of going anywhere near it. “To be clear, it continues to be subversive that Elsa is a character defined entirely by her lack of a love interest. I don’t want to discount Frozen 2’s emphasis on Elsa’s powerful independence.” Do I love single Elsa? Heck yes. Am I happy and pleased with that? Absolutely. Did Disney have a great opportunity to also have room for queerness should people want to look for it? Yup.

So many unanswered questions! -W H Y does Iduna hide her ancestry from the girls and even Agnarr? (Yes, I get that the first movie was intended to be a standalone film and the sudden success changed everything so retconning is necessary, but still). The actual timeline for their parents is also kind of confusing. Little Iduna saves Little Agnarr. She sneaks away with him to a strange land. They fall in love and get married I guess? When does she tell him who she is and where she came from? Does he ever find out who saved him? Why do neither Iduna or Agnarr seem to guess that Elsa’s powers came from the four spirits? Why do they take a ship to find answers that they seem to already have the ability to know the answers to? Nature magic is in Iduna’s people’s history and culture so what other answers were they seeking to find? Did they think finding out what happened to cause the mists would help Elsa control her powers? -where do the handful of Arendellian soldiers live for 35 years? Why are they still fighting the Northuldra when they are clearly outnumbered. Why do the soldiers and villagers go from hating each other to working together and being together no problem without a single word to each other? -Is Elsa still human? What does being a Fifth Spirit mean aside from retconning an identity crisis and a sudden thirst for adventure? What was the fifth spirit before Elsa took the mantle? What answers did Ahtohallan hold before Elsa & Anna’s grandfather decided to be a huge bitch? The Disney wiki says “Elsa discovers that the voice was the call of Iduna from memories of the past, and that her power was a gift from the magic of nature because of Iduna's selfless act of saving Agnarr, making her the fifth spirit who unites differences. Elsa wields her mother's mantle of the fifth spirit.”(x) Wait, what? Where was Iduna’s magic voice six fucking years ago when their boat went down and after dying presumably found the answers? If Iduna had the mantle of the fifth spirit before Elsa, why the fuck did she take a boat to the middle of death ocean to find answers she knew? Did she know she was the fifth spirit? Do the four spirits just choose a human to imbue magic powers with? I fully get I shouldn’t think about this too hard but making it the answer to everything in the movie makes it rEALLY HARD nOT TO.

Things I loved: -Olaf somehow being endearing and legitimately funny a whole second time -”I don’t want to stop you from being whoever you need to be, I just don’t want you to die trying to be everything to everyone all the time.” Hoo boy, Anna has had yelled that speech to Elsa a thousand times in her head -Elsa’s crying face in ‘Show Yourself’ -the entire ‘Show Yourself’ sequence was just stunning, honestly, visually and emotionally -”I didn’t mean to leave you behind, I just wanted to protect her/keep her safe.” (I forgot the whole line, sorry) Anna it is very sweet of you to say that to Kristoff but honey, you can’t get mad at Elsa for doing the exact same thing you just did like three times -Elsa and Bruni doing the head angle thing as they become best friends -fucking Elsa at charades. How have they been putting up with that for three years. -QUEEN ANNA OF ARENDELLE -the concept of ‘do the next right thing’ I hate that such a golden message will likely get swallowed up and not given the credit and popularity it deserves -I’m sure there’s a lot more that I can’t remember but I’ve only seen it twice so cut me some slack

-the fact that it’s earth that’s the only spirit that Elsa doesn’t master before Ahtohollan. Interesting that she ‘fails’ there, freezing into the depths of the river, because she went too far alone without earth. She wins over Gale and Bruni, tames the Nokk, but she finds herself at the base of a glacier without earth under her feet. It’s telling, because of course it’is Anna. Anna has always been her rock, her earth, the thing that grounds her. It’s Anna who runs to the earth spirits and demand they follow her. It’s earth that Anna wrestles with to finish what Elsa started. Without grounding, without earth, there can be no balance. My darling fucking idiot girls.

#frozen 2 #spoilers #my frozen meta #jesus christ this is 3.5k talk about word vomit

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haberdashing · 5 years ago

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concept:

a genie (or similar magic figure) that works like one of those “would you press the button?” websites

you don’t get to make a wish, you just get the option of taking a given offer

and every offer involves both an advantage and a disadvantage

sometimes there’s a clear connection between the advantage and the disadvantage of a certain offer, and sometimes the connection is unclear or seemingly nonexistent

sometimes the advantage seems to clearly outweigh the disadvantage, sometimes it’s the other way around, sometimes it’s more evenly balanced

there’s no exact words shenanigans here, no jackass genie. all words have their usual meanings. the disadvantage at play is clear and unambiguous, not hidden in clever wordplay.

examples of possible offers:

you cease to age, but will always have a violent case of the hiccups

you gain total control over slugs, but your body odor is overwhelmingly horrible to the point that no perfume or cologne can mask it

somebody dies every time you sneeze, but you get to decide who dies with each sneeze

you can talk to animals, but not to other humans/people

you become immortal, but involuntarily shapeshift into an unknown humanoid form every time you go to sleep

you can fly, but only half as fast as you could run

you gain mastery of one musical instrument of your choice, but lose the ability to sing

you become all-knowing, but cannot pass on your newfound knowledge in any way

examples of possible worldbuilding/explanation:

the genie is located in a shrine in a small town that functions largely as a tourist trap at this point

a new offer is presented when someone takes the current offer or when 24 hours have passed since the offer last changed, whichever comes first. this has the side effect of having people knowing exactly when to check out what’s being newly offered the day after a recognizably bad offer- though even “bad” offers get taken from time to time...

offers can overlap, and more recent offers trump more dated ones. if you took an offer to become the most attractive person in the world two months ago, and someone just now took an offer to become the most attractive person in the world, sorry, you’ve been demoted

there’s no rule against taking multiple offers, but those disadvantages can pile up fast, and others might resent you if you get too greedy

people have tried to study the genie’s offers for as long as the genie’s presence has been known, but have learned little in the process, though you still get the odd scientist residing in the town to look for a pattern within the randomness, or the occasional mystic who claims to have figured it out and gives predictions about what offers are soon to come

#personal #shitpost #feel free to reblog

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years ago

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Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Additional Warnings: Teasing, Fingering, Spanking, just Jin being a dirty little lover (LOL)

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,795

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge��, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali

Chapter 37: Awake

“It’s not that I believe it, but that I want to try holding out...”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

The rain fell in heavy torrents outside. Seokjin sat at his desk, elbows resting on the surface with his fingers pressing together. If anyone happened to enter his office at that moment, they quickly vacated the room without disturbing him. He was usually kind, impressionable, and full of answers to the many questions that were thrown at him. He had a gentle smile or soft reprimand prepared for any situation.

Kim Seokjin’s current expression, however, would have frightened anyone who dared to look upon it.

His eyes, normally bright, were exceptionally dark and fierce. Full lips were pressed together in a semi-thin line as brows furrowed harshly over his eyes. The only sound resonating through the room was the steady ticking of the clock hanging over his bookshelf. A pin could drop in the room and it would have sounded like a gunshot fired off.

Why?

It was a single question that continued to bounce around inside of Seokjin’s head for days. No, weeks. He knew that there would be unrest in the criminal underworld upon their departure. It was a given. Gangnam and Yongsan were not small territories. All the other district heads were salivating at the idea that Golden Jackal turf was up for auction – metaphorically speaking. There would be no bidding for those areas. It would be an all-out war.

What disturbed Seokjin the most, the nagging concern that continued to plague his waking hours, was why no one seemed bothered into making a move. None of them. Not even Dongwook turned his head in the direction of those two territories. Something was brewing under the surface, far below the sight of the normal world. The underground was horrifying without all the clichés. It was dirty and festering like a wound that had been allowed to become infected.

His eyes narrowed slightly. …why isn’t anyone moving?

Seokjin’s calculations were normally spot on – perfect to the point of it being eerie. His call to hold off opening the hotel to timing down when, exactly, the others would need to pull out of the game. Namjoon and he spent many late nights figuring all the ins and outs to the tiniest of details. The Golden Jackals were able to succeed up to this point thanks to them both combining their efforts to see through every move and calculate all countermeasures.

However, it was clear the Jade Fangs were preparing for things far in advance. He recalled Namjoon’s face after the encounter he’d had with Shownu. As far back as Seokjin could remember, he’d never seen Namjoon reveal such an expression. There was anger, of course, but something akin to uncertainty that, had any of the others been privy to it, would have lost all motivation to continue down the path they were currently on. They hadn’t made a mistake. Seeing either Hoseok, Namjoon, or even himself waver would have made all their work disintegrate into a puff of smoke.

They couldn’t let that happen.

The shrill sound of the phone shattered Seokjin’s thought process. He cut his eyes toward it, watching the red light flash with each ring. Reaching out, he picked it up from the receiver.

“This is Kim Seokjin,” he answered calmly.

“Oh, Hyung,” Jimin said on the other line. There was a tone-shift that Seokjin instantly recognized. Jimin was uncomfortable with something, but he was unsure of whether or not to tell Seokjin about it.

Seokjin sighed. “What is it, Jimin-ah?”

Jimin hesitated, as if trying to piece together the situation he was dealing with at that exact moment. “You, uh…you have a guest?”

It was a question. Seokjin frowned, his eyes lowering to his cell phone to see that he’d received a text from Anastasia. He’d given her the day off and now he was regretting it. She would have chased this person off the premises, of that he was most certain. He sighed, unable to stave off the grin at the little kitty emoji she’d sent him, along with the words “Fighting” at the end.

“Who is it?”

“…it’s Wonho Hyung.”

He blinked, his gaze lifting to the doors to his office. No. It was a good thing that Anastasia wasn’t in the office now. Seokjin recalled the look on Wonho’s face when he’d first laid eyes on his financial advisor.

Dissolved or not, The Ice Claw of the Golden Jackals would not stand for it.

“Send him in,” Seokjin said finally. He could hear Jimin beginning to protest but he silenced him with a harsh click of his tongue. “Send him in, Jimin-ah.” He hung up the phone, promptly ending the conversation.

Rising from his seat, Seokjin made his way toward the side bar in his office. He didn’t bother turning his head as the doors opened and closed. Instead, he focused on preparing the drinks for both himself and his “guest”. As he poured the gin into the glass, he heard a familiar chuckle to his right.

“You remembered,” gruffed Wonho, his shadow casting itself just over Seokjin’s shoulder, “I’m impressed.”

Turning slightly, he met Wonho’s gaze – the man grinning easily as his lip piercing glinted from the fluorescent lighting of the room. Seokjin held the glass of gin out to him, waiting for it to leave his fingers before returning his attention to the liquor decanters. Dropping two cubes of ice into a tumbler, he let the amber liquid fall into the container – the distinct smell of scotch filling his nares.

“Who could forget your horrible choice of booze, Wonho-yah?” Seokjin turned back to Wonho and the two of them clinked their glasses together.

He gestured to the lounge area of his office where they had a clear view of the city from a large set of bay windows. Seokjin pressed a button on the wall, allowing the curtains to part so the lights of the city could fill the space between them. They both leaned along the frame, their bodies opposite of each other, not really paying their drinks any real mind. Or the city.

Seoul bustled with life below them. Cars zoomed past; pedestrians milled about – heading to unknown destinations. But the noise of the city never reached them.

There was only the sound of the clock ticking away.

Seokjin lifted his drink up to his lips, taking a slow sip to savor the smooth burn that slid down his throat. He didn’t have to look up to know that Wonho was sizing him up. But like always, Seokjin’s body gave nothing away.

“You’re not even going to ask me why I’m here, Jin Hyung,” Wonho said, amusement clear in his tone. It wasn’t a question.

The corner of Seokjin’s mouth lifted in a half grin as he continued to stare out across the cityscape. “Should I?”

“You’re not the least bit curious.”

This time, he let his gaze shift to meet Wonho’s. “Again, should I?”

Wonho’s grin widened, causing the chain connecting his lip ring to his earring to move. “It’s because you already know why.”

Seokjin shrugged. “This is becoming a one-sided conversation rather quickly, don’t you think?” He narrowed his eyes to Wonho ever so slightly. “So, why don’t you do us both a favor and get to the point of this little visit already, hm?”

For a while, neither of them said a word. All they did was smile at each other. Then Wonho began to chuckle; a low and rumbling sound. Seokjin followed suit with a slow building laugh of his own. Finally, both men were laughing loudly, their shoulders practically vibrating from the gesture.

He felt the movement before seeing it. The two men dropped their drinks, the shattering of glass lost to them as their bodies seemed to move of their own accord. Seokjin’s body shifted to the right just as Wonho’s arm thrust out to land a hit to his shoulder. Jerking his elbow up, he knocked into Wonho’s forearm and took a step forward at the same time he did. Seokjin’s arm shot out, his hand immediately clamping over Wonho’s throat seconds after he felt the blow to his ribs. The muscles in his biceps flexed, forcing Wonho’s weight to the left until the other man’s head was pressed against the glass window.

Seokjin winced at the pain blossoming at his core, causing the other man to chuckle, albeit strained from the hold the older man had on him.

“Y-You’ve gotten a little slower, J-Jin Hyung.” Wonho was in obvious discomfort, but still felt like cracking jokes.

Grinning, he dug his fingers into Wonho’s flesh just a bit more, silencing the noises coming from him. “Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.” Seokjin felt Wonho grab at his wrist, attempting to loosen the hold he had on his neck. “Falling in love has made you weak.”

The smirk fell from Seokjin’s face, as if Wonho slapped it away. Replacing the momentary look of shock was absolute rage. He squeezed harder, watching the other man’s face change to a concerning shade of red. Seokjin took a step forward, his chest just barely pressing up against Wonho’s.

“Come again?” Wonho coughed against his grasp but Seokjin showed no signs of easing up. “You wanna run that by me one more time, Lee Wonho?”

Instead of answering, the younger man simply laughed. That simple action was enough for Seokjin as realization washed over him like a bucket of ice water. After everything he’d heard from the others, he’d allowed his guard to slip for even a second. And Seokjin was infuriated at the victorious expression painting Wonho’s features.

Goddammit, he thought, the vein at his neck pulsing in time with his ire. He glared at Wonho, wanting in that moment to give into impulse and smash him through the window. Fucking Jack Rabbit…

Taking a step back, he watched as Wonho began to cough and massage his neck. There was a distinct crunch of glass under them as they shuffled over the broken shards. Neither of them paid it any mind. Not when it was obvious that the trap, small as it was, had been sprung.

“It’s just like I thought,” the other man finally managed to croak out, a strained chuckle tacked on the end of his words, “and I told Changkyun-ah what would happen.”

Seokjin pressed a hand to his side, unable to ignore the ache of pain there any longer. “Whatever game you think you’re playing, you need to stop.”

Again, Wonho laughed. “If you weren’t going to finish the game, you never should have started playing in the first place.”

“What’d you say?”

“Did you forget, Jin Hyung? When you first showed up in Seoul all those years ago? Before the Golden Jackals even came around?” Wonho was smiling, but his tone was full of barbs. “You all turned down the offer to become a Jade Fang. One of Changkyun’s people. After getting an in and obtaining all the knowledge you needed, you spat in our faces and left to form your own group.”

Seokjin didn’t know whether to be outraged or laugh. He chose a mixture of both. “Did you think we were going to become Im Changkyun’s lackeys? ” he asked, his brows raising slightly. “Have you lost your mind?”

“We offered you a place at our table—”

“And we didn’t want it, Wonho,” Seokjin cut in, not sure of what to make of this conversation now, “we never did.”

“That’s fine,” he said easily, strolling past Seokjin, “and since Hoseok clearly doesn’t want to join hands with Changkyun, then there’s nothing else for us to really talk about.”

Seokjin turned around just as he saw Wonho heading for the door.

“Ya, Lee Wonho!”

The younger man paused, his fingers resting on the door handle. Wonho glanced over his shoulder to meet Seokjin’s gaze, his smile remaining.

“You better know where the line is.” Seokjin’s eyes narrowed severely. “Don’t even dream of crossing it.”

Instead of replying, Wonho’s grin grew, and then he exited the office – leaving Seokjin alone to feel suffocated by the silence.

…it’s almost time.

He didn’t wait for Anastasia to greet him with her warm, bubbly smile like she so often did when he came to see her. He wouldn’t let her take his coat or offer him a drink. He hadn’t bothered with teasing remarks like he usually did when they were behind closed doors.

Completely ignoring the house slippers, he kicked his shoes off in the entryway and hoisted Anastasia into his arms. She flailed, her hands pressing into his shoulders as she made every attempt to get him to slow down. In ten seconds, he already had her back pressed against the window of her apartment – his arms taking comfort in the cold emitting from the surface. The deep desire was building in Seokjin’s lips, completely overtaking her own.

Tasting her was a sin he willingly committed every chance he could get.

Whatever words Anastasia had were gone and Seokjin didn’t want to talk. He wanted to feel everything; feel her. If she wanted to talk, he would simply rob her of the ability to speak until he was ready for any kind of conversation.

“S-Seokjin,” she managed to puff out when he’d released her mouth, “w-wait a minute.”

Her mewl of protest halted him momentarily, his dark eyes boring into her deep seas of green. Anastasia looked like a deer caught in headlights and he bit back a grin. Instead, his thumb slowly traced the line of her brow all the way to her lips. Tucking the tip of it between the rosy buds, now swollen from his affection, he leaned in to further crowd her space.

“Y-You haven’t eaten yet,” Anastasia stammered, her back pressing further into the window as he, too, took a step into her bubble. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“I am.” His answer came out huskier than he’d intended, causing her cheeks to flush further.

She tried to push against him, but he didn’t move a single inch.

“T-Then let me cook already!”

Seokjin shook his head, leaning down so that his lips were barely brushing across hers. “Dinner can wait.”

Before she could protest, he was already dipping his hands under her baggy sweatshirt – his cold hands instantly warmed by her soft skin nestled beneath. She yelped from his touch and he leaned forward, whispering apologies before sealing his mouth over hers in a heated kiss. Caressing her stomach, he slid his hands around her back until his knuckles brushed over the waistband of her flannel pajama pants. He dipped them beneath, grabbing handfuls of her ass in his palms and lifting her up and against him.

She wrapped her legs around his waist without having to be asked and Seokjin grinned, giving her a good squeeze as he moved – legs slowly ascending the stairs leading to her bedroom loft. When his knees knocked against the edge of the bed, he held Anastasia against him as he leaned back, his hands moving to pull her sweatshirt completely off her torso. Goosebumps immediately peppered across her skin and he began to kiss her collar, his tongue sliding across to her shoulder until he was able to bite into the meat of the muscle there.

Groaning softly, he gently lowered her body down. Just before she was about to reach the bed, however, Seokjin pinched at the back of her calves, causing her grip to release him as she unceremoniously flopped onto the mattress. Her face screwed up in obvious displeasure, but Seokjin didn’t allow her time to issue a complaint. His hands were already at work, gripping onto the waist of her pants and yanking them off in one clean motion. Anastasia’s eyes widened and she attempted to scramble up the bed, away from him, but he was fine with that.

He preferred the hunt.

Seokjin shed his jacket and blazer with little effort on his part, leaning down to remove his socks while maintaining his gaze with the beautiful woman he’d become attached to more and more with every passing day they spent together. Even when they weren’t together, he was enraptured with her and there was an angry imp inside of him cursing Wonho for seeing it clearly when Seokjin, himself, had not bothered to give it a voice.

Love.

“Are you running from me?” he asked while slowly removing his tie. “Huh, Anastasia?”

She looked gob smacked by his question – as if she truly couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth. To be fair, he couldn’t blame her. He’d hardly been this aggressive. Ever.

Seokjin snatched her by her ankle, yanking her roughly toward him. There was a half cry, half laugh that exploded from Anastasia. He loved her laugh and he loved knowing that he was the reason for it. Once her legs were dangling on either side of him, he quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt and tossed it to the floor without a second glance. His bare torso was exposed and he could feel the chill running through the air. He pouted slightly while Anastasia seemed almost lost at looking at his body, as if appreciating it for the first time.

“You’re not poor, you know?” He watched her blink up at him, like she’d been knocked out of a trance. He slid his belt off and it, too, hit the floor. “Why do you keep being cheap about the heat?”

Anastasia’s face contorted into child-like outrage. “Ya, Kim Seokjin!”

Seokjin let his hand sail down to her underwear, his palm cupping the warmth that cropped there. He let a middle finger press into the fabric, feeling the nub that was starting to throb and grow wet under his touch. Whatever rebuttals she had were silenced as he rubbed slow, agonizing circles around her clit over the surface of her panties. He could smell her, wanting nothing more than to cover his entire body in that scent.

As he continued to rub circles around her nub, distracting her, his other hand reached down and pulled her underwear completely off her hips. She gasped, her warmth exposed to the frigid air. Seokjin dropped his trousers and groaned at the ache in his loins – his erection fighting against the confines of his boxer briefs. Anastasia reached out to grasp his forearms, unsure of what he was going to do next but silently letting him know that she was ready.

Grabbing for her waist, he flipped her over until her ass bounced in the air – watching her honey wheat locks escape from the updo she’d tied it in and spill over her back. His cold hands slid along the curve of her spine until his fingers flicked over the clasp of her bra – releasing the latch and watching the article flutter to the bed.

He watched her body shudder as she attempted to keep herself up on all fours, admiring the way her folds glistened. Her pale skin flushed and Seokjin already knew that she was becoming self-conscious. Tsking under his breath, he reached out to firmly smack her ass – watching it grow red where his hand was. Anastasia choked out a gasp, and he grinned as her fingers curled into the blankets.

“Are you acting shy? Hm?”

Anastasia whined. He knew she was unable to voice her tantrum to his outrageous question. He smacked her other ass cheek for good measure, eliciting soft, whining mewls from her.

“I’ve told you a million times already,” Seokjin whispered, his fingers sweeping down over her folds to catch the juices from her, “that you’re beautiful.”

He lifted his hand to his lips, swirling his tongue over the digits, making sure that she was watching. There was a hint of a smirk on her lips and Seokjin leaned forward, pressing his chest against her backside and feeling her velvet heat along his stomach. Shimmying out of his underwear, his erection sprung forward, rock hard and aching with desire that he knew only she could satisfy.

She knew it too.

Pressing his hand against her back, he forced her chest to rest along the bed so that her ass was up just a little bit higher. He curled inward, pressing his lips against her spine to trail kisses all the way down until he pressed his lips on both red marks on her ass. Soothing balms for the punishment he’d given her. Seokjin saw her reaching as far as she could towards the headboard, her hands finding the pillow and digging into the soft plush until her knuckles were ghostly white.

Grasping onto her hips with bruising force, Seokjin slid into her fully in one thrust – the world falling to a raw tilt that had his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Anastasia cried out in both pain and pleasure, his name falling from her lips like a litany to a deity that no longer existed but was desperately being summoned. He took his time sliding out of her, his tip just scarcely brushing along her folds, before pushing all the way in. The cadence was slow, deliberate, until he couldn’t take it anymore. The climb was harsh, nails raking along her pale skin as she continued to clutch with ferocity into the sheets and pillows – her voice muffled in the cotton while taking him every single time.

And when he couldn’t handle the pacing he was dragging them both through, when he knew she couldn’t handle it anymore, Seokjin increased speed – thrusting like a piston with precision. The spot that felt the best, the part that satisfied him, was finally within reach. He could feel her walls closing in around him, gripping with a need to keep him there – to continue hitting that spot.

So, he did.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

His chest fell across her back, their cries intermingling as their climax was reached together. Sweat soaked their bodies and the hot, musky scent of their sex filled the small space. Grasping onto her shoulders, Seokjin pulled them both to land on their sides. He stayed inside of her, the soft throb of her heat holding him there; tethering him in a way that he was in no rush to free himself from. Anastasia’s breathing eased out as he brushed her bangs away from her forehead affectionately, his other hand wrapping around her from underneath so he could keep his palm pressed between the cleft of her breasts – to feel her heartbeat.

When he was confident that she’d fallen into a light sleep, Seokjin pressed a kiss to her neck and then let his lips linger near the shell of her ear.

“…I love you.”

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yuiopiklmn · 4 years ago

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Angel Chapter 1

Word Count: 1846 words

Summary: Angel is about a girl with a secret that she doesn't even know about. Bobby Singer found her when she was only a couple months old. She has an awkward reunion with two of her childhood best friends, and then she is stuck on a hell of a ride till the end of the road.

Pairing: Unknown

Characters: Addison Singer, Two childhood besties, and some police officers

Warnings: Language and descriptions of gore

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Need to catch up:

Background

Prologue

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*24 years later*

(S1 EP1 of Supernatural)

I was driving decently fast down the road traveling from Sioux Falls, South Dakota all the way to Jericho, California. I was on my way to check out a bridge where a car was found, its owner was missing for quite a few days now. However, the reports aren’t clear. I plan to be the one to figure out if there is a mystery ahead.

After jamming out and driving for about 24 hours I was finally at my location. I arrived at the bridge where a man had disappeared leaving behind a bloody body and a locked car, as the reports would say.

Here we go again, I thought as I started walking to the site. I mean, don’t get me wrong; I love doing what I’m doing because hunting is my life, but sometimes it’s tiring to walk in heels all day and investigate. I just want to gank some bitch and head to my next location, which is home. I am going to take a break from cases for a bit and go back to visit Bobby since he’s worried about my growing obsession which is….. hunting. Plus I miss my dad and would love to help out around the junkyard. I don’t see hunting as a bad thing, and I may only get 3-4 hours of sleep, maybe less, but I am saving people and that's what's important to me.

I got to the road approaching the taped-off bridge and parked next to some police cars. I turned off the ignition, checked if I looked decent, and got out. I fixed my leather jacket and headed over to the man standing next to the caution tape.

“Excuse me ma’am, but this bridge is closed for an investigation. No pedestrians are allowed on site,” he said, suddenly standing up much straighter than he was initially.

“I’m Agent Dawson. I was sent by the FBI,” I said as I pulled out my badge and quickly put it back just as quick, so that he wouldn't notice that it was a fake, then I continued, “I have orders to be here.” I might’ve said that a bit sarcastically, but he didn’t seem concerned. I sighed in relief as he moved to the side to let me through to the scene of the murder.

There were very few cops at the scene and they were mostly talking to each other, heads down writing quickly on clipboards and laptops. They didn’t even look up as I made my way over to the car. I was able to catch some of the conversations: a lead, the victim was dating the police chief's daughter. I got to the car and looked inside, but there appeared to be nothing, absolutely nothing. I don’t understand. There is no blood like the report said, no sign of struggle because there was no body... nothing. I made sure nobody was looking and pulled out my EMF reader. The numbers didn’t rise once… Something weird is definitely going on here. It doesn’t smell like sulfur, but I’m sure something supernatural happened here. Deciding to get some information, I went up to the two officers talking about the police chief’s daughter that I heard about earlier.

“Excuse me?” I asked trying my best not to sound young because sometimes I get nervous and they assume that I am a kid needing help. That can set me back a lot and get me kicked off the scene if I’m not careful.

“Yes, can we help you?” One officer said while looking to the other….with a confused look

“Yes, you can actually. What do you know about the victim that was killed?” I heard one of you say something about him dating someone.”

“Yes, he is dating my daughter, Amy. She has been worried sick about him. She has been out all day putting missing posters up around the town.”

“Thank you for the information. Do you know if there is any relation to the victims other than them being all male?”

“Not that we know of.” I nodded my head and quickly jotted the information down. I need to go downtown and find Amy. We need to chat so that I can get more information about her boyfriend.

“Thank you, officers,” I said hurriedly when I heard that two more men were on the scene, I think they were Federal Marshals. They might figure out that I’m not supposed to be here, and then my cover will be blown. On my way out I tried to keep my head down, but I walked right into someone a lot taller than me. “Shit,” I whispered.

“I’m so sorry,” He paused before saying, “Wait a minute, Addi! Is that you?” I looked up as the man said my name, and I was met with a familiar set of eyes. The exact pair of eyes that belonged to…

Sam Winchester, just as giant-like as I remember. He has been my best friend since childhood, and we just recently went our separate ways since I ended college. Last I heard he was still in college since he was 2 years younger than me.

“Sammy!?!” I yelled a bit too loud causing the cops to look in our direction, “Sorry…” I let out a nervous laugh as I turned back to face Sam trying to act casual, “Heya Sammy! Long time no see.”

“I could say the same about you, you look great, how are you?”

“I’m great now that you’re here, it's been a long day so far. How are you? How’s Jess? Why are you here? I thought you wanted to be a lawyer…” I said in a goofy tone to mess with him before taking a breath, and quietly laughing to myself. It felt good to talk to him again.

“I am doing good, and Jess is as well. I see you took on the family business. Did biochemistry just not cut it? Also, I still want to be a lawyer, and I’m younger than you, dummy.” he teased.

“I mean, I liked it at the start but I realized my heart was in love with the family business more than any job I could get, and I hated being in an office all day instead of going out, and saving people which is what I love doing, ya dummy. Anything new?’

“I have an interview on Monday, but then this one,” Sam gestured to his right. My eyes stayed on Sam as he continued to speak. “dragged me out saying that dad was on a hunting trip and hasn’t been home, so I decided to tag along and help him figure out where he went.” He paused and then mumbled something under his breath, I didn’t realize he had just swore and it took me a second to figure out why. I recognized who Sam had just mentioned not and how this said person usually causes…...pain for me.

At first, I ignored the person next to Sam. I love Sammy and I assumed it was just another hunter, but when he brought up John, I knew exactly who it was. That’s when I turned to the person on the right of Sam and caught the gaze of his beautiful, forest green eyes. Those set of eyes belonged to the one and only Dean Winchester, Sam’s older brother. It felt as though time froze when I stared into his eyes. I used to always get lost in them, and clearly, I still do. Then my gaze moved down to his nose and cheeks, and I started counting all the freckles on his face. I used to do this when we were younger. Oh, how I could-someone coughed and made me lose my train of thought

“H-Hi Addi…..um...it's been a really long time. Haha.” He cleared his throat again and rubbed the back of his neck like he was nervous.

Then Sammy continued trying to move the conversation forward from the tension between the two of us of what happened in the past. “Sooooo I see you are working the same case we are. Want to partner up for old time's sake? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He murmured something to himself again, probably quietly going through the rest of the sentence, but I cut him off before he continued his spiraling.

“I would love to, Sam. I might as well since we’re all here. By the way, I already took some interviews and looked at the car and crime scene, so you guys could go into town and find Amy; the police chief's daughter and former girlfriend of the man who went missing. She is putting up missing posters around town. Anyway, I got to go and take a breather…..you know...since it was a long drive. So, I will text you my motel’s address and my room number, so that we can exchange information.” a couple officers walked up to us when I was about to leave and we all stayed in awkward silence.

“Who are these two, Agent Dawson?” He looked at me and forced a smile.

“They are… Federal Marshals,” they showed their badges as I continued, “I would love to chat, but I have to go. Thank you for your time officers… marshals.” I said nodding my head to the brothers and turned away.

I briskly walked away before anyone could stop me. I don’t think I could handle much more of that. My heart was hammering loud and fast, I could hear it in my ears. When I was talking to Dean and Sammy, I was chatting faster than I could think, unaware of half the words coming out of my mouth. Why! Why him...why did he have to be here. I should have seen it coming…as kids the boys were always inseparable.

I unlocked my car and hopped in quickly. I started the ignition and sped away in silence. I pulled onto the side of the road a few miles away from the scene, so that no one would see me and parker. I opened the glove-box of my car, knowing exactly what I was reaching for before I even realized I wanted it. I pulled out a small box and opened it, looking at the contents inside before my eyes landed on a small black box. Inside was a silver locket that I’ve had since I was in Highschool. It was old and rusty and needed to be polished. The exact locket I got as a teenager. The exact locket I got from the man I thought I loved. The exact locket from the man that left me that night 9 years ago. The exact locket that the man that goes by the name Dean Winchester gave to me. Hearing that name ring through my mind made me go into hyperdrive. I threw the locket back into the black box before throwing it back into the compartment, not caring about the box that was still in my lap and drove off.

A/N: Gosh that took forever it feels like I have been pushing back writing this chapter, but I still added some snippets here and there, as the weeks progressed. Again I promise that this story will have a normal posting schedule, but I still haven’t figured it out. I am only going to put the author’s notes at the end of the chapters, not whole chapters dedicated to them like previous books. Anyway, I hope you guys are enjoying this book as much as I enjoy creating and writing out these ideas. Again this has been in my head since I was on season 4 and now I am on the show has ended and I completed it. So this is like a farewell thing I guess. I think I started to come up with this stuff in March or April of 2020 crazy right. These chapters are going to be somewhat increasingly longer as ideas start to come back to me and pasted together. Anyway, that is all. See you in the next chapter my lovely bumblebees. Buh-bye!

#Angel #original writing #original character #bobby singer #supernatural #spn story #ongoing #fanfic #fandom #dean winchester #sam winchester #police officer #monster #creature #art #fanfiction #original story #ocs

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strangebrews · 5 years ago

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perfect complements

chapter 3 // on ao3 // chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 4

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Tommy remade the potato salad—potatoes cooked. Though overcooked, this time around, so that they dissolved into a mush of starch and mayonnaise when they hit Alfie’s tongue, but then again, it was bound to turn into that form at some point. Saved Alfie the labor of chewing, is how he spun it when Tommy eyed him from across the table. A silly justification, but Tommy did not object.

The Christmas feast was more of a snack, really. Tommy had tried with the salad, served it alongside some frozen peas and cubed carrots. There were charred chicken breasts at the bottom of his trash bin, concealed by the vegetable wrappers, but he refused to admit to those. One failure was enough, though after Alfie’s comment about the potatoes, Tommy was a bit curious how he would excuse something entirely inedible.

The only other thing that was on the table were their glasses filled with cranberry juice, a Santa-shaped candle holder and Alfie’s fruitcake. He’d baked it with extra walnuts—an hour before their agreed time—the middle still warm when they bit in. The candle holder was brought over from his house as well—one of the many decorations on display there.

Tommy had delivered on the music, just as he’d promised. One of the items among his odd blend of belongings was an old record player, paired with a box of Christmas records. His grandpa’s, he explained. Though the truth was that Tommy simply liked Christmas and everything related to it—he had bought the set on sale at some antique store, a long time ago. Lying about it meant that he could avoid the exhausting explanation of why someone like him could be caught humming along to Jingle Bells, something everyone always demanded upon finding out.

With the music, an unlit candle in the middle, and the crumbs of what used to be cake on their plates, quaint, is how Tommy described the scene before him—as opposed to the pitiful he would’ve used just a few months ago.

Perhaps people could be thawed after all.

It began snowing somewhere in between dinner and dessert, the flakes dusting the grass and trees outside.

They were washing dishes at the sink, their night coming to a close. Alfie had used the typical It’s getting late line, half-hoping a Christmas miracle would occur and Tommy would insist on him staying. But he didn’t, so Alfie forced the miracle into existence by offering to help clean the tiny mess they’d made.

Alfie was standing beside Tommy, drying the plates, their shoulders only a few inches apart, and he wished it was draftier in here—so that he could blame leaning into Tommy on a sudden gust of wind. Though the air was painfully still, and the task ended quickly.

The only miracle which occurred was Alfie finding the present he had for Tommy hidden under his jacket, as he dressed to leave. He’d forgotten about it, excitement expanding behind his ribs.

“Ah, right—Merry Christmas, Tommy Shelby.” Alfie admitted it was a challenge to choose a gift for someone who did not want to be unwrapped, but Alfie had been taking note of the bits of interests and characteristics that sprouted out of Tommy when they were together. He hoped they had not misled him.

It was a jar, filled with alternating layers of sand and seashells, encased in seawater. A little piece of Margate. Alfie had a whole collection of them—it was a hobby, of sorts, that he began after learning that the family would be selling their summer home soon. He created them using materials scavenged from around the property, because he was particularly fond of that town—nostalgic for the childhood bliss. And considering Tommy was constantly fussing over straightening the picture frame, it seemed he was fond of it too.

Tommy took it from Alfie apprehensively, surveying it in his hands.

“I don’t have anything to offer.” He meant it gift-wise, though the phrasing came out ambiguous, and he did not correct himself. Any interpretation was acceptable, really—Tommy had nothing to offer. Red splotches began blooming on his cheeks. Tommy was cold, and he was emotionless, and he was distant, too selfish to consider that perhaps, buying something for a man who had been showering him with gifts for months would be an appropriate idea. And now he was giving him another one, Tommy once again empty-handed.

This had happened before—he perpetually shivered within a white wasteland, but he would refuse to extinguish Alfie’s warmth with his own chilled existence.

“I wasn’t expecting anything in return.” Alfie explained, hand idling in the space between them.

“I can’t.”

“But—”

“Understand that I can’t.” and he handed back the jar, careful to not accidentally brush Alfie’s fingers.

And that was that.

He turned his attention to the table, pretending to busy himself with the hem of the tablecloth and did not look up until he heard the click of the door shutting behind Alfie.

Pitiful. The word had just been hiding beneath Tommy’s lie.

Uncertainty was a concept that Alfie had difficulty with. Ironic, considering the person he had been aching for since late September was the embodiment of that, along with a bundle of other unknowns.

Contact had broken off after that interaction. No window messages, no knocks on his door. He could have even pretended that the house beside his was vacant once again if it weren’t for the gift still lying on his counter, taunting Alfie for his own stupidity.

He spent New Year’s Eve on the couch—counting down the seconds in his head as people danced on the TV screen—and took a single sip of champagne, just in case. For good measure. To avoid another layer of regret from piling onto the current heap pinning him down.

It only took about 3 days into the new year before Alfie developed his resolution—he would continue to bake for Tommy.

He had seen the inside of Tommy’s refrigerator and tasted his cooking on multiple occasions, so it would be inhumane to deprive him of the only good food he had access to. That was, at least, how Alfie justified his own desperation.

New recipes, that was the alternate explanation—the one he would turn to if ever prompted. He’d been rummaging around in the basement, storing away the holiday decor, when he came across a forgotten box of recipes his mother had given him. The last one in the set.

They were sorted by name—bagels, biscuits, breads, buns—and Alfie decided he would bake alphabetically, eventually exhausting the list. All 30 variations.

And then, if Tommy had still not made any contact—because that was the underlying purpose of this plan, Alfie admitted to himself—then Alfie would stop. Entirely.

A month should be enough for him to finally accept the expiration of their friendship.

Alfie made and remade the first 5 recipes, never fully satisfied with how they tasted. He rolled, sliced, sprinkled and mixed, writing down his exact movements on a scrap of floury paper, hoping that it would somehow solve the issue, but he was still unsatisfied with every result.

It was because they were new recipes—needing to practice was natural—but he did not have that time and worried that serving Tommy something that tasted wrong would offend him even further.

He packaged the products of his baking tightly on disposable plates, bowls and sheets. There was no need to make Tommy feel obligated to return the ceramic dishes, and aluminum would hold in the heat well enough until Tommy found them on his doormat.

Which Tommy did find them, judging by the disappearance of the silver packages. Alfie successfully forbade himself from checking the giant trash cans outside of Tommy’s garage.

On the 6th day, Alfie realized he had not baked in something other than his pajamas in this new year yet.

The recipes were perfect from day 7, onwards.

If you squinted hard enough and ignored certain details, this little cycle of indirect give-and-take was basically the same thing as the routine they had before. You had to squint very hard, but Alfie did so gladly.

Tommy never responded, but purely out of habit, Alfie checked the empty window at the end of the hall every day.

So it was fair to say that his heart fluttered when he realized that there was now a white blob in it.

I think I’m going to do some renovations.

Day 20.

On Day 21, Alfie responded to the message. His immediate reaction the day before was to rush next door and ask in person—before inviting himself in onto the project—but a few deep breaths and some peppermint tea to settle his excitement produced this decision.

What kind of renovations?

On day 22, he received a response.

Some painting. Maybe some furniture. Some decorations. It was as descriptive as Tommy tended to get. Alfie smiled to himself.

He waited until day 23 to write back—even if this did turn out to be the tail-end of their relationship after all, there was at least one outstanding benefit that Alfie had reaped from it: more patience.

Very nice. Some bright colors will complement the flowers nicely. He stayed up the night leading into day 24.

Across the stretch of grass and behind the glass, Tommy tossed around in his own bed.

He had extended the olive branch—he had done this intentionally, partially tormented into doing so by the scene from Christmas rattling inside of his head.

Tommy Shelby was used to loneliness. He had pushed and been pushed away by enough people to eventually grow indifferent to being alone. Though in none of the other situations was anyone so persistent in continuing to care, however small the gestures might be.

Knowing Alfie, he had conjured up some reason for why he was still baking—probably something about it being ‘inhumane’ to deprive Tommy of good cooking. It was nice of him to do so, Tommy thought, but the food turned sour in his mouth without Alfie’s commentary as a side-dish.

Therefore, the renovation was a cluster of a few things: a legitimate goal, a weak apology, and a cryptic excuse to re-ignite their friendship. Because in 23-plus days, Tommy had learned that he preferred to be alone, together.

#tommy x alfie #alfie x tommy #tofie #sholomons #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #alfie solomons #mine #i will stop torturing you all soon

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