#would this change anything down the road? hard to say. i guess it depends why he would decide to show up there

[tea-of-destiny]

slight au of an au where newly minted professor claire first meets des at hershel's funeral

[astrologgeek]

⚠️ I do not give any permission to anyone reading this post to re-post my content nor plagiarize it. This content belongs to me and myself only @astrologgeek ⚠️

My ✨astro✨ notes

Part 1.

This is my first post on tumblr, I've been learning astrology for over a year now - and I have finally succeeded and wrote my own personal astrology notes! ⚠️these are my own personal observations and notes, which means that whatever I'm saying here isn't 100% astrology accurate & approved by any professional astrologer⚠️ hope you enjoy I guess <3 (BTW: if anyone wants to repost or anything pls tag me, and don't steal pls!! I've worked so hard on these.)

• Taurus risings have 2 types of luaghter: crying-like laugh because of their 3rd house cancer or a smirky / deep-like laugh because of their capricorn 9th house. As a taurus rising I approve this message.

• speaking of taurus risings: gemini 2nd house ppl may joke a lot about their self worth. They also have a very big vocal range - whether they can sing or not, they can be great at dubbing.

• Neptune in the 2nd house have dreamy voices / amazing singing abilities or they may sound like a someone that does drugs / smoke / just high.

• having your mars in the 10th house can indicate a modeling career, especially if your MC is in good aspects with your ASC.

• virgo 9th house people have the most provocative sense of humor, they are also a "know-it-all". Yet, they are extremely loyal, so passionate and devoted to their duties.

• whichever house your pluto is in explains your deepest fears and where there is true chaos in your life (I'll make a post about it!)

• having your pluto in libra - as pluto being the planet of our generations - means that these people have always tried to fit into norms and into society, to not stand out, to be the most basic they can try. I believe that if they had a catchfraze it would be: "fake it 'till you make it".

• whatever house you have libra in is an area in your life that tries to fit in norms / society / normality (libra 11th house: have friends that are normal & basic / you try to to fit in society to make friends)

• aries rising's facial expressions are IMMACULATE (aries rules the face, so it's fitting that their face and facial expression will be very dominant)

• if your lilith conjuncts your saturn then solving the dark and hidden parts of you will help your career life grow and evolve as well.

• Mars-neptune aspects makes your anger blurry - like you don't know when your angry or how to feel / express your anger. Bonus points if the moon has contact with mars.

• There are 2 houses that rule the feeling of not belonging: the 11th house (not belonging because ur special, unique, weird, not normal) and the 12th house (not belonging because of your lonely energy, your blurry energy that makes you feel drifted from everyone automatically)

• Parent & children 🤝 not understanding each other's generation. Why, you may ask? Most if the time the age gap between children & their parents is 25 - 40 years, now if pluto is changing it's sign every 12 (mostly) - 31 years it means that the gap of the signs is creating a square! Example: gen z (pluto in sag) & boomers and karens (pluto in virgo), yet gen z (pluto in sag) & gen of pluto in leo (our grandparents) are creating a trine aspect (good relationship between generations).

• Capricorn stelliums are the most impatient people ever, time just moves with their own schedule and they are the ones that are always perfectly in time. Why? Saturn, which is ruled by capricorn: is ruling time.

• 12th house placements in general but especially 12th house NN & chiron 10th house people have a hero complex, that we must help everyone and save everyone. It's because the 12th house is about selflessness and empathy.

• Sagittarius rising feel so intimate and private, like no one really knows them - because of their 12th house scorpio, which makes their intimate side hidden, and makes them a mystery.

• Your 7th house sign is also the sign you have celebrity-crushes & obsessions on.

• You can know leo's even without them having a sun, moon or rising in leo. They are just SO noticeable! Their energy is just IMMACULATE

• I think that 12th house people are very intersted in prisons, mental hospitals, illusions and parties actually! Now all of them are understood because of our natural will to search for the unkown and the mystery and the unrealistic stuff in our lives, stuff that makes your soul change.

But why parties? Parties may be a place filled with people and noise which 12th house ppl won't like but the thing is parties are a fun illusion, with the lights changing all the time and the music that makes our body adapt to an entirely different environment because of it - it makes u very much aware of everything within the noise and loudness and madness.

• Talking about parties and 12th house people - I have noticed that they have 2 options of how they act:

1. They sit in the corner and analyze literally anything or just drown in their own thoughts or distract themselves from "all of the eyes looking at them".

2. They try to dance and get involve in the party but they're or getting to carried away and then feel embarrassed af and isolate themselves or immediately regrets it and goes to isolate themselves.

• 10th house transits for ppl who haven't graduated high school / university yet will be manifesting in their school life because it's where you're "supposed" to find your career path.

• In my opinion, the co-ruler of fun (which is ruled by leo) is sagittarius. Why? Leo rules entertainment and sagittarius is the ruler of jupiter, which resembles happiness, optimism (, expansion, growth) which is like the soul purpose of fun and entertainment.

• Even tho communication and the social media are a mercury - thing, I actually think that specific parts have 2 or even 3 rulers. For example: articles are ruled by gemini, virgo and aquarius (gemini to represent the creativeness and flowing speech in the article (also gossip if included), virgo to represent the order and wording of the article and how it's represented and brought to the readers and aquarius is for the fact that articles always talk about new, innovative or unusual things that are happening currently [little bit of cap right here lol] in the world, which also bring awareness (def an aqua theme).

• As the 8th house representing secrets, intimacy and shared resources - it must mean that people with this stellium or placements LOVE gossip. gossip is the combination of shared resources (media - which related to my last note - so gossip pages are gemini scorpio thing), intimacy and secrets.

• I have a theory - vehicles, as all materials and machines - are ruled by earth signs, so here are each vehicles rulers in my opinion:

virgo rules the air-vehicles (plains, helicopters etc.) Because that's a mutable sign that's adaptable of change the most out of every earth sign, and because the sky is so unpredictable and there's infinite courses of ways to reach ur destination - virgo fits the most to it.

capricorn rules the sea-vehicles (ships, boats, submarines etc.) Because that's a cardinal sign, an initiator that doesn't wait for things to happen, but makes sure every sudden change has a stable solution, also the sea is such an exotic place - fitting for a Capricorn's rich taste in views and life. Other than that, water may be unpredictable as well, but less than the open air and sky. Capricorns are the sea goats for a reason ;)

And last but not least - taurus rules the earth-vehicles. As The most stable, grounded, stubborn & down to earth sign it's kind of fitting for the vehicles that moves through the earth to have taurus as it's ruler. As cars, motorcycles etc. Have roads, so does taurians have their own, only path. They depend on the only thing they trust and any sudden change will make chaos. It's also the most comfortable - the thing taurians are craving for most.

I HOPE U ENJOYED my astro-notes :) I'll def try to keep them coming lmao if y'all would want to. Hope y'all Have a nice day 💕

[itsgoldleaf]

Hello, my friend!!! I'd love to hear about 🎢, 💖, and 🤩 for the writer ask meme! <3<3<3

Thank you so much for these my friend! (Oooh the formatting went a bit weird because I wrote these in notepad then pasted, hopefully it posts alright!)

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Oh this is a hard one, because I don’t feel like I have a lot of wildness in my stories - no huge twists, big stakes (okay the fate of the galaxy is a general theme in a couple of the fandoms I’ve written for) or anything quite so exciting, eek! Also I always say Once More Unto The Breach (Stargate Atlantis/Pacific Rim mashup) for these sorts of questions and I’ve talked about it a lot so I don’t want to keep banging that drum BUT I still maintain that it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever written, haha. It was a story (and a structure) that just beamed itself out of my brain and I wish writing everything was so easy. Anyway, Once More… covered a lot more ground than what I normally write, both in time and space, I guess, and in emotional space too. There’s a lot going on, but the battle isn’t with inter-dimensional creatures but between two people who had a very weird breakup in the face of a small apocalypse and I just really liked seeing how that went down and how and why they re-enter each other’s orbit while telling two stories at once, past and present. (I am so doing a Codywan/Pacific Rim thing btw, can’t wait.)

💖 What made you start writing?

These are all so hard to answer! I started writing fic back in about 2011 I think for Lord of the Rings (and my fic is alllll still out there in the ether). I go back and look at it sometimes and while I’ve gotten a bit better at actually writing I’ve not changed at all in what I like writing about. I love writing love stories! I love the lead up to getting together, I love slow burn, I love pining and there only being one bed!!! I love there being a reason they can’t be together and working out how to get around that. I think that’s why I started writing, because I just wanted more of the characters doing that over and over and I wish I had a more exciting answer but I just wanted to create my own canon and get inside the heads of these different people and point them in the direction of the one who is going to make them the most happy, not that it’s necessarily a straight (ho ho) road to get there.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

I am very bad at articulating why I like certain characters so do forgive me! I’m not writing for the fandom at the moment but I had an absolute TIME with Stargate Atlantis and writing John Sheppard because his head is such a weird place to hang out in that I became obsessed with working out why that is. The dude is so repressed and wears a lot of different versions of himself on the outside depending who’s looking and it’s very fun to unstitch that, especially as he’s not doing any of this for any particularly nefarious reason, he’s just had to fit a mold for so long and letting him break out of it despite his own self-sabotaging tendencies is a joy to play around with.

Right now, and this may be a shocking revelation, my favourite is Cody 😍 I adore exploring his sense of duty and identity and the reality of his existence, I suppose. How he feels about how he feels, particularly toward Obi-Wan, and the various ways in which he feels pulled and obligated (to Obi-Wan, to the Republic, to the vode etc.) I’m explaining this poorly, but there is a lot of ground to explore with Cody in what he thinks he deserves and what he can and cannot do about it within his limited remit. I feel like I’m only just starting with him really; there’s a reason most of my fics are from his pov! (Plus his relationship with Obi-Wan, platonic or otherwise, is so much fun (and has such angst-potential as well oh lord.) The banter! The dry wit! The unending two-way devotion and longing gimme gimme gimme.) I definitely haven’t even scratched the surface on why I love writing Cody but I really do have a total blindspot when it comes to articulating why characters appeal to me so this’ll have to do 😂

[orangeoctopi7]

Buzzfeed Unsolved: The Suspicious Crash of Stanley Pines

The theme for @stanuary week 3 is Crime... what about... TRUE CRIME? I started watching Buzzfeed Unsolved this last summer, so I’ve been wanting to do something like this.

If you don’t watch Buzzfeed Unsolved, this is probably gonna seem like a lot of rambling.

On the morning of July Fourth, 1982 in the sleepy logging town of Gravity Falls, Oregon, there was a firey explosion that wasn't part of the fireworks and festivities. A car had gone over the edge of the town's famed floating cliffs.

"Floating cliffs?" Shane asked

"They're like, giant overhangs. They're not just floating up in the middle of the air like Pandora or something." Ryan explained, showing Shane a photo on his phone.

"Oh, that's pretty."

"It is really pretty."

"What a beautiful place for a car to careen over a cliff."

Ryan cracked up.

"You get a lovely view as you plummet to your death." Shane imagined.

Between 6:15 and 6:20 PM, the Gravity Falls Police Department received six separate calls reporting seeing a yellow car in flames drive off the edge of the cliff and crash to the valley below.

When investigators arrived on the scene, they found the remains of a crushed and burnt 1971 Subaru DL Coupe. The police report notes finding that the brakes were cut, and evidence of gasoline being poured into the driver’s seat to start the fire. Strangest of all, no body was found in or around the crash, only a few burnt strands of hair.

“So, right off the bat, real suspicious.” Shane commented.

“Yeah, and it only gets more suspicious from here.” Ryan assured his co-host.

“And I’m assuming there’s no chance that they guy, y’know, got up and walked away from the crash?” 

“Oh, no, no way. You saw the picture of the cliffs.”

“Oh yeah, no way.”

“There’s no way anyone in the car would have survived that fall.”

“And it was on fire.”

“And it was on fire.”

Despite the lack of a body, the police determined from the few burnt strands of hair and an anonymous tip they received at 6:15 PM on the day of the crash, the driver of the car was one Stanley Pines, a 31 year old man from Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Allegedly, he had been coming to Gravity Falls, Oregon to visit his twin brother, Stanford, who lived just a ten minute drive from the cliff Stan’s car had driven off.

“Wait, wait, wait--” Shane interrupted Ryan’s explanation, “Twin brothers. Named Stanley and Stanford.”

“Yeah.”

“Who the f___ names their kids like that?”

“I know, right?”

“Were they identical twins?”

“Uh, I couldn’t find anything saying they were definitely genetically identical, but, uh, with the way this case goes, it’s safe to assume they were identical enough.”

“Yikes, I feel sorry for them growing up, can you imagine how often people got them mixed up?”

“Yeah, but imagine the kinds of shenanigans they must have gotten up to!”

“Oh, that’s true. There would have been plenty of shenanigans. Lots and lots of shenanigans.”

“If you had twins, would you give them cutesy twin names?” Ryan asked.

“No.” Shane answered firmly.

“I think I’d just do like, alliterative names. Nothing too similar.” 

“Yeah, no I think twins probably have to deal with enough confusion bull___ without having to throw similar names or the same initials into the mix.”

“Interestingly enough…” Ryan started.

“Yeah, I’m guessing from your comments that the twin thing plays into this.”

When interviewed by the police, Stanford claimed his brother never arrived at his house. However, testimonies of other townsfolk reported seeing a red 1967 El Diablo with a distinctive “STNLYMBL” vanity license plate driving up the road to Stanford’s house earlier that winter. The house is out in the woods, isolated from the rest of the town, so no one would drive up that way unless they were going to see the cabin.

“Well what if they just wanted to take a walk out in the woods?” Shane countered.

“It was in early February.” 

“Snowshoeing.”

“In a blizzard.”

“Ok, you do not have a weather report for the exact day they saw this car!”

“Two of the testimonies mention there was a snow storm that day. Plus, the license plate says STANLEY MOBILE.”

“Well, Stanley is a fairly common name.”

“You-you’re just being contrary to bug me now, aren’t you?” Ryan accused.

Shane just grinned.

What’s more, that same red El Diablo was the car Stanford now drove. 

“What!?” Shane laughed with disbelief for a moment before putting on a mocking tone. “Uh, yeah, he never showed up, but, uh, I have his car. I’m still driving it. Y’know, seemed like a waste to just let it sit in the driveway.”

“He didn’t even change the license plate.” Ryan added.

“Oh, of course not!” Shane said sarcastically. “Why go through all that trouble?”

Upon further inspection, the car that crashed was registered to Stanford, and had been reported totaled almost seven years prior.

“It’s interesting that they say it was totaled.” Ryan commented. “Because totalled just means that the damage is more expensive to fix than the car is worth, so it could have still been drivable.”

“And if you’re trying to fake a car crash, what better to use than an already worthless car?” Shane agreed. 

“Exactly.”

Stanley Pines was declared dead by auto accident and the case was closed in September of 1982, due to lack of evidence and quote: “A lack of interest from the involved parties”.

“A lack of interest from the involved parties!? What the h___ does that even mean?” Shane asked in bewilderment.

“It’s odd, to be sure.”

It’s when we look into the background of the presumed dead Stanley, and his brother Stanford, that this case becomes truly bizarre. 

Stanley Pines left home at the age of 17, and had brief but unsuccessful careers as an amature prize fighter and as a salesman, before he turned to a life of crime. Prior to his reported death, he had been in prison five times, in three different countries, and had lived under at least eight different assumed names, with several others that were never confirmed. He had known ties to the mob and drug cartels.

“Quite the shady character. That might explain why the police didn’t look too closely into his ‘death’.” Shane put air quotes around “death”.

“Well, does it? I mean, if they thought his death might have been related to the mob…” Ryan argued.

“They know better than to mess with the mob, even in Oregon.”

“I mean, we have seen in several past True Crime episodes, what can happen if you mess with the mob.”

“Oh yeah.”

“You don’t wanna do it.”

“Nope.”

His brother Stanford was no less strange. He was born with fully-functional polydactyly, meaning he had six fingers on each hand. It’s worth noting that after 1982, Stanford no longer had 6 fingers. He claims that he had them surgically removed, because, quote: “I was sick of people staring.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Shane said doubtfully.

“You don’t believe that explanation?”

“Let’s just say I find it highly suspect.”

Stanford was also a certified genius, graduating with the most PhDs Backupsmore University had ever awarded. As a graduate student, he worked as a researcher and inventor for the US Government. Some sources say he worked on top-secret experiments. 

In 1975, he received a $100,000 research grant, which he used to move to Gravity Falls and become a Paranormal Researcher. When he arrived in Gravity Falls, he was the subject of many rumors throughout the town, due to his reclusive nature and strange area of study. 

“Oh, so this guy was basically you.” Shane pointed out.

“He’s basically me if I didn’t have you.” Ryan agreed.

“Awww, that’s sweet!” Shane placed a hand over his heart.

Many residents reported seeing strange lights coming from Stanford’s home in the woods starting almost as soon as he moved in, as well as strange sounds.

“Well, it seems like Gravity Falls is a pretty small town. People gossip.” Shane reasoned.

“Ok, yeah, but people gossip about who’s cheating on who, or what business secretly sells drugs out the back. They don’t gossip about strange lights coming out of the new neighbor’s basement.”

“They could. It’s gossip. Gossip can be about anything.”

Reports of the lights stopped in late January of 1982. Just four months later, in March, Stanford began opening up his home for tours, and in a matter of weeks, transformed his home into a tourist stop called the “Murder Hut.”

“Oh my g__.” Shane stifled a laugh. “A little on the nose there, don’t you think?”

“He did rename it to the Mystery Shack about a year later.”

“Hmm, yeah I wonder why?” Shane asked facetiously. 

Stanford also exhibited paranoid behavior on several occasions before the crash, especially in the early months of 1982.

One local reported seeing Stanford screaming “No it isn’t, you creeps! I can see you just fine!” down an alleyway. Several other eyewitnesses reported seeing him fall out of his seat at the Triple Digits Truck Stop Diner on Route 14 and scream for something to “get out of his mind” before fleeing the building.

“So, he definitely seemed to think something was out to get him.” Ryan commented.

“Not the words of a sane man.”

“Unless something really was out to get him.”

“Eeeeh, even then…” Shane wiggled his hand in a so-so motion. 

Dan Corduroy, one of the few people who had regular contact with Stanford before he opened the Mystery Shack, had this to say about the sudden change from research lab to tourist trap:

“Oh, he’s definitely been acting differently. He was really shy before, hard to talk to even. He seemed uncomfortable spending a lot of time with people. I’d invite him over to one of my family’s cabins to visit, but he only ever wanted to visit the haunted one while we were all out of town. I’d say it was a good change, though. It wasn’t good for him to be alone all the time like that. I’m glad he’s finally spending time with other people.”

“He only wanted to visit our haunted cabin.” Shane repeated with disbelief. “Hey, do you wanna come over to visit one of our cabins?” He put on a voice. “Uh, that depends, what kind of cabins have you got?’ ‘Well there’s one by the lake, one with a nice view of the valley, and one that’s haunted.’ ‘Oh, I’ll take the haunted one!”

“What gets me is he only wanted to visit the haunted cabin while everyone else was out of town. We’ve stayed in our fair share of haunted places, and it was bad enough staying overnight, just me and you, but there is nothing that could convince me to spend the night in one of those places all by myself.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure none of the places we’ve been to have actually been haunted, but I see what you mean. It’s not fun to go to a haunted house by yourself. It’s kinda boring.”

“Um, we’re not gonna get into this discussion now, because we still haven’t even gotten to the theories yet, but you’re wrong.”

The case came to light again in August of 2012, when Federal agents arrested Stanford Pines, and detained him for several hours for questioning. By the next day, he had been released, and officials stated that his arrest had been due to a false lead. What exactly that false lead was, however, was never stated.

Now that we’ve gone over the extensive background of this case, let’s get into the theories of what really happened that 4th of July in 1982.

Theory #1: The theory put forth by the police, that Stanley Pines died in a fiery car accident.

“So then how do they explain what happened to the body?” Shane asked.

“It doesn’t say.” Ryan.

“And why were the breaks cut?”

“No explanation given.”

“That’s a stupid theory, those cops ought to be fired.”

Ryan stifled a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

Theory #2: That Stanley killed his brother, made it look like his own death, and took over his brother’s life. This would explain the loss of his extra fingers, the sudden change in behavior that led him to open up the Mystery Shack, and his sudden acquisition of Stanley’s car. It does not, however, explain the lack of a body in the crash.

“He could have disposed of his brother’s body somewhere else, and then just like, left an ice block on the gas pedal and let the car run itself off the cliff.” Shane theorized.

“That’s possible. I was also thinking, maybe the body was gone. Maybe Stanley didn’t necessarily kill Stanford, maybe they met up in the woods, Stanford got eaten by a bear, and Stanley, who was already in trouble with the mob, took advantage of the situation, and faked his own death.”

“How--why did you work your fear of bears into this?” 

“That’s just my variation on this theory.”

“Then why all the secrecy? Why not say that he was the one who got eaten by the bear? Why fake the car crash and then say his brother never showed up?”

“Because if the mob knew he’d talked to his brother before he died, maybe they’d come question him?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a possibility.”

Theory #3: That Stanford killed Stanley and made it look like an accident. People who support this theory say the psychological trauma and guilt of killing his own brother may have driven Stanford to change his appearance and behavior to more closely resemble that of his dead brother.

“That’s… kind of a stretch.” Shane said slowly. “I feel like, Occam's Razor, theory 2 is more plausible.”

“What makes you say that one’s more plausible?”

“I dunno, just saying ‘He killed his brother and took his place’ seems a lot more likely than ‘The other brother killed him and the guilt drove him to act like his brother. I don’t think that’s how psychology works.”

Theory #4: Both brothers are still alive. Stanley, on the run from the mob, came to his brother Stanford for help. Meanwhile, Stanford was worried about someone or something that was out to get him. They came to a solution that would solve both their problems: switching places. They would fake Stanley’s death, throwing the mob off of Stanley’s trail. Then, Stanley would take Stanford’s place in the public eye, while Stanford went into hiding.

This theory is supported by photos that surfaced on Facebook in 2012. Several photos of Gravity Falls after a series of earthquakes did extensive damage to the town show what is supposed to be Stanford. However, another man that looks just like him is seen standing in the background. Interestingly enough, both mens’ hands are obscured in all of these photos. 

While the photos haven’t been analysed by any professionals to definitively determine if either of the men are Stanley Pines, it has been determined that the photos are not edited.

“Would the whole photo recognition software even work on identical twins?” Ryan wondered.

“I don’t think so?” Shane answered unsurely. “I mean, my Facebook facial recognition auto-tag doesn’t even recognize my mom half the time, so I wouldn’t be surprised if twins throw it off.”

“Just looking at some of these photos yourself, what do you think?” Ryan handed a few print-outs from his folder to Shane.

“Oh wow, yeah, they do look alike.” Shane nodded. “Alright, yeah, I’m convinced. We solved it, guys! Video over!”

“We actually do have one more theory.” Ryan informed him.

Theory #5: Stanford was abducted by aliens.

“Oh for f___’s sake--” Shane threw his hands up in frustration. “We have four perfectly good, plausible explanations, and you have to throw that in!”

“This one actually does have some evidence behind it.”

“Bull____, but go on.”

Stanford was a professional paranormal researcher. Although he was very secretive about his research, even to his grant committee, some of his research notes do list looking for proof of ancient aliens visiting the valley before European contact. Could it be the thing he was afraid of was aliens?

“... That’s it?” Shane asked. “When you said this one actually had some evidence behind it, I thought you meant there was a UFO sighting in the same area around the same time.”

“The negative space between the floating cliffs kinda looks like a UFO” Ryan pointed out.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean a random researcher in the 80’s was abducted by aliens! That’s like, if I found a ransom note for you in the office, but I said ‘Well, Ryan was afraid of bears. Bears used to live in California, there’s one on the state flag outside our building. He must have been eaten by a bear.’ That’s the kind of leap in logic we’re talking about!”

Was this a case of fratricide? Or is this the longest and most elaborate twin switch of all time? For now, this case remains… UNSOLVED.

 * * *

“It was really hard for me to stay on topic while I was researching this one.” Ryan admitted as they wrapped things up. “There is a lot of weird stuff related to Gravity Falls, we should go there for an episode one of these days.”

“I’d love to do that, it looks like a beautiful place to visit.” Shane agreed. “Are you sure you wanna do that though? It seems like the place is crawling with haunted cabins and bears.”

“Well, one could argue this entire series is about me conquering my fears, so… Why not?”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 307: The One With Shindou

Previously on BnHA: Endeavor and Hawks (and Jeanist too, although he didn’t really do anything, but BY GOD, WHAT IS UP WITH HIS NECK) held a press conference and were all, “everything you’ve heard is true, so we would just like to say, from the bottom of our hearts... our bad.” U.A. opened its doors to the public as an evacuation shelter. Deku and All Might told basically EVERYBODY about OFA, which is absolutely wild, and yet somehow we hardly paid any attention to this at all. Mostly because the chapter ended with Deku being all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD, THE ONLY ONE THAT I HAVE EVER KNOWN” and peacing out of U.A. to embark on a solo journey of angst. So this is either gonna be the best or the worst thing that ever happened to this series, so TIME TO FIND OUT WHICH IT IS.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “so who do you guys want to see next? Deku? Bakugou?? Well how about SHINDOU?” Shindou is all “hi :) I’m Shindou :) :) remember me :) :) :)?” Horikoshi is all “I’m so sorry for depriving you guys of Shindou for so fucking long, how about an ENTIRE CHAPTER ALL OF HIM” and then he REALLY FUCKING DOES IT because, I don’t know?? Did we make him mad?? Am I being punished for something I did in a past life?? It really is, honest to god, seventeen whole goddamn pages of Shindou, punctuated by a few pages of Muscular, and topped off with one (1) whole appearance by Deku at THE VERY END. And we don’t even get to see his face. I am beside myself lmao I’m sorry you guys, you can skip this recap if you want. Or just skip straight to the end, because movie 3 promo.

“long time no see” now what could this mean?? can’t think of too many characters this phrase would apply to right now. although I can think of one big one, and I know that fandom has been trying to manifest his deadbeat ass to finally show itself for years now. could it finally be that time? if Hisashi shows up and debunks DFO a big chunk of the fandom is probably going to riot lol

(ETA: why oh why did I get my hopes up like that lmao. I’m pretty sure Hisashi doesn’t actually exist and Deku was either immaculately conceived, or the stork really did bring Inko a lil green baby from the cabbage patch.)

anyway, so the chapter is opening on this random scene of CRIME and DISARRAY

was this all done by that big villain from the previous chapter? utility poles knocked down, random holes in the sides of buildings, and it looks like this one car pulled over in a hurry and the driver just hopped out and ran

who are these people talking

OH NO, OH GOD

I am immediately struck by the urge to push Shindou off of this ledge. is that mean? probably that is mean, but also fuck this guy lmao. every year you cheat someone out of their well-deserved spot in the popularity poll, and every year I want to punch you in your stupid face for it

bah. and how are you doing, Tatami. love that hero name even if you do have arguably the dumbest superpower in the entire series

listen, though. here I am shitting on these Ketsubutsu kids for no good reason, and I’m sorry about that, and truthfully it’s mostly because I just want to see Deku and/or Kacchan and so it’s hard to give a fuck about anything else right now. BUT, I will immediately cease and desist ALL of my complaining if this means we also get to see my best girl Ms. Joke, omg. Horikoshi please

sdlkfjlskalk

FUCK YOU SHINDOU OMG. I’M SORRY GUYS I CAN’T HELP IT, EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM IS SO EMINENTLY PUNCHABLE AND DETESTIBLE. IT’S LIKE SOMEONE COMBINED WESLEY CRUSHER WITH JEAN RALPHIO

but LSKJFLEK at this random reminder that Bakugou refused to shake his fucking hand. like, that’s his “fun fact” apparently lol. it’s what he deserves

also living for this “cringe” here, too. fuck you Shindou. I am so, so sorry to any Shindou fans out there you guys because I’m just going to be like this the entire time he’s here. the hate is flowing through me

how has it been three whole pages and I still have to look at his stupid face

anyway so it seems like the kids are having to pick up the slack for Old Man Samurai and all those other assholes who retired. I’m guessing the U.A. kids will be seeing a lot more action as well

but in the meantime let’s hope no villains attack here all of a sudden, because all Tatami can do is make herself shorter while Shindou creates an earthquake to bring the entire building down around them dflkjslk

these guys don’t particularly want to go with them and I can’t say I blame them

so now Shindou is saying that yeah, they can probably handle the looters and such by themselves, but it’s a different story when it comes to the Noumu and the escaped Tartarus prisoners. Shindou how dare you make a reasonable point that I can’t immediately argue with

he says that one of the escapees was sighted in the area, so that’s why they’re trying to evacuate everyone

and the guy disagrees and says he doesn’t trust the heroes and thinks they’re pompous

fdskljk. fucking...

ME: Horikoshi can we please stop and get Deku HORIKOSHI: we have Deku at home THE DEKU AT HOME: 

Horikoshi. please. we get it, the civilians don’t trust the heroes anymore. I UNDERSTAND. I COMPREHEND THIS. so unless there is some other point to this scene I respectfully ask that you hurry things along because omg

did Tatami always have this habit of speaking in meme language and such? I thought that was Camie’s thing but hey

listen, I’m here for anyone who’s willing to drag this man down into the depths of the earth. I would just also rather not spend the entire fucking chapter on this oh my god. Horikoshi do you have any more of those chapters where things happen in them?? those are good, I like those

YESSSSSS FINALLY

so whoever’s on the other end of the call (ETA: it’s that rock-looking guy who can harden anything that he touches. why does BnHA have so many hardening powers) is telling them to run because there’s apparently a villain heading right for them, oh my

WHO IS HE

depending on who it is I can’t promise I won’t be rooting for them over you, buddy

ohhhhhh shit

huh. well that’s... hmm... but on the other hand...

okay lol no, I know it’s bad. Muscular fucking LOVES murdering kids. not even Shindou deserves that. I’m sure he has a family that loves him and stuff. and Tatami seems like a sweet girl. they don’t deserve to be murdered

that is the question isn’t it? are we really going to spend the entire chapter with Limbs-Retracting-Girl and her boyfriend, Joseph Gordon-Levitt from (500) Days of Summer??

YES OMG

YES PLEASE CALL YOUR SENSEI. my god do you know what I would give to see Ms. Joke take down an S-class villain??

(ETA: all I’ll say is that we were robbed here, you guys.)

now Tatami is running away while Shindou stays behind omg

Horikoshi I know I said I hate the guy, and I do, but my god. seems I don’t hate him half as much as you do you. been nice knowing you Shindou my man

are you serious Tatami really ran all the way back up here to try and evacuate these guys one more time

SHE’S SUCH A GOOD PERSON omg if you assholes don’t listen to her you deserve to get murdered

BRO

HORIKOSHI DID YOU REALLY FUCKING DO IT I CAN’T BELIEVE IT

LOL OKAY NO, SO FAR HE’S ONLY MESSED UP HIS FACE

WHAT A SHAME WHAT A TRAGEDY. THE WORLD MOURNS

okay but seriously, now he has to be dead

r.i.p. Shindou. he died doing what he loved, talking a lot and being utterly useless

then again, damn Shindou are you really gonna come out here and be a badass?? gonna make me eat my words there kiddo?

I have absolutely no idea if I should expect this to work or not. all I know is that this is page 14, and so it would seem we really are going to spend the entire fucking chapter on fucking Shindou. this beautiful chapter had so much potential, Horikoshi. and now look at it. I hope you’re happy

nope it didn’t fucking work at all lmao

IT’S JUST LIKE I SAID. r.i.p. you pretentious handsome lump

OHHHHHH SNAP

DEKU YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO LOL. anyway but it’s good to see you!! it’s good to see ANYONE other than these guys sob but especially you

FINALLY SOMETHING COOL OMG

somehow Horikoshi actually made the bunny mask look badass?? I don’t think this is sustainable, but I am here for it while it lasts

Shindou should by all rights be nothing but A HANDSOME PASTE at this point lol but WHATEVER. it’s BnHA; getting smashed into walls and cliffs has more or less the same consequences as being set on fire. slap a band-aid on it and you’re good to go

we are REALLY ENDING IT HERE huh

well. and that’s it. I just did not care about any of that lmao. a rare dud of a chapter. well, but we’ve had something like ten in a row that ranged from “pretty good” to “amazing”, so I guess that’s fair

anyway I feel like I owe you guys something other than endless bitching and moaning, so! BONUS:

now this is more like it

first of all, I’m absolutely living for this promo’s “YEET THE CHILDREN OUT OF A HELICOPTER” vibes. FUCK YEAH WE’RE HEROES BITCH

is Deku wearing a jetpack/parachute?? let’s hope he is because I’m assuming he doesn’t have Float yet, so if that’s not a jetpack then it is a LONG WAY DOWN kiddo

these maniacs actually got Deku to wear something other than his red shoes holy fuck. I’m speechless. are we sure that’s not an imposter??

Shouto has the funniest falling position I’ve ever seen. I’m assuming his left arm is not in fact tucked under his leg like it appeared to be at first glance?? like, wtf is the outline of your body right now Shouto

this is what I think it is after careful analysis, but at first I thought this kid had some hidden contortionist abilities

and then there’s this guy

I MISSED YOU YOU BIG GOON. loving the new gauntlets!! and he’s changed up his impractical metal neck thingy into arm thingies! but most importantly, ARE THESE WHAT I THINK THEY ARE

ARE THOSE WEENIES. KACCHAN. KACCHAN HAVE YOU GONE NATIVE OMFG

and meanwhile, look who’s with them! Endeavor makes perfect sense of course, but Hawks is a very welcome surprise. does this mean we can expect to see Tokoyami too? because I would fucking love that

lastly, so this confirms the whole “world heroes” thing! which we all pretty much guessed anyway lol. I wonder if this movie will take place in another country (fingers crossed). the city in the background doesn’t look particularly familiar, but this image probably wasn’t meant to be analyzed in that way lol. anyways, looking forward to this so much, PLEASE GIVE US A TRAILER SOON omg

[hockey-fics]

Does He Know ~ Matthew Tkachuk 

Summary: Your new relationship will never compare to the relationship you had with Matt and you and Matt both know it. 

Word Count: ~6k

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, references to anxiety 

A/N: There’s usage of bold and italics to reference timeframe changes, hopefully they make sense! Everything in italics are flashbacks. 

“This one is cute,” you say to Adam, showing him a picture a stranger had offered to take of you two while you were out walking through a local park. Adam with his arms wrapped around you, you looking up into his eyes. It was candid, the ones that followed were with one of his arms around your waist, both of you with plastered smiles. 

“It is,” he hums in agreement, barely peeling his eyes off his video game to look. “You going to post that on your Instagram?”

Adam had made comments here and there about how you never posted with him. When you got together you still had plenty of pictures with Matthew. You still had a few up, not bringing yourself to delete all the memories of Matthew from your social media. Matthew. You knew you were still in love with him.

You had been with him for almost four years. You were so completely and wholly in love with him. Nothing bad had happened to end things, nothing to make it easier to end that relationship. When you got together with Adam eight months after the breakup with Matt your friends and family accepted it, believing easily that you were over Matt. But you truly wondered how they could assume that when you had spent so long entirely wrapped up in your love with Matt. 

But the comments had started getting to you. From your friends. From your family. Matthew’s career was unpredictable. You never knew what was going to happen with him. They would ask about him getting traded. And you were confident that wouldn’t happen for the time being, but what if it did? How could you settle down with someone who could be moved across the country, or to a new country, just like that? For a career that was entirely unpredictable as well. He could get hurt and his career could be over just like that. It was a short career at that, and then what? 

You were still young, you always brought that up. But you had let it wear you down to the point of becoming more and more distant with Matt. Your mind was constantly full of worries. You started to wonder if they were right. Would it be safer and easier to settle down with someone who had a stable, traditional career? 

So you ended it with Matt, through shaky sobs on your couch. And then you ended up in his arms, crying for an absurd about of time over a breakup you were initiating. He tried to change your mind, tried to convince you that he would always be there for you, that whatever happened you two could figure it out…together. But you had already told your parents that you were ending things with him and you felt like you couldn’t back out of it now. 

You were trying so hard to move on from him with Adam. But it never felt the same. It had been three months and you couldn’t even begin to compare it to your relationship with Matt. From the very beginning with Matt you knew it was different, you had a spark that you didn’t have with Adam. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you mutter, opening Instagram. You post it quickly, before giving yourself too much time to think about it, to reconsider. 

The next morning you wake up to your phone vibrating on your bed beside you and you’re barely awake but you answer it immediately after seeing Matt’s name on your screen. “Matt?” You whisper groggily as you sit up in your bed, rubbing your eyes. 

“You have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you reply quickly, not awake or alert enough to realize what you were saying. “I mean, yes, yeah, I guess I do.”

“You guess? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know…nothing. I just, yeah, I have a boyfriend.”

“Does he make you happy?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, silent for a few seconds too long. “Yeah, I think so.”

“He doesn’t know you like I do, Y/N.”

“Matt,” you whisper, pulling your knees to your chest, tears welling in your eyes. 

“Does he know what kind of chapstick you use and that you can’t go anywhere without it?”

‘I’m here’

You were spending the entire day with Matt. It was one of the few days he was both back in Calgary and had a full day off during the hockey season. Hurrying down the stairs of your apartment building you hop into his car, eagerly leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“Hi,” he chuckles, kissing you again before leaning back into his seat and pulling away from the curb. “Breakfast?”

“Yes, please,” you say, pulling on your seatbelt. Leaning forward you grab your purse, rifling through it for a minute before sighing loudly. “Matt,” you say in a sing-song tone, an obvious indication that you were about to ask for something. 

“What?” He asks, glancing over at you with a knowing smile. 

“Can we go back?”

“Why? What did you forget?” He laughs. 

“My chapstick.”

Reaching beside him Matt opens the console, taking his eyes off the road for only a second before picking up a small tube of chapstick, extending it towards you. Your eyes focus on the small object before reaching over and taking it, turning it over and over again in your had. It was the exact kind you used. Tinted cherry chapstick. You couldn’t imagine Matt would be willingly using a tinted chapstick. 

“That’s the right one, right?” Matt asks, glancing over at you. 

“Yes,” you comment, pulling the lid off and swiping on a layer. “Where did it come from? Did I leave it in here?”

Matt chuckles, shaking his head. “I bought it…in case you forgot yours.”

You can feel your heart swell with happiness and appreciation for Matt, never thinking chapstick could mean so much. 

“Does he know that you bite your nails when you get nervous?"

“You okay?” 

Glancing up you look at Matt, standing in the doorway of your living room. “Fine,” you reply, looking back down at your computer and twelfth ‘common job interview’ website you had scrolled through that morning. 

“You just painted them,” Matt comments gesturing to your nails as he walks over and sits down on the couch beside you. You had spent the morning getting ready for a job interview. Painting your nails, doing your hair and makeup, picking an outfit. 

Glancing down at your hands you realize you had been biting your nails again, sighing softly. “It’s a bad habit,” you mutter, eyes trained on the computer screen again. 

“I think you’re more than prepared. Maybe you should give it a break,” Matt suggests, watching you contemplate it before you slowly reach over to shut your computer. 

“You’re right,” you agree, setting your laptop down and leaning back on the couch. It’s only a couple seconds before you’re back to rehearsing answers in your head, brining your thumb towards your mouth. But Matthew catches it on the way, holding your hand gently as he brings it to rest on his thigh, fingers folded between yours.  

“Say them out loud,” Matt suggests. 

So the two of you sit there on the couch, rehearsing job interview questions while Matt holds both your hands. He made reassuring comments, letting you know how smart and put together you sounded. He didn’t have the most constructive criticism to give, having limited job interview experience. But having him listen was helpful enough. And when you left for your interview an hour later you made a promise to leave your nails alone and to take a deep breath before meeting with your interviewer. When you first met Matt you never would have assumed he would be be such a major part of helping you deal with your anxiety, but you were so incredibly grateful for that. Especially when you got the job, knowing it was Matt who helped you stay calm enough to get through the interview. 

“Does he know that you have to fall asleep every night to Parks and Recreation playing?’

Curling into your bed you reach for the remote, turning on your TV and quickly navigating through Netflix to your recently watched category, Parks and Rec front and centre. Starting it you lay down next to Matthew, the remote landing somewhere amongst the layers of blankets on your bed. But before you even have the chance to watch any of the show you’ve rolled onto your side, away from the TV. 

Matthew lays there, propped up with a few pillows with the full intention of watching the show. He stares at you with furrowed eyebrows for a second before saying anything. “I thought you wanted to watch this?”

“Hm?” You hum, glancing over your shoulder at him. “No, I told you I wanted to go to bed.”

Matthew gestures towards the TV. “Why did you put this on then?” He presses his hand into your shoulder, rolling you over onto your back so you were looking up at him. 

“I need it to fall asleep to,” you tell him, giggling at how perplexed he was by the whole situation. It was the first time Matt was spending the night that wasn’t the result of you two having sex first, just spending the night because you didn’t want to be apart, even when you were just sleeping. 

Matthew looks to the TV for a second before turning his head to look back down at you. “Like, just the TV or Parks and Recreation in particular.”

Laughing you roll over completely onto your stomach, arm draped over Matthew’s body as you rest your head on his chest. “Parks and Rec in particular.”

“That’s…weird,” Matthew chuckles, running his hand along your back. 

“Goodnight, Matt,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut. “Also, you’re the weird one.”

“Does he know how you take your coffee? And how it changes depending on the place you go?”

“Thank you,” you say happily as Matthew hands you a mug of freshly brewed coffee. You were curled up on the couch, working on a school assignment that was due in a few hours. You were intending to finish it the night before but Matt had texted, asking if he could come over. He promised not to distract you from it but an hour after he arrived you were sprawled on your bed, a naked mess as Matt took away all of the stress for your school work.

“I still can’t believe you drink your coffee black,” he comments, nose crinkled as he drops down onto the other side of the couch, pulling his phone out. 

Laughing you bring it to your lips, taking a sip. “Not always,” you point out, eyes fixed on your laptop screen as you read through the work you had always finished. 

“Extra hot vanilla latte with non-fat milk,” Matt says, not even needing a moment to think about it. 

“Unless,” you begin, smiling as you glance up over the top of your laptop to where Matt was sitting. 

“It’s hot out, then you get a double shot on ice from Starbucks with caramel syrup instead of classic.”

You giggle quietly, staring at Matt with a soft smile, your eyes filled with admiration. Because you couldn’t get over how much you loved him. How he remembered the little things, would go out of his way to bring you things you liked to surprise you. 

“Does he know about the scar on your knee and the story of how you got it?”

You were stretched out on a patio sofa in Matt’s parent’s backyard. It was sunny and almost excruciatingly hot. You had gone back with him for a week in the summer. Of course you didn’t have an off season. You would have to go home to Calgary to continue on with your life. But for one week you were enjoying being there with him, with his family, hearing all about his childhood and thanks to his siblings, that included the embarrassing stuff. In a couple months you would be celebrating your one year anniversary and you were so content and happy with Matt. 

Matt was sitting beside you, your legs stretched over his as he runs his fingers up and down your bare legs, his phone in his spare hand while you were halfway through a novel. “What’s this one from?”

Lowering your book you look at Matt over the top of it. “Hmm?” Your eyes fall to where his thumb was running over a scar along your knee. “Oh,” you comment, realizing what he was asking as you set your book to the side. “When I was ten I was playing in the forest with my best friend and her brother. We found a creek and her brother thought it would be funny to pretend to push me over the embankment into it but I actually fell and bashed my leg on one of the rocks on the way down.”

“What an asshole,” Matt comments, thumb still absentmindedly brushing over it. 

“He was twelve and didn’t actually think I would fall,” you say, defending him. 

“Still an asshole.”

“I still talk to him…would you like to tell him that yourself?” You joke. 

“Yeah, I’ll push him down an embankment for you.”

Laughing you roll your eyes. “He’s literally the nicest guy, doesn’t deserve that.”

“He’s the nicest guy?” Matt asks, eyebrows raised. 

Giggling you reach over, grabbing Matt’s hand. “You’re a close second,” you tease. 

Matt shakes his head, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing them to the back of your hand. “Guess I have to step it up.”

“Does he know your favourite dessert and how to make it just right?”

“It’s so great to finally meet you, Matthew,” your grandmother says, reaching her arms up to pull Matt into a hug. Her short, small stature made the hug almost comical, like a child compared to Matt. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“It’s really nice to meet you too. Thank you so much for having me over for dinner,” Matt replies. 

It was Thanksgiving Day and you had invited Matt to your grandparent’s house for dinner. The majority of your family was going to be there and you could tell there was a bit of hesitation from Matt, nerves. But you assured him that they would all love him and he seemed to calm down at little. And how could they not love him? He made you happier than you had ever been with another person, they could all simply see it. Not to mention how you never stopped talking about Matt and how great he was. 

“Of course, you’re always welcome here for dinner, holiday or not,” your grandma tells him, staring up at his face for a second, shamelessly inspecting him. “He really is as cute as you said,” she states, directing the comment at you. 

“Nana,” you groan, shaking your head as you walk over and pull her into a hug. “You’re going to inflate his ego too much.”

Your grandma simply laughs, pulling back to look up at you this time. She pats your cheek gently, wide smile on her face. “Well you needed to find someone just a fraction of how beautiful you are to be able to keep up with you.”

Laughing you glance over at Matt, smiling softly. He was a lot more than a fraction of how attractive you were. But you did appreciate your grandma’s attempt at levelling out his ego again. “Do you need some help in the kitchen?” You offer, knowing that even if she were to get you to help it would be with the simplest tasks, very protective over her meals. 

“No, no. You two go join everyone else in the living room. I’m quite alright in here.”

“Are you sure?” You ask again, knowing sometimes it was just her nature to take on too much. “Did you make that apple crumble you always make?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she assures you. “And of course I did, I know it’s your favourite.”

“She’s been talking about this apple crumble for a week now,” Matt chimes in, making your grandma laugh. 

“It’s really good,” you comment, double checking with your grandma once again that she didn’t need help before heading into the living room with Matt to see everyone else. 

After a couple more hours of hanging out with your family, everyone getting to know Matt more than they had before, you head into the dining room for dinner. Of course everything was incredible, a ridiculous amount of food spread out on the table. But it was your grandmother’s nature, to provide so much more than was necessary and then send everyone home with enough leftovers to feed everyone for a week. 

Once dinner was over you were in the kitchen, everyone helping clean up. Your grandma had finally moved to the living room, trusting everyone to at least clean up correctly. Matt had helped for awhile before disappearing sometime between packing up the the leftovers and doing the dishes. You hadn’t noticed, too preoccupied with cleaning and talking to your family, till your mom pointed out his absence. 

“Trying to get out of working,” you joke, drying your hands on the towel that was hanging over the oven door handle. Walking into the living room you find Matt sitting beside your grandma, discussing something that clearly made your grandma happy, a big smile on her face, eyes twinkling. “What are you two up to?”

Matt looks over, reaching for your hand as you get closer and gently pulling you onto the couch beside him. “I’m just hearing all your embarrassing childhood stories.”

“Oh, good,” you laugh, leaning into his side, head resting on his shoulder. 

“You picked a good one,” your grandma tells you and you turn your head to look up at Matt. 

“I know,” you say softly, squeezing Matt’s hand. 

Later that night you head home with an overwhelming sense of comfort. Matt was slowly becoming more and more a part of your life. You knew each other’s families. You were practically living together, inseparable when you neither of you were busy. 

What you didn’t realize until much later was that Matt had snuck away from the rest of the family after dinner to ask your grandma if he could have the recipe for the apple crumble. Because it was your favourite and he wanted to be able to surprise you with it. So your grandma happily agreed, rattling it off out of memory while Matt made frantic notes on his phone about the ingredients and the exact way to prepare and all the tips and tricks your grandma gave him. 

And when you showed up at Matt’s apartment one afternoon two months later you could smell the familiar smell immediately. You were so caught off guard by the simple act of Matt trying to do that for you that you didn’t even care that he had burnt it, just a little.

“Does he know that you have a playlist that you listen to when you’re sad?”

“Hey babe,” Matt says through the phone, voice gentle and quiet. Matt was on the road for a stretch of games. You knew it was his job, you couldn’t complain about it. But after a hard day you just wished you could be with your boyfriend. However, you hadn’t told him about your terrible day, the stress of school on top of a bad day at work. You didn’t want him to worry. And it wasn’t like you didn’t call each other all the time, but the way he was greeting you was like he somehow knew something was wrong. 

“Hi,” you whisper, your eyes suddenly welling with tears. 

“How was your day? Everything okay?” 

“Not great,” you whisper, wiping at your eyes. “How did you know?”

“Your Spotify…I can see what my friends are listening to.”

You can’t help but laugh quietly, tuning into the song that was currently playing over the speaker in your apartment. Shelter from the Storm by Joshua Hyslop. Your playlist with the crying emoji. There was no denying it. 

“Guess I need to use the private session function next time.”

“What? No. Babe, I want to know what’s going on. What’s wrong?” Matt asks, his tone very clearly worried. Exactly what you didn’t want to happen. You didn’t want to burden him with your bad days. 

“It was just a bad day, it’s not a big deal. Tomorrow will be better,” you assure him, curling up further into yourself on the couch. 

Matt is silent for a second, just the sound of a muffled TV playing in the background. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s nothing major, I don’t want you to have to worry about my issues.”

“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N. I love you. I want to know when you’re having a bad day, I want to hear about it. Don’t push me away.”

Your eyes flood with tears again, slipping down your cheeks quicker now. Not even because you were that sad about your day. But because you were so overwhelmed with emotions. So grateful to have Matt in your life, so happy to have someone that you you could not just simply rely on but who wants you to rely on them, who wants to be there for you. 

“Does he know that the taste of tequila reminds you of you freshman year of university and that it seems to get you drunker than any other alcohol?”

The Flames had just had a massive win, Matt scoring two goals in the game and was on another level. You had gone down to see him after the game and before you even got a word out he had his arms around your waist, lifting you off your feet and spinning around with you in his arms. 

“Congratulations, bub,” you whisper into his ear, giggling as you clutch onto him. 

“You’re coming for drinks with us tonight, right?” Matt asks, finally letting you plant your feet back on the ground. 

“I guess,” you laugh, leaning up and pressing your lips to his for a quick, gentle kiss. But before you know it he has his hands on your hips, keeping you close as he deepens the kiss. “Matt,” you whisper, pulling back a little. “We’re in public.”

“Right,” he chuckles, pulling away a tiny bit. “I love you so much, I’m so happy you were able to come to the game tonight.”

His excitement makes you laugh, your hands sliding down his arms to clutch both his hands in yours. “I love you too and you know I’m going to be at every game I can…always.” 

A few hours later you’re standing a the bar in a crowded nightclub, Matt standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist. Noah and Johnny were standing next to you and Matt, laughing about something that happened during the game. 

The bartender stops in front of your group, asking for orders. “Four tequila shots,” Noah says, taking the reins for everyone. 

Matthew chuckles from behind you as he hears the word tequila, knowing your stories about tequila in university. “Oh no.” you whine, tipping your head back onto Matt’s shoulder. 

Four tequila shots are set onto the counter in front of you guys and Matt reaches over to grab one for himself, Johnny and Noah taking theirs as well. Pulling away from Matt you turn to face the little circle the four of you had made. Reaching over you go to take the shot off the bar, pulling back and then reaching for it again, repeating the process a couple more times. 

“What’s she doing?” Noah asks, glancing at Matt as the three of them watch you extend your hand toward the shot before hesitating again and again. 

Matt laughs, his hand still resting on your hip. “Hyping herself up.”

“I don’t want to,” you laugh, finally picking up the shot. 

“Don’t turn down my gift to you,” Noah laughs and the four of you cheers before downing your shots. The liquid burns and sends a shiver through your body as you wince. 

“Tastes like getting blackout drunk,” you comment, setting the tiny, empty glass back onto the counter. 

And Noah doesn’t let you off the hook, buying you a few more tequila shots throughout the night. When you leave the bar that night both you and Matt are stumbling, giggling messes, climbing clumsily into the back of an Uber and ending up back at your apartment. Despite the pounding headache and vague nausea the next morning you had to admit that the night was beyond worth it. 

“Does he know about your fear of parking in parkades?”

You had circled the block four times already, looking for a place to park in the busy downtown block. It was a beautiful summer day, you really should have anticipated that it would be this busy. 

“Oh, let’s just park in there,” Matt suggests, pointing to the public parking parkade just down the road. 

You can feel your heart speed up a little, your palms sweating at the thought of pulling into the parkade. “I’m sure we’ll find something out here.”

Matthew chuckles, glancing over at you. “Why? It clearly says there’s still like one hundred parking spots in there.”

“I just don’t want to, okay?” You snap, grip tightening on the steering wheel. You were suddenly regretting offering to drive. Typically you enjoyed driving, but now you wanted to press rewind and just get in the passenger’s seat instead. 

“Woah, okay,” Matt mumbles, wide eyes focused on you, trying to figure out where your sudden outburst came from. “What’s going on?”

“I just…they just give me anxiety. They’re so cramped and dark and people come speeding around the corner and I-.”

“Pull over here,” Matt tells you, pointing towards an empty spot along the curb a few feet ahead of you. 

“What? We can’t park there, it clearly says no parking.”

“We’re not parking, just pull over for a second, okay?”

Doing as he says you pull up along the curb, shifting the car into park and glancing over at Matt. But he was already getting out, jogging around the front of your car to your door. You realize what’s going on when he pulls your door open and you climb out of the car, standing in front of him. “I love you,” you blurt out. 

It was the first time you said it. And the timing was terrible, standing on the side of the street parked in a no-parking space. But you meant it. He hadn’t questioned your irrational fear, hadn’t laughed or made you feel bad about it. He accepted it and found a solution without making a big deal about it. 

“Does he know that you want to have three kids and a golden retriever when you get older?”

You lay on the blanket beside Matt, the empty bottle of wine laying beside you along with the remnants of your picnic dinner. His arm was behind you, your head on his bicep. The sky above you is clear and dark, speckled with bright stars. You and Matt had walked to the lookout at the park down the road from your apartment, the one you had talked about wanting to go to so many times since you moved there but never got around to. You had lived in that apartment for almost three years, it was time. He brought wine and a charcuterie board which you were incredibly impressed with, even if he bought it already made from the grocery store. 

“The world is crazy,” you whisper, fiddling with Matt’s fingers, his arm draped over his stomach, hand resting on your torso. 

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, like…the universe is so huge and there’s so many people on earth and like…we’re so insignificant. But we still all have all these big dreams and life plans that seem so massive and important.”

“Heavy thoughts.” Matt chuckles quietly, turning his head to the side to look at you. “What are yours?”

“What?” You whisper, turning your head to look at him, nose to nose with him now. 

“Your big life plans.” 

Looking back up at the stars you take a deep breath. “I want to get my degree and start a career. Get married, buy a house in a nice neighbourhood. I want to get a dog…a golden retriever. Start a family…three…I want three kids.”

“Three?” Matt chimes in, sounding surprised. 

Rolling onto your side you look down at Matt, his hand falling to your waist. “You have two siblings,” you point out.

“And I didn’t have to raise us…thank god,” Matt chuckles. 

“I think you could handle it,” you tell him, running your fingers along his chest. “I think you’re going to be a great dad one day.”

“Maybe,” Matt whispers, tugging you a little closer. “If it’s you I’m having kids with.”

“Should we go back to my apartment and practice?”

“Practice?” Matt asks, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Making babies, we need to have it perfected for when we have to bring three of them into the world.”

Matt chuckles, sitting up with comedic speed. “I kinda thought we were already pretty good at that but not going to say no to more practice.”

“More than pretty good,” you tell him, letting him grab your hands and help you to your feet. And the two of you hurry back to your apartment like excited school kids, not once taking your hands off each other, giggling the entire way.

“Does he know that you have a secret Pinterest board full of wedding ideas?”

Laying on the couch in your living room you wait for Matt to get out of the shower. Matt still had his own apartment, living with a roommate. But he spent more nights at your house than he did at his own, a section of your closet and a few drawers of your dresser now his. 

You click on a picture from the screen full of them, a beautiful wedding gown filling your screen a moment later. Tapping quickly you pin it to your wedding Pinterest board. A board that nobody knew about because a part of you was deeply embarrassed about it, about how much thought you’ve put into a future wedding. 

“What’s that?” 

Quickly slamming your laptop shut you whirl around to look up at Matt, his hair still damp from the shower, smelling like the cologne you loved. “You scared me, I thought you would take longer.”

“I feel like I should be suspicious of that reaction but it didn’t really look like something I should be suspicious about…Unless you have a secret fiancé you’re planning a wedding with.”

Rolling your eyes playfully you pull your knees to your chest, your laptop coming with it. “It’s nothing.”

“Was it a wedding dress?” Matt asks, plopping down onto the couch beside you. 

Groaning dramatically you pivot to face the same direction as him, tossing one of your legs over his thigh as you scoot closer, opening your laptop again and facing it towards him. 

“Oh, wow,” Matt mumbles under his breath as he scrolls through the Pinterest board. “This is a lot more than just a wedding dress.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you whine. “Stop scrolling,” you giggle, swatting his hand away from the keyboard. 

“Is it a hint?” Matt asks, chuckling as he turns to look at you. 

“What? No,” you exclaim, laughing. But it wasn’t the craziest thing he could have said. You two had been together for over two years.  You were so in love with Matt, it felt impossible for you to love him more than you already did and yet everyday you seemed to fall more in love with him. “Matt, I’ve had that dumb Pinterest board since before I even met you.”

“Well at least we won’t have to spend too much time planning in the future, you’ve already figured it all out.”

“Who said I’m going to marry you?” 

Matt scoffs, shaking his head as he sets your laptop aside. “We’re made for each other.“

Smiling you lean over, kissing him gently. “Yeah, we are,” you whisper. 

By the time Matt finishes talking tears are streaming down your cheeks, dripping off your face and onto the blankets of your bed. “I still love you,” you blurt out before you even realize what you’re saying. 

“I still love you too, Y/N. I don’t think that’ll ever change.”

“Are you in town?” You croak, wiping at your cheeks. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this. You ended things with Matt. You had a new boyfriend. Everything about this was wrong. But you were confused and sad and didn’t know what else to do. 

“Yes,” Matt replies without hesitation. 

“Can you come over?” 

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Pulling yourself out of bed you pull on some pyjama shorts, going to the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair, trying to look a little presentable. Before you knew it there was knock on your door. Hurrying to it you pull the door open, glassy eyes locking with Matt’s a moment later. You can only keep your composure for a second before you have your arms around him, tears rolling down your cheeks again. Matt wraps his arms around your waist, stepping inside and letting the door fall shut behind you two. His embrace feels comfortable, it feels like home. “I missed you,” you whisper, muffled by your face being buried in the soft fabric of his hoodie. 

“I missed you too, babe.” Matt replies, running his hand along your back soothingly. “What’s his name?”

And just like that reality comes crashing back to you and you slowly pull away from Matt, reluctantly taking your hands off of him. Because you knew this was all incredibly wrong. “Um…A-Adam.”

Matt nods slowly, reaching over and brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “How long have you two been…together?”

“A few months…not long, it’s not serious.” You fidget with the sleeve of the sweater you had pulled on, the fabric damp from wiping at the tears that hadn’t stopped falling since your first call with Matt that morning. “What about you, have you been, uh, like, seeing anyone?” Even saying the words out loud felt like someone punched you in the stomach. 

“No,” Matt admits quickly. “I’m still in love with you. I can’t.”

You feel a wash of guilt when Matt says that. Because you were still in love with Matt. You were just dragging Adam along, hoping that he would be the one to change your feelings towards Matt. You knew it wasn’t fair to him. None of this was fair to Adam. “I don’t know what to do, Matt.”

“I can’t tell you what to do,” Matt says gently. 

“I need you to,” you croak, reaching up and wiping away some more tears. Your under-eyes were irritated from the fabric of your sweater, stinging and red. 

“I can’t,” Matt mutters, moving towards you, hands extended to pull you into him before he stops, pausing and pulling back. “I can’t,” he repeats, this time not about telling you what to do. But about touching you, being there for you like that, crossing the boundaries when he knew you were seeing someone else. 

“I wish I could take it back.”

“What?”

“Ending things with you.”

“Me too,” Matt agrees, eyes focused on you even though you could barely hold eye contact with him. 

“If I end things with Adam…,” you begin, trailing off as you stare down at the ground. “Could we…”

“Figure things out from there?” Matt asks, filling in your sentence with his own thoughts. 

Of course you hadn’t expected him to immediately suggest getting back together. There was a level of trust you had broken when you ended things that would need repairing. But you were willing to put in the work for that, take that risk. 

“I’d like that.”

Matt smiles softly, reaching forward and pulling you into a hug. It’s careful and tentative, like he’s still worried about crossing a line despite you telling him you were going to end things with Adam. “Me too,” Matt whispers, holding you close with no indication that he was going to let go anytime soon. 

[bonecorn]

I love your anatomy/references posts & I love skulls and skeletons & I would love to know how you convince people to give you their animal heads to clean. Also any bone cleaning tips for suburban areas?? When I was living on a farm it was easy to leave stuff out and let the bugs take care of it but my parents said hard no to dead things bleaching on the porch

Oh this is very easy!

Find a friend or acquaintance with land and leave your stuff there. Bug cleaning and tub maceration don't need a lot of hands-on attendance so you can check in however often you like.

There's also "hot water maceration" where you simmer (dont boil!) fresh heads in hot water and remove the cooked meat by hand. Make sure you scramble the brains first and then cook away inside or with a camping stove on the porch. And "bleaching" which is done with hydrogen peroxide can be done inside since the skulls are already clean by then anyway.

I don't actually convince people to give me their pets. For livestock, I ask because most people aren't emotionally attached to their livestock.

For pets, I wait to be offered the remains. More on that under the cut.

TLDR: Know the pet owner, wait to be offered bodies rather than asking. Make sure they are always in control. Ask for livestock no problem. Don't let scavengers eat euthanized meat.

holy crap lol

I don't ask for pet bodies. The trick is to be very open and excited about what you do so that people who know you know about bones and know that you are respectful of animal remains. Then, when a beloved pet dies, they might think about you.

Open up the conversation on death before it's relevant

You can also plant the seed ahead of time during a conversation about bones while the pet in question is alive and healthy. "Sometimes I do pets if their owner is ok with it, though most want to bury. Have you ever thought about that for Baxter?" It's in SUPER poor taste to do this while an animal is dying, when you'll need to be way more tactful.

Know your friend well enough to guess their feelings on it

It SUPER depends on the person and how they view bodies and death. My ex's dog passed away and he was always queasy about corpses. I comforted him and cried with him while his beloved 15 year old dog declined and passed. I didn't ask or even mention it because I knew him enough to know that he would say no, and that asking would be painful and upsetting for him to think about. Same with my dear friend and her 20 year old cat. She had a beautiful pet graveyard with headstones and everything. You just know not to ask some people because traditionally laying bodies to rest is important to them.

Other pet owners are chill about it, ESPECIALLY if they come from a livestock background. Livestock people are used to sending their animals to be recycled into glue and wax when they die, because it's generally not feasible to bury or cremate a horse. If someone does plan to take that on, you know they are absolutely dedicated to traditional burial and won't give you anything.

Make it their choice to offer, rather than it being your request

Anyway. If you know the person, and you know they might be ok with giving up their pet's body due to how they view bodies and death, then you work on making them think about you. First, you comfort and do everything you can to help the person through their grief. If you weren't already planning on doing that, then you have no business asking for their pet. Do not comfort someone in order to get something out of them. That's disgusting. Just straight up ask them for their pet and know that they will view you as tactless and rude, but its better than manipulating them.

What I do is not manipulation, it's reminding people what you do and then letting them make their own decisions. When your friend is feeling a little better and is not crying, you can ask about logistics. I ask "What do you plan to do for burial/with the body?" and that usually makes them think about me and what I do with bodies. If they already have a meaningful spot picked out to bury or scatter/keep ashes, then that means the body is important to them and I shouldn't ask further.

At this point, they should realize what you could use the body for and think about how they feel about that. This is when my sister (who has a livestock background) offered her dog to me. We talked about how she thought of bodies, and she thought that the soul is the only thing that matters and once her dog passes there's nothing important left. I did not say anything to convince her, these were all her own thoughts.

It's very VERY important to respect and love the pet owner because they're extremely vulnerable and emotionally raw. That's why I don't straight up ask, because when you're losing a pet, you don't want to feel like someone is trying to gain something from you.

If your friend says they don't know or haven't decided what to do for the body, you can gently say "Let me know if you want me to help bury it, to take it with me, or to just be there for you." This is a close-ended statement and not a question. A question means that your friend has to come up with an answer right there and then, while an offer is actionable. This puts the power and autonomy in your friend's hands, so that when they make a decision it comes fully from their wants and needs and is not about you and what you want.

Be there for them even if you get nothing out of it

If they don't offer at this point, they're not going to. Now hold up your end of the bargain and continue to comfort and help through the grieving process. Again, if you aren't already invested in this person enough to want to soothe and comfort and be there for the human person in the equation, then you have no business asking for their pet. When a pet dies, your first concern should be to the person. If it's not, then you aren't close enough to ask for goodies.

Helping someone grieve is not payment for their pet's body. If you realize they aren't going to give you something in return for your comfort and so you abandon them, you're a terrible person using their grief to manipulate them for your own gain. Comfort is not payment. Closeness in grief is a metric by which you measure "Do I have any business to ask?"

The pet owner runs the show, not you

Throughout this process, stress that the owner can change their mind at any time. You don't want the owner to think "I hate this but I can't back out now because I promised..." Even when they animal is all wrapped up an in your vehicle and ready to go, quietly tell the owner that they can still choose what happens and if they have second thoughts, that's ok and you won't be mad.

My sister let me be there for putting her dog down and it was all about her and her love for her dog. She carried him out and laid him in my trunk and we stood in the rain and talked and hugged. She then told me she was happy that he could bring happiness to someone in life and now still in death, but that she didn't want to know anything. I agreed not to tell her or post anything about processing her dog, so for her it would be like burial. The same thing happened with my other friend's horse. She spent some time with him and then as soon as he passed she drove away and let me do what I wanted. She didn't want to hear Any of it. Again, I didn't ask or even offer, she came up with the idea of giving me the body all on her own even before I knew he was dying.

Horse people are much closer to pet owners than livestock owners, but they are used to sending their friend's bodies off to a different kind of processing (at Tallow factories, livestock remains are ground up, cut apart, cooked, and spun around to extract various substances that become soap, glue, candles, etc) so they know not to think about what happens after death. It still depends on how well you know the owner and know how they think about death, but if you offer to handle logistics like dealing with the tallow guy, they can actually save money by letting you have it.

You're actually doing livestock a favor

Livestock people are generally chill and have a much more utility/asset view of their animals. If the animal doesn't even have a name they probably don't care what happens when it's dead. In fact, most farmers will jump at the chance to give you their animal for free because calling the tallow company to haul it away costs them money. This is also why in areas with lots of livestock, you sometimes find bodies dumped in ditches or left on the side of the road, because the farmer didn't want to pay to get rid of it so they made it everyone else's problem. Even pet animals like dogs and cats are more Utility than pure companions on a farm, so you might have a better chance of getting remains from a farmer than a neighbor.

One more thing about pets and livestock.

When I find a dead deer, I flay it open and let the vultures eat it. For domestic animals, they are often put to sleep via chemical/drug.

THIS IS POISONOUS TO SCAVENGERS.

DO NOT LET SCAVENGERS EAT EUTHANIZED ANIMALS

Seriously. If you like nature, you need to protect it. Deflesh it yourself, throw all the meat/blood/offal away or bury it 6 feet down. Idk what it does to the environment so I always freeze it and then throw it away on garbage day.

Rot bacteria and beetle larvae dermestids don't mind. In fact, dermestid droppings and pupa shells can be analyzed for toxins by forensic scientists to determine cause of death. Neat! Just make sure that if you process outdoors, the remains are EXTREMELY SECURE and cannot be opened by vultures, coyotes, or wild pigs.

Remember the living, human person

I know I look very clinical by picking apart human emotions, but I respond, feel, love, and grieve just like everyone else. I didn't plan how to get any of the animals in the above stories, I just acted on instinct and these are the ones where that paid off well.

Most of the time if I go "huh. I feel that may not go over well" I can then take that feeling apart and figure out why. So hopefully explaining how my feelings work it can help you listen to your most useful and most compassionate ones.

The living person is always more important than a dead pet. Sometimes you can get the dead pet without distressing your friend, sometimes you shouldn't even try.

Respecting the dead

A final note on working with pets vs wild animals. This is someone's family member, so don't play puppet with it like you might with a skunk skin. Don't take pictures of any part of the process until they are rendered to bones. Pictures of dead pet species are even more distressing to the general public than wild animals, and sick freaks might take your photos and send them to people for kicks or attention. Better to just not have photos than for that to happen.

What processing a pet feels like

Working on a pet is always going to be different for you, the vulture, than a wild animal. Everything you see is touched by human hands. My sister's dog was... beautiful. You don't really realize how moved you're going to be by seeing the perfect amount of healthy fat covering, or beautiful muscles that speak of exercise and attention. She rescued this starving pup and turned him into the healthiest animal I have ever seen. She's a vet assistant and the care and love she put into this dog had me sitting there crying while I held his paws; with their perfectly maintained clipped and sanded nails. I'd only met the dog once for a few minutes when he was alive, but his body was a canvas and every inch was painted with layers and layers of love. It made me so, so sad that his neurological issues couldn't be helped because his body was proof of someone who would stop at nothing to cure what could be cured, and that the last months of his life were happier than he ever imagined.

On the flip side, pets whose bodies show signs of neglect and abuse are going to hit you harder than any deer could. The dog I found discarded in a garbage bag on the side of the road had rotten teeth and nails so long they curled over themselves into hoops. An overgrown and suffering deer is just the sign of nature taking its course. An overgrown and suffering dog is the sign of human cruelty, of shirked responsibility.

Most pets you get will between these two dogs. No owner is perfect. Most old dogs have lost teeth to rot, sick cats too weak to scratch properly may have overgrown nails.

Death as beauty

A pet's body usually a beautiful story full of ups and downs; of owners doing things wrong and then doing things right. A vulture or an artist can read a body like rings on a tree and feel the heart beat in their chest that tells them how strong and full of love this life had been. You need to be ready for this part. Every detail is a message from your fellow human and even though we are all animals and we decompose into the same dirt, we're meant to connect to each other here and now.

Keep your emotions open when working with remains.

Listen to what they have to teach you.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 12*

Chapter 11

(i fucked this up by editing on my phone and now I have to post the next chapter link like this. )

Whoooo buddy! The angst is REAL, y'all.

I apologize for this, but also I really don't. And I made it normal length to make up for that short shitty one earlier.

Enjoy!!!! Mwahahahahha

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---------

It seemed like forever for the ambulance to get there, Rafael just sat there trembling and crying while you started to convulse in his arms. Finally the door busted open and EMT’s threw you on a gurney and took you downstairs. Rafael sprinted behind them and jumped in the back of the ambulance as it sped away.

“Y/N….Carino please, please don’t die on me…” Rafael stroked your hair as you were hooked up to oxygen and anti drug meds. It was like literal hell having to watch this all over again, even worse that it was someone he actually...loved.

“Please, please don’t die…” He looked up to the sky.

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

Rafael paced the hospital waiting area furiously, they wouldn’t let him go back with you once the ambulance got you both there. When he saw Sonny running up the hallway towards him, he grabbed him by the neck and shoved him up against the wall.

“I TOLD YOU!!!!” He screamed violently, while several nurses ran over and pulled them apart.

“Rafael! Jesus Christ--” Sonny was breathing heavily while he tried to recover from Rafael’s ambush.

“I told you something was wrong, I told you I knew her better than you did!” He tried to wrestle away from the nurses.

“Okay I’m sorry, I’m sorry alright?!” Sonny yelled, tears starting to fill his eyes. “I should have listened to you--”

“You’re god damn right you should have!!!” Rafael continued to scream.“ She could die right now, do you realize that?”

“Of course I realize that!” Sonny screamed back while looking around them, trying not to make a scene.

“God dammit Carisi, she knew better than you. Why didn't you listen to her?!” Rafael was beginning to cry; he was so upset.

“Barba I--” Sonny started to apologize.

“Excuse me, is Miss Y/L/N’s family here?” An orderly came out from the back.

“I am!” Sonny forgot about Rafael and ran over to the man, Rafael did the same.

“I’m sorry sir but this is really just a family conversation--” He started to dismiss Rafael, but Sonny put his hand up.

“He’s fine,” He assured the doctor.

“Right, well--” He cleared his throat as he led them to a more quiet area. “The damage to Y/N’s body is pretty bad,”

“....God,” Sonny muttered, putting a hand over his forehead.

“The mouthwash has several chemicals that aren’t in traditional grain alcohols, mostly lethal. And her pancreas, liver and gallbladder were already severely damaged from the years of alcohol abuse,” He explained as he looked gravely between the two men.

“No…” Rafael put his hands over his face.

Flashbacks of a very similar conversation happening between a doctor and his mother filled his mind. The way his mother fell against the wall when she heard the doctor say there was a good chance his father was never waking up.

“How bad is it, doc?” Sonny’s voice quivered, and Rafael instinctively took his hand.

“Well, we had to completely remove the gallbladder, and parts of her pancreas so she’s most likely going to develop diabetes,” He further explained. “...And she most likely will need a liver transplant, depending on how the next 24 hours go,”

“Christ…” Sonny whipped his hand from Rafael’s touch and put both of his hands over his head while he paced.

“Can we see her?” Rafael asked.

“Yes, you know your daughter is very lucky to be alive,” The doctor informed them.

“...Excuse me?” Sonny asked while he and Rafael exchanged confused looks.

“...Are you two not her dads?” The doctor waved his pen between the two men.

“Oh my god,” Rafael muttered in horror, wanting to vomit right there.

“Uh, no sir-- no we’re not,” Sonny shook his head. “I’m her uncle and this is my partner,”

“Excuse me?!” Rafael practically screamed in disgust.

“...Do you want them to let you back there to see her or not, honey?” Sonny said through his teeth.

“Right,” Rafael nodded uncomfortably, taking Sonny’s hand once more. “We’re her...Uncles,” He tried not to grimace.

“Oh, right. So sorry sirs,” The doctor apologized once more as he led your “Uncles” to the room you were in. You were unconscious, but breathing on your own.

“She might be out a while from the meds, if you’d like to come back tomorrow,” The doctor informed them once more.

“Uh, I think we’ll wait at least for a little while, if you don’t mind doc,” Sonny replied while Rafael walked up to your sleeping body and just stroked your hair lovingly.

“Whatever you two want to do is fine with me,” He nodded. “I have other patients to see, if you’ll excuse me,”

Sonny nodded to him and he walked out of the room leaving the three of you alone. Sonny ran his hands through his hair while Rafael pulled a chair up next to your bed, still stroking your hair.

“...Barba I think you should leave,” Sonny said softly.

“...What?” He laughed. “Are you...are you fucking joking me, Carisi?”

“No look,” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, I’m sorry I didn’t hear her. And I’m sorry that I just...gave up, protecting her,”

“Yeah well--”

“But I hear you now, and-- and she’s going to need to go away,” He looked at your sleeping body sadly.

“She’s in no shape to go anywhere, Carisi,” Rafael clutched your hand as if he was protecting you.

“Not now, no,” Sonny agreed. “But when she’s better--”

“We don’t know if she’s going to get better!” Rafael suddenly stood up and walked towards him; Sonny backed up as he approached, afraid Rafael was going to grab him again.

“Even more reason you shouldn’t be here!” Sonny argued.

“What?”

“Barba look,” He cautiously put a hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “I...I get that you two have some kind of-- I don’t know, connection,” He glanced at you.

“But it doesn’t change the fact that you barely know her, and she barely knows you. You have a job and a life waiting for you tomorrow, you can’t be sitting here sitting vigil for some girl you slept with once,”

“How dare you fucking say that to me, Carisi,” Rafael’s eyes narrowed as he snapped his shoulder from Sonny’s grasp.

“How fucking dare you. First you don’t want me anywhere near her, then you tell her she’s nothing to me, then suddenly you think that I’m in love with her, and-- and now that I’m finally...attached to her-- you want me to just leave her alone again?”

“No, I never wanted you near her because of this exact situation!” Sonny hissed, trying not to wake you. “I told you straight up that she was complicated, and that you weren’t about that life,”

“I am about that life-- I’m serious, about her,” Rafael corrected himself, rolling his eyes at the terms Sonny used.

“Well I don’t think you should be,” Sonny crossed his arms.

“This is the jealousy thing again, isn’t it?” Rafael licked his lips angrily. “You and your stupid ego can’t stand the fact that we--”

“That is NOT it Rafael and you fucking know it,” Sonny narrowed his eyes.

“Then what is it?” Rafael crossed his arms. “It’s clearly not because it’s too much for me, because I’m flat out telling you it’s not,”

“Rafael--” Sonny placed his hands over his face. “I have spent my life protecting this girl, okay? And I may have dropped the ball here, but that just means that I will sure as hell not do it again. And that means that I have to have her best interest at heart,”

“What does that even mean?” Rafael looked at him quizzically.

“Her whole world is different now, Barba!” Sonny gestured to you. “You heard the doc. She has no gallbladder, whatever the fuck that means, she will probably get diabetes, god knows what will happen even if she needs a liver transplant, but my guess is it ain’t good!”

“...Well she won’t be able to drink alcohol,” Rafael said softly.

“Which will make her sobriety that much more urgent and permanent, Barba,” Sonny stepped towards your bed.

“She’s gonna have a long hard road ahead of herself no matter which way this goes right now, and keeping her on track is the only way she is gonna get through it. You think she’s gonna be able to focus on anything but you if you stay here?”

“I can help her--” Rafael insisted, glancing down at your innocent sleeping face. It broke his heart you were hurting, now all he wanted to do was take care of you and make sure you never hurt again.

“You don’t have the time or the freedom to do that, Rafael,” Sonny said sternly. “And you know it,” Sonny’s statement brought him back to reality.

“And you do?” He looked back up at Sonny.

“I’m a detective, Barba. It’s not like I do that much,” Sonny shrugged. “And I have enough PTO for a bit to take care of her. And she’s my responsibility! She’s MY family, Liv will understand that. What she won’t understand is you sitting Shiva at some young girl’s bedside who you barely know,”

“....And what are you going to do when she gets better?” Rafael ran a finger down your bare arm, wishing you would wake up and stop this nonsense your cousin was spewing.

“I’ll ask around,” Sonny now sat next to your bed. “I’ll find her a good place, somewhere she can be taken care of the right way, not some creepy mental hospital,”

“...Alright fine,” He sighed, looking at his watch. It was getting late, and he had an early court date.

“I’m coming back--”

“No, you’re not,” Sonny shook his head. “Look I promise you if she gets worse and needs your emergency liver or kidney or somethin’, I’ll let you know. Other than that, just-- leave her be,”

Rafael flashed back to the last time Sonny had used those words, and how as soon as he agreed, you heard him and it destroyed you. He couldn’t do that again, what if you could still hear him?

“No, I’m coming back--”

“Barba if you come back here I’m gonna tell the nurses that we broke up and you are no family member of hers,”

“You,” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t do that--”

“If it keeps you away from her, I’ll do anything right now Barba, I’m sorry,” Sonny gave him a sympathetic look.

“...She’ll never forgive you for this, Carisi,” He warned Sonny. “When she finds out you kept us apart she will never forgive you,”

“What are you Romeo and Juliet all of a sudden, counselor?” Sonny scoffed. “Give me a friggin break. I’m sure she’ll get over it, when she’s clean and sober and thinking straight,”

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” he growled with a death glare.

“...Yeah, well--” Sonny stood up and started escorting Rafael out the door. “I guess that’s something I’ll just have to live with,”

Rafael glared at him once more before turning on his heels and stomping down the hall, just as you stirred from your med nap.

“Sunshine?” Sonny quickly ran to your bedside.

“Rafa..?” You sleepily asked, you swore you heard his voice just moments ago.

“It’s Sonny,” He nervously looked back at the door, making sure Rafael hadn’t heard you wake up and came running in again.

“Oh,” You blinked several times, trying to get your vision back. When the blur in your pupils resolved, you saw Sonny’s smiling face beaming at you.

“Hey there,” He kissed your forehead. “You scared the shit outta me there, Sunshine,”

“...I’m so sorry, Sonny,” You began to cry in remorse.

“Hey hey hey,” Sonny took you in his arms and shushed you while he rocked you. “Shh shh shh, you’re alright. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you when you were asking for help, I just--I just let you go,”

“...But Rafael didn’t,” You sniffled as you looked around the room for him. “Where is he?”

“He uh--” Sonny stammered. “He left, Sunshine. Early court meeting tomorrow, y’know. Lawyer stuff,”

“Right,” You nodded.

“...He said he wouldn’t be coming back,” Sonny added with a sympathetic look.

“What?” You blinked in disbelief. Had he really just taken off? Without even saying goodbye?

“Well it’s just,” Sonny took your hands. “Honey you’re-- you’re gonna have a lot to go through these next few weeks, maybe months. And Rafael--”

“He doesn’t have time for that,” You finished for him, accepting the truth.

“Yeah,” Sonny nodded slowly.

“Right,” You picked at your blanket as you stared down at it morosely. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything more than him dropping me here. He tried telling me that he was--”

“He was what?” Sonny quirked an eyebrow. You thought about telling him that Rafael had said he was in love with you, but you weren’t entirely sure that happened anymore, given how out of it you were at the apartment.

“...He was ready for a relationship,” You lied. “But I guess he wasn’t ready for a dumpster fire of a girlfriend,”

“You’re not a dumpster fire, Sunshine,” Sonny assured you.

“...Yeah clearly this doesn’t scream ‘damaged goods’,” You gestured to all the wires you were hooked up to.

“You’re not--” Sonny sighed and shook his head as he wrapped his arms back around you. “You’ll find someone,”

“...Not someone like him,” You whispered sadly, tears dripping down onto your IV tube.

“Well hey,” Sonny coughed as he tried to change the subject. “I better get goin’ make sure you get some good sleep,”

“...But I was just--” You tried to say you had been sleeping this whole time.

“I’ll come check on you tomorrow, kay?” Sonny kissed your head and started heading towards the door. He hated to do this, but he had to keep you safe. He turned around and gave you a sad smile.

“Hey, Sunshine?”

“Yeah, Son?”

“I uh, I don’t wanna rub it in or nothin’, I just--” Sonny cleared his throat. “Barba wanted me to tell you not to contact him anymore,”

“...Oh,” You looked over at your phone, which was charging on the table next to your bed.

“He just thought it would be easier, y’know? Clean break and all,” Sonny lied with a sad smile.

“Yeah, sure no of course,” You nodded, trying to keep it together.

“Alright well, I’ll see ya,” He nodded one more time before shutting the door, leaving you alone.

You immediately grabbed your phone and began typing a message to Rafael, telling him how you were sorry and that you never should have tried to kick him out, and that he saved your life and that you knew you were a huge mess, but that you would clean yourself and do everything in your power to be good enough for him if he just let you--and you just stared at it.

You re-read it a thousand times, tears streaming down your cheeks. You couldn’t send this, it was pathetic. He already made his choice, he tried to tell you he loved you and you had blown him off by almost dying in his arms. And he ran. You couldn’t blame him either, you’d run away faster than a Kenyan track star if you were him.

After going through all that bullshit with his dad, he’d never want to relive that with you, some girl he barely knew. There was no way. And begging him to come back to you after all the shit you said to him at your apartment was just pitiful.

You deleted the message and then started to delete his contact info, but you knew you needed to be drastic. If it was a clean break he wanted, you’d have to give it to him. You’d already put him through way too much stress and punishment than he deserved, you had to be stopped. You highlighted his number and hit “BLOCK NUMBER”, before deleting it from your phone.

There. Now there was no way you could find him, or vice versa. Clean break. You put the phone down next to you and laid down, realizing what you had just done. You had just deleted the potential love of your life from your existence, forever. You cried yourself to sleep, only dreaming of Rafael.

=============

Rafael laid down in his bed after getting home and showering the bad day off of him. He opened the text thread of your messages, and saw the ellipsis light up, signaling that you were typing. It was there for a long time, he became more and more anxious as they just flashed in the darkness, taunting him. He was so happy you were okay, he had to tell you what Sonny said but that he would never be able to keep him from you. He waited and waited, and then the dots were gone. He waited a moment for you to send it, but soon got impatient and just texted you

“Y/N I’m so glad you’re okay, you had me so worried. I miss you,”

He hit SEND, but was met with the most horrifying response:

“The number you have texted has blocked you from contacting them.”

“No…” He muttered alone in the dark. “No, this can’t be happening,”

Did Sonny have your phone? Did he do this? Did he tell you something to make you do this? Did you do this on your own when you realized he had left. Sonny had to have told you something bad, something diabolical. He had no way of contacting you now, and he would never get into the hospital to see you.

What was going on?

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

The next morning after his court session, Rafael headed over to the precinct to talk to Sonny. He practically sprinted through the door into the bullpen, to find it empty.

“...Where’s the SVU squad?” Rafael asked a cop at the front desk.

“Do I look like a concierge, Barba?” The cop rolled his eyes. “Does my badge say ‘doorman’? I don’t keep tabs on you people!”

“Thanks Louie,” Rafael rolled his eyes as he walked out of the station, dialing Sonny’s number on his phone.

“Hello?”

“What did you do?”

“Barba?”

“What did you do, Carisi?!”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N blocked my number,”

“Well good--”

“NO, not good. Carisi. What did you say to her?”

“Y’know Barba, maybe you should take the hint and move on,”

“Oh fuck you, Carisi,” He growled into the phone. “I’m going to the hospital,”

“Yeah well, good luck getting in here counselor,” Sonny shook his head with a small laugh, glancing over at you in your room, while he stood outside. “I’ve told the nurses you were a deadbeat dad who wanted to kidnap our niece for yourself, so they’re on alert not to let you anywhere near her,”

“You’re evil,” His voice was low and horrified.

“I’m doing what’s best for my baby cousin, Barba. If that makes me the bad guy, so be it,” Sonny spoke like a mob boss, tracing the glass on the window to your room.

“I’ll see her when she gets out,” Rafael sneered.

“Well that might be difficult, seeing as I’ve found her a very nice place to go as soon as she gets outta here. Somewhere far away from here, and you,” Sonny couldn’t help but smirk.

“No, Carisi don’t do this,” Rafael became desperate, his angry threats turned to pathetic pleas. “Please don’t send her away-- I love her,”

“If you love her you’ll let her go, Rafael,” Sonny simply said, ending the call before Rafael could say anything else.

“GOD DAMMIT!!!!” Rafael screamed in the middle of the foot traffic, making people turn and stare at him.

He had to fix this. He couldn’t let you leave thinking he didn’t want you. He couldn’t lose you, not now. Not after everything.

Was he going to lose you forever?

[red-jaebyrd]

My Brother’s Keeper

Ric hadn’t set out to make a new friend that day. In fact he hadn’t even expected to see the guy again once he had helped Ric push his busted cab to the side of the road.

Hardly anyone ever went out of their way to help others in Bludhaven. It surprised Ric when this guy, Jason just appeared as if out of nowhere to yell at honking drivers and help Ric get his cab out of the way of traffic. Ric had invited him to The Prodigal for a beer that night as a thank you. He wasn’t sure if Jason would even show up that night, but to his surprise he did.

“So what do you do when you're not swooping in to help complete strangers push their broken down cars out of rush hour traffic?” Ric asked.

Jason laughed. “Little bit of this, little bit of that, mostly free-lance stuff.”

It was a vague answer, but Ric let it slide. Everyone had their secrets, he couldn’t fault a guy he just met to have a few.

“Must be nice. Is it real lucrative?”

“The pay isn’t bad,” Jason shrugged. “I get to set my own hours and carry a gun.”

“Can’t argue with those perks,” Ric chuckled, taking a drink of his beer. “So did you grow up around here?”

“Nah, I grew up in Gotham, what about you?”

Ric tensed at hearing Gotham and gripped the handle of his beer mug tighter. He really hoped Jason wasn’t another one of Wayne’s associates trying to jog his memory and lure him back ‘home’. Maybe he should just play along.

“Same, seems everyone one I’ve run into lately is from Gotham.” Ric challenged.

“Well, to be fair Gotham is a pretty big place,” Jason replied causally. “So what brought you to Bludhaven?”

Ric shrugged allowing the tension to leave his shoulders. “Let’s just say I needed somewhere new to spread my wings.”

“And you chose Bludhaven?” Jason snorted. “Did you lose a bet?”

“Shut up.” Ric laughed, elbowing Jason in the arm. “Don’t knock it. You’re here too. What brought you to the ‘haven’?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair. His brow furrowed in thought before he answered. At first Ric thought that maybe he was prying too much into this guy’s life, or asking too many personal questions.  He couldn’t help it. He liked talking and Jason was the first person besides Bea that was actually interested in talking to him.

“Gotham wasn’t safe for us anymore, so my brothers and I bailed and came here.”

“Looks like you left just in time. I heard a lot of crazy shit with the Bat was happening in Gotham. Wait, did you say ‘brothers’?” Ric’s smiled wistfully.

Jason nodded. “I have four. One was staying with our sister the last time I checked in with him and the other two came here with me.”

Ric had always wondered what it would be like to be part of a big family.  He wondered if he had ever asked his parents for a brother or a sister. If they hadn’t died, would they have had more children? Would he have been a good big brother to them? Wayne did have a younger son, so Ric was technically a big brother, but he couldn’t remember his life with him. When it came to the Waynes, Ric was just a son and brother on paper.

“Where’s the other one? You said four brothers, but only mentioned three of them.”

He watched as Jason scratched along a groove in the wood of the bar, like he was trying to think of the right words to say. Ric’s stomach flipped as he started to speculate that maybe something serious did happen to Jason’s family. Or maybe Ric was just making Jason feel uncomfortable with all his questions. Ric did that sometimes when he got too excited talking to new people. Jason took a swig of his beer before answering Ric’s question.

“Our older brother...” Jason answered, running his fingers along the condensation of his mug. “…he went missing a few months ago. It’s been hard on the family, especially our father and my youngest brother.”

“I’m sorry. I can imagine it’s been difficult for everyone, especially you. It can’t be easy being the one that they depend on.”

Jason shook his head. “No, truthfully it sucks sometimes, but it has its moments. He was– I had a good role model and they’re good kids. They just miss him. I miss him too.”

“Well you got them somewhere safe,” Ric clapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Well…relatively safe. Any leads on his whereabouts?”

“Nothing but dead ends. Deep down I don’t really think he wants to found,” Jason shrugged. “But I’ll keep looking for him. So what about you, any siblings?”

Ric knew a dismissal when he heard it. He didn’t mind the change in subject. He couldn’t blame Jason for not elaborating. It had to be stressful for anyone looking for a missing family member. He assumed this question was bound to make its way onto him.

“No, I’m an only child. My parents died when I was eight.”

“Shit, sorry man. We can talk about something else.”

“It’s fine. You told me about your brother. I can talk about this. I did get taken into a good home, so I shouldn’t really complain,” Ric shrugged.

“But…”

Ric shook his head. “It’s just frustrating to have these people who are supposed to be my ‘family’ constantly telling me how I should be living my life.”

“Oh, I know how that is, trust me. It’s the worst.”

“Right? Why can’t I live my life how I want to? I’m an adult. They’re not even interested in getting to know me,” Ric ranted. “They just want their precious ‘Dick Grayson’ back. It’s my life now not his, let me live it how I want to.”

Shit. He went too far. He could see the look of surprise on Jason’s face. The lull of silence between them stretched and Ric couldn’t form a cohesive thought. Ric’s brain was scrambling for something else to say, anything to say, to fix the mess he just made but nothing was coming. Instead his mind started replaying all recent moments of disappointed people coming and going in his life claiming that they loved him, but not wanting to take the time get to know him.

Ric really hated his brain sometimes and how there was no filter between what he was thinking and what came out of his mouth. He needed to explain himself to Jason fast. Ric knew Jason had to have noticed the gnarly scar on the side of his head. Maybe the scar would give him a free pass at his unfiltered choice of words.

“Sorry, sorry, that uh kinda came out of nowhere. I…uh…had a bit of an accident…” Ric explained, pointing at his scar. “…I got shot a few months ago and well let’s just say my “family” or whatever they want to call themselves, didn’t take to my recovery well.”

“I’m sorry. Sometimes injuries that intense can either bring a family closer together or tear them apart.”

Ric shrugged his shoulders. It had been rough having to relearn how to do everyday tasks like eating, writing his name, and walking. His “family” and friends had been there at every therapy session encouraging him with their words and overall presence. But the worst of it had been their reactions to the news that his memories of them were gone.

“I couldn’t remember them,” Ric admitted, staring at his near empty beer mug.  “They were literal strangers to me the moment I opened my eyes from the coma, and it was something that they wouldn’t accept. In the end their concern for me and my recovery just felt conditional, so I left and came here.”

“Damn. Do they at least check up on you?” Jason asked.

“The old man used to, but I haven’t seen him in a while. A red-headed chick did too, but I told her not to bother anymore. Not if she’s going to keep looking at me searching for ‘him’ to come back. Apparently the other guy they really want was a real ‘Golden boy’, that’s not me.”

Jason snorted.

“What did I say?” Ric quirked a smile.

“Nothing,” Jason smirked, and took a drink of his beer.

“I’m doing just fine on my own. I don’t need them.”

“No you don’t. I know they’re family, but fuck them.” Jason clinked his beer mug against Ric’s.

Oh Ric really liked this guy.

 8888

The next few weeks Ric and Jason met up at The Prodigal for beers. Some nights all they did was talk and drink. Other nights they drank and played pool. Jason became one of Ric’s favorite drinking buddies.

Ric couldn’t legitimately remember ever having a feeling of kinship with anyone like Jason before in his life. It was nice and a bit scary at the same time letting someone new in his life. Still, instead of running away from this newfound friendship, Ric embraced it.

Friendship was a concept Ric wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to again. He didn’t have many friends in Bludhaven, well friends that he remembered. Dick’s old friends wanted nothing to do with him. They kept waiting and pushing for Dick to “come back”. When he finally snapped at them that Dick was gone and never coming back, they stopped visiting him. He did have Bea. She was the only one who had welcomed him with open arms and genuinely wanted to get to know him.

Jason had been the only other person he had run into that also didn’t have some hidden agenda to “bring Dick back”. With Jason there wasn’t any pressure or demand to be anyone other than himself. He could be Ric with no expectations thrust upon him. Jason empathized with Ric’s struggle to find his identity apart from the Waynes.

This was what made hanging out with Jason so easy. The anxiety of having to censor himself, afraid he might say or do something that was so inherently not Dick didn’t exist when he was around Jason. It was such a relief and a weight off Ric’s shoulders to just exist in a space with a friend and be himself.

Once Jason had opened up to Ric, he learned that there was a whole slew of shit that had happened to his friend in just a short amount of time. Aside from his brother going missing, Jason had a serious falling out with his dad that had caused a significant rift between them causing him to take his brothers and leave. However, the most devastating news had to be hearing that Jason’s best friend had been killed while staying at an inpatient rehabilitation facility.

“I wish I had some advice to give you, but something tells me you weren’t looking for any,” Ric said.

“No, not really, just a sympathetic ear, I guess.”

“I’m sorry about your best friend. That really sucks what happened to him.”

“Thanks, man. At least we got to work one last job together before he died. Anyway, that’s enough of my bullshit. What’s up with you? You look like my little brother after seven Red Bulls and 3 hours of sleep.”

Ric sighed. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but I’ve been having these dreams lately of faceless people in weird costumes. In the dream I feel like I know them. I’m ready to say their name but I can’t talk. I wake up and by the time I try to recall the images I can’t remember them.”

“Do you think your memories are trying to come back?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Ric shrugged.

“But…you don’t want them to come back, do you?”

It felt silly getting so worked up over something like lost memories resurfacing. Ric should be happy that parts of his lost past was trying to get through to him. He should be relieved that the 15 years of lost memories were finally starting to return, but he wasn’t happy or relieved. He was worried.

“What happens to me when I start remembering everything? Will I still be Ric when Dick’s memories come flooding back filling in the gaps? What if I don’t like the things I start to remember? What then?”

Jason turned in his stool to face Ric. “No matter what, you’ll still be Ric. You’ll still be the guy with the busted cab I had to push out of traffic. You’ll still be the guy that kicks my ass playing pool. You’ll still be the guy who insists on buying the first round and listening to all my bullshit. You’ll still be you, just with new memories.

“No matter what happens you are not obligated to go back to your old life or live your life by your old memories. You don’t owe those assholes in Gotham anything.”

Ric nodded allowing Jason’s words to sink in.

“We’ll take it one day at a time,” Jason clapped a hand on Ric’s shoulder. “Next round is on me.”

The anxiety slowly started to ebb away as Ric watched his friend leave their high top table and make his way to the bar to get another round of beers.

Ric couldn’t stop the new memories from coming. They were coming whether he wanted them to or not. And when they did come he was glad to have found such a great friend in Jason. The man was right, no matter what happened, he was not obligated to go back to his old life or live his life by his old memories.

Part 2: Somebody That I Used to Know

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 8

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 3900+

Warnings: Language, car accident, angst, fluff, threats

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

You were never the person that loved working out. You hated getting up early and going for a run, having believed that’s what most people did to stay in shape. You never really put much thought into it, but after training with Val, you gained a whole new respect for those who trained people for a living. She would take you through the process of warming up and getting your muscles ready, followed by the hard workout and a cool down. Val has really upped your confidence, too, and she isn’t afraid to push you to your limits and show you what you are capable of. 

“Girl, you’re killing it for only coming here for 2 weeks.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“I remember the first week you came, it was rough, but it usually is for everyone.  Now, I think you could kick a few of my client's asses, who have been training with me for longer than you have. You’re a quick learner, and you listen to what I am saying and want to improve your skills.”

“That’s what I am paying you for,” you chuckled, getting a laugh out of Val.

“This is true,” she nodded. “Heard from a little birdie that you got Steve into bed not once but twice. How was he?” she winked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“What? Who told you that?” 

“The guys were talking about it at work. Steve got all red in the face. It was cute.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but it’s not what you think. We were shopping for a bed, he found a good one, I ended up getting that one, and then I set it up at my place, and we tested it out again. There was no fonduing of any sort.”

“Okay, whatever you say.” She rolled her eyes. “But, if you are interested, Steve is a helluva good guy.”

“I know,” you smirked, staring at the ground and biting your lip.

“Now, if that look could talk.” Your eyes flashed to hers, spotting a knowing smirk on her face.

“I’m done talking about this.” You shake your head. “But, I’ll see you in a couple of days or sooner, depending if I want to take on the punching bag again.”

“We are always open,” she chuckled. You zipped up your bag, giving her a small hug before heading out. “Say hi to Steve for me, will you?” 

“You got it,” you shouted, rolling your eyes and walking out of the gym.

_______

“Have you talked to your girl lately?” Bucky asked Steve as they played pool at the station.

“First off, she is not my girl, but we have texted a few times.”

“Thought you would want to be more involved with her since you got her into bed twice last week,” Sam winked.

“Come on, guys, it's not like that.” Steve shook his head, fighting the smile on his face as he leaned against the pool cue.

“You're right, it's more than that,” Bucky smirked, lining up for a shot, but missed the pocket. 

“Says the one dating…”

“A woman,” Bucky finished for Steve, glaring at him.

“Wait, you’ve been dating someone?” Sam asked, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at him. “And this is the first I am hearing of this.”

“It’s only been for a little while.” Bucky shrugged, watching Steve hit his ball into the pocket. “She’s great; super quick-witted, a spitfire, and a badass.” Bucky smiled to himself, making Sam roll his eyes. 

“Happy for you man, I can't wait to meet her.”

“Really?” Bucky seemed taken aback.

“Yeah because then I can ask her why she is with you? Doesn't she know there are more options besides you in this world.”

“Yet, you still don't have a girlfriend with all the single women in LA.”

“I am waiting for the right one.”

“But, she'll never come”

Steve closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath when the station alarm started ringing. Everyone dropped what they were doing, suited up, and got into the truck to head to the scene.

“We have a car accident involving a Honda CRV off Topanga Canyon Boulevard. The call came in via the Hondalink after their car went off the road and slammed through a guard rail. With the heavy rain happening, it’s not surprising,” Carol stated into her headset before giving orders to the team.

On-site, Sam and Val got to work on helping the victim. She was still breathing but was unconscious. Bucky got the jaws of life and was able to get the door open as they pulled the young lady out and onto a stretcher. Val grabbed her purse from the car and followed behind Bucky and Sam as they carried her to the ambulance. 

Danvers stared at the old Chevrolet car, rubbing her lips together, trying to process something.

“You alright, Ace?” Steve asked.

“This isn’t the right vehicle. This isn’t the car that called in.”

“But this vehicle went over the guard rail on the same route as the dispatcher mentioned,” Bucky added, pointing at the car. “What are the odds two cars on the same route experienced the same accident?”

“Not likely, but the call came in via Hondalink from a Honda CRV. This car is too old to be equipped with such a system, and it’s the wrong make and model.” 

“What are you saying?”

“We have to split up and find the other car. I’m going to get in touch with dispatch and see if Hondalink has GPS coordinates for the CRV and get another ambulance here. Thor, go with Sam to the hospital and leave Val here in case we need a paramedic. Now let’s split up and search.”

Steve and Bucky started down the hill, taking each step with caution as the ground continued to get slippery from the pouring rain. Steve stumbled over a tree root but caught himself on a tree. He looked to his right, seeing a flowing river and something that shouldn't be there. 

“Buck-” Steve pointed at the river.

Bucky stopped behind him, looking out to where Steve was pointing. “How did the CRV end up…” Bucky started to say, but Steve was already stumbling down the hill, rushing to the bottom. At the edge of the wide river, Steve noticed how the whole back half of the vehicle was underwater, and if he didn’t look close enough, he would’ve missed it. The hood was visible as if it was caught on something and sitting at a slant, keeping the passenger and driver side windows afloat. 

Steve didn’t waste any time, tossing his jacket and boots alongside the riverbank, jumping in. “STEVE, WAIT,” Bucky called, reaching the bottom, fumbling for his radio. “Ace, we located the CRV in the river. We’re gonna need assistance, but Steve and I are heading out to the vehicle now.”

“We are on our way,” she replied. “Be safe.”

"GODAMMIT, STEVE, WAIT UP," Bucky shouted, noticing Steve halfway to the car already. “You and your damn impulse decisions.”

The current was stronger than Steve was expecting, but he wasn't sure how much longer the car would stay in place. "Hello, is anyone in there," Steve called, swimming up to the vehicle. He quickly assessed the situation and realized the car's front tires were braced against a rock bed. How the vehicle ended up like this; he still wasn’t sure. He looked around at the landscape, noticing a busted guardrail not far from them.

"HELP, WE’RE IN HERE," a male voice screamed.

Steve swam to the driver's side door to see a man with an unconscious teenage girl in the passenger seat, he could only assume she was the man’s daughter. There was still a big enough air pocket that they could breathe, but the water level was rising, and the current would continue to pull the car farther underwater.

"I'm Fireman Steve Rogers from the LAFD, and we’re gonna get you out of here. Are you hurt anywhere?'

"I'm fine, but I don't know about my daughter. Please help her first." 

Steve nodded as he swam over to the passenger side. He reached up to check her pulse and realized it was weak. "She’s breathing, must’ve got knocked out after crashing through the guard rail, right?"

“It all happened so fast. One second I could see the road, but then the next second, it was as if it disappeared, and we were sliding over the cliff and into the river.”

“It's okay, help is here, just stay calm for me,” Steve reassured, looking over the hood of the car to see Bucky approaching and he tilted his head to the driver's seat. 

"Hi, sir, I'm Fireman Bucky Barnes, what’s your name?”

“Adrian, and that’s my daughter Liz.”

“Okay, well, we are going to cut the seat belt from you…”

“What about my daughter?”

“Steve will do the same for her.” Bucky nodded at him. “We are gonna work together and try to get you both out at the same time.”

“Oh okay, but....” Adrian's voice drifted.

“Trust us, okay, I know it’s hard because we just met, but we’ll get you both out.” Bucky nodded his head a bunch, hoping to calm Adrian down. “We're gonna cut these seat belts and pull you both out to safety, okay?”

“Okay,” he said with tears peaking at the corner of her eyes. “Promise me, that you will get my daughter out.” 

“We promise,” Steve replied with a reassuring nod.

“And if I don’t get out of here, tell her and her mother, I loved them both.”

“You can tell them that when we get you both out of here.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

Steve looked at Bucky, counting to three, and in unison, cut the seat belts. Steve was able to pull Liz to safety and keep her head above water. The car shifted slightly as Steve glanced to the driver’s seat to see Adrian still inside.

“I guess this is the part where I tell you my leg's pinned, and you tell me that you’re not gonna be able to get me out,” Adrian breathed, shaking his head. 

“Steve, get her to safety, and I’ll figure this out.”

“Don't do anything stupid until I get back,” Steve replied, swimming her to the shore where Val, Carol, and another paramedics team was waiting. 

“Her pulse is weak, but she's breathing. I don’t know if she sustained any other injuries, but she’s been unconscious since they hit the water.”

“Thanks. We got it from here,” the woman whose nameplate read Mantis answered while the big guy beside her nodded at him. They got her onto a stretcher, and Steve looked back out to see the CRV still afloat.

“Steve, you okay with getting back out there to help Barnes, or should I send Val.”

“No, I’m good, I’m good,” he breathed with his hands on his hips. “I got this,” He nodded, diving back into the water and swimming back out to the car. 

The rain started to come down harder, forcing him to squint his eyes, unable to see Bucky by the driver’s side door. He swam a little farther, and all of a sudden, the car was out of his view. “Crap.” Steve swam faster, yelling Bucky’s name, but no one responded. Once he got to the rock bed that held the car in place, he went under, but he couldn’t see anything under the water. He resurfaced for a deeper breath and dived back down. 

Swimming further down, he could see what looked like headlights on a car.  He swam closer to the front end to see Bucky working from inside the car to get Adrian’s leg free. Steve swam towards the driver's side when Adrain pushed himself out the window. He started swimming up, but Steve noticed how he wasn’t moving one of his legs. Bucky swam out the window, shooting Steve a knowing look before resurfacing. Adrian coughed, trying to stay afloat when Bucky grabbed him and started swimming towards shore. 

"You had to do something stupid, didn't you," Steve asked, swimming next to him.

“Can’t let you have all the fun,” he smirked, forcing Steve to shake his head.

________

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’m at Gas and Grub on West Florence Avenue, and a man is robbing the store.”

“Sending a unit to your area now.” You switched over and signaled the closest officer nearby. “I need all available units at Gas and Grub near West Florence Avenue. There is a robbery in progress.” 

“10-4, 1578 in route to Gas and Grub,” an officer replied as you switched back to the caller.

“Units are on their way. Is everything okay? Are you safe?”

“Yes, I am hiding on the end of one of the aisles,” the voice replied. “The man is wearing a mask, holding a gun, and yelling at the cashier.  He’s asking for all the money in the register, some cigarettes, oh a bottle of Jack, too.”

“Okay, just stay where you are until help arrives.”

“I will,” he breathed. “Shit, the cops are coming in now. Damn…they were fast.” The caller hung up, and the line went dead.

“At least this one ended on a happy note...I think,” you sighed, stretching your hands over your head. You didn’t think you would be this sore today after working out, but you were wrong. Every movement you made sent a numb throbbing pain to that area. Val really did a number on you. You took a quick sip of your water and got resituated when another call came in. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” 

“My neighbor is listening to rap music, and I can’t hear myself think. It’s getting really annoying.”

“Have you tried going over and asking them to turn it down?”

“Well, no.”

“Why don’t you try that and then call the non-emergency line next time. No sense in calling 911 if it’s not a life or death situation.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll go talk to them.”

“Good luck,” you sighed, rolling your eyes and hanging up. “Fucking nuisance calls.”

“Hey, YN,” Bruce greeted, coming over to your station.“We have a caller on the line asking for you specifically. Are you available to take it?”

“Yeah, of course, put them through.” He nodded, typing on your computer, and you hit the spacebar. “Hi, this is 911 dispatcher YN, how can I help you today?”

“Hi, YN, it’s Nat.”

“Why are you calling through my 911 line and not my phone?” You nodded to Bruce, silently saying, you got it covered, and he walked away.

“It’s kind of a tricky situation, you see. Um…can you just come to 1917 Grand Boulevard when your shift is done, in like ten minutes? It’s important.”

“Is everything okay?

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s not an emergency emergency, but more a friend asking a friend for help, and the only number I have memorized these days is 911, hence why I called you.”

“Yeah, I’ll head that way when my shift is done.”

“Thanks, the spare key is under the plant by the front door.”

________

You pulled up to the address Nat gave you, seeing a two-story modern chic house with black and wooden accents. You walked up to the front door, tilting one of the plants, and grabbed the key attached to the bottom. You opened the front door, and the first thought that came to you was a bachelor pad, but it wasn't sports memorabilia hanging on the walls, no. It was NASA and Star Wars memorabilia. Who the hell was Nat ‘hanging out’ with?

“I’m here, where are you?” You shouted through the empty house.

“Upstairs and the second door on the right,” she called back.

“Who’s house is this? It’s like a major nerd bachelor pad. Does this guy work for NASA or something? I never considered planets to be art, but then again...” your voice drifted off, looking at some more space art on the walls. 

You pushed the second door on the right open, and your eyes widened, seeing what was in front of you. One of Nat’s hands was handcuffed to one of Bucky’s, and it was wrapped around the headboard with no way of getting out. They were both still covering the goods, but Bucky’s shirt was off, and Nat was just in her bra and underwear. 

“So, I’m a nerd fanboy with a terrible taste in art?” Bucky inquired, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Nat said, glaring at you.

Your whole body started to shake, trying to keep from laughing and only nodding your head, but you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You bent over, hands on your knees and started laughing. “I thought… I thought you two hated each other,” you wheezed between breaths, pointing at them.

“Until she realized she wanted my…”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she threatened, covering her hand over his mouth. “And if I remember right, you came onto me.”

He scoffed. “You wish.”

She rolled her eyes. “Can you grab the key from my belt, right there?”

You shake your head, digging around in her police belt. “How long has this been going on?” You asked once you found the key.

“Not long, maybe a month or two,” Nat answered with a half shrug.

“A month, really? So, when you guys were yelling at each other at the bar, you were…”

“Call it foreplay,” Bucky winked, forcing Nat to smirk.

“Does Steve know?”

“Who do you think we tried calling first?” 

“Oh, so I’m second best.”

“We didn’t call Steve, YN. I don’t want his judgy eyes on me for this.”

“Yeah, we didn’t call him,” Bucky confirmed. “But, I texted him.”

“YOU WHAT,” Nat yelled, giving him a hard glare.

“He won’t care. He's my best friend; besides, he’s gotten me out of similar situations before.”

“That’s not helping your case right now,” she sighed, crossing her arm across her chest.

“Hey, Buck, is everything, alright?” Steve asked, walking in as his eyes grew wide. “When did--” he cleared his throat to keep from laughing “--when did this happen?”

“A month or so ago,” Bucky answered. 

“Nat is the woman you have been talking to me about for weeks.” Steve put his hands on his hips, shaking his head.  “Wow, I never would have guessed this.”

“You told him about us?”

“No, I just told him I was seeing this woman and how I might have a thing for her. It’s nothing.” Bucky shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, making Nat smirk at him.

“Alright, so let’s get this awkward situation over with and get you two unlocked then.” You walked over with the key in your hand, but Nat stopped you.

“Oh no! I didn’t say unlock us. I just want them in my reach. We aren't done yet.” Nat winked at Bucky, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree. 

“Okay, I see how it is,” you smirked, setting the key on the table. “You two kids have fun now.” 

“Don’t speak a word of this to anyone, either of you.” Nat pointed at you and Steve with a harsh glare. 

“Scout’s honor,” Steve signaled with a soft laugh.

“No promises,” you smiled with a chuckle before walking out the door with Steve in tow. You closed the door behind you and followed Steve down the stairs.

“I will say, I didn’t think I’d see the day those two got together,” Steve added, shaking his head as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah, me either,” you shrugged. “Here I thought,  Nat hated him.”

“Same.” You two walked in silence to the front door. “Doing anything fun tonight?”

“No, I think I had enough excitement for one night,” you chuckled, locking the front door and putting the key back under the plant. “You?”

“Ah, no. Heading home to watch a movie with Cosmo.”

“Ahh cute, how is the doggy doing?”

“He’s getting better, not as skittish anymore, so that’s an improvement.”

“That’s awesome. Well, don’t let me keep you away from your date. Besides, I have a long-needed shower and a Netflix browsing session to get to.”

“Browsing session?”

“You know when you just scroll through everything and can’t find anything to watch, but you find some other things to watch that get added to the list, but nothing like I need to watch this now, kind of movie.”

“Haha, I have those nights sometimes. Happy browsing, YN.”

“Bye, Steve.” you waved, getting into your car. 

_________

After a long day at work and a much-needed shower, you sat down on your couch with a bowl full of popcorn and a glass of wine in hand and turned on Netflix. You clicked through your list a few times when your phone started ringing. Glancing at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number, but it was a California area code, so you figured it was someone from work. “Hello.” 

“Hey.” 

“Who is this?”

“YN, you know who this is.” Once he said your name, you recognized his voice. You could feel your heart start to race, sending the increasing rhythm to your ears. Your breathing grew heavy and shaky, and it did very little to calm your racing heart. 

“How--” you gulped “--how did you get this number?”

“Does it matter? When are you coming home?”

“I’m not….I’m not coming home.” Your hands started to trumble, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

“YOU DON'T GET TO DECIDE THAT. I DECIDE,” he shouted into your ear, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut, causing a few tears to slide down your cheeks.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. I miss you, and so do all our friends here.” You shake your head, trying to steady your breathing. “They keep asking me where you are, and all I can tell them is that you went on a little vacation with Loki, and then they ask why I didn’t go with you,” he sighed. “You made me feel like an idiot because I wasn’t with you and didn’t know where you were. Do you know what that feels like?” You gulped, trying to find the words to say something, anything, but they never came. “I’m your husband, and I deserve to know when you’re coming back.”

“I told you, I’m not,” your voice cracked. 

“So, that’s how it’s gonna be. I do this for a living, remember YN, what makes you think I don’t already know where you are?” He went silent for a moment, adding to your frightened state. “When I do come for you, you better hope I am in a better fucking mood because, right now, I want to fucking kill you!”

You hung up, throwing your phone on the couch. The hair on your arms stood up, and your hands were shaking. You pulled your knees to your chest, crying. You felt so small and weak. It felt like all the progress you made up until this point didn’t matter because once you heard his voice, you were right back to where you started; stepping on eggshells, watching what you say, trying to be the perfect couple in everyone else’s eyes. 

Someone knocking on the door makes you jump and stare wide-eyed at the door. You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes, and slowly stood up. The knocking continued to get louder, sending a dull ringing in your ears. You went to the hall closet to grab the wooden baseball bat and went over to answer the door. This is when you wish the door had a peephole or that there were windows by the door, so you could see who it was, but there was nothing to see who was on the other side. You took a deep breath and opened the door with the bat ready to swing.

________

AN: Thanks for reading Part 8, and talk about a cliffhanger! Any ideas who may be behind the door? 🤔 And what about that little phone call from her ex right before? Coincidence or am I just messing with you all!? Hahaha! Also, I hope you all are enjoying the Sam and Bucky banter, literally can't wait to get more of it once their show starts! And, finally what did you think about the little predicament Nat was involved in?! 😂😂 Anyways, I hope you all are enjoying it so far, and likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome. Thanks again!

[myonechicagoworld]

CHICAGO FIRE – RETALIATION HIT (S01E21)

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): How long was she in your apartment?

Kelly Severide: Half hour. Hour tops.

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): And how many beers did you have?

Kelly Severide: Two.

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): In 30 minutes?

Kelly Severide: First time in history anyone ever drank two beers in

                          half an hour?

Commander( Sgt. Halstead): Ms. Little stated that it was hard to

                                                 keep up with you. She felt buzzed.

Kelly Severide: That’s what happens when you drink beer. She’d

                           know since she brought the six pack over.

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): She said you tried to kiss her, but

                                                  she was uncomfortable and tried to

                                                  leave. You backed her against the

                                                  wall, leaned into her body and put

                                                  your hand on her buttock.

Kelly Severide: Unreal.

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): Care to respond?

Mouch: Lieutenant Severide is not obligated to respond to any of

              these questions, Commander. He came in good faith to

              hear the charges against him.

Kelly Severide: Actually, I faked a yawn and said I was tired and she

                          should probably get going. Because I started

                          thinking she was a little… desperate.

                                           cutscene

                                       [door buzzing]

                                        [door opens]

Police Officer (Officer Blair): You’re up, Voight.

                                   [handcuffs clicking]

                                            cutscene

Hallie Thomas: How’s Dawson?

Matt Casey: Good. Great.

                      Why?

Hallie Thomas: Don’t even pretend.

Matt Casey: Um, she’s dating young Peter Mills.

Hallie Thomas: That sneaky little bastard. Good for him.

Matt Casey: How about yourself? Seeing anybody?

Hallie Thomas: Nah, no one serious.

Matt Casey: You heard about Curtis, right?

Hallie Thomas: Yeah. Um, is Voight behind it?

Matt Casey: I have no idea. I mean, the kid was in a gang, but

                     still…

Hallie Thomas: That doesn’t make any difference in terms of

                           Voight’s case, right?

Matt Casey: Apparently there’s a dismissal hearing today, and his

                      union is pushing hard for entrapment. All I know is I

                      can’t get sucked into it again.

                                               cutscene

Hank Voight: [sighs]

                       I’m hungry. Let’s go.

                                              cutscene

                                [coffee machine steaming]

Christopher Herrmann: Drink coupons?

Otis Zvonecek: It’s called a loss leader, okay? It gets people in the

                          door. Once they’re inside, they keep spending.

Christopher Herrmann: I’m already confused, all right? It’s a bar,

                                         not the New York stock exchange.

Matt Casey: It’s actually not that complicated, Herrmann.

Christopher Herrmann: Well, we have a soft opening in a week,

                                          andwe don’t even have our decorations

                                          up yet.

Otis Zvonecek: Call it a drink special. I don’t care.

                                           [kissing sound]

Leslie Shay: Oh, marry him.

Chief Boden: Okay, everybody listen up. In light of recent events…

                       recent allegations, rather… personnel division has

                       flagged this house for sexual harassment sensitivity

                       training.

Matt Casey: [silently groans]

Joe Cruz: Uh, Chief? I think actually it’s sexual harassment and

                  sensitivity training. ‘Cause the way that you just said it, it

                  makes it sound like we have to be, uh, sensitive toward

                  sexual har…

Christopher Herrmann: All right, what the hell? This house needs it.

                                        All right, listen up everybody. CFD special,

                                        okay? Happy hour prices all night long

                                        when Molly’s opens.

                                   [murmuring and applause]

Otis Zvonecek: [groans]

                                               cutscene

Peter Mills: Lieutenant. What you’re going through ain’t right. So if

                    there’s anything I can do to help, name it. I mean if you

                    just want to grab a beer or put on some gloves…

Kelly Severide: Appreciate it.

                                       [locker door shuts]

Kevin Hadley: Hey Mills.

                                      [locker door closes]

Kevin Hadley: His shoes need shining.

                               [alarm buzzing and blaring]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Engine 51, Ambulance 61. Car

                  accident, 3464 Morgan Street.

Chief Boden: Casey, I just heard from the state’s attorney. Voight’s

                        out.

Matt Casey: All right.

Chief Boden: Yeah.

                                          [sirens blaring]

Chief Boden: What’s the story here?

Police Officer (Officer Sobek): We got two people stuck.

Chief Boden: What happened?

Police Officer (Officer Sobek): Driver got shot and lost control.

                                                    Word is this is the guy that shot

                                                    Curtis. Retaliation hit.

                                      [engine humming]

Kelly Severide: Looks unstable. Be careful.

Matt Casey: He’s pinned in. Foot’s stuck on the gas.

Victim 1: [screams] Oh God! Oh God! Help me, please!

                                         - title screen -

                                      [indistinct chatter]

Kelly Severide: Hey, stand clear of the car! Second victim’s

                          underneath.

                          Hang on, ma’am. We’re gonna get you out, okay?

Victim 1: Hurry, please.

Matt Casey: Driver’s got a head wound. We’ve got to get him out of

                      there.

Kelly Severide: Hey, we budge this car, it’s gonna take off.

Chief Boden: We lift the car. Kelly, you get the woman. We stabilise

                       this on the truck and get the driver at the same time.

                       Go.

Kelly Severide: Capp, Hadley, air bags and halligans!

Matt Casey: Cruz and Mills, we need bottle Jacks and cribbing as

                      much as we have. Mouch, take the center punch.

                      Herrmann, sawzall. Let’s move.

Christopher Herrmann: Got it.

Gabby Dawson: What do we got?

Matt Casey: Looks like a perforating head injury. The driver’s still

                     alive. You’re gonna have to move fast.

Gabby Dawson: We’re on it.

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Kelly Severide: Okay, help me out with this. We gotta lift it.

                          Don’t worry, ma’am. We’re right here with you.

Chief Boden: Don’t let it touch that wheel!

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Kelly Severide: Hang in there. Hang in there.

                          Watch your back.

                          All right, let’s get that board in!

Victim 1: [cries out]

Kelly Severide: Easy, easy.

                           Watch it.

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Kelly Severide: You got it?

Chief Boden: Keep her away from that wheel.

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Chief Boden: Good job, guys. Good job.

                                    [glass shattering]

Matt Casey: [grunts]

                              [engine stops humming]

Chief Boden: Pop those hinges.

Firefighter: I got it.

                                         [grinding]

Chief Boden: There you go! Get the board in now.

Leslie Shay: He’s got a pulse. Barely.

Kelly Severide: Watch his head.

                           Okay.

                           Watch it.

                           You got it?

Leslie Shay: Got it, yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Did I hear right? Voight’s out?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s go.

                                           [siren blaring]

Mouch: You’re not doing what I think you’re doing, are you?

Kelly Severide: [sighs] What if I just meet her face-to-face and…

Mouch: Do not contact this woman, you hear me? We have a

              follow-up interview tomorrow, and we have the upper hand

              right now. Okay?

                                               cutscene

Gabby Dawson: Single gunshot to the head through and through.

                            Entrance is at the cheek.

ER Doctor: Pressure?

Gabby Dawson: 50 over 30.

ER Doctor: Get him into six.

Leslie Shay: I told you that Tara chick was bad news. Now look.

Gabby Dawson: So there’s no way that Severide could have gotten

                            a little too frisky with her?

Leslie Shay: Against her will? No way.

Gabby Dawson: Well, what’s Severide saying?

Leslie Shay: Not much. Whenever he gets this look on his face, I

                     just steer clear and let him figure it out. ‘Cause me

                     trying to fix it never does any good. She’s not gonna

                     get away with this, is she?

Gabby Dawson: Well, that’s what they said about Voight.

Leslie Shay: Ugh, crazy town. I mean, how does that guy walk?

Gabby Dawson: I don’t know. It reminds me of this joke my dad

                            once told me. Why is Chicago style pizza so

                            thick?

Leslie Shay: Why?

Gabby Dawson: Don’t worry about it.

Leslie Shay: She’s not here.

Gabby Dawson: Who?

Leslie Shay: Hallie.

Gabby Dawson: I’m not looking for Hallie.

                                      [cell phone vibrating]

Leslie Shay: Who is it?

Gabby Dawson: Blocked. Who blocks their phones anymore other

                            than drug dealers.

                                               cutscene

                                   [tapping on whiteboard]

Man 1 (Trainer): Nice slacks! Acceptable compliment? Yes, no or

                            depends?

Christopher Herrmann: I don’t think people call them slacks

                                        anymore.

Man 1 (Trainer): Oh come on, come on. No, you know what I mean.

                                              [laughter]

Man 1 (Trainer): Pants, dungarees, whatever.

Joe Cruz: Depends.

Man 1 (Trainer): On?

Joe Cruz: What part of the pants?

Man 1 (Trainer): Exactly. A female co-worker is standing in front of

                           you... ”Nice pants,” is acceptable. Walking away

                           from you, noway, Jose. And why not?

Christopher Herrmann: Isn’t it kind of obvious?

                                              [laughter]

Man 1 (Trainer): Look, I know all this new political correctness-type

                           deal is a head spinner, ‘cause it was a little more

                           loosey-goosey back in the day. I mean, hell, when I

                           first started working for the city you’d-you’d walk

                           into some locker rooms, they’d have Hustler

                           centrefolds taped up. You do that nowadays, ninjas

                           drop from the ceiling and will airlift your ass right

                           out of there.

                                              [laughter]

Christopher Herrmann: Tell me about it. When-when I started there

                                         was this guy, Eric Weinburger…[chuckles]

                                         and if it was somebody’s birthday, he

                                         would walk around with his testicles

                                         hanging out of his fly…

                                               [laughter]

Man 1 (Trainer): Okay. Okay! Look, tap the brakes, pal. That’s what

                            I’m talking about.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey.

                                              cutscene

Antonio Dawson: Voight’s got a condo in Myrtle Beach. And there’s

                              a good shot he threatens to sue the department

                              for wrongful prosecution, settles for a chunk of

                              change and then goes to play golf year round.

                              That’s according to my buddy who used to work

                              for Voight.

                              He’s dirty, but he ain’t stupid. He knows he

                               dodged a bullet on this one. And with his son

                               already doing a year, there’s no way he’s gonna

                               come after you again.

Matt Casey: That’s what they told me right before he tried to have

                      my skull cracked open.

Chief Boden: You’ll keep us apprised, won’t you, Antonio?

Antonio Dawson: Of course.

Chief Boden: Casey. Do not get drawn back into this.

                                          cutscene

Man 2 (Paramedic): Leslie Shay!

Leslie Shay: Hey, Derek.

                     What’s wrong?

Gabby Dawson: That was Voight.

Leslie Shay: What’d he say?

Gabby Dawson: He’s calling in that favour I owe him.

                            [exhales]

                                          cutscene

Matt Casey: You’re gonna call Voight back?

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] I mean I guess I have to.

Matt Casey: Want me to?

Gabby Dawson: No. No, no, no. But… that’s really nice of you to

                            offer.

Matt Casey: You let me know. And we’re cool. No matter what you

                      do. I don’t want us going down the same road we did

                      last time and not talking to each other for a month.

                      You’re too important to me for that.

Gabby Dawson: Thanks. I feel the same way. Which is why I wanted

                            to bring you in the loop. So that you didn’t think I

                            was scheming with Voight or anything behind your

                            back.

Matt Casey: Dawson, I’m serious though. You-you try to deal with

                      Voight on your own, you’ll end up in quicksand.

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

Man 1 (Trainer): Can I borrow you two for a second?

Matt Casey: [clears throat] “You look very nice today.”

Gabby Dawson: “Thank you.”

Matt Casey: “A bunch of us are gonna get some beers after work.

                      Care to join?”

Gabby Dawson: Sure, yeah. That sounds fun.”

Matt Casey: Keep going, or…

Man 1 (Trainer): Please.

Matt Casey: Okay.

Leslie Shay: Oh look, he just groped her. Did everybody see that?

Chief Boden: Shay.

Leslie Shay: I’m just saying. That’s all it takes, right?

Matt Casey: “Have you been going to the gym?”

Gabby Dawson: “Um, yeah, you know, here and there. Not as much

                             as I’d like.”

Matt Casey: “Because your physique looks really good.”

                                            [laughter]

Gabby Dawson: “Well, thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

Man 1 (Trainer): Now freeze it. Freeze it. What did we talk about

                            behavioural modifiers?

Matt Casey: I think he means stop the role-play

Gabby Dawson: Oh.

Man 1 (Trainer): Matt should not be making comments about

                            Gabby’s body. We know that.

                                     [cell phone vibrating]

Man 1 (Trainer): But Gabby should not be accepting compliments

                            about her body from Matt.

Chief Boden: Keep your radio on.

Man 1 (Trainer): Uh why don’t we break for lunch?

All: Yes.

       Sure.

Matt Casey: Thank you.

Harold Capp: Hey, candidate?

Peter Mills: Yeah?

Harold Capp: You park across the street?

Peter Mills: Yeah, why?

                    Oh! Son of a bitch!

Kevin Hadley: Oh, man.

Peter Mills: Man, right in front of the house! God!

Harold Capp: Whoa, wait a second. Wait a second. Isn’t this an

                        ’03?

Peter Mills: Yeah.

Harold Capp: I think this is the model they built with the spare

                       window.

                       Yeah.

Kevin Hadley: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Harold Capp: Hang on a second. Hold on, let me show you.

                                     [engine starting]

Peter Mills: [sighs] Ooh… [chuckles]

                    Yeah funny. Give me my keys.

                                [Capp & Hadley chuckles]

Peter Mills: That was a good one.

                    [groans]

                                             cutscene

Kelly Severide: [exhales] I just wanted to talk, you know. Human

                          being to human being.

Tara Little: I-I-I don’t want to talk about the other night. It’s still so

                   painful.

Kelly Severide: Tara, come on. We were both there. And if I said

                          something that offended you…

Tara Little: Look, IAD is pushing me to file a police report. And

                   despite what happened, I’m not interested in making

                   this a criminal case.

Kelly Severide: For what?

                          Look me in the eye. Tell me what I did.

Tara Little: But there is another option. If you apologise on record,

                   it’s called an Alford plea. You won’t be admitting guilt,

                   but we could both…avoid the embarrassment of

                   reliving this in public.

Kelly Severide: You’re crazy.

Tara Little: I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to meet you.

                                              cutscene

Antonio Dawson: I’ll take care of it.

Gabby Dawson: Look, I don’t have a problem calling him to see

                            what he wants.

Antonio Dawson: No.

Gabby Dawson: Hey. Don’t do anything crazy.

                                [alarm buzzing and blaring]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61.

                  Overturned tanker, Eleanor and Fuller.

                                        [sirens wailing]

Kelly Severide: Squad’s set to pull the driver out. We just need

                           engine to get some water on this fire so we

                           have some clearance.

Chief Boden: This first tank is leaking sodium hydroxide. We have

                        an active chemical spill. That is a negative on the

                        water. That’s going to spread the spill out even

                        further. We need to get foam on this fire… and

                        masks on!

Victim 2 (Truck Driver): Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey, get me out of here!

                                       Get me out!

Chief Boden: (into radio) Squad three, suit up for rescue. Call in

                        Hazmat.

                        Hang on in there! We’re gonna come and get you!

                        (into radio) Battalion 25 to dispatch, we need the

                        closest available foam engine to Bridgeport right

                        now. We are on Eleanor and Fuller.

Dispatch: (over radio) Copy that, 25.

Chief Boden: Let’s dyke off this area right now. If it gets into the

                        river, it’ll spread into Chicago.

Matt Casey: Got it. Shovels and pick axes!

                      Right here. Start digging

                                             [grunting]

Matt Casey: (over radio) Chief, where’s our foam?

Chief Boden: (into radio) We’re working on it, Casey.

Kelly Severide: Chief, if you need us to pull him out now, we’re

                          ready.

Chief Boden: (into radio)That diesel fire’s impinging on that tanker.

                       It’s getting ready to blow! You can’t go in yet.

Matt Casey: (into radio) Driver’s gonna get burned inside and out if

                     he stays in there much longer.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Where the hell is that engine?

                                       [foam spraying]

Chief Boden: Severide.

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

Chief Boden: That foam will cover up the vapors. You ready?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, let’s do it!

                           Hadley!

Kevin Hadley: Yeah!

Kelly Severide: Have the descender ready to send up the aerial.

Kevin Hadley: Uh, it-it’s new. I don’t know the set-up yet. I’ll just,

                         uh, I’ll rig up a rope and pulley.

Kelly Severide: Nah, that’s not enough. We’re gonna need the

                          descender. Ask Mills to do it.

Peter Mills: On it.

                     Let’s go.

                     Hadley, stand by.

                     Here. Take that, run it up

Chief Boden: (into radio) Mouch.

                                          [motor humming]

Chief Boden: Capp, make sure you stay tight to Severide.

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [breathing heavily]

Kelly Severide: Chemicals flooding the cab. Driver’s losing

                           consciousness.

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [groans]

Kelly Severide: Hey buddy, hang in there. We’re gonna get you out!

                          Watch your eyes!

Victim 2 (Truck driver): Okay.

                                         [glass shattering]

Peter Mills: Okay, throw me the rope bag.

Harold Capp: It’s coming down.

Kelly Severide: (over radio) Got the harness attached.

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [groans]

Kelly Severide: (over radio) Okay, pull him up!

Peter Mills: Haul!

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [groans]

Kelly Severide: Keep it going!

                          Okay, Mills, the driver’s clear.

Peter Mills: We’re good!

Kelly Severide: Let’s go, let’s go!

Chief Boden: All right. Bring him over, Mouch.

Joe Cruz: This way!

Peter Mills: Keep it going! Keep it going!

Firefighter: Keep coming!

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [groans]

Gabby Dawson: Let’s go!

Chief Boden: Good job.

Peter Mills: [chuckles]

                                          cutscene

Joe Cruz: Hope we weren’t too much of a pain in the ass.

Man 1 (Trainer): Not at all. Fully aware that you work 24 hour shifts

                           together and you see the things that you see. And

                           there should be consideration for that. You just

                           have to be careful, or you can find yourself in a

                           real predicament.

Chief Boden: Did everybody hear that?

All: We got it.

       Mm-hmm.

Man 1 (Trainer): Still using the Elkhart brass nozzles, I see. Is that a

                            75/100?

Joe Cruz: Yeah, how you know about nozzles?

Man 1 (Trainer): Ah I took the CFD exam. Back when dinosaurs

                           roamed the earth. Made it all the way through,

                           then got dinged on the last day.

Chief Boden: What happened?

Man 1 (Trainer): Colourblind.

                            What are you gonna do? It all worked out.

Christopher Herrmann: Eh, you know what’s gonna work out on

                                         my end? Molly’s bar. This thing takes off

                                         we’re gonna brand it, franchise it. We’re

                                         gonna have Molly’s Kansas City, Molly’s

                                         Des Moines…

Gabby Dawson: Easy, tiger. Let’s get this one off the ground first.

Peter Mills: Ugh…

                    Who put dog food in here?

Kevin Hadley: [chuckles]

Peter Mills: That’s funny to you?

Kevin Hadley: Relax, mutt.

Peter Mills: What did you say to me?

All: Hey! Hey! Hey!

Peter Mills: What did you say?

Chief Boden: Hey! Hey!

Kelly Severide: Take it easy!

                           Mutt? You out of your mind?

Kevin Hadley: When I was a candidate over at 38, they put menthol

                         in my underwear. What is the…

Chief Boden: No, no, no, no, what you did was so far beyond that,

                       that if you can’t tell the difference, you are dumber

                       than you look.

Kevin Hadley: [chuckles] What…

Chief Boden: I mean this house was already under a microscope.

                       You really couldn’t put that together? You are so lucky

                       Mills is not filing an incident report. Not to mention

                       knocking your teeth out.

Kevin Hadley: Did I not apologise?

Peter Mills: You don’t talk to me. I’m serious.

Matt Casey: Everybody shut up. He’s coming in.

Man 1 (Trainer): I told my boss that the course work was complete

                           here but that a follow-up might not hurt. I did not

                           mention the infraction, because it would turn into a

                           major, major deal. I’ve seen folks lose their jobs

                           over less. And in my sense, this was an isolated

                           incident involving otherwise good people.

Chief Boden: First of all, let me say thank you. And second of all, I

                       can assure you that I will deal with all of this in-house.

Man 1 (Trainer): How exactly?

Kevin Hadley: [scoffs]

Chief Boden: Look, anybody asks, I’ll tell them you wanted a

                       change of scenery. A lot of guys like to float from

                       house to house as it is.

Kevin Hadley: You know if I had known that kissing ass was the

                         way to move up in this house, I would have brought

                         some lip balm.

Chief Boden: Good luck, Hadley.

Kevin Hadley: [scoffs]

Chief Boden: Yeah, good luck.

                                             cutscene

                                 [train in the background]

Antonio Dawson: Come on.

                                       [car door shuts]

Antonio Dawson: Why are you calling my sister?

Hank Voight: I got an ethics panel over at the IG’s here in a little bit.

                       I was looking for some character references.

Antonio Dawson: Not her. You helped me out of a jam, I don’t

                              dispute that. But if you got a favour you need

                              done, you come to me man-to-man and leave

                              her out of it.

Hank Voight: I hear you left Vice.

Antonio Dawson: What about it?

Hank Voight: Working in that Intelligence unit here in the district?

                       You got backbone, Antonio. You’ve always been an

                       aggressive cop. I respect that.

                                             cutscene

Kelly Severide: And?

Mouch: You may be asked to go back in, so… sit tight.

              I told you not to contact her.

Kelly Severide: Fine. I screwed up.

Mouch: Big time. Now they’re looking into your history.

Kelly Severide: Of?

Mouch: Other women you’ve... banged on the job.

Kelly Severide: What?

Mouch: Remember Nicki Rutkowski?

Kelly Severide: What about her?

Mouch: Her name came up. Did it end bad?

Kelly Severide: No!

                          We slept together a couple times, and she went on

                          her merry way. Ask her.

Mouch: Oh they’re going to.

Kelly Severide: Unreal.

                                          cutscene

Matt Casey: The new place is very, uh… zen.

Hallie Thomas: I’m hardly here.

                                      [liquid pouring]

Matt Casey: Thank you.

Hallie Thomas: Mm-hmm.

                          To new beginnings, I guess. Right?

Matt Casey: I like it.

                                       [glass clinking]

Matt Casey: Well, uh, this is all your stuff. Just some pictures and

                      jewellery.  

Hallie Thomas: And here’s yours. Pictures and Blackhawk

                          memorabilia.

Matt Casey: I was wondering where all that went.

                     Yes!

                                        [kissing sound]

Hallie Thomas: [chuckles] You know, I found this contract that we

                           both signed after we had that argument about

                           where to spend Christmas. Do you remember it?

Matt Casey: I do. Yeah.

Hallie Thomas: [giggles]

Matt Casey: Let’s always keep the fighting clean and the sex dirty.

                                              [laughter]

                                         [kissing sounds]

                                              cutscene

                                          [coins clinking]

Hank Voight: IG office on a Tuesday afternoon, that can’t be good.

                       Just remember, squeakiest wheel always wins around

                       here.

Kelly Severide: Looks like it.

Hank Voight: You’re Benny Severide’s kid, huh?

Kelly Severide: That’s right.

Hank Voight: Ol’ Benny…

                       [chuckles] I’ll be seeing you around.

Kelly Severide: Yeah, I don’t plan on making it out to Myrtle Beach

                           anytime soon.

Hank Voight: Well, neither do I. I just got reinstated.

                                        [door closes]

                                           cutscene

Matt Casey: Where on the job?

Kelly Severide: No, he didn’t say.

Peter Mills: God, has the world gone crazy? What the heck is going

                     on?

Kelly Severide: I know. Tell me about it.

Gabby Dawson: Well, they’ll just park him somewhere behind a

                             desk, right? Let him collect a paycheck for

                             nothing. I mean if I’m CPD, that’s what I would

                             want.

Matt Casey: That’s got nothing to do with it. It’s what Voight wants.

Gabby Dawson: [whispers] Damn it. Maybe I should have just

                            played ball with him.

Peter Mills: No, absolutely not.

Gabby Dawson: But now I’m on his enemy list?

                                       [door opens]

Peter Mills: Who’s that?

Kelly Severide: Nicki’s dad.

                                    [knocks on door]

Chief Boden: Hey! Big Al!

Al Rutkowski: Hey, Wallace.

Chief Boden: [chuckles] What brings you out?

Al Rutkowski: I guess that Severide character’s got himself in a bit

                         of a pickle, huh?

Chief Boden: How’d that get on your radar?

Al Rutkowski: Well, the girl he attacked, her lawyer contacted me.

Chief Boden: Attacked? Since when do you believe everything the

                       lawyers tell you?

Al Rutkowski: [scoffs] Yeah, well, regardless, I guess they want my

                         account of events. They’re looking to establish a

                         pattern of behaviour. And I wanted you to hear it

                         from me first out of respect for our friendship.

Chief Boden: Hear what?

                                          [door closes]

Al Rutkowski: How I came here to pick Nicki up, and I saw him

                         guiding her out of that change out room after doing

                         God knows what. How she came home in tears 

                         after being over at his apartment. How she broke

                         off her engagement with a guy I happened to like.

                         And how Nicki came in and quit her job and ran off

                         to Europe and she hasn’t been able to get her life

                         back on track since.

Chief Boden: Al, I spoke to him. Nothing happened.

Al Rutkowski: No, he was screwing around with a subordinate on

                         the job. My daughter. And shame on me for not

                         having made a bigger stink of it back then,

                         because now it looks like a girl got hurt.

Chief Boden: Al, I know you’re pissed at him, but if you, as a Chief

                       in the department, if you go forward with your beef,

                       you will sink him.

Al Rutkowski: Do you really believe that he didn’t push that girl up

                        against the wall because she didn’t want to be

                        another notch on his belt?

Chief Boden: We go way back. I’m going to vouch for Kelly

                       Severide.

Al Rutkowski: Yeah, well, like I said, I want you to hear it from me.

Chief Boden: Please don’t do this.

Al Rutkowski: I already did. They have my statement.

Chief Boden: Yeah. Nice knowing you, Al.

                                [alarm buzzing and blaring]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61, fallen person. 1610 Kedzie Street.

                                         [siren blaring]

Child 1: Hurry, I think my dad’s sick.

Gabby Dawson: What’s your dad’s name?

Child 1: Terrence. I’m Patrick.

              And that’s Buddy.

Leslie Shay: Oh.

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

                                         [snake hissing]

Victim 3 (Terrence): [groans]

Gabby Dawson: Okay, see ya.

Leslie Shay: Okay, here we go.

Gabby Dawson: What was that, a pet?

Child 1 (Patrick): What about my dad? Something’s wrong with

                              him.

Gabby Dawson: [groans] I don’t believe this!

                            Patrick, how long since that snake bit your dad?

                            Patrick?

Child 1 (Patrick): My dad says not to tell anyone about Buddy.

                             We’re not supposed to have him.

Gabby Dawson: How long, sweetie?

Child 1 (Patrick): Ten minutes?

Gabby Dawson: Okay, I’m gonna call animal control.

Leslie Shay: What kind of snake is it?

Child 1 (Patrick): Rhino Viper. He got out of his cage.

Leslie Shay: We gotta go back in there.

Gabby Dawson: Bitch, are you out of your f… Dear valued

                            colleague, I strongly disagree with your

                            suggested course…

Leslie Shay: Okay, God only knows what Rhino Viper venom does

                      to a person, okay? We can’t wait on animal control.

                      He might not even have 30 minutes.

Gabby Dawson: [groans]

Leslie Shay: Patrick, hi, um, what does your dad use to handle

                     Buddy?

Child 1 (Patrick): The hook.

Leslie Shay: The hook. Come on.

Victim 3 (Terrence): [groans]

Child 1 (Patrick): Here it is.

                                             [snake hissing]

Leslie Shay: That is a longass snake.

                      [heavy breathing]

                      Here.

Gabby Dawson: Whoa! What?

Leslie Shay: You do it. I can’t. I can’t.

Gabby Dawson: [exhales] Okay, Patrick. What do I do?

Child 1 (Patrick): Dad puts the hook under him and grabs his tail.

Gabby Dawson: Mm-hmm. Grabs his tail. Right, of course

                            [exhales]

                            Hey, Buddy.

                            [groans]

                            [snake hisses]

Gabby Dawson: Oh God! Okay.

                                           [metal rod clanging]

Gabby Dawson: [heavy breathing]

Leslie Shay: We’ve got to try again.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah.

Victim 3 (Terrence): [groans & whimpers]

Leslie Shay: Just… try again.

Gabby Dawson: [frustrated groan]

                                             [snake hissing]

Gabby Dawson: [whimpering]

                            Come on. Come on.

Leslie Shay: Yes. Yes. Yes.

                                                  [thud]

Gabby Dawson: [panting] Nightmares. I will have nightmares.

Victim 3 (Terrence): [gasping]

Gabby Dawson: Okay, let’s put him in the chair and get him out of

                            here.

Victim 3 (Terrence): [struggling to breathe]

Leslie Shay: Watch the cabinet.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s go.

Child 1 (Patrick): Is he gonna be okay?

Gabby Dawson: He’ll be okay. Hop in.

                                         [ambo door shuts]

                                                cutscene

                                              [door closes]

Kelly Severide: What’s up?

Mouch: Uh, a couple things. Internally, Tara’s not gonna be acting

              on the charges.

Kelly Severide: What do you mean internally? Are the charges

                           dropped or not?

Mouch: Well, there’s where it gets complicated.

Chief Boden: She’s been reinstated as commander of operations at

                       field division headquarters.

Kelly Severide: Promoted?

Chief Boden: IAD felt an administrative post might be a better fit for

                       her.

Kelly Severide: For a liar?

Mouch: IAD lacked the sufficient amount of confidence needed to

              disprove her claim, so they wanted to move quickly to have

              this go away.

Kelly Severide: Great! Y-You know what? Make her the… Queen of

                          England, I don’t care.

                          Are-are we done?

Mouch: No. Because of Chief Rutkowski’s rather incendiary

              statement, the IG has sustained Tara’s allegations. They’re

              kicking the case up to the State Attorney’s office.

Kelly Severide: Meaning what?

Mouch: Meaning they will review it. And if they feel there’s a case,

              they’ll file charges. Criminal charges.

Kelly Severide: [sighs]

Chief Boden: You need to get an attorney, Kelly. You need to be

                        ready.

Mouch: Listen… this is not coming from me. But it was put out

              there that if you did apologise for what she’s claiming, it

              might go a long way towards…

              [sighs]

                                               cutscene

                                          [water running]

Kelly Severide: I walked her to the door.

Leslie Shay: We’re gonna fight this. We’re gonna be all right.

Kelly Severide: I don’t trust anyone in this world other than you.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey buddy. We heard. No one can believe

                                         it. Look, we’re doing our soft opening

                                         tonight. Maybe you want to come down,

                                         tie one on, be around your friends.

Kelly Severide: I’m not up for it.

Christopher Herrmann: No. Of course. All right.

Joe Cruz: Hang in there, man.

                                               cutscene

Gabby Dawson: This is it, you guys.

Otis Zvonecek: Ready or not.

Christopher Herrmann: I got jitters, I ain’t gonna lie.

Gabby Dawson: This is probably like, the craziest, riskiest, insanest

                            thing any of us has ever done.

Otis Zvonecek: And for Herrmann, that’s saying something.

Christopher Herrmann: [chuckles]

Gabby Dawson: But if nothing else, I have had so much fun

                            spending all those days off and all the wee hours

                            building Molly’s with you guys. And I know that

                            you guys have heart because I saw it when you

                            put it in the business, and I just want you to

                            know that I consider you guys family. You’re my

                            brothers.

Christopher Herrmann: Wow. You’re beautiful. I know it’s been a

                                         tough couple of shifts for everybody. But

                                         that is why this place is gonna rock

                                         tonight. Because we’re gonna put aside

                                         our worries, and we’re just gonna have a

                                         good time.

Otis Zvonecek: Amen.

Gabby Dawson: Amen.

Christopher Herrmann: Amen.

Gabby Dawson: To Molly’s.

Christopher Herrmann: To Molly’s.

Otis Zvonecek: Does it sound like we’re saying “tamales”?

Christopher Herrmann: What? Who cares? This place is gonna

                                         rock!

Otis Zvonecek: I hope so, ‘cause I’m a little concerned about the

                           number of hits we’re getting on Facebook.

Gabby Dawson: Oh my gosh.

Otis Zvonecek: Not as much traffic as I want. Not to mention…

Christopher Herrmann: Will you please celebrate the moment, for

                                        God’s sake.

Otis Zvonecek: To Molly’s.

                                              [glass clinking]

                                                  cutscene

Peter Mills: [grunts]

                     Come on, another one.

                     All right, another one.

Kelly Severide: [grunts]

Peter Mills: Throw it out!

Kelly Severide: Unh! Unh!

Peter Mills: Come on! Come on. Come on man.

Kelly Severide: [grunts]

                          [laboured breathing]

                          [spits]

                                               cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Are you guys good?

Crowd/Customers: We’re great!

                                  All right.

                                       [chatter & laughter]

Christopher Herrmann: Who is this guy?

Joe Cruz: That’s my Uncle Zoozie!

Leslie Shay: Hey, so I cannot stop thinking about Tara being

                      promoted?

Gabby Dawson: Oh, she is a bureau bitch now. We’re never gonna

                             see her.

Leslie Shay: Oh, if I do, I’m gonna drop her. Not joking.

Joe Cruz: Good to see ya.

Hallie Thomas: Thanks.

Matt Casey: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat]

Leslie Shay: When did that happen?

Gabby Dawson: Good for them.

Leslie Shay: [sighs] Oh, yeah…

                                             [door closes]

Christopher Herrmann: [laughs]

                                         Cop walks into a bar…

                                              [chatter dies]

Hank Voight: Wow. It’s a nice place. Congratulations.

                       [chuckles] Chief.

                       [exhales] Listen, there’s…there’s been a lot of bad

                       blood between cops and firemen in this district.

                       Since we’re all gonna be working together, I want

                       to be the first to put it all behind us.

                       This round’s on me.

Gabby Dawson: So what was that about?

Antonio Dawson: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

Gabby Dawson: What?

Antonio Dawson: He was promoted to Sergeant, and he’s running

                              the Intelligence Unit.

Gabby Dawson: You’re in the Intelligence Unit.

Antonio Dawson: Don’t I know it.

Hank Voight: I want to apologise. To you both. It got way out of

                       hand. You know, as it turns out my son needed to

                       hit rock bottom. Prison has certainly provided that.

                       I just want to say I’m sorry. And I am looking forward

                       to working with you, Lieutenant.

                       [sighs]

                                                       - end -

Definitions:

Bottle Jacks – Have a capacity of up to 50 tons and may be used to lift a variety of objects

Hustler – Prostitute

IAD – Internal Affairs department

Alford plea – Guilty plea in criminal court, whereby a defendant in a criminal case does not admit to the criminal act and asserts innocence. Defendants usually enter an Alford guilty plea if they want to avoid a possible worse sentence were they to lose the case against them at trial. It affords defendants the ability to accept a plea bargain while maintaining innocence

Dyke – a ditch

Descender – The descender or “descent control device” is another important element of a bailout kit selection. They are used as friction brakes when descending a rope in a rescue situation

IG’s – Office of Inspector General (I believe)

Rhino Viper – Small doses of the snake’s primarily hemotoxic venom can be deadly. This venom attacks the circulatory system of the snake’s victim, destroying tissue and blood vessels. Internal bleeding also occurs. In only a few detailed reports of human envenomation, massive swelling, which may lead to necrosis, had been described.

[unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin]

The Cleaners Princess Kenny Omega smut

Summary: Olivia Jackson was the bullet clubs Princess, Kenny’s Princes. When she got hurt and had to put up here boots he and Kenny broke up. Now she’s back, and he and Kenny have some feelings.

Warning: Daddy kink, smut, some power kink I think, hair pulling, just generally nastiness. 

Olivia POV

3 years. It had been three years since I made a mistake in a match. Three years since I was carted out of the Tokyo dome on a stretcher. Three years since I had to retire from the sport I loved more than anything.

I couldn't get these thoughts out of my head as I drove down the road to Daileys place. I had finally gotten cleared to get back in the ring, and just in time for a huge moment on my brothers new company AEW. I turned into the parking lot of the event, and no one was out there. For a better surprise factor I was going to show up after the show already started. I found a parking spot and pulled my phone out, sending a quick text to Matt so he knew I was here.

I leaned my head forward a bit, letting it rest on the steering wheel. Was I really ready to get back in the ring? I practically jumped out of my skin when there was a knock on the window. I looked over to see Matt laughing causing me to role my eyes. I got out of the car, crossing my arms over my chest. "Really Matthew?"

"Oh calm down, it was funny." He said winking at me. "You got your bag?"

"Ya, I'm the back." I did heading around to the trunk to open it. As I pulled out my bag I looked over at Matt. "Where's my other half?"

"Fucked up his knee during our match earlier tonight. He should be fine, but we had to change the finish tonight a bit." He explained as he took my bag from me.

"You know I can carry my own shit right?" I asked as we walked to the back door.

"You sure? You couldn't back in Japan."

"That was a gimmick. You know me, living the gimmick." I joked poking his side.

"Ya, your the best at Playing entitled little sister. You kept it up even after you stopped wrestling." He said making me huff.

"That's not fair, I'm not even the youngest."

"Ya, but your the youngest of yourself, me, and Nick." He pointed out.

"Me and Nick were born the same day!"

"There was like a 5 minute difference." My head swung around to see one of my closest friends Adam page.

"What's up cowboy?" I asked crossing my arms over my chest as we stopped to talk to him.

"The sky."

"No shot Sherlock."

"Liv, watch your language." Matt mumbled shaking his head. If you went off of looks allow you would know me, Matt, and Nick were all related, but I acted so different then them. I drank about as much as Adam, and often would swear like a sailor. The only thing I had in common with them was wrestling really.

"Well I should probably get going. Got to get ready for the big night" I said winking at Adam as I turned to follow Matt down the hall.

"The Doc brought Nick back to the room before you got here, and you can get ready in here." He explained before pushing open the door. Nick is sat on the couch with his leg up, Karl was standing talking to Gallows, but Gallows wasn't looking at me. I smiled and put my finger up to my lips, telling Nick and Karl to stay quiet. Nick chuckled, and shook his head.

"Hey Matt." Karl said, clearly trying not to laugh as I snuck up behind him. I ran a few steps and jumped onto his back.

"GALLOWS!" I yelled as my arms wrapped around his shoulders and my legs around his waist. He surged forward in surprised, his arms flying out to steady him.

"Olivia!" He said surprised as he looked at me over his shoulder. I smiled at him giggling.

"Hi." He just chuckled at me and grabbed under my knees and hoisted me up so it was more of a piggyback.

"Sometimes I wonder how your related to those to." Karl said laughing.

"I still don't think she is." Matt said rolling his eyes. I simply smiled as I jumped down from Gallows back (witch is pretty far), landing with a slight thud.

"Well, I've seen almost everyone. Where's Kenny?" I asked looking around the room, and I could feel the mood shift to uncomfortableness. I rolled my eyes at their nervousness. Me and Kenny has been dating back in Japan, I had even been known as 'The Cleaners Princess'. When I got hurt we tried the long distance, but it simply didn't work out. We split up, but we never hated each other. I still saw him when he came to see Matt and Nick in California.

"Really guys? It's been more then 2 years. Besides, I'll have to see him regularly if I'm going to be working with you again." I reminded them.

"We know. He will show up with Don at some point, it's normal to have him show up late." Nick explained as I nodded.

"Ok. I'm gonna go get changed, do my makeup, all that good shit." I said walking over to the bathroom they had. Once inside I locked the door and pulled my sweatshirt off. I did the same with my shirt and bra, but paused as I looked in the mirror. I had a couple nasty scars on my body from surgeries over the years.

My fingers traced over the small tattoo on my side. 'Livin the dream' was written in small black letters. Most of it was covered by even ring gear, so no one else knew it was there. Except of course Kenny. A dare one night after I drank a considerable amount, also the night me and Kenny got together.

I pulled myself away from the thought as I reached into my bag grabbing another bra, and my crop top version of a young Bucks tee shirt. I pulled my sweat pants I had worn here off, and pulled the ripped jeans on. The fans had always called my crazy Jackson, witch matched that I was always the 'wild child'. I then pulled out my old leather jacket. It was cold and smooth, just like the last time I put it on. I had never dared to where it out of wrestling. On the back the word 'Princess' was spelt out in light pink letters that had a look of being attached badly. I loved it. It's Time to put on a show.

—————————————————

"What's the drunkest thing you've ever done?" Kenny asked both of us sitting on the couch in his room after drinks with the guys.

"Honestly? Probably my tattoo." I answered.

"Tattoo?"

"Ya, don't you remember? On my side. I got it the night we got together." I said pointing to my left side.

"I'm gonna be honest I only remember certain parts of it." He confused taking a sip of water.

"So, how as Kenny Omega been? Nice to see the cleaner back." I said shifting a bit and pishimg at the lose hair that had come out of the ponytail.

"Why does everyone keep saying the cleaners 'back'?! I've always been him!"

"Probably just waiting for the mean ruthless Kenny. I mean, you were the guy who would do what it took to win, and you did that against Mox." I shrugged.

"I guess really that the cleaner kinda died off when you left." He admitted. "I mean, I had put a lot of time in making us the 'power couple' of the wrestling world."

"Lest be honest, we were the hottest couple. Plus I bet people are already wondering on twitter." I said pulling my phone out to open twitter. I had about a million notifications and as I clicked through them until I found one that stopped me. It read: Kenny's princess is back!! I bet she's calling his daddy tonight 😉

I felt a blush creep up my neck, and practically jumped when I felt Kenny's breath on my neck. "Well look at that. You were right." I'm sure it could look like he was just reading the tweet for the hell of it, but I could hear the change in his voice. I get his hands on my waist as he turned me towards him, our faces inches apart.

"I don't think I told you how much I've missed seeing you in the ring." He whispered, thumbs rubbing at my sides. "Did you miss me?"

"Depends on the part." I whispered, my hand moving up to his hair, and I gripped it lightly. "I missed playing with your long hair," I let my hands move along his arms to his fingers, "I've missed your muscle, and these fingers." I mumbled running my hand on them. "And I've course this." I whispered as o reached down and palmed his dick, and I could feel it was rock hard.

He groaned out and pulled me into a rough kiss that had our teeth clashing together. We continued to make out as my hands went back to his hair, pulling lightly now and again. When he finally pulled away we were both breathing heavily. "You know your a teas right?"

"What do you mean?" I asked turning my head in confusion.

"This damn jacket. Last I checked you were The Cleaners Princess anymore." He whispered in his rough voice. He leaned forward a bit to nip at my neck.

"Maybe I miss being your princess."

"Well, I may just have some great news, there is an audition for that exact spot." He whispered pulling jacket from my shoulders slowly.

"What do I have to do?"

'Make the king feel good." I knew immediately what that meant, and slid from the couch to the ground letting out a small sound of pain when I hit the ground. "Careful babe. You will be making those sounds a bit later."

I reached forward and undid his pants and with his help pulled his jeans and boxers. His length stood tall and hard in front of me, the head an angry red. I looked up at him as he gave me a nod and I reached forward. As my hand wrapped around he moaned out. I ran my hand up and down it a bit before Kenny grabbed me by the hair. You better get sucking baby."

He lead me with my hair as my mouth wrapped around his tip. I recognized the taste, witch caused me to moan out, making him moan from the feeling. He lead me up and down for a bit, and I could feel him trying not to thrust up. "Fuck it." He mumbled pulling me off him and yanking me to his lap. He reached up and didn't even Try taking my shirt and bra off before he just ripped it. "Get your god damn pants off." He growled into my ear. I stood up quickly pulling them off, and when I looked back Kenny was waiting.

I crawled back into his lap, making him hold my hips. "Rode me slut." He whispered, making me shudder. He hadn't prepared me at all, so as I snuck down I could tell I was tight, but clearly didn't care. Once I bottomed out is at for a moment, trying to catch my breath. He leans forward his breath on my ear. "Bounce bitch."

Immediate I started riding him like I would die if I stoped. "Fuck, Kenny!" I moaned as I bounced. I get his mouth take one of my buds into his mouth as he sucked harshly.

"Let's use the right name. You've done this before." He said sternly. I could feel my climax coming, and knew he wouldn't let me off that easy.

"Fuck Daddy! I'm so close please!" I moaned as I tried to keep up my pace, slamming down on his Enyo match his thrust.

"Fuck do it princess." He encouraged making me shudder as I came. My body practically going limp. He pushed me forward off of his lap to the ground and positioned his dock in my face as he started to jerk off. I watched as he got closer, and stuck out my tongue as he came all over my face. Neither of us moved for a moment before Kenny pulled my back up, my legs shaking as I got up. He reached over and grabbed some blanket and used it to wipe us both off.

"House keeping is going to hate you." I mumbled my eyes already feeling heavy.

"I think I'll survive." He said pulling me closer. Did this mean we still liked each other? I pushed the thought away, just wanting Kenny to hold me as I slept.

AN: I really liked writing this and though about make a full series about it. Would any read it if I did?

[thr-333]

Just Another Class Trip :)

Part 7

Siblings fight thats just part of the deal, nothing out of the ordinary here.

First< Previous >Next

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

“You’re sure you’re alright Pollen?” Marinette asks, leaping across the city hoping to catch hide or hair of the miraculous.

“Yes my queen,” The bee Kwami answers, nursing an entire jar of honey Marinette had given her as an apology, “I’m only sorry I can’t tell you anything more,”

“It’s alright,” Marinette sighs, it really wasn't but that was hardly Pollen’s fault, “I know the miraculous are out there, I just need to find them… before we get another Hawkmoth,”

“It’s alright Marinette,” Tikki squeaks, she and Kaalki had yet to leave Pollen’s side, “Hawkmoth had years to rise to power,”

“Yes but Paris wasn't already full of supervillains,” speaking of, “Hide,”

The Kwami’s dart into the many pockets of her outfit. Marinette tries not to betray she knows she is being followed. She doesn't have time to avoid the Batman tonight. However, it doesn't seem it’s just him she needs to worry about, there more people on her trail. Apparently he had learned his mistake from trying to corner her last time, she wished he hadn’t.

She lets them believe she is stopping to stretch for a minute, getting them to lower their guard. Just as they should be content she’s staying put she jumps down to the wall below, sprinting along the narrow surface with speed a little above human. There are few ways to follow her now, Robin lands behind her on the wall, keeping pace with almost the same accuracy. He isn’t the only one, there's someone on the rooftops above her, she can hear the mechanics of a grappling hook.

She jumps from the brick wall to a mesh metal one surrounding a construction site. This one’s hard for even her to balance and the emptiness should force their other friend down. It works, but unfortunately, they were already ahead of her and Nightwing drops down in her path. As if she’s going to run straight to him. She makes a jump to the nearest digger, landing on its arm, slipping down the metal a bit, her boots really aren’t suited for this.

Her pursuers need to use grappling hooks to make up the gap she jumped, giving her enough time to slide down the arm of the digger, the roof giving her a good surface to jump to the next machine. Nightwing lands next to her as she races along the bucket of a dump truck. She jumps down into the empty basket, the metallic clang ringing out in the quiet night.

Predictably, they follow her down, blocking the exit. Lucky for her she is able to jump high enough to land back on the roof with a little flip. Without bothering to look back at their reaction she jumps to the next highest point which happens to be a cement tube being suspended by a crane.

She runs along the inside, the structure swinging a bit at the movement. Her curse echos through the tube as Robin jumps in, blocking her exit. Turning around Nightwing is on the other side, both closing in. Robin is closer, approaching with a sword so she does the only sane thing, ducking below it to punch him. He jumps back, landing the force of it has the tube swinging more, sending them all off balance for a second. Marinette uses the distraction to bring out her staff, meeting Nightwing’s weapon head-on. There's strength behind it but not more than she can bear, using the movement of the tube to force him back a step or two.

She doesn't’ have long to spend on Nightwing as Robin attacks her back. She moves the staff to meet the katana facing away from him. Nightwing doesn't immediately attack her so she pivots around to meet Robins's next swing. She paries with her staff, noticing there is less strength behind it as he expected that. Playing off his expectations the next swing she pretends to parry, using her wrists to change the direction of the staff at the last moment she lets the sword graze her shoulder, it cuts into her a little more as the tubes swing forces her to step into it. She lets the staff go the force of it hitting Robin's side, she uses the precious second to twist his hand holding the Katana. Using a pressure point Master fu had been taught by the guardians, she needs some Ladybug strength to make it work through the glove but he releases it with a hiss.

Catching the Katana she spins around to brandish it against Nightwing, having expected him to make his move already. Instead, he raises his hands, which are still holding his weapons.

“We didn’t come here to fight,” He explains when Starling doesn't lower the weapon.

“Oh, you did a fine job of that didn’t you?” She scoffs, half turning to face them both, having to shift to keep balance in the rocking tube, not at all happy with their brief fight. Robin is on her other side, now holding her staff in a mirror of her with his Katana, “So what do you want?"

“You’re looking for a jewelry box right?” Nightwing asks, how did they know about the miracle box? Did they know what it was? Had they figured it out from the pool?

“What’s it to you?”

“We were just going to offer our help,” He says kindly, but Marinette had met far too many people(or just one person) who used a kind tone falsely, it brings her guard up more. Then again she desperately needed their help, if they knew what she was actually looking for or not. If worse came to worse she supposed she could transform into Ladybug, or with another miraculous and pretend that was why she was in Gotham in the first place.

“What do you know about it?” She demands, had they seen other miraculous already?

“First you tell us why it’s so important,” Robin snaps, growling slightly as she threatens him with his own sword. Nightwing gives him a pointed look, silence hanging as the tube swung back and forth lightly.

He made it seem like he didn’t know, but it could be a trap to see how much she knew. Or they really didn’t have the information and were trying to get it out of her. She could say Marinette asked her to find it, but that would risk both identities and possibly even reveal her as Ladybug. Marinette had once received the miraculous, maybe she could pretend Ladybug had handed her the box for safekeeping while on a special mission. It wasn't something Ladybug would actually do but she had never talked with the Justice League so they wouldn’t know that. Could she pass herself off as being three different miraculous holders? Depends on how fast she can find the fox miraculous. In the meantime.

“A girl had it stolen, I bumped into her and she asked me to look for it, that's all,” Starling shrugs, relaxing her pose, lowering the sword some.

“Why?” Robin demands, even as Nightwing seemed to accept the answer.

“It’s a nice thing to do?” Starling posed it more as a question, forcing herself to drop out of the defensive pose, “Speaking of nice things to do, I give you back the Katana and you give me back my staff?”

Robin scowls but accepts the exchange. Starling holds her weapon loosely at her side.

“So what’s the plan, you got any leads?” She looks at Nightwing, eyes narrowing in annoyance, “Cause your boss kind of chased off my only one,”

“Sorry about that,” Nightwing rubs the back of his neck, “You know, just random person threatening a civilian and all that,”

“Yeah sure,” She gives him a flat look, “So do you have any leads or not?”

“Follow me,” He turns, leading the way out of the tube, Starling hesitates to face her back to Robin but ultimately follows him out. It’s easy enough to keep pace until they come to a much too high building.

“Yeah, there's no way I can make that,” She looks down at the gap for the street, then the good thirty feet of height the next building over had on them.

“Hold on then,” Nightwing grins at her, holding a hand out, “You alright with this?”

“As long as you don’t let me splat on the road we should get along just fine,” Nightwing gives her a dazzling smile, she still holds on tight as they are pulled up to the roof by the grappling hook.

On the roof, the first person she spots is Batman, which is quite the feat with the bright colors of Red Robin's suit right next to him. Batman just gives her a nod as they land, she raises a brow at that, um, no?

“I’m surprised that wasn't all a plot to get rid of me,” She lets the bitterness into her voice, who throws knives at people before asking what they’re doing?! “What's that on the pavement? Oh not to worry it’s just Starling! Oh, I’m sure Batman had nothing to do with it, look no tacky knives around! That serves more purpose as a collector's item than an actual weapon by the way,”

Batman looks at her with as much shock as the stoic can muster, while Red Robin next to him tries to turn his snort into a cough.

“So you go by Starling then?” he says gruffly and that cannot be his real voice.

“Well I had hoped I said it loud enough the other day for you to catch but I guess your hearing is as bad as your eyesight, how quickly did you lose me in that crowd again?”

“You’re upset,”

“You’re very astute for the, what was it?” She looks at Robin for dramatic effect, “World's greatest detective, was it? Yeah…. Rrrriiiight,”

There must be something going around since both Red Robin and Nightwing seem to be coughing an awful lot, the sound suspiciously close to a laugh.

“So, since you ruined my only lead I hope you have something to make up for it,” She switches back to business before Batman can regain his bearings enough to retaliate.

“We haven't seen any report filed so we were thinking you could give us a description-”

“That's the thing,” Starling cuts Red Robin off, she could tell where this was going and did not have time for it, “How did you even hear about this if no report has been filed? I’m starting to get the feeling you're just doing this just because of me,”

“... well-”

“Worry not then, rest assured I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I fulfill my promise,” She gives a quick bow, and yeah she can see why Chat finds this fun, "Trust me I have no desire to stick around longer than that after this welcome,"

“We can’t just let a meta-human run around my city-”

“First of all,” Was cutting off the Batman a good idea? No, but that wasn't going to stop her? No, “You really can’t do anything to stop me, legally and morally, despite you thinking it’s your city you’re still as much an illegal vigilante as I am, quite frankly you don’t have the authority to kick me out,”

“Second, a meta-human? Yeah not quite, and no I will not clarify,” She stares him down, “If your problem is with me being a meta-human there are a lot more vigilantes than me running around with powers that you let fly, not that is should really matter anyway,”

“Third, you don’t care about this,” well if they didn’t know about the miraculous the didn't, “I know your wheelhouse and petty theft isn’t on your radar, so why don’t you let me do my job in peace and I’ll leave you to yours,”

She looks them all over, sparing a second to take note of their shock, before turning on her heel. It’s then she realizes they are really high up and she has no way to get down. Well, might as well make his meta-human theory harder.

“Hey, they didn’t know anything,” She says, bringing her hand up to her ear, pretending to press a communicator, “Pick me up will you?”

She waits a second so they think she’ll be staying awhile, then jumps off the ledge. She calls on Kaalki quickly, hoping to transform quickly enough they don’t notice her costume change before she disappears into a portal, landing in her hotel room.

“You know I’m starting to think I should stop pissing them off,” Marinette says out loud, dropping the transformation.

“You think? Are you going to transform every time you meet them,” Kaalki scoffs, but is handed a sugar cube before they can complain too much.

“It wasn't the best approach,” Tikki says gently, flying out of her cape.

“I know,” Marinette pulls off her mask, “But the less time I spend around them the better, I just need to find the miraculous quickly before they realize,”

“If they haven't already,” Pollen says solemnly, settling in on the bed.

“Well the best I can hope if they don’t think I know anything and know just as much themselves,” Marinette flops down onto the bed with the Kwamis, “And that they stay out of my way from now on, hopefully, the rest of the trip runs smoothly enough I can keep slipping off to look for the miraculous,”

Her Kwamis accept this, curling close she starts to drift off, before a horrible realisation strikes;

"I'm getting blood on the bed!"

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

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[shootybangbang]

[Talking Bird] 17: In which beans are ruined

[Ao3 Link]

At the mention of Trelawney, Arthur dimly recalls a scrap of half-remembered conversation from last year, when he’d idled with the man in a Lemoyne saloon while waiting for a mark to arrive. The first flicker of your existence, passing him by unknown. Like the brief touch of a licked finger through candle flame: deceptively benign, with just a whisper of the burn to follow.

Somewhere between his first and second glass of whiskey sours, Trelawney had mentioned the burgeoning demand for opium in Chinatown. A former contact of his had recently left the high stakes poker circuit to get in on the profit, and he’d lamented the loss.

“It’s a shame,” he’d said, absently swirling the ice cubes in his emptied glass and regarding the swirling wood grain of the countertop with a pensive, faraway look. And for once, the sentiment had sounded genuine. Knowing him, the man was grieving a lost business opportunity more than anything else, but it’d been a long time since Arthur had heard him even bother to feign emotion for a stranger. “She’s not suited for smuggling in the least. Can’t say I can see this ending well.”

Less Trelawney’s gift for prophecy and more stating the obvious, now that he knows exactly who he’d been talking about. Prickly disposition, clueless when it comes to violence, and far too trusting of strangers. The cavalier attitude of someone who’d never been exposed to serious conflict and who, having since been exposed, lacks even the conviction necessary to put a bullet in the man holding her hostage.

And far too delicate besides.

When you’d pulled the blanket down your shoulders to untie your braid, Arthur had tilted his head back just enough to catch an eyeful of your backside. A pretty thing to put to paper: the wet swathe of hair draped over your shoulder, the faint shadow of your spine a dark curve flickering with the shifting of firelight. Soft, dappled lines wrapped in the body of someone who’s caused him nothing but grief in the past weeks.

The view had confirmed something he’d already been suspecting: your lack of threat to anything larger than a rat terrier.

Judging by your physique, you’d probably struggle to lift anything more than fifteen pounds. Maybe twenty, on a good day. A veritably pathetic amount of muscle tone with none of the etchings that rough living leaves behind.

Some foreign high society girl fallen on hard times, he guessed. But oddly, none of the clumsy caution people of that strata have when confronted with any sort of real work. You’d fallen into the rhythm of whittling bark off the cottonwood branches too comfortably for someone unacquainted with physical labor, handled the knife with a deftness that comes only from rote repetition.

“I knew Trelawney had connections to some gang out west, but I never thought…” You shake your head slowly, dazed by the absurdity of this new development. “Did he know? When I sold them those bonds, did he realize they were yours? And why—”

“Nah, he wouldn’t have known. I, uh… wasn’t too keen on tellin’ folk I got robbed by a woman.” He rubs the back of his neck and lets out an embarrassed huff. “Told ‘em the whole thing was a bust.”

Looking back, he may as well have told them the truth. The lie hadn’t done much to salvage his pride, and had prompted weeks of jibes at his own expense. Snide little asides from Micah, overt ridicule from Bill, and the painful ordeal of Sean.

“Gettin’ sloppy in your old age,” he’d quipped. “I’ll tell you what you need, Morgan. You need to let someone else hold the reins for a change. Someone quick on the uptake, someone young and hot-blooded and—”

“Get back to me when you’re done complimentin’ yourself,” Arthur had replied, already walking away.

“Wait, Morgan — take me with you next time you ride out! I’ll scout somethin’ out, and we can…”

Sean had been insistent as a mosquito and twice as annoying, but ultimately bearable so long as he had a beer in his hand or a pillow over his head. His own head, though he’d been sorely tempted otherwise.

No, what had really driven him to leave camp had been Dutch.

Dutch and his put-upon fatherly air, all stern mouthed disapproval and downward sloping shoulders. His pointed observations of Jack’s tattered jacket, well on its way to becoming a patchwork Ship of Theseus. Pearson’s dwindling supply of seasonings, so scarce that the stews have become bland to the point of near inedibility. The stocks of medicine running low, bandages boiled so many times that their fibers have since frayed to a cobwebbed consistency.

“I know you’re doing your best, son,” Dutch had sighed, casting a weary eye over his threadbare kingdom. “God knows you’re the only man I can depend on to get anything done around here. But folks are… well. Folks are struggling.”

Arthur’s eyes had slid momentarily towards Dutch’s tent, resting on the golden gleam of the gramophone and the crisp cotton sheets laid across the bed. An unbroken sea of white, with not a stitch out of place. And not twenty feet away, Hosea’s shabby lean-to, the older man’s bedroll bearing the same disjointed array of colors as the rest of the camp’s accoutrements.

Dutch always did have a taste for the finer things in life. A level of refinement proportionate to the depth of his ambition, which in earlier days had been tempered by kinder, simpler ideals. Feed those that need feeding. Shoot those that need shooting. Robin Hood-esque, with a western (and occasionally lethal) twist. Evelyn Miller had been a fixture even then, but in those halcyon years Dutch had not yet twisted the author’s words to the tottering worldview that he’s since constructed.

The gang’s nascent success had bred standards and attracted new followers. A ragtag flock all too eager to nourish their leader’s growing, malignant appetite for grandeur.

“Just one last score, and we’ll be clear of all this… this manmade rot.” Dutch said, gesturing in the direction of Blackwater. “But for now, we’ve got to play their game. Get our hands dirty for the time being so we can wash ourselves clean of all this when we’ve finally got the means.”

Arthur had departed under the pretense of retrieving the missing bonds (impossible) or locating some cache of similar value (near impossible), but in truth he’d done so primarily for the preservation of his own sanity. More and more these days, he’s been seeing cracks in the foundation of the man who’d given him this life, dragged him out of the gutter and set him with a previously unwavering sense of purpose. And it feels treacherous — traitorous, even — to take any of it into question.

But as always, the open road and the unabiding sky of the prairie settled him into a different mindset altogether. The cycles of flora and fauna in untouched wilderness exist completely separate from the artifices of men, with the legacies of countless tiny lives encapsulated in the fine grit of the dust to which all things return. And in that certainty comes an overwhelming comfort. Everything else seems trifling in the wake of the vast perpetuity of nature.

A few days spent wandering would do him good, he’d decided. Spend some time away from all the trappings of civilization, then rob some poor sap on the side of the road so as not to return empty-handed.

And then you’d ruined his plans entirely by literally walking into him as he’d been passing through Strawberry.

“Well,” you say, offering up a small, nervous smile. “What now?”

What now, indeed. Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “Guess we take a visit to Trelawney’s,” he replies, already dreading the inevitable embarrassment of explaining the whole sorry situation to the man. “And if it turns out you’re tellin’ the truth, I’ll give you a ride from Rhodes to St Denis.”

You frown and furrow your brow. “Rhodes?”

“Yeah, Rhodes. Trelawney’s got a caravan there on the outskirts of town. You didn’t know?”

“You can’t take me to Rhodes,” you say automatically, as if stating the obvious. “I mean… look at me.”

“You’re a woman?” he asks stupidly.

“I’m an Oriental, you moron. And Rhodes is a fucking… it’s a fucking Raider town.”

“You’d be with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

You shake your head and set your mouth into a grim, flat line. “That’s worse. They might think we’re together. And they don’t take kindly to miscegenation.”

Your words have to them the quality of a veil being drawn back, exposing a corner of this country’s ugliness he’s not often been privy to. A familiar knot of guilt tugs at his innards, accompanied by the unpleasant, impotent sensation that surfaces each time he catches the ungracious stares of the crowd when walking into town with Tilly by his side. Each time he hears the practiced courtesy in a shopkeep’s voice drop away when the man turns away from him to address Charles. Each time he watches Lenny reread for the thousandth time the letter from his dead father, the creases in its paper worn so deep that it would have long since fallen apart were it not for the boy’s careful, reverent handling.

“You know those big plantation houses just south of Rhodes? They hire Chinese sometimes to work the fields. Cheaper than sharecropping, apparently.” The look on your face is drawn and bitter. The bite in your voice suggests something personal, the sting of an injury not yet healed. “One of the boys got involved with a white housemaid. He’d saved up for train tickets to Philadelphia, and they were… he was going to marry her there. Wanted an August wedding. The number eight’s lucky for us, you see. So August 8th, 1898… he thought it was all very romantic. Used to make this stupid joke that he wished he’d met her ten years earlier. Raiders strung him up in an oak tree a couple weeks before they were set to leave.”

Arthur’s tongue lies silent and heavy in his mouth.

You take in a deep breath that rattles with the failing determination of someone struggling not to break their composure, then look to him with a desperation so absolute that it seems almost indecent to witness. “Why don’t you just leave me here? Keep me tied up if you have to. Come back for me when you’re done with Trelawney.”

In the short span of time that he’s known you, you’ve made enough of an impression to warrant several conclusive classifications. A haughty, pampered little thing. An ineffective liar. A self-destructive fool — but not stupid. Definitely not stupid.

The sheer idiocy of your suggestion indicates a fear so deep that it’s completely severed you from your senses. Just a frightened little bird caught in a trap, scratching and clawing for the narrowest possible opening for escape.

“You’re tellin’ me to tie up a woman and leave her in the middle of nowhere? May as well just hand-deliver you to the wolves. No,” he says firmly, trying to shake off the unwanted pang of sympathy. Dutch had been right about one thing — the gang did need money, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this opportunity for it slip away out of misguided compassion for a woman who’d literally robbed him as he’d bled out. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Soon as we near Rhodes, I’ll tie you to Boadicea the same way I did when we left Strawberry.”

You blink and utter a disbelieving, “Excuse me, what?”

“Reckon they’ll treat us both a hell of a lot nicer if they think you’re a bounty. Gives me plenty excuse for keepin’ you in one piece, too.”

Your face ventures on a quick journey through the five stages of grief. The grief in question being for the loss of your dignity. The blank look shifts to a glare. You open your mouth to spit out something no doubt acerbic and very rude, but a flash of uncertainty crosses your face and you quickly bite your tongue. Then you lower your head and squeeze your eyes shut. When you finally open them again, there is a defeated resignation in them that attests to a lost mental argument.

“You better ride slow if you don’t want a repeat of this morning,” you say wearily.

Arthur shrugs. “Can’t throw up if you got nothin’ in your stomach. We’ll just skip feeding you breakfast tomorrow.”

To his relief, the atmosphere lightens to blessed, familiar hostility. You tell him to go fuck himself. That you’ll literally fight him for the apples you know he has tucked away in his saddlebags. That maybe you’ll throw up anyway purely out of spite. That he’s a miserable piece of shit who you wish—

A sudden flash of lightning illuminates the outcrop for a fraction of a second, painting everything beneath it into harsh shades of white and black. It strikes as sudden and violent as a fiery whip crack, leaving behind it the bittersweet scent of burnt grass and a curl of grey smoke like a departing ghost. Its near-simultaneous clap of thunder drowns out your last sentence with an ear splitting boom so encompassing that the vibration of it seems to rattle down to the bone. The silence that follows has in it the anticipatory hush of the void prior to Genesis. You shatter it with a quiet but appropriately placed, “Jesus Christ.”

The land outside is hedged low in the horizon, and the vastness of its sky swallows all else. It crowns as its dominating feature the movement of its anvil-shaped clouds. They shift leaden and portentous, translucent bellied and lit up by the jagged tongues of lightning darting throughout quick and sporadic as pale dragonflies. Roiling violet like the murky blood of some vast organism, pulsing membranous over the prairie with a fury of near biblical proportions. And below, the buttes with their strange eroded shapes like scattered islands in a black sea of grass. In the torrential dark, their silhouettes flash ivory with every strike of lightning only to sink back into the hushed umbra of night.

There is a muted look of awe on your face, as if witnessing for the first time the true scale of a storm. Something that before now had been glimpsed only through the gaps between high-shuttered buildings. Tempests caught in concrete snares and, not unlike the men that build them, diminished until they are but a feeble whisper of their former selves.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur. “I never knew rain could be like this.”

With a jolt of displeasure, he finds that the soft expression on your face renders you unexpectedly pretty in the fire’s flickering light, the amber reflection of it bright as copper in your eyes. A gentle chiaroscuro, the smooth line of your cheek and shadowed hollow of your throat the anchor points to which his eye is drawn.

You shuffle a little closer to the outlook’s rain-veiled edge. The roughspun blanket, still drawn tightly around your shoulders, shifts. Arthur quickly averts his eyes, but even so is met with a sliver of bare skin that runs neck to navel. The subtle outline of a breast, the mild fishbone curve of a rib.

And all at once he’s unbearably, disastrously hard, filled with a painful but directionless longing — not just for intimacy, but for the simple reassurance of another body pressed close, skin to skin and breath to breath. A kind of tenderness he’s been deprived of for so long that the memory of it brings not warmth but the brittle cold of hoarfrost. Absence like a thick pane of ice, the things he’s lost visible just underneath.

From the periphery of his line of sight, you’re but an indistinct blur in the vague shape of a woman. How appropriate then, that you should be the focus of this formless arousal. And how infuriatingly pathetic. He hadn’t lied when he’d said you weren’t his type, and yet here he is, his cock stiffer than it’s been in months at just the suggestion of a woman’s naked body.

In desperate search of both distraction and something to obscure himself with, Arthur pulls back the front flap of his satchel and fishes out your blue notebook. He glances briefly in your direction, already anticipating your angry shout of indignation — but you’re far too occupied with watching the progression of the storm to so much as glance in his direction.

The notebook’s contents are far more legible than he’d initially assumed. Most of the foreign characters seem to be either names or places, which makes it possible for him to pick out the main thread of most sentences.

Its first half consists of what looks like a ledger. Neatly organized columns with foreign characters and numbers that he hasn’t the slightest idea how to parse. When he flips past it, a slip of paper scrawled with the same strange, flowing text flutters from the pages and alights delicately into his lap. Arthur picks it up, and as he examines it, it occurs to him that he has no idea how to orient it.

Prior to this, he’d only ever seen Chinese characters painted on the roadside food stalls accompanying railroad workers on their long trek westwards. A strange, complex syllabary. He’d once read somewhere that each word of the language had its own unique character. A sort of pictograph that, when studied, relays its meaning to those who knew how to read it.

He scrutinizes the slip of paper in his hand, but finds himself unable to pick out even the vaguest of resemblances. The corner of the paper bears a square seal of red ink, inset with an intricate consortium of straight lines. Curiosity spent for the moment, Arthur slots the document back in place.

The rest of the notebook looks to be an odd mixture of field observations and long, ornate paragraphs about various landscapes. A few pressed wildflowers, field observations of city flora and fauna, crudely drawn animals reminiscent of the scattered petroglyphs he’s found carved in long-abandoned settlements. An earmarked passage describing the wetlands bordering St Denis, full of strikethroughs and hastily added phrases squeezed into the margins. Another describing what sounds like Cotorra Springs.

“The amber fields are dotted with sprigs of larkspurs and wild flax like blue-violet stars,” Arthur reads aloud.

You turn to face him so quickly that your wet hair arcs through the air like an ink-stained brush, scattering water droplets that sizzle and hiss when they fall into the fire. Wild-eyed as a spooked horse, but frozen into a horrified silence as he licks his finger and traces the rest of the line across the page, continuing, “And even further north, viridian-blue pools from which rise plumes of white smoke, the water still and clear as glass. Hills of black obsidian —”

You scramble towards him and, while clutching the blanket around your shoulders shut with one hand, slap the notebook out of his grip with the other. It lands perilously close to the fire, but you snatch it up without giving a second thought to the nearness of the flames.

“That’s private,” you hiss, hugging the notebook to your chest the way one might accidentally smother an infant.

“Thought it was fair turnaround, seein’ as you never extended that same courtesy to me,” he retorts.

The memory of that miserable morning after surfaces in him like a bloated corpse too persistent to stay hidden. His billfold emptied, ill-gotten gains vanished, and his journal speckled with smeared, bloodied thumbprints from beginning to end. Above a sketch of a mountain wildflower he’d drawn a question mark next to, the word “crocus ?” written in an angular, jagged scrawl.

“Yeah, because I thought you were going to die!” you argue back. “Figured you probably had your next of kin listed somewhere in there!”

Next of kin. The phrase pierces through like a stitch popped out of place, and Arthur nearly flinches. It’s an unintentional blow on your part, but nevertheless he deflects the only way he knows how. When bitten, bite back.

“Oh that’s real charitable, comin’ from the dope-peddler,” he jeers. “You save this compassion for everyone you fuck over, or just me?”

A clear and unguarded expression of hurt crosses your features. The same you’d worn when he’d had to pry his shotgun out of your hands. Forlorn, helpless as a wounded prey animal. But it passes quickly into a cold disdain, your head raised high again and your eyes hard as flint.

“Do you know,” you say quietly, lip curling with contempt. “I seriously considered cutting your throat when I finally realized who you were. I should have.”

Then you blink, forehead wrinkling as you sniff at the air. You glance at the fire, where his forgotten can of beans is beginning to burn.

Arthur curses. He hastily swipes one of his discarded riding gloves from the grass and pulls it on, then grabs the can and blows on its contents, fanning away its delicate wisp of black smoke.

You retreat to the far inner corner of the outcrop and frantically page through the notebook until you find the red-sealed paper sheafed inside. With a sigh of relief, you slump against the rough granite wall, the tense set of your shoulders loosening as though some secret string stretched taut through the frame of your body had suddenly been cut loose.

A sullen silence permeates the shelter, punctuated only by the grating scratch of metal as he scrapes burnt food off the edges of the can with a spoon.

“You forgot to mention that the whole place smells like shit,” Arthur says finally. He keeps his eyes on the can, attention focused squarely on the arduous task of excavating beans.

“What?”

“Cotorra Springs. Smells like week-old shit. Especially around the pools.”

The rustle of blankets. From the corner of his eye, he watches you tentatively scoot closer. “You’ve been there?” you ask. Your voice is still deeply reproachful, but touched with genuine curiosity.

“You haven’t?”

“No. I’ve just seen pictures. And notes from people who have.”

“Huh,” he says. He scrapes another carbonized mouthful from the can. “Could’ve fooled me, the way you wrote about it.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You think so?”

“Sure.

The corner of your mouth quirks upwards in a reluctant smile that unfolds like the breaking light of a clouded dawn. “Well, that’s… that’s good to know.”

“You writin’ a book or something?” he asks.

“That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” The smile wilts slightly, and you drop your gaze down to the notebook on your lap. “No. Just a favor for an old friend’s husband. The man fancies himself an explorer, but can barely string a sentence together. He’s paying me to pretty up his notes for him. Half of which I think are made up. There’s some bullshit in there about an enormous rainbow colored pond full of boiling water.”

Arthur laughs. “Naw, that bit’s true. I’ve seen it. It’s a hell of a thing.”

You seem skeptical. He doesn’t blame you. Even after having walked the rust-banded edge of that craterous spring himself, his memory of it still carries with it the preternatural awe of a place half-dreamed. He tells you about the slow gradation of color leading inwards from the rim. Ochre to cadmium, to turquoise, to a deep cerulean with the unreal brilliance of a painted ocean. Steam hanging like a pungent fog. Entire stretches of ground covered in a thick, boiling mud, bubbling ominous as something out of Dante’s Inferno. A constant gurgling of earth and water, as if he were treading upon some living thing in the midst of an infernal digestion.

Halfway through his description, you flip the notebook to a clean page and ask him for a pencil, then begin scribbling down his words with an unceasing, determined hand. This bemuses him. That anyone might find his drivel meaningful enough to commit to paper is a new experience altogether. It’s an odd feeling, but not at all an unpleasant one.

That is, until you begin peppering his narrative with so many questions that it takes the better part of an hour to accommodate them.

What kind of plants grew there?

“Bunch of disgusting slippery shit around the edge. Algae or something. Other than that, can’t think of a single thing that’d lay roots in boiling water and sulfur.”

Did the mud boil like roiling water, or was it more the viscosity of a slow simmering stew?

“More like wet cement, really.”

Were there animals?

“No. Nothing there for ‘em.”

Birds?

“Didn’t see any.”

Insects?

“A shit ton of gnats, but not much else.”

How wide were the prismatic bands around the crater? What was the geology like? Did the surrounding forest taper off gradually in the vicinity of the spring, or was the loss of vegetation sudden and absolute as a drawn border?

“Give me your notebook.” he says, having finally reached the point of exasperation. “Easier if I just draw it for you.”

To his faint surprise, you hand it over without hesitation. He sketches out what he’s able to recall, all the while acutely aware of the madness of the situation. Fucking illustrating an account of his own wanderings for the woman who robbed him while they both sit in varying states of undress. Scribbling out a messy landscape in the same notebook whose contents he’d derided just a little while ago. Focusing all his attention on Cotorra Springs so as to ward away the unfortunate possibility of another inopportune erection.

The mediocre drawing he finally manages to scratch out would have disappointed him under any other occasion. Instead, he feels a warm flood of relief at its conclusion. If this doesn’t shut you up, then nothing will.

Nothing will, it seems. To his immense chagrin, the drawing sparks another round of questions. After silently admiring his work just long enough to spark hope of your satiety, you ask him about the species of the trees. Had he explored the nearby forest? Were there flowers? What season had he visited in? Was the acrid smell of sulfur present even here?

“Look,” Arthur says wearily. “You clearly come from money. Why don’t you just hire someone out to take you sometime?”

You snort at the suggestion. The corner of your mouth lifts upwards into something that’s only nominally a smile, and more the type of grimace that accompanies an old wound. “The only two men I’d trust enough to take me out into the middle of nowhere are dead. And with the money I owe, I can’t… I can’t just… you know what?” you say abruptly. “It’s getting late and I’m fucking exhausted. I’m going to sleep.”

And with that, you tug the blanket tight around your shoulders and huddle against the ground like a felled shrimp. You lay with your back to him, the words left unsaid hanging over you both like an unripe fruit of a question.

Arthur fetches his bedroll and unfurls it close to the fire. A battered pillow emerges from the worn tarp as he spreads it flat. After a moment of contemplation, he picks up the pillow and tosses it in your direction. It hits you square on the head.

Immediately, you sit up and snarl at him. “What the fuck is wrong with — oh.” You pick up the pillow and grasp it tight, as if at any moment he might change his mind and demand it back. Your small “thank you” is puzzled and uncertain.

“I’m gonna put out the fire,” he says. “You try to slit my throat in the dark, I’ll wring your neck.”

But the threat comes out empty and toothless, and judging by the renewed sarcasm in your voice when you tell him you’ll keep it in mind, you seem fully aware of it.

Arthur douses the flames by kicking dirt over the embers, which glow dim and vermillion for minutes afterwards, fading slow to dull, crumbling ash when the heat finally bleeds out of them. The pleasant smell of smoke lingers inside the shelter for a good while longer, but even that dissipates eventually, leaving just petrichor and the crisp, clean scent of early autumn rain.

The worst of the storm has shifted westwards. Water drips in a steady stream from the outer edge of the overhang, churning the ground below to a soup of mud. The cloud cover is still dense, but it’s thinned enough that moonlight gleams through the feathery underbelly in a pale and spattered mottle. With it, he can make out the dim outline of your body, the rise and fall of your chest in a slow, steady rhythm he sorely doubts you’d have the patience to feign.

He lies awake there in the dark for a long while, shuffling through a jumble of discordant emotion. It’s as if the pieces of several sets of puzzles have been mixed together and jammed into an incomprehensible mess, so hopelessly and thoroughly muddled that he can no longer tell where one thing starts and another ends. He sorts his way through it until the rain weakens to a grey drizzle and the drip of rainwater turns from the unbroken stream of a faucet to a series of droplets beating out an abstruse morse code against the ground.

In the end, he’s only able to definitively place a single solid sentiment. Pity.

———

Couple notes:

Arthur's understanding of Chinese is incorrect, but aligns with the assumptions a lot of Western scholars during that time period had regarding it. There was a big tendency to treat it like Japanese, which despite using some of the same characters, uses a completely different structure.

Cotorra Springs seems to be based off Yellowstone. The big boiling rainbow spring is actually real: it's called the Grand Prismatic Spring and seriously does look like something out of a fever dream. Yellowstone also does smell like sulfur in some places, but it’s not so much like week old shit as it is the potent fart of someone who’s eaten far too many deviled eggs.

No algae grows in the spring. It's actually cyanobacteria, but there's no reason Arthur would know this. It does look pretty gross up close.

[goldentournesol]

Overworked

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer feels overworked and stressed out so Reader decides to take him on a mini-road trip and feeds him lots of donuts.

Length: 3.6k 

A/N: a special thank you to @random-ravings for requesting this and basically helping me plan it all out <3 ENJOY SOME MAJOR FLUFF!

masterlist

The sheer amount of bad days that Spencer generally had would surprise anyone, however that particular day had been too much to handle. He uncharacteristically overslept and missed the metro car he usually took in the morning, which meant he didn’t have enough time to get his morning coffee. Once he got to work and made his coffee there, he managed to spill it on his desk, ruining a lot of paperwork. This resulted in a stern glare from Hotch, which he totally deserved but that didn’t make him feel any better. On top of that, he spent the rest of his day doing repetitive filing and staring at mutilated bodies. All in all, it was a horrible day and he wanted nothing more than to get home, eat something warm, and cuddle with his girlfriend.

When he entered the apartment silently, she knew something was up. He usually called out for her.

“Spencer?” She called out from the couch where she was seated enjoying some reruns of The Office on the TV.

He stayed silent as he walked into their shared living room, his shoulders hunched over and his head hanging. One look at him and she knew he’d had a hard day.

“Bad day, baby?” she asked, getting up and wrapping her arms around him. In moments like these, he actually preferred physical contact from her. 

He nodded as he bent his neck to rest his forehead on her shoulder. The sudden change in weight had almost toppled her over, but she steadied herself. He must have forgotten momentarily how much taller than her he was. He reminded her of those big dogs that liked to settle themselves on their owners’ laps, miscalculating just how much they’ve grown. One of her hands immediately reached to comb through his hair, the other rubbing large circles on his back. 

“I’m sorry, love. Wanna tell me what happened?” He replied by shaking his head, groaning, and burying his head further into her neck. She giggled in response and nodded, “Okay, okay.”

He straightened out his back and tightened his grip around her middle, now it was her turn to bury her head in his chest. She placed a kiss to it and he cracked his first smile of the day. She was so tender with him, it made all his worries disappear. She hummed into the fabric of his shirt.

“You smell good. You always smell good.” She pointed out and he chuckled lightly, leaning down to give the top of her head a kiss.

“Thanks, sweetheart. I missed you.” He replied and he brought one of his hands up to the back of her neck to guide her face to his. She complied and met his eyes for the first time, they were tired. He was overworked and she could feel it in his shoulders.

“I missed you, too, Spencie.” He smiled at the nickname and she leaned closer for a kiss. They shared a sweet kiss and Spencer hated to admit it because it was so cliche, but the rest of the world seemed to fizzle away around them. She smiled onto his lips and pulled away, a mischievous look in her eye.

“What?” He asked expectantly but she just bit her lip in excitement, signaling that she had an idea.

“Can you take tomorrow off?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Um, I don’t know...well, I mean I guess it depends if we get a case or not--wait, why? What are you thinking?” 

“You, my love, are seriously overworked and stressed. I’m going to do my best to make sure you relax.” She smiled proudly.

“Uh, okay...what do you have in mind?” He pressed further.

“Do you have your go-bag?” she questioned and he nodded, “Great! ‘Cause we’re taking a short road trip!” She announced casually as she made her way into their room to pack an overnight bag.

“Wait, what?! No, I can’t do that, Y/N. I have to be in town in case the team needs me.” He began to protest, following her.

“Relax, Spencer. We won’t go anywhere far. You just need to get some fresh air and we’ll have some good, clean fun, I promise. Now let me de-stress you, baby.” She said turning to him and placing a soft kiss to his cheek. How could he say no to that?

She proceeded to pack her bag and change into a pair of leggings, one of Spencer’s large hoodies, and some sneakers, “Let’s go?” Spencer eyed the hoodie and gave her a lopsided smile as he leaned against the door frame.

“Really? Don’t you have any other hoodies you can wear?” Spencer teased and she laughed. She rolled her eyes and walked right past him, shoving his chest gently. She knew he was just teasing her and in actuality loved it when she wore his clothes. When he would wear them after her, he would understand why she loved wearing his clothes. The hoodies always smelled like her. Like strawberry shampoo and vanilla body mist. 

“Should I change?” He asked her.

“Mmm, yeah, you should probably get into something more comfortable...like this hoodie.” She smirked at him and now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“Alright, alright.” He proceeded to change, getting into some sweatpants and one of his other hoodies.

They made their way down into the car they shared (although Spencer still preferred the Metro) and Y/N sat in the driver’s seat. Spencer laughed at her from the passenger seat for struggling to pull up the chair. He’d been the last one to drive the car and so he had the seat pushed all the way back.

“Don’t laugh at me! It’s not my fault I have short legs!” She exclaimed which made him laugh even harder. She gave him a playful glare and the heaviness of the day began to lift itself off of his shoulders. It was hard not being happy around her. She radiated happiness and Spencer couldn’t be more thankful to have her in his life. The car started moving and he turned in his seat so that his back was resting against the door and he was staring straight ahead at her. He liked watching her drive, he thought it was attractive.

“So, where are you taking me first?” He asked, noting how she glanced at him, trying to keep her eyes on the road. She couldn’t help it, his gaze was intoxicating. He saw a small smile form on her lips.

“Well, let’s just say I have a lot of things planned and I don’t want you to get bored, so I’m getting you some incentives. It’ll make more sense when I get them.” She explained, practically feeling the confusion radiate off of him.

“Them?” he repeated and she nodded. A few minutes later, she parked in front of their favorite bakery. It instantly clicked in his head and he let out a soft laugh. She giggled again and they both entered the bakery, all the different aromas surrounding them. Spencer’s stomach made a few loud noises, but thankfully the chatter of the customers drowned it out.

She ordered half a dozen donuts, all of them Spencer’s favorite: chocolate frosting with sprinkles, even though she preferred glazed. Spencer was too endeared by the gesture to say anything about it. Y/N literally had to swat his hands away from the box upon receiving it. Spencer rolled his eyes playfully and they got back in the car. He looked at her expectantly.

“Relax, pretty boy, you’ll get all the donuts your heart desires.” He grinned at the nickname, once she’d heard Morgan call him that, it stuck with her. She used it whenever she wanted to tease him. “Alright, here are the rules.”

“Rules?!” He looked at her incredulously, his fingers curling and tapping restlessly on his sweatpants, practically drooling at the thought and smell of the donuts.

“Yes, rules. After each activity, we get to share a donut.” He saw the way her eyes sparkled under the street lamps and gave in.

“Fine, what’s our first activity?” He groaned dramatically and she laughed at his childish antics.

“Well, actually the first activity compliments the donuts.” She began driving again after gingerly placing the box in the backseat, “you know that new Indian restaurant I’ve been dying to try?”

“Yeah! But that’s like…” he paused for a millisecond, “81.343 miles away! If we drive at 65 miles per hour we’ll get there in 74 minutes and 16 seconds!” Spencer said impatiently but she just giggled because she knew he didn’t really care about how long it took to get there, he just wanted a donut.

She gave in, “Fine, Spence, you can have one. But don’t you dare complain about losing your appetite once we get there.” She waved a finger at him and he cheered as he got one from the backseat.

She grinned as she watched him take a bite out of the donut. She had to physically tear her gaze away as he licked his lips and rolled his eyes to the back of his head, “Alright, alright. I know they’re good, just for the love of God, stop doing that.”

“Mmm, losing focus, baby?” he teased and she turned on the radio, “Do you want the other half?” She shrugged and took it, eating it in two bites.

“Ugh, it is good.” She confirmed and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel along to the music. She gasped as the song changed, startling Spencer.

“Oh my God, they’re playing throwbacks! I love this song!” She said singing along to Taylor Swift’s ‘Love Story’. For the first two verses, all Spencer could do was watch her in awe of her beauty as she sang along. He didn’t know all the words, but he memorized the chorus just in time for it to play again.

“Come on, Spencer! Sing with me!” She laughed and he sang along. She was the only one capable of making him feel this carefree. He would usually be too embarrassed to sing along to the radio, but her happiness was contagious. The radio kept playing some hits working backwards in time until they got to the 90’s when he finally recognized one.

“Oh! I know this one!” Spencer said excitedly and she laughed again in shock as he began singing along to the first verse of the Backstreet Boys’ ‘I Want It That Way’ and miming the words in a dramatic performance. Y/N was too surprised by Spencer to even sing along at that point, but later joined him.

“Spencer, why, of all the 90’s songs on Earth, do you know this one?” She struggled to contain her laughter as the song ended. He felt the blush creep up to his cheeks. 

“Garcia was playing it at her birthday party. It’s pretty catchy!” He admitted sheepishly. They spent the rest of the car ride singing songs at the top of their lungs until they reached the restaurant. 

“Ugh, I’m starving.” Spencer said as his eyes darted over the menu. She nodded and gazed at him in awe, missing his face since she couldn’t really look at him while she was driving. Spencer glanced over the menu at her, “You alright?” She nodded again, admiring him. “Okay…” he said, smirking. He ordered for the two of them and finally gave her all his attention.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Spencer said as he munched on the complementary naan.

“What? I’m not allowed to admire my ‘pretty boy’ boyfriend?” She raised a brow at him, knowing the comment will make him blush. She loved it when she could make him flustered. He smiled and it reached his dimples, making her swoon momentarily.

“Are you feeling better, babe?” She asked him, laying a hand on top of his.

He nodded, “Yeah, so much better. Thank you, by the way, for doing all this. I don’t deserve you.” he intertwined their fingers.

“Come on, it’s nothing. You work too hard and too much. It’s good to take a break sometimes. Although, I can’t say I’m not being selfish, whisking you away on a spontaneous road trip. I want to spend time with you because I miss you a lot.” She flashed him a small smile and Spencer couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty.

“I’m sorry, I know that I put you through so much.” He began apologizing but she shook her head.

“Spencer, I love you way too much to think about all that.” She squeezed his hand and he realized how lucky he was to have her in his life.

The rest of the time at the restaurant was spent eating. Spencer had ordered so many different dishes and she couldn’t wait to try them all. They occasionally reviewed the dishes among themselves, picking their favorites and their least favorites. Spencer also learned that they have very different tolerances to spicy food. Soon, they’re back in their car, splitting another donut. Spencer scarfed it down before they even started moving.

“The food was so good!” Y/N exclaims as she starts driving again. Spencer agreed as he rested back in the seat, the food in his stomach creating a nice warmth. He was out before he knew it. She decided to let him nap a little bit as she used the GPS to get to their next location. She really wanted to take his mind off of work so she took him to a bowling alley. She decided to park in front of it to let him nap a little more. A few minutes later, Spencer awoke and looked around.

“Woah, did I fall asleep?” he asked, his tongue thick. She nodded and he rubbed his eyes, yawning, “Where are we?” He looked outside and spotted the bowling alley.

“If you’re not up for it, we can come back another time.” She offered, knowing he was probably exhausted.

“Hmm, sounds like you’re afraid of losing, Y/L/N.” Spencer replied by getting out of the car. She shook her head at him and made her way inside. Spencer insisted he’d play in his socks because he was wary of the fact that he’d have to wear shoes that someone else wore--someone that probably had sweaty feet. He shuddered at the thought.

They began playing and Spencer had been protesting the entire time because Y/N decided to write his name as ‘DrSpencie’ and so it was flashing all over all the screens for everyone to see. Spencer really tried to be good at the game, but athleticism really wasn’t in his blood. Instead, he tried to calculate the angles he needed to roll the ball at as well as calculating the optimum velocity needed to knock down all the pins, but as soon as Y/N noticed the concentrated look on his face, she began booing him.

“That’s cheating, Dr. Spencie!” she called out from behind him. He, however, was completely unaware that she was videotaping this shot. Somehow, he knocked all the pins down and immediately his hands rose up to cheer, spinning around to face his girlfriend.

“Did you see that?!” He said before he realized she had the phone practically in his face. He laughed and she promptly sent the video to the groupchat of her and the rest of the BAU ladies. They’d grown quite close since she and Spencer started dating and they’ve even gone out together on a few ladies’ nights. JJ quickly responded, teasing Spencer about the nickname Y/N gave him and she knew they weren’t going to let it go. 

Y/N laughed and cheered with him, “Alright, I’ll admit it, that was a pretty good shot.”

Even though Spencer did make a few good shots, Y/N ended up getting a higher score. She smiled smugly as they got into the car again. She immediately reached for the donuts and split one in half. She leaned over the armrest between them to give him a loud celebratory kiss on the cheek to which he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest in feigned annoyance.

“Aw, Spencie, don’t be a sore loser! Here, take your half.” She gave him his half. Spencer made sure they’d both washed their hands before leaving the bowling alley, rambling in detail how dirty the bowling balls must have been. His face immediately lit up and he reached out for the donut, forgetting about his unfortunate luck when it came to any games involving any physical activity. She grinned as she watched him eat it.

“So what’s next?” he asked, mouth full of donut. 

She shrugged and began driving, “How about we go for a stroll in the park? Get some fresh air? I saw one a few miles back.” He nodded and zoned out fairly quickly. She noticed and placed an upturned hand on his thigh, wanting him to take it. He slid his hand through hers and she saw a smile make a home on his face. He loved how she always wanted to be close to him. She never got sick of him and it baffled him every day. They sat in a comfortable silence with him occasionally using his thumb to caress her hand. At this point he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

Soon, they made it to the park and they were walking along the path, making playful conversation. She looped an arm around one of his as they walked together. He had his hands in his pockets and was excitedly telling her about the book he finished last. She couldn’t hear him, though. All she could see was the way the soft glows from lamp lights sparkled in his eyes and danced across the contours of his face. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He said softly, stopping and turning to face her. She snapped out of it quickly.

“Hm...oh, yeah. Sorry, I was distracted.” She blushed and he smiled with a special kind of confidence he found with her. He proceeded to wrap an arm around her shoulders and she instinctively cuddled into his side as they began walking again. She spotted a big tree and they sat under it. He leaned his back against the tree and she put her head in his lap.

“I don’t want any bugs in my hair.” She giggled as she spread her hair onto his lap. His hands immediately reached down to twirl it around his fingers.

“I’m not complaining, angel.” He said as he rested his head back on the tree. She stared up at him as he stared into the branches of the tree above them.

“Did you know that a single tree has the ability to absorb as much as 48 pounds of carbon dioxide each year and can sequester 1 ton of carbon dioxide by the time it reaches 40 years old? It’s actually estimated that United States forests absorb about 10% of the country’s CO2 emissions each year.” he mindlessly stated and she beamed up at him.

“They’re so awesome.” She yawned as he played with her hair, she didn’t mean to sound disinterested because she was interested, she was just growing tired. He looked down at her and ran a finger over her jawline.

“Are you getting tired, love?” He asked and she nodded.

“But I wanna stay here with you, just a little longer.” she murmured and he felt his heart swell up in his chest, “keep talking, I like listening to you.”

He smiled, “Okay, what do you wanna hear me talk about?”

She shrugged and turned on her side, resting her cheek on his lap and looking out across the greenery, “Tell me about…” she pondered, “the stars.” 

His hands continued to run through her hair, “Okay, so did you know that when we look at a star in the sky, we’re actually looking into the past because of how long it takes its light to reach us? The Sun appears as it was 8.5 minutes ago. The view of Alpha Centauri is 4.3 years old, while the appearance of Sirius is more than 8 years old. So while we can’t know for sure without a telescope, most of the stars we see in the sky have probably already died and we’re just looking at what they used to look like.” He checked on her to see if she was still awake and saw that she barely was, seeing that it was almost midnight.

“Tell me about…” she yawned again, “the rarest dog breed.” Spencer couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. Here he was, in a random park a few towns over with this amazing woman who was seconds away from falling asleep on his lap and all she wanted to hear about was dogs.

“Okay, I will.” He said as he brought his knees up gently to shift positions. He wrapped one arm underneath her knees and the other around her middle to bring her body into his lap so she was sitting across it. She rested her head in between his shoulder and his neck like it belonged there. Spencer knew she was already half asleep so he didn’t want to risk waking her. He placed a firm kiss to her head and rested his cheek against it. He stayed quiet until he felt her breathing even itself out, letting him know that she’d fallen asleep. 

“Love, I’m gonna take you back to the car now.” He spoke softly, not knowing whether she actually heard him or not. 

He moved her off his lap swiftly before standing and hooking an arm underneath her legs again to pick her up off the ground. He carried her all the way to the car and set her inside gently. Spencer readjusted the seat to fit his long legs, chuckling at the memory of her struggling to pull it up. 

He decided it was too late to drive all the way back home so he settled on a nearby motel. After checking them in, he set her down carefully on the bed. Spencer removed her shoes, then his, and got in bed next to her, knowing that tomorrow the donut-filled adventures would continue. At that very moment, it was hard for even Spencer Reid to remember a life before her.

[rubysworld-world-stuff]

In Another Life

Summary: You were saved from the gray world by the Winchester's and find yourself with all the others at their bunker. So many questions about the new world you're in are running through your head. But there is one secret about Dean you are too curious to know.

Word Count: 3186

A/N: I know I've been MIA for a while now. Mostly because I stopped writing fanfiction and writing original short stories instead. But for some reason I have writer's block and thought why not go back to my roots in order to beat it. So here you go. Hope you like it :) (FYI: (Y/N/N) stands for Your Nickname)

Your POV

You opened your door. Your head poked out as you looked around to see if anyone else was still up and about. When you saw that the hallway was empty, you walked out and closed the door quietly behind yourself as to not disturb the others.

After having stepped through the tear in the universe and into a parallel world everyone was exhausted. Having barely escaped certain death and power ceasing archangels it wasn't surprising that they all went straight to bed in their assigned rooms after settling into the new surroundings.

However, you weren't able to find any rest. Adrenaline was still pumping through your veins even hours after all the excitement, while unanswered questions made your head spin. To say that the past few days had been confusing was an understatement. Nevertheless, the day itself had topped even the craziest shit that had happened during your life so far.

You wandered the hallways aimlessly. Your eyes skipped over the walls, the doors, the books and everything else you passed on your way. Taking in your surroundings, acquainting yourself with the bunker you eventually ended up in the kitchen.

You stopped short in the doorway. To your surprise the kitchen wasn't unoccupied as you had assumed after walking through empty halls, silence your only companion. Apparently one of the brothers that had helped save your friends hadn't been visited by sleep either.

His back was facing you as he sat at the metal table to the right side of the wall. He seemed to be deep in thought judging by his posture. For a moment you considered turning around and heading back to the room you came from without having him notice you. However, the thought quickly escaped your mind.

A lot of questions were swimming around in your head, to which you wouldn't find the answer to on your own, had to do with the man sitting alone at the kitchen table. If he couldn't sleep either, you could as well pick his brain and try to find some sort of rest for yourself. Who knew, maybe some company would help him too.

You cleared her throat. The man flinched before turning around to see what or rather who had disturbed the crippling silence. When his eyes landed on you, he relaxed a little. There was a strange look in his eyes that shifted through countless emotions. You thought you recognized one of them for happiness, but couldn't be sure. Your heart ached a little for the stranger as they quickly dulled over and sadness settled inside them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Your voice was barely above a whisper as the quiet had not disappeared completely just yet. You put on a friendly smile in order to try and make the man feel more at ease.

"'s okay. I'm just not used to having people around."

The look on his face never changed while his voice sounded as if it was booming in the silence. He turned back to stare at the beer he was holding between his hands.

You watched him for a bit. Then you braced herself walking around the table to face the hunter.

"I couldn't sleep," you explained yourself even though you knew there was no need to. "May I?"

Without taking his eyes away from his drink he nodded once. You slid onto the seat opposite him.

"It's Dean, right?"

At you question, his eyes flicked up to yours for only a split second. Then they settled back on the beer. What you saw in them made you shiver. It was as if all hope had been sucked out of them. Just like that, there was another question you didn't know the answer to, but you couldn’t pry after he and his brother had opened their home to all these strangers.

"Yeah."

Dean's reply was short, his voice rough. He raised the bottle of beer and took a sip. His eyes were turned toward the ceiling. You knew instinctively he was avoiding to look at you. You tried to ignore the dull pain in your chest at his demeanor. Instead of commenting, you chose another road to go. You swallowed hard, sitting up a little straighter trying not to fidget as much. Your hands were resting on the table tightly clasped together.

"Thank you... for saving us."

The words were sincere. The thanks were long overdue. Moreover, it would have been impolite to start the questioning without as much as a nice word.

"Without you, all my friends would be fried by now. We probably wouldn't have lasted another day."

Dean had taken back to staring at the bottle in his hands. His jaw was set and his face tense as were all the other muscles in his body.

You kept looking at him, gauging his reaction. He was a stranger after all and you would like see a flying glass bottle coming instead of feeling it crash in your face. You would make that mistake only once. On the other hand, you had a feeling that the man opposite you wasn't going to hurt you. Still, you weren’t about to take any chances.

"No problem."

The reply surprised you. You had expected him to explain to you that they didn't do it for them, but to save the blond woman and Lucifer's kid, Jack. You stayed silent for a moment puzzling over it. After a little while you shook the confusion out of you head, assuming it had something to do with the fact that he didn't want to talk at all given his previous curt answers.

Realizing that you might not get any answers tonight - or from Dean in general - you let out a soft sigh. Despite your hope dissipating, you made one last attempt. If he already hated you, there was nothing to lose.

"Listen, if this isn't a good time or in case you don't want to talk to me, it's fine, I get it." You hated the hopelessness being evident in your voice. You cringed but kept going. "The reason I can't sleep is because there are too many questions roaring in my mind and I can't shut them up no matter what I try because I don't have any answers. I don’t know this world, I don’t know anything about it and that gives me a headache. I don’t know how to protect my people or myself for that matter, and that is something I don’t like. It makes me want to throw up."

After all the words that were stuck inside of you for the entire day, you felt exhausted. You let your head hang low kicking yourself for sounding so desperate and whiny. You hated that you couldn't figure it all out yourself and instead were dependent on others to give you the answers you so desperately needed. For your survival and the survival of the others.

Surprise, or rather shock, made your head fly up when you heard a deep chuckle coming from your late night company. You stared at Dean open-mouthed. There was a smile on his face for only just a second before it disappeared again. You would have felt offended that Dean seemed to laugh at you for the things you spilled out at night, but the laugh had sounded nothing like that. Instead, it was more of an understanding laugh; one that said 'of course you do, that's just you.'

What made her completely bewildered was when Dean spoke more than only one word.

"Let me guess, I bet you hate yourself that you have to asked someone else for help and can't figure out the situation by yourself."

It was a simple statement, there was no humor in it or satisfaction at guessing what was going on inside your head. There was just.... a certainty that those had to be your thoughts.

You were taken aback. Your eyebrows furrowed and you couldn't stop staring at the stranger that seemed to know you so well. He had been spot on with his guess and you knew that he knew it. Although you didn't understand the reason behind how he could know.

As you didn't say anything, too dumbfounded, Dean let out a sigh, took another swig of his beer and spoke once more without having to be prompted.

"Shoot."

He was looking at you. Really looking at you. His eyes were focused on yours showing you that you had all of his attention.

Seeing his eyes boring into you, you felt as if you had been transported to a forest. Not the dull grey one you had just escaped from but a bright one where the trees had radiant green leaves. You imagined hearing birds singing, squirrels rushing by making the leaves rustle and you could see the golden sun shining through the tree tops illuminating the scene, making everything seem lighter. For once, you didn't hate the forest; for once you felt safe.

You tore your eyes away. It was like pulling apart two strong magnets. Once you were free of Dean's mesmerizing eyes, you took in a sharp breath. Slowly your mind cleared up from the daze you had been under and soon enough all the questions you had came pouring back. One was particularly loud and clear screaming inside her head.

Before you could stop yourself, you heard yourself already blurting it out despite what a terrible idea it was.

"Earlier, when you were guiding everyone through the tear and I wanted to wait for some more people, what did you mean when you said 'I'm not losing you again?'"

Your eyes were back on him. This time you were careful not to get lost in them.

Dean let out a sigh. His head turned down leading his gaze to the table once more. The question had been inevitable, but it might not have been the right moment.

"(Y/N/N)."

You flinched at the nickname. You had never heard it before, but you immediately knew it was yours. It sounded right. Especially coming from the man on the other side of the table. When he said it, it was as if a warm blanket had been wrapped around you. Never had you felt anything like this before.

"I'm sorry," Dean apologized as soon as he saw your reaction, reprimanding himself silently and reminding him that it was not you. You weren’t his (Y/N/N).

You watched Dean gulp. You couldn't stop staring at him. You waited patiently for him to answer your question. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as they were working on it. Anxiety grew in your body.

"Someone like you existed in this world,” Dean answered after what felt like an eternity. “I mean another version of you... I mean she had the same name, looked just like you. Basically, you are an exact copy of her. I mean, not that you aren't valid or less real- I mean-"

Dean broke off his rambling. He didn't dare to look at you. You guessed it would be better that way. His explanation had hit you off-guard. You had no idea what your face might be giving away from the emotions playing out inside of you: shock, confusion, pity and fear.

He reached up one hand letting it slide over his face, but although you were still staring at him, you barely noticed the movement. Your head was spinning and you had no idea how to react or what to do with this information. This was a total mess.

Once more one of your thoughts was louder than the others: He was in love with her. As soon as the thought hit you, another one followed: She isn’t with him. A shiver went down your spine and you felt the color leaving your face.

Dean’s POV

He felt like a complete idiot. He didn't dare look at the woman in front of him, knowing too well that a mixture of hurt, offense and confusion must be displayed on her face. He reprimanded himself for having answered the question at all. But looking into the eyes of the person he once…

He reached up one hand to let it slide over his face in an attempt to try and organize his thoughts. He had no idea how he was supposed to explain his (Y/N) to the one sitting at the table with him now. This was a total mess.

In addition, a little sparkle of hope had settled in his chest. Hope that somehow this version was his (Y/N) - in some sense. Hope, that he might get another chance. He didn’t know where it came from.

As soon as he felt it, hope was replaced by shame. Shame, that he could feel that way about someone else that clearly wasn't her, but just someone who looked like her; someone who wore her face. Guilt washed over him. Guilt on how he could dare to think about replacing her, his best friend, the love of his life. He couldn't taint the memory of her like that.

He raised his beer to his lips once again, hoping the alcohol would eventually shut up his destructive thoughts, numb his body, his pain, only to find it empty. Dean pressed his eyes close. He felt so lost. All he needed was for his (Y/N) to help him and tell him what to do and how to untangle this chaos. But that was never going to happen.

So he did the next best thing he could think of. Dean opened his eyes and looked at the person opposite him. He prayed that seeing her image would be enough to calm him. He wished that it would give him the strength and inspiration he so desperately needed right then.

That's when he realized the truth.

The (Y/N) from the other world had the same hair color, the same eye color, but it wasn't her. Behind those eyes sat a different person, one he didn't know. There was no second chance. Having her here was only a reminder that he had failed her.

A silent tear slipped out of his eye. He wiped it away quickly as not to make his emotions obvious. But it was to no avail. (Y/N) had seen and her face changed to pure pity. He knew she could see right through him, see the man that had been left behind, a shell. But he also knew in the left over pieces of his heart that she wasn’t the person who could fix it.

"I'm not her," she whispered.

He took in a shaky breath; the truth he had realized seconds before hitting him like a punch to the stomach as they were spoken out loud by the same voice that had coaxed him to sleep so many nights.

Your POV

Only as you watched Dean’s reaction did you realize that that was the problem. And those had been the wrong words.

"I'm sorry," you hurried to say as you averted your eyes leaving him some privacy with his emotions.

You weren't sure what you were apologizing for exactly. The fact that you weren’t her? The fact that obviously something had happened to this version of you? For the way Dean felt? It was probably a mix of everything.

The urge to take away his pain was strong. Another thing you didn't understand. Since the first second you had seen the green-eyed hunter, you had been drawn to him. In your world, you didn't trust anyone anymore. But that man on the other side of the table only had to look at you intently and without a doubt you had trusted him, you had faith in him.

You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards the hunter. Whenever their eyes would meet, your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat.

But you weren't going to acknowledge that feeling sitting in your chest. You would push it down hoping it would eventually go away. It wouldn't be good for either of you to act on these emotions.

His pain was too raw and you weren’t the right person to fill the hole inside of him, no matter how alike you and the (Y/N) from this universe had looked. In the end, you were two different people. You spoke again after a moment of silence, your voice soft.

"You don't have to explain. I think I understand. Or most of it anyway. I'm sorry I brought it up, it's none of my business."

You wanted to make up for bringing all these emotions back to Dean. You didn't want him to feel obligated to tell you anything about the person you had been in this universe. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were nosy and push him away completely. He didn't deserve this. He didn’t deserve being hurt by the only other person that looked like the woman he loved.

"I think I better get back to my room. I'm really tired."

You faked a yawn to sell it, although you weren't sure he bought it. As you glanced at him he nodded, but otherwise stayed silent and unmoving, eyes averted.

You got up and started to head out of the kitchen. As you reached the entrance way you turned back one more time to look at the man you had left behind.

Dean had hung his head low and cradled it in his hands. His body was occasionally shaking with a sob. Seeing this tough man like this made your heart ache even more and tears gathered in your eyes.

You turned on your heel and continued to your room, your bottom lip shaking as tears slowly ran down your cheeks. As much as you wanted to be, you weren't the right person to comfort him. It wasn't you his heart was yearning for. There was nothing you could do to numb his pain. Not yet anyways. Maybe not ever.

As you closed the door to your room behind you and slid down it, you decided to stay away from him in hopes to not cause him anymore pain. You had done enough. You would talk to Sam tomorrow about this universe and head out right after to make it on your own. Just like you always did.

The fact that Dean was so upset to talk about his (Y/N) and her not being around in the bunker spoke volumes. Whatever had happened, it had left a barely scraped over wound and your presence would rip it wide open day after day, again and again. There was no place for you here.

The thought shouldn't have scared you, never mind made you sad. You didn't know the brothers or the two angels. But somehow, the prospect of not having them in your life filled you with dread.

The tears were flowing faster now, cascading down your face.

Suddenly the wish to have stayed behind in the colorless universe crashed down on you. It would have been gentler on your heart.