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brunchable · 3 years ago

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Conflict Resolution Chapter 2 — Reprimanded || Surgeon!S.S. × Asian!Reader.

Warnings: Coarse Language, Sexual Elements, Medical elements

Pairings: Stephen Strange x Asian!Reader (OC)

Summary: After the incident at the Examination room, you and Stephen vent your frustrations to your mutual friends.

A/N: I have no ownership of this story, all credits go to Kate Canterbary for her book, The Worst Guy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ainsley

No one could keep a good bitch down…but that didn't mean she wouldn't end up on the floor. The two-hundred-odd pounds of man on top of her, well, that was not part of the plan. The code green lockdown of the emergency department wasn't on the list for today either. Neither was the formal reprimand that was handed down by the Chief of Surgery, nor was the disproportionately severe and pointless consequence that he imposed.

Sometimes, bitches overshot the mark. Sometimes, they made a mess. The problem with being a savage-hearted bitch who was also a recovering people-pleaser was that you still had the "pleasure to have in class" good girl wandering around inside your head. On days like today when she couldn't decide whether to sit in the corner and panic or drown you in a highlight reel of your all-time worst moments until you were forced to admit you were a giant fucking fuckup, it was tough to find the truth.

You did not have to deal with any reprimands or consequences because of your actions before. Nobody who is truly a compulsive people-pleaser and strives for perfection has ever gotten herself into the kind of trouble that involves wagging fingers and frowning deeply with disappointment.

People like you, you'd sooner condense ourselves down into smaller and smaller particles and disappear altogether than land in a situation where you're straight up told to your fragile little faces you weren't good or right or enough.

And yet you were furious. You were break shit and scream furious.

"It would be great if you could sit down for a second," Christine Palmer said, holding up her surgical-glove-clad hands to stop your pacing. The women's changing room inside the attending surgeon's lounge wasn't big enough for any real pacing, though it was adequate for some abrupt marching.

"Just sit down, babe, and we'll clean up those cuts and make sure you don't have any chunks of glass in your arm. I think it would also help"—she motioned up and down her chest—"to breathe a little."

The general surgeon—and your upstairs neighbour—gestured to the sofa beside her. You didn't want to, but you sat. It was that or pace your way into a panic attack and you really didn't need to call more attention to yourself today.

"I'm fine," you said to her as she lifted your arm for inspection. "It's nothing. All superficial. Nothing worth noticing." You winced at the dried blood streaked from your bicep to your wrist, "It looks worse than it is. You should see the other guy."

She brought a gauze pad to your upper arm. It was the one spot that hadn't been covered by Stephen's considerable mass.

He was obviously a big guy—tall, broad, all those fun things—but he'd felt like a slab of solid muscle over you. It was excessive, really. He had enough. A full head of dark, thick hair—no receding hairline, dignified dusting of grays on both temples. A very slight, tan complexion that seemed impossible considering he spent most of his waking hours in cold, windowless rooms. A jaw that managed to be both smooth and sharp. Worst of all, he'd been gifted an outrageously gorgeous cheekbones and eyes as blue as the ocean in Maldives. He was merely the recipient of heaps upon heaps of physical gifts. It was excessive and you knew what excessive looked like. Your father was the top plastic surgeon in California. Excess put you through medical school.

"I did see the other guy," Christine said. "He's the one who sent me up here."

"Why?" You wailed, so much louder than necessary.

"Because he's busy digging glass out of his own arm," she replied.

"But I need help doing it?" You blew out an aggravated breath and frowned down at your scrub top. It was ripped in a few places, bloodied in others. You wouldn't be able to wear it again. Not to work. "Sorry. Ignore me."

Christine was the last person you needed to yell at today. You didn't need to yell at her at all—you were friends. You weren't besties who lived in each other's back pockets, although not for any lack of pocketing attempts on Christine's part.

You were excellent when it came to having a small crew of close friends who you knew well enough to be selected as a bridesmaid in their weddings though never close enough to be the maid of honour. You were terrible at the bestie thing. You just didn't understand how to let anyone into that much of your life.

"Believe me, I am," she said. "I have some residents who want to learn compassionate holds. I'll page them up here if I need to restrain you."

See? This was why you were friends. She could joke about these things and you could laugh in response because you shared a humour that was as dark as dirt. You watched as she discarded another gauze pad into a metal basin. It sparkled with tiny, tiny flecks of glass.

"I still don't understand why Strange tackled me like that back in the exam room."

"Because that's what he does," she said with a laugh.

You glanced at her. "Throw people across rooms? The bruise forming on my ass is no joke."

"He takes care of people." She said this as if you were extremely dense. "He's probably furious he missed this spot on your arm."

"We're talking about Stephen Strange? The one who lives in the apartment above you?"

"One and the same," she murmured. "You'd have a better feel for him if you spent more time with the group."

Another reason you weren't on the best friend tier: Christine's social batteries far outlasted yours. She loved meeting up for drinks after work, brunches, dinners, farmers market visits, all of it. She wanted to go places and see people, and you needed a week to recover from a single outing. Most days, she ate lunch with Strange, Lincoln Campbell, the cardiothoracic surgeon who lived in your apartment before you did, and Anthony Druid, the neurosurgeon who'd lived in the building a few years ago. If you did that much peopling every day, you'd be catatonic within two weeks. It wasn't an exaggeration, it was your nervous system.

"I don't make a habit of hanging out with people who condescend all over my specialty," you said.

"Sorry, honey, but you do now." She dropped a shard of glass into the basin. "At least for the next eight weeks."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Stephen

He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. "This isn't even my fault."

"Are you sure about that?" Anthony asked as he distributed sandwiches from the delivery bag. After the shitshow in emergency—and the fallout in the Chief's office—he'd dragged Stephen to the park across from the hospital complex with the promise of lunch.

"On this specific occasion, I am one hundred percent positive I didn't create this problem," Stephen said, "I'm just picking up the tab for it."

"What did the Chief say?" Lincoln asked.

"Yeah," Anthony said. "I can't imagine he came down on you at all in this situation. Accidents happen. You got into it with Park but you're his boy, so—"

"I am no one's boy, Druid," Stephen snapped from behind his hands. "I'm an accomplice in trashing an exam room; I get the same slap on the wrist as anyone else who's too stupid to get out before the ceiling comes down."

"Yeah, except you don't get the same slap," Anthony said with a laugh. "I realize you're unaware of the privilege afforded to you from being the guy the Chief of Surgery trusts to save the day—"

Stephen reached over and stole his apple. "Shut your mouth with that nonsense."

"—but you are still the guy who coordinated the largest and longest all-hands response to a crisis situation this hospital has ever experienced." Anthony flattened his hands on the picnic table. "You are the guy who stepped out of his practice to lead pandemic operations for six months and—"

"It wasn't like I had anyone getting hit by cars or fucking themselves up on trampolines and ladders when the world shut down." And if he hadn't done it, he would've lost his mind from standing by and doing nothing.

Lincoln shook his head. "Hate to break it to you, Strange, but you're the guy. You're definitely the Chief's guy. You're also our guy because you got all of us through it too. So, you need to deal with the fact that you play on a different level now. You're on the soon-to-be Chief of Emergency Surgery level. You're not on the level where you get penalised for a loud disagreement with a colleague."

"Funny you mention that," Stephen said with a bitter approximation of a laugh. "Seems I won't be chief of anything until I can make it through a conflict resolution course with Park."

Anthony shrugged. "No sweat. That should be easy."

At the same time, Lincoln hissed out a heavy "Fuuuuuck."

"Yeah. There it is. Somewhere between no sweat and fuuuuuck." Another bitter laugh broke free from his chest. "It would be one thing if I had to do a program on my own. But with Park? Kill me."

"Wait a second with that," Anthony argued. "She flies way under the radar but she's the best reconstructive person we have. I go to her skills lab sessions whenever I can and learn something new every time. Same with Campbell. He sends all his residents to those sessions too."

Stephen glared at him as hard as his exhausted eyes could. "She's a little high octane, wouldn't you say? Pulled down half the ceiling with one hand."

"You are literally the only person who doesn't like her," Lincoln said. "Something to think about."

"It's handy that I have eight weeks of therapy with her to think about it, then," Stephen grumbled. The memory of your clenched knuckles and the curtain balled in your fist pushed itself forward. You must have yanked the hell out of that thing. Nothing else could've set off that chain of events. It was impressive in an alarming, give the lady a wide berth sort of way.

Beside him, Lincoln crumpled the butcher paper from his sandwich and held the ball between his hands. "If I had to guess, I'd say this conflict res thing is some kind of human resources requirement following any incident between staff, but you have to know this is a mild response. No administrative leave, no suspension of privileges. All that said, Stephen, I want to make it clear to you that she's the one taking the penalty here."

"And yet I'm still the one in therapy with her," Stephen argued. "For two fucking months."

"You remember what it was like to be the problem-child surgeon," Lincoln said. Stephen shook his head as a gust of bone-chilling air cut across the park.

"Please don't remind me of my fool-ass days. You know I'm sensitive about that, Campbell."

"I'm just saying," he continued, "Park is probably feeling like a problem child right now. You have nothing to worry about. Your contract will get renewed. You'll sail through this and get the chief gig. You'll have your pick of the best candidates for fellowships. You'll get to research whatever the hell you want. You'll get to take sabbaticals whenever you feel like it. Nothing on the road ahead of you will be altered by this incident. Park, on the other hand, will have to work this out of her reputation. She hasn't even been on staff that long, right? I lose track of time these days."

"About two years," Anthony said.

"She has a lot more to lose than you do," Lincoln said. Not wanting to concede this point, Stephen yanked up the collar of his jacket against the wind.

"Just so you know, it's too damn cold to be out here."

"It's fifty-one degrees and sunny, Strange," Lincoln said. "This isn't cold."

Essex, the neuro fellow he'd lost earlier in the day, jogged toward the table. "If you want to talk about cold, let me tell you about Minnesota and—"

"Does it look to you like I need another Minnesota story right now?" Stephen asked him. "And why the fuck haven't you answered a page in the past six hours?"

"I don't enjoy it," he said simply. "I really don't."

Stephen pointed toward the hospital. "Go away. Go ignore pages to the nurses' faces and see how well that turns out for you."

"But food. Lunch," he complained.

Lincoln bobbed his head, saying to Essex, "You have your orders."

"Boy has a death wish," Anthony murmured.

"There are days when he's less mature than some of the worst first-year residents I've met," Stephen said. "Then there are days when he's, like, fucking gifted."

"I don't even know how to teach to that," Anthony replied.

"Me neither." Lincoln gestured to Stephen’s forehead, asking, "Is that your blood?"

"Probably," he replied, reaching for the other half of Anthony's sandwich. He didn't care what it was, he just needed to eat some more before he fell over and died from the horror show of this day. "Between physically shielding Park from the consequences of her actions and getting an earful about professional conduct from the Chief, I haven't really had time to deal with my own problems."

"Why are you sitting here feeling sorry for yourself?" Lincoln asked. "It's just couples therapy. It's not the end of the world."

"He always feels sorry for himself," Anthony said under his breath.

"You did not just call it couples therapy," Stephen groaned. "And I don't feel sorry for myself. I just hate the idea of an hour a week spent with Park and a PsychD talking about feelings and shit. I have other things to do. She has other things to do. And it's not like anything is going to come of it. Nothing's going to change. She's still going to screech at people about staples and I'm—"

"Stop whining," Lincoln said. "And if you think you're getting assigned a psychology doctoral student for these sessions, you're forgetting, once again, that you're the guy. You're getting top brass for your couples counselling."

Stephen stole his apple too. "Fuck my life."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Ainsley

"I'm shocked that Stephen hasn't glared his way out of this," Christine said. "He's so good at it. He just beams that hairy eyeball at people and they fall in line real quick. I do it and I look like I'm having a stroke."

"Mmhmm." If Strange did anything with precision, it was glaring. The man did not smile. He was a human storm system. His shoulders were a mountain range that could block out the sun, and turning his scowls into a full-body statement.

"I bet there are a ton of politics at play," Christine continued.

You studied her as she opened another packet of gauze. You hated the politics game. You sucked up to no one, kissed zero asses. That worked for you because you were in the beautifully fortunate position of being only one of a few surgeons at this hospital specialising in reconstructive surgery for burns and other complex wounds, and that position came with enough built-in authority to save you from needing to get down in the trenches of any political.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know," she started, "Stephen's in line for a chief job."

"That might be unofficial information," Christine continued. "You didn't hear it from me."

You gave her a quick smile. "Of course not."

"Anyway, it's not like a formal reprimand is that bad," she said.

She was lying and you could tell but it was kind of her to try. "I'd like to believe that."

"I'm sure everyone gets a note in their file at one point or another," she went on. "Trust me, it won't matter in a year. You'll forget about this and it will drop from the collective memory soon enough. I went through some hell when I was a resident. I had a relationship with another surgeon, it went bad, I was branded with the scarlet letter. Everyone said all the worst things about me. All in the past and I hardly ever think about it, but believe me when I say I've ridden that roller coaster and puked when I got off. It's going to be okay. We're getting through this, babe."

Since you had nothing left to lose today, you said, "The Chief knows my father. Same intern class, or something."

"Oh, shit." Christine knew enough about your father to understand the significance. Nearly everyone in surgery knew of him but Christine was one of the few who knew it was an emotional sinkhole for you.

"Thought I'd cleared all the possible connections here but I missed that one."

She packed up the used gauze, shooting yoy a concerned glance, "How did this come up for the first time today? That sounds like some first-rate horseshit to not mention it until now and—"

"Doesn't matter," you said with a resigned shrug. "He expected me to be a carbon copy of my father and was disappointed to discover I am nothing of the sort and, well"—You sucked in a breath because you were not going to cry or break things—"he doesn't want me making a habit of destructive tantrums."

Christine whipped off her gloves. "What the hell?"

"It was so wonderful to be lectured about my conduct and sentenced to eight weeks of counselling and reminded to be a good little girl all in one afternoon. It's really fun to get the disappointed daddy treatment when you're twenty-seven years old. And it's coming from your boss, who thinks it's okay to invoke your father in conversation. Kinda thought I'd passed that phase of my life but nope. Here the fuck I am."

She stared at you, nodding slowly. "That really sucks. I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

"What did you say? Please tell me you told him where to shove that."

"I didn't. I just kind of shut down." That was the most mortifying part. The shame of failing to stand up for yourself when it was most essential slapped hard. You'd love to say this was unusual for you, yet this messy little pattern was uncomfortably familiar.

"I'm sorry that happened," Christine said. "But eight weeks isn't that long. And it's with Strange. You'll have fun."

You stared at her, unamused. "Hardly. He's the worst. He's the most arrogant surgeon in the hospital. No, wait. He's one of the most arrogant surgeons I've ever met, and that is an accomplishment considering my dad's ego needs its own area code."

Christine gave an impatient sniff that said she very much disagreed with you. You allowed her to sniff at you because she was the absolute best at letting people vent and then giving top-notch advice. She didn't take any of her own advice but that was an issue for a different day.

"He isn't that bad. He likes to pretend he is but he's not."

You were treated to this man-sized cloud of arrogance at least twice a day as your schedules often aligned to guarantee you'd leave both the Columbus Square you called home and the attending surgeons' lounge at the same times. It would be tolerable if he wasn't so busy being drunk on his own exaggerated sense of self-importance that he fully ignored your attempts at polite conversation.

You didn't understand why everyone liked him so much and willingly spent time with him outside work. You had to constantly remind yourself that figuring him out wasn't worth your energy or attention, and you didn't have to keep going out of your way to connect with him as a colleague or neighbour when he couldn't manage complete sentences for you.

You reminded yourself, but you hadn't broken the habit of doing it yet. "Christine, the guy growls at people. We see each other almost every day and the only form of greeting he can manage is an irritable-looking jerk of his chin or a grumble of word-shaped sounds."

"Yeah, he's a little rough around the edges," she conceded. "But it's all bark, no bite."

"Maybe he shouldn't bark! Why can't we ask that of people? Don't bark. Don't treat female staff like children. Don't slut-shame anyone." You sent her an apologetic frown. "I'm not calling you a slut."

"Yeah, I know, I know," she muttered. "You psychotic bitch."

You shared a bitter laugh, the kind that cleansed wounds and taught scars how to stretch beyond their limits. You had it good but that didn't mean the good was easy.

"I should've ignored the whole thing," you said, mostly to yourself. "Should've let it go and spared myself all of"—you gestured to the barely there cuts on my arm—"these brand-new problems."

"Would you have actually let it go?" Christine shrugged. "Or would you have resented the decision to make your professional expertise less important than avoiding a difficult conversation?"

"I would've moved on," you said, and that was at least forty percent true. "Eventually."

"But what does that really mean?" she asked. "Would you have written off the stapling issue as 'neurosurgeons gonna neurosurgeon'? Or would you have planted that seed in your field of fucks and let it grow?"

"Field of fucks. For sure. I'd bring up that issue to Strange every time I saw him and I'd drive him insane with it, nice and slow. Only way to farm a field of fucks, Christine. You gotta long-game that shit."

Christine hummed as she pushed to her feet. "Eight weeks of counselling will be fun for you two," she drawled.

"Don't remind me," you said with a groan.

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 4 years ago

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Please please please, may i please request a prussia/reader drabble (oneshot?? what ever is easier for you honestly) for the prompt: “Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.”?? thank you so much and i love your writings <3

Hello, Lovely~ Wanted to thank you for your patience. Couldn't quite get the perfect scene in mind till about 1:14 am this morning. Hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request!

In a world that never seemed to rest, tranquility had become an elusive mistress, an antiquated ideal that was valuable for its rarity alone. There were many who would never find such a thing, or would be cursed with just a brief glimpse before it slipped away once more, never to return.

Tranquility was a gift, and you had been blessed in multitudes.

A light breeze was rustling the pines towering above you, scents of the nearby stream, forget-me-nots, and the wisps of smoke from the campfire dancing with it.

So tucked away from everything, you couldn't hear any engines, noisy neighbors, or- most fortunately- the impatient pings from your cell demanding your attention.

It was quiet, as quiet as Nature could be when one is sitting near a babbling brook, their swing squeaking on hinges decades older than themselves, birds of all ages serenading the small patches of sunlight reaching the forest floor.

Your foot trailed along the ground beneath you, a path carving in the soil from the steady back-and-forth of the old wooden swing, your head resting comfortably against Gil's chest.

He had one arm loosely draped on the back of the swing, the other extended as he read his paperback, folded over itself to spare himself a little freedom.

You shifted slightly, just a little, and he instinctively followed, adjusting the blanket across your legs and shifting his own to accommodate your new position, all without once removing his attention from the page.

It was approaching midday, and while you had both agreed on a short hike to visit some waterfall or other, you were finding you had no desire to leave just yet, perfectly content and cozy as you were.

You let yourself relax further, eyes closing as you rested your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady refrain of his heartbeat.

The familiar, unconscious dance of fingers against your upper arm made you smile, his decision to shift his free arm almost as reflexive as your decision to open your palm and rest it directly over his heart.

In a time not so long ago, the very thought of being alone in the same room as him would have been laughable, and now you were alone together in some ancient hunting cabin, leagues away from civilization, and completely at peace.

It struck you in that moment just how ingrained he was into your life, your sphere, your thoughts. You never could have anticipated this level of intimacy, and the unexpected epiphany of just how vulnerable that made you left you reeling.

"It kind of scares me sometimes," the words slipped out in a sigh, a wisp of a murmur that faded as easily as woodsmoke. They hadn't even been loud enough to disturb a trio of hares near the truck, and when several moments passed, you were beginning to hope Gil hadn't heard them at all.

It was more a rumbling than a fully coherent query that finally answered you, his eyes still firmly affixed to the Greek text before him. "What's that?"

Without fully lifting your head, you shifted your angle, giving you the chance to study his features- the small indents on his nose from wearing his glasses so much the past week, the single, nearly invisible freckle just by his left eye, the patch of chapped skin on his lower lip, the intoxicating and inexplicable gradients of indigoes and crimsons in his irises.

He hid nothing from you, every perceived flaw and weakness completely at your mercy. And to know that he could see through all of your own barriers, knew you in-and-out more than you perhaps knew yourself-

But there was trust there, and something so strong that- even years after first naming it, after first defining it, exploring it, embracing it- still left you breathless, still rendered you speechless.

For a moment, it did exactly that, overwhelming you in a wave of emotion so strong that you could scarcely think in the face of it.

But it was a familiar feeling, one so commonplace that you simply sighed again, letting it settle over you like an additional blanket, warmth settling in your veins as you relaxed once more.

"It scares me sometimes how in love I am with you." You traced a pattern with your finger against his shirt, eyes focused on the lupine family enjoying vegetable scraps from the night before. "It scares me how vulnerable you make me feel."

But no. Scared wouldn't be quite the right word for how this vulnerability made you feel. Intimidated, perhaps?

Irregardless, it was such a good feeling, so freeing to be so fully exposed to someone, to know they saw the worst of you and still-

He was resting his head against your own, silence patiently resting between you, the quiet of the forest yet again remaining undisturbed. He had even ceased powering the swing, apart from a small movement with his toes that was likely from his muscle spasms than anything else. You let yourself relax fully, because no matter how suddenly and aggressively this wave of realization had swept you away in its riptide, he would always keep you safe, always anchor you in the face of whatever storms may come.

"You know it's a two-way street, right?"

As if further testament to his knowing you, the words went straight to the core of it all, exposing his own vulnerability to you, proving just how much he had placed his faith in you.

What a perilous place to be, putting so much faith and trust and hope and care and control in someone else's hands, wholeheartedly believing that they will never bring you any harm, that-

"You're not going to leave me, right?"

The question was so sudden, so unexpected, that you took yourself by surprise, not accounting for the deep, tired exhale of the man so gently holding you. "How could you even ask that?"

You started to try taking it back, wishing for all the world you could keep your thoughts more thoroughly reined in, but he was plowing ahead, the arm that had been resting on the swing coming around you, fingers slipping in between your own. "Do you really think I could leave you?"

By all accounts, yes. Yes he could.

His claim to immortality was shaky at best, and there was no guarantee that he wouldn't get bored of you, that someone pushing near 1,000 would wake up one morning and realise that-

"Where the Hell is all of this coming from anyway?"

You gave it a half a moment of thought, and soon found yourself melting in defeat. "I wish I had an answer, but I honestly have no idea."

He resumed his earlier motion, putting the swing back into a steady glide. When he spoke again, it was as if he were reaching across centuries, finding just the right words out of billions to try to comfort you. "To quote some book I read in some teahouse somewhere quite a long ass time ago: 'Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own.'" Here he paused, a good six seconds of silence as he rooted himself once more to the present, voice lowering to a whisper. "Leaving you? Losing you? It would be like losing a part of myself, like losing the best parts of myself."

He paused again, a seriousness that was only just familiar to you making an appearance, a depth to his words that made your toes curl. "I was lost for centuries, Schatz, never realizing or accepting just how alone I was, how fucked up I was. I waited for you for ages, and didn't even know how badly I needed you until I finally met you. It was like everything I had done, everything I had gone through, suddenly made sense. You were- are- the very thing I was fighting so hard for."

For claiming to have not a hint of romance in him, he still always seemed to have the perfect strategy for disarming you, for charming you, for leaving you even more infatuated with him than you were mere minutes before.

But this pedestal that he had carved for you, these expectations-

"I'm only human, Gil."

"I know," he murmured.

"I could still get sick-"

"I know," he sighed.

"Or hurt-"

"I know," he growled.

"Or di-"

"I know!"

His exasperation was so unexpected that you swore the whole world had frozen around you, as if the tranquility of the forest had finally been disturbed.

But no-

Everything was still exactly as should be; it was only your surprise that had affected your perception.

In actuality, his interjection had been scarcely more than a rasp, so damaging to you alone as it cut straight through to your soul, piercing through what little armor you still had against him.

He squeezed your hand, an apology conveyed simply through touch, an armistice accepted and strengthened through reciprocation. "'Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own,'" came the quiet refrain, each syllable accented through the dance of his thumb against your palm, each syllable a soft breath that tickled your scalp. You expected him to stop there, his point well made, but soon enough he was murmuring again, words nearly a hum. "'In pain and sickness they would still be dear.'"

You couldn't place the words- who knew if a copy of that book even existed anymore- but it didn't matter. They were exactly what you had needed, the balm for a restiveness that you hadn't even known was plaguing you till a few moments ago. And what's more, you never knew Gilbert to exaggerate, not when it came to matters of the heart. He knew no other option than complete sincerity, maddening some days, endearing most others.

Thoughts shifting, comfort once more reestablished, you shifted slightly, turning your attention to the few clouds you could see through the canopy. "Every atom, huh?"

There was a huff of a laugh, an accentuated exhale that highlighted his exasperation, but the amusement in his reply was tempered by fondness, highlighted with a small kiss above your ear. "Every proton, neutron, electron... Every single quark, if you need me to get technical," he finished in a whisper, slowly, gently, reassuringly, practically an embrace on its own.

You melted against him, giving his hand a small squeeze of gratitude, thoroughly reminded now of exactly why it was okay to share your vulnerabilities, how lucky you were to have found him, to be found, to trust and fall and grow together.

Tranquility eventually, quietly, made her reappearance, bringing with her the blessing of the midday sun.

Thanks for reading!

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sirowsky · 4 years ago

Text

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Warnings: Language

Link to Masterlist

Comment: Hint to what the title is all about, and plenty of Máma Moreno.

Chapter 6

The house was a mess, to say the least. You had left in a hurry that evening, after things had taken a very sharp turn towards very bad, shortly after your dinner. You’d been glad that you had only eaten a light pea soup, when it came back up again some ten minutes later. You’d only just made it to the bathroom, but after the food had been coughed up, a large amount of fresh blood had followed, and you knew you were in trouble. Why you hadn’t called for that ambulance was anyone’s guess, but then, you had never liked being a bother, and you had been perfectly capable of walking out to the cab. It was just that, in the twenty minutes that the drive had taken, you’d gotten significantly worse. Your whole body had started hurting, you’d begun bleeding from the nose and ears, and just as you got to the hospital, you had begun to get spasms and cramps in your spine and legs. When you staggered into that emergency-room, you did it truly convinced that you’d leave it in a coffin.

You shuddered slightly with the memory, as you walked through the house, opening all the blinds and pulling all of the curtains back again. It was already late, and thus dark outside, but you wanted to wake up to a house that bathed in sunlight in the morning. The kitchen was probably the worst, in terms of the amount of cleaning that would need to be done. The remnants of your cooking that evening where still on the counter and in the dishes, and the amount of mold that was growing in there was somewhat disturbing. You couldn’t leave that for the morning, you’d lose every ounce of appetite waking up to that crap. So, you set about throwing away everything that had been left out on the counters and in the sink, and quickly scrubbed all the open surfaces clean, before handwashing some of the glasses, plates, mugs and cutlery, that had gotten dusty even sitting in the cabinets, in the four months you’d been gone. Once the kitchen felt usable again, you went to the bathroom to check what state that was in. It wasn’t too bad. You flushed all the pipes and let the water run in the sink and the shower for a good half-hour to clean them out, and begin to work away the smell of stagnated water. The toilet needed a decent scrub too, but it could wait until morning. It was after midnight when you’d finally changed the sheaths in the bed and settled in for the night.

A sharp rapping on your door woke you after what seemed like mere seconds. But the sun was up, so you looked at your wrist-watch – 06:15 – and sighed. Who the fuck would be there at that hour? Grumbling into your pillow, you turned over and decided that whoever it was would have to come back at a more decent hour.

“Come on now, mujer, I don’t have all day.”

You physically jumped at the sound of Anita Moreno raising her voice behind your front door. She wasn’t shouting, just applying a good amount of force to her voice. Just enough to make you feel a size smaller than usual. You scrambled out of bed and grabbed a robe which you put on whilst walking towards the door. You had no idea what you looked like, but you hoped there was an air of scarecrow to you. You’d found her intriguing when you first met her the day before, but she was little more than a damned annoyance right now. You were not a morning person, and especially not today when your body was tired and sore from the tests.

“I’m not gonna ask if you know what time it is, because you obviously do, and you obviously don’t care, so don’t beat around the bush and just tell me what the hell you want so I can go back to bed and finish waking up.”

“You always this cheerful in the morning?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll be sure to let Marcus know.”

“What does my morning mood have to do with Marcus?”

“Nothing. Yet…”

What? No, no, don’t let her distract you, idiot.

“What do you want, Mrs. Moreno?”

“Tell me, what kind of flowers do you like?”

Nope. You’re not doing this, whatever it is, you’re not doing it at 6 fucking 15 in the morning.

“Have a nice day, Mrs. Moreno.”

As you went to close the door, she simply barged right in, straight past you, and completely unbothered walked into your kitchen while you scrambled after her, shocked and abruptly furious.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

“Don’t you cuss at me, mujer.”

“If you want me to treat you politely, then don’t fucking barge into my house uninvited.”

“Calm down, I’m not staying for breakfast. I just want you to answer a few questions.”

Unbelievable.

“You’ve got some nerve.”

“I’m old, mujer, I don’t have time for intermissions. Now, tell me, what kind of flowers do you like?”

You were fuming, but this woman was a super. She wasn’t leaving until she decided to leave. So, you took a breath.

“Dahlias.”

“Interesting choice. Why?”

“What does it matter? What do you want from me?”

“Do you know the origin of Dahlias?”

“Why? Am I to expect a pop-quiz banging on my door tomorrow?”

“The Dahlia came from my ancestors, the Aztecs, they called it The War Flower. Nowadays, it’s known as the King of summer flowers, because of its wide range of shapes, sizes and colours. It has something of a demanding presence, you never walk past a Dahlia without seeing it. And yet, it doesn’t ask you for much.”

“Do you have a point, or is this becoming a lecture on the mythology of flora? Because I will go back to bed and ignore you until you leave.”

“It’s an observation. What’s your opinion on supers?”

“Are you serious? Ugh, forget it, of course you are. Fine. I have nothing against them, but I don’t adore or idolize them. They’re flawed just like the rest of us.”

“What’s Marcus’ flaws?”

“He’s… too kind for his own good sometimes. He let’s people walk all over him if he thinks that it’ll keep the peace. And he… tries to carry the whole world by himself if you let him.”

She smiled.

“Good. You’re hired. I expect you at Heroics HQ at 7 am tomorrow morning.”

…what THE FUCK…?!

She walked back towards the door, while you stood dumbstruck just staring after her. She had reached the door by the time you unfroze and ran out to the hallway.

“Wait, what the hell are you talking about? Hired for what? I didn’t ask you for a job.”

“No, you didn’t. But you need one, and I’ve got one. Take it or leave it, if you’re not there by 7, I’ll know what you chose.”

You stood in the door, watching her disappear into a black SUV, and drive off.

Did that actually just happen? It must have, there was no way in hell you’d ever even dream something like that. You shook your head, and decided that there was no point in going back to bed now, your head was buzzing, so you might as well have breakfast and get the cleaning going. As you went to the bathroom you caught your reflection in the mirror, and smiled to yourself. There was definitely an air of scarecrow. You turned the TV on while you made tea, and tried not to think about what had just transpired in your kitchen. You had always loved coffee before, never started the day without it ever since you were 16. But your body seemed to have become oversensitive to it after your cellular breakdown. You’d had your first cup about a month ago, and it had really done a number on you. You’d been hyperactive for hours with uncontrollable twitches and insistent trembling in your hands. You’d given it a second try a week later, but even just half of a small cup had resulted in the same outcome, so you had accepted that your coffee-days were over. You were actually really starting to like tea, especially the spicier types.

The news showed a highlight reel from the Heroics latest outing, and you found yourself glancing at the footage, looking for a glimpse of Marcus. You saw him flash by as he fought someone, or something, you weren’t sure, and then again when the fighting was over. He looked confident and strong when he was out there. When he had an enemy in front of him, and a clear task. It was enticing to watch. Oh, who were you kidding – it was fucking hot! You shook your head and turned the TV off as you finished your breakfast. There was a lot to do to get the house in order, and you had a plan to get it all done. The problem was that a certain uninvited guest kept popping into your head, distracting you with thoughts about flowers and what the hell that job was all about? So, by lunchtime, you weren’t anywhere close to where you’d hoped to be. You’d managed to wipe down all the surfaces where dust accumulated, and the vacuuming was done. But you’d hoped to have washed the floors and beaten the carpets and cleaned the refrigerator and freezer by then.

Oh, well. Rome and all that.

You decided to have pizza for lunch and called in an order. But later, as you were eating said pizza, you had something of a lightning moment. You didn’t need to sit there and just fidget and wonder and worry about what you were gonna do tomorrow. You could just go back to HQ and talk to Marcus. He’d only be happy to see you, he’d said as much when you went to find him to say goodbye. It hadn’t been a very long exchange, since you’d been eager to get going, knowing there’d be things you’d have to do before going to bed. But he had said that he’d miss you and that you’d always be welcome to visit them. So, why not? If anyone could tell you what Máma Moreno was up to, it’d be her son.

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight

@farfromjustordinary

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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tempesrature · 5 years ago

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50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You” [END]

Pairing: Ride or Die | Colt x Ellie Summary: A highlight reel of the most important moments of their life. A/N: Highly suggest reading this in order (all even numbers for Colt). @lovehugsandcandy @dancingboba @choicesarehard

#49 Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

Colt reminds himself to breathe, that oxygen is needed for the human body to function and live.

But how can he?

When he looks down at the bundle cradled in his arms, all brain function is delegated to committing to memory the image of his son, Kai Kaneko.

Colt has never had intrusive thoughts, always having a control on every aspect of his body and mind but when Ellie was holding his hand in a vice grip as she gave birth to their son—he was suddenly filled with thoughts he couldn’t control, ranging from the worst case scenario of her dying during childbirth to the terrible case scenario of her and his son both dying during childbirth, which sent his emotions and his head into a dark place he’d only ever experienced when he saw his father’s car go up in flames.

But the first breath of air their son took followed by the strong wails (which he got from Colt) and annoying cries (which Colt knows he got from Ellie) he let out and Ellie’s happy sobs wiped his brain instantly. Relief so painful and instant it almost brought him to his knees.

And now, as Ellie lays asleep on the bed exhausted and worn, his brain and his heart is filled with nothing but love.

“Hey…”

Colt turns to Ellie with a big smile, her eyes blinking lazily as she looks up at the both of them. He sits next to her and pushes back the hair sticking to her forehead before he gently lays their son in her arms.

“You were great El,” Colt says, his heart expanding at the image in front of his wife cradling their son in her arms. “You also nearly tore my hand off.”

Ellie chuckles weakly, the little bundle fussing quietly in her arms. “You’re lucky it would’ve been only your hand.”

Colt grins, unbothered by her teasing threat of castrating him as he carefully lays down next to her. They let the comforting silence settle as the gentle coos of Kai fills the spaces between them.

Colt never imagined—never really bothered to imagine—that an image like this would be a reality for him. That he would be a husband to a woman he adores and a father to a son he loves. Shit like that just doesn’t happen to guys like him.

And yet it has and he’s desperate to keep it, to hold it tight in his hands and make sure it never slips away.

“My dad’s coming tomorrow,” Ellie comments, breaking through the silence as she gently rocks Kai in her arms. “Which means you’ll need to leave.”

Colt scoffs, a sliver of anger bubbling inside him. Turns out Detective Wheeler really wasn’t lying about his deal and his intentions. That all he wants is to reconnect with his daughter, which both baffled and relieved Colt. But ever since Ellie has met up with him once a week, she has become a lot happier and lighter so Colt has learned to put up with it (even though he still has someone tail Ellie during their meetings just in case something happens).

“Fine,” Colt relents, reaching forward to lightly poke Kai’s chubby cheeks. “But I’m not leaving the hospital. As long as we don’t meet then the deal’s still valid.”

Ellie chuckles softly, glancing at him lovingly. “What rules are you willing to follow?”

Colt grins brilliantly. “You know I’ve never been good at that.”

Ellie hums in agreement, her eyes settling back on the sleeping Kai. Her heart flutters with something so heavy, it feels a little suffocating. The kind of feeling where she’ll do anything for her son. Which gives her a brief moment to reflect, a little guiltily too, that this must be what her dad felt towards her. If she looks back at herself and imagines Kai in her position—well, no wonder her father reacted the way he did.

“Ellie I...” Colt starts and Ellie looks up at him, her eyes suddenly shining with tears at the expression on his face. She reaches up and gently cups his cheek, smoothing her thumb over a stray tear that escaped his eyes.

“The feeling’s amazing huh?” Ellie finishes for him and Colt lets out a choked laugh in agreement.

“I love you Ellie,” Colt starts, turning to her with misty eyes and a loving smile. “I love this kid too and I’ll do anything, everything, to keep you both safe and happy.”

“I know,” Ellie smiles brilliantly.

“No, you don’t,” Colt lays his hand on top of her hand, gripping lightly. His gaze is sure, his heart is set and his face is at peace.

“I’m leaving the crew, the shop, all of it.”

Ellie’s eyes widen suddenly, a wild panic thumping hard against her chest but Colt holds tight and signals with his eyes to listen—to understand.

“Not immediately, not until everything is safe for me to do so and after I make sure no one will even dare to come after us. I’ve also stashed away enough money for us to live off of for the rest of our lives,” Colt reassures, his brown eyes resolute. “It’ll take awhile but hey, it gives me the opportunity to stay home and help take care of Kai more.”

“Colt…” Ellie says, her eyes filling with tears as the weight of his decision finally dawns on her. That he’s willing to leave his crew, his shop, his legacy and walk away from all of it—for her and for their son.

“Are you sure?” Ellie asks playfully, her chest seemingly expanding from a weight that seems to have suddenly been lifted. “I don’t want you to regret it in the future. I don’t want you to end up hating me.”

She tries to make it come out as a tease, as their usual banter, but the fear latches on to her words without her permission. Because she is scared that he’ll regret her—regret them—and that as the years go by, the fiery love that they possess between them fizzles out into nothing but hate and apathy.

Colt smiles, picking up on the fear in her voice, as he grips her hand reassuringly. “I’ve told you Ellie. I never regret anything with you. Not then,” He looks at her pointedly, his eyes shining with mischief. “Not now,” His eyes flit down to Kai in her arms, his voice soft, before he raises her right hand and kisses the brilliant glint of gold on her finger. “And not in the future.”

Ellie lets out a choked laugh as she blinks back her tears. “You’re terrible, you know? Making a pregnant woman cry like this.”

“Oh no, you can’t use that on me El. You’re not pregnant anymore,” Colt pauses, a wicked smirk pulling on his lips as he looks at her suggestively. “Unless…?”

“You’re so annoying,” Ellie laughs, leaning her head on his shoulder as Colt immediately wraps her shoulders in a tight side-hug as his breath leaves him and he buries his face into her hair.

“Colt?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you,” Ellie says, her voice coming out shaky as she sniffs a little and her eyes flit back to their son in her arms. “Thank you for making this decision for me—for us.”

“Mm,” Colt acknowledges as he looks down at Kai, his head leaning against Ellie’s. “I’ll be a regular old boring dad now. Running a legit shop, beer with the guys, talking shit about sports. Looking forward to it El?”

Ellie chuckles, turning her head a little to kiss his cheek. “There’s nothing regular or boring about you Colt Kaneko,” Her eyes twinkle, her lips pulling into a teasing smile. “Old on the other hand…”

Colt grins, ready to retort with his own banter when Kai starts to fuss and cry loudly. Colt immediately takes him from Ellie’s arms as he stands up and bounces him around in his arms, his cries already starting to soften little in his father’s arms.

“I’ll take care of him, you’ve done enough for today.”

Ellie smiles in gratitude and relief, the exhaustion pulling at the edges of her consciousness again as she settles back on to the bed.

Her eyes start to flutter close but she tries to keep the image of Colt, cooing and bouncing Kai in his arms, in the forefront of her memories. So she can try to manipulate her dreams, in the hopes that the happiness, love and content she feels in this moment can be carried over into the depths of her soul and her consciousness will be filled with just Colt, the boy she has loved since her past and her present, and Kai, the child she will love until her future.

#END #whew and so this is where we end #i'm probably not here when this is posted but I do hope you enjoy #its been a wild ride with our bad boy but i hope you enjoyed every stopover #thank you!#choices rod #colt kaneko #colt x ellie #50colt #my writing

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sambergscott · 5 years ago

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i'll promise that i'll love you for the rest of my life

one giving the other flowers, as requested by @rosalitadiazz AGES ago, also dedicated to @397bartonstreet for the initial idea of amy sleeping in/just being the best and @nine-niall for helping with the marriage highlight reel.... and for making me listen to heartbreak weather on repeat for the last few days and coming up with this title

happy anniversary to jake and amy!!! (also since the ep aired 2 years ago today i'm not *technically* late thank u very much)

One million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes after marrying Amy Santiago (or, two years), every moment is as wonderful as day one. He still feels the same rush of excitement when he sees her waiting by their car at the end of a shift, the same swell of pride when she introduces him to someone as her husband, the same “oh my god we’re actually married” moment when he catches her rings glinting in the sunlight. It’s been the best one million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes of his life. And while he appreciates every single second they have together, knowing how in their line of work things can change all too easy, their second anniversary presents the perfect opportunity to remind her that everyday he gets to be with someone as amazing as her is crazy to him.

He has flowers, a handmade card, he even hoovered and she’s still asleep.

She never sleeps this late.

Everyone knows she’s the morning person in their relationship and he’s the Get Out Of Bed After Snoozing The Alarm Seventeen Times person. They live together, share a car, and yet most mornings he ends up riding the Subway, squashed between an old woman and a nerdy looking guy who smells like he hasn’t showered in a week, Amy rolling her eyes when he gets to work mid-briefing. The rare days she can get him out of bed early usually involve some kind of bribery using food and/or sex.

The point is, he’s supposed to be the one sleeping in past 11 AM, but ever since their doctor prescribed Clomid to help stimulate ovulation and boost their chances of making a baby, their roles have been totally reversed like Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis in Freaky Friday.

Pregnant Amy falls asleep anywhere and everywhere. The couch, the car, the cleaning cupboard at work when she was trying to find some Nuclear-strength cleaner to remove the stench of Charles’ lunch from the air before she hurled again.

She could sleep all day if he let her and he quite easily could. She looks so peaceful and cute and free from the stresses of her family asking why they waited so long (well, long for Santiago standards) to start a family. Plus, the messy hair and tiny bit of drool on her chin are impossibly endearing in the way only she can be.

He smiles and wraps his arms around her, resting his head on his shoulder, his hands - like his thoughts - drifting to her growing bump as they inevitably always do.

This time next year they’ll be celebrating with their little boy or girl, telling them all about the insane, magical day that was May 15th 2018. Of course, it might be some time before they can fully grasp the TV-worthy drama of the creepy phone call, the bomb in the vent, the ex-boyfriend proposing - twice! - and the wall of Amy photos, but they will sure as dammit know how beautiful their mom looked in her dress and how happy their dad was when Grandpa Holt finally announced them as husband and wife.

“Can’t breathe,” his wife squeaks, finally awake. “Arms too tight.”

“Oops. Sorry, babe.” He kisses her by way of apology; sometimes when he gets to thinking about that day, about seeing her walk down the shredded paper aisle under the glow of fairy lights, surrounded by the very people who watched them fall in love, he kind of forgets where he is and what he’s doing.

She’s always had that intoxicating effect on him. That’s never gonna change.

“Time is it?” She yawns, stretching her arms above her head.

“Twenty five to,” he pauses to brace himself for her reaction, “...twelve.”

“Twelve?” Horrified, she moves to get out of bed and yeah, he knows her so well. “Let me go,” she huffs in frustration when he forms a barrier to keep her from leaving.

“No can do, Santiago,” he says authoritatively. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone and you’re pregnant. You need to rest. We’ve both got the day off, our dinner reservations aren’t until 8. Just let your husband take care of you for a couple of hours.”

She chews on her lower lip, making her contemplative face that he recognises from sitting opposite her for so many years, preferring watching her piece together the leads in a case rather than work on his own. “Fine,” she eventually concedes. “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

“Happy anniversary,” he returns the sentiment, kissing her again because, well, he can, one of the perks of marrying Amy Santiago (alongside a perfectly organised sock drawer and getting to hang out with the best person in the world 24 sevs). “I got you these,” he adds, procuring the daffodil bouquet he found online.

“Jake,” she sighs dreamily, placing the flowers on her nightstand. “They’re beautiful. And my favourites.”

“I know,” he smirks. He may not be Santiago level smart, but he’s smart when it comes to all things Santiago. “Also made you this.” He hands over the card.

She opens it, instantly tearing up at his sweet message inside, the dam bursting when she notices the scrawled message written with his wrong hand from their unborn baby. “Mine sucks in comparison,” she laments, passing him his card before locking her eyes back on the words ‘happy anniversary to the world’s best mama’.

“It does not suck,” he reassures her, clutching it to his chest. “I’m going to savour it for all times. I want to be buried with it.”

She rolls her eyes, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I thought you wanted to be buried with your original copy of Die Hard.”

“OK, Die Hard and your card. Rhymes for a reason, Ames.”

“You’re such a dork,” she responds, stifling her laughter. “Can’t believe I’ve been married to you for two full years.”

“I know.” He grins. “What was your favourite part?”

Her eyes glimmer with excitement and love and memories of their first anniversary before things turned upside down. “Are you suggesting we do a marriage highlight reel à la NBA inside stuff?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I’ll go first. NUMBER FIVE,” he yells in his spot on Ahmad Rashad impression, earning a giggle from his wife. “Number five is that dress you wore on my birthday. Your butt looked the bomb in it.”

“Thanks, babe.” Two years in, she’s used to the constant “your butt is the bomb” comments, often uttered at the most inappropriate of times like when she stands up to brief the squad or play soccer with her brothers, much to her chagrin and their delight.

“Number four,” she quickly moves on. “The time you taught me to play Mario Party and I beat Wario on the first try.”

“That was my worst moment,” he groans.

“And that’s why it’s my best.”

He sighs, considers debating it, engaging in the classic back-and-forth that is the very foundation of their relationship, but it’s moot. She was way better than him. Santiago’s learn fast. It’s in their genes or something. And despite the crushing disappointment when she beat Wario with ease and dork danced her way to the kitchen to grab them both an orange soda, it was still a very fun night and a worthy moment in the highlight reel.

“Number Three. The York murder.”

Immediate understanding spreads across Amy’s face, but he explains anyway.

“I spent three days working that case and you just came in, saw the board and solved it right away.”

“I’m very smart,” she jokes lightheartedly.

“You are,” he agrees, his voice coming out softer and sincerer than even he imagined. “I love that about you. I love your brain. I love how good you are at your job, at figuring out puzzles. I love that you listen to NPR and know so much about the font Helvetica and have read, like, a million books. I love that you do a crossword every night and I love how proud you look when you give me a sports clue and I actually get it right. I love cheering you on at Trivia Nights even when Kylie can’t stop glaring at me. How lucky am I to have the smartest wife in the world?”

Touched, she can barely compile her thoughts to reveal her Number Two.

“The night at Shaw’s, at Hitchcock’s second divorce party, your speech, the way you kissed me, the way you were so gentle when we got home,” she sniffles. “It was special and made me feel so loved and if I say anymore I’m going to cry again, so you go.”

He chuckles knowingly. The pregnancy hormones have been making her extra emotional lately, they can’t even watch commercials anymore without her fully weeping. And while last year Pam and her twisted bowels interrupted before they could get to Number One, this year Number One is obvious. Clear as day. And there’s no one to interrupt.

He pretends to think about it for a minute (because he will always love teasing her, married or not). Only when she grabs his arm and digs her nails into his skin does he put both their hands on her bump and smiles. “Obviously this little guy or gal is Number One.”

She smiles back at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

His own face falls. “Ames?”

“It’s been a hard year, hasn’t it?” She sighs, thinking back to calendars and fertility appointments and the strict no nacho policy.

“Yeah,” he says, “it has. But this next year is gonna be the best one yet.”

“I mean... We’re probably not going to sleep a lot.”

“You might not sleep a lot but I sure will,” he teases, his words falling flat. “Just kidding, babe. Obviously I’m going to get up for all the feeds and diaper changes and whatever else this kid throws at us. Gonna be there for you both. No matter what.”

The pregnancy hormones strike again and she starts crying and, honestly, he can’t wait for this baby to get out, for more reasons than one.

“BRB, I’ll go make your favourite breakfast to make you feel better, don’t grow anymore body parts while I’m gone.”

He returns seven minutes later with pancakes, a ton of fruit, decaf coffee and another kiss. He climbs back into bed, devours his own Nutella pancakes and posts his favourite blurry, drunk on Champagne and love selfie from their makeshift wedding reception at Shaw’s, on Insta with a caption about how he promises he’s gonna love her for the rest of his life.

And he keeps that promise.

#b99 fic #jake x amy #my writing #dork danced is my new favourite verb

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mittensmorgul · 6 years ago

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Hm. I love Rowena and I think her and Sam's relationship is a delight, but I have to say I haven't noticed any particular /romantic/ cues for them? I don't hate the idea, I'm just... apparently not seeing what some other people are seeing, in canon. I'd be curious to see what specific moments are giving you that vibe as opposed to the enemies-to-friends/found family vibe I've been getting -- do you know if there are any S/R metas around, that would lay that out clearly?

Hi! I’ve heard this from a lot of people, and I’m just baffled? I mean, there’s at least as much of what I’d consider the beginnings of romantic interest as there was between Dean and Cas in s4-5-6 even… via a lot of the same tropes.

I don’t know if there’s been a proper meta on it, on the evolution of their relationship, but I guess I’m adding that to the unbearably long list of things I need to write in detail.

From their first meeting in 10.07, I wondered if there was some potential there. Rowena was a natural witch, and the history of the notion of “witch!Sam” has been floating around since he first demonstrated his demon blood powers back in s1. Here was a witch that was clearly being set up for a bigger antagonistic role in a season where she would clearly not be the Big Bad. I think a lot of people pulled the plug on that idea the minute it was discovered she was Crowley’s mother… and they just were never able to think of her in that kind of role again.

But she has a very long history with Sam, going back to the antagonistic allies-turned-whatever-the-heck-that-was at the end of s10, to her own self-discovery arc through s11 and s12, where she gradually (but almost exclusively with Sam) began to bond with the Winchesters.

Their conversation about Lucifer in 13.12 and their shared trauma over that, which Sam said he’d never even talked to Dean about… That… is groundbreaking for Sam. Considering every woman he’d ever had a relationship with in canon didn’t even know about ANY of the hunting, and yet he opened up to Rowena about something so deeply personal he’d never told another living soul? That was probably the spark for me in seeing the potential here. Literally in an episode where another pair of witches repeatedly used love spells to manipulate men to do their bidding, Rowena had this moment of naked honesty with Sam.

At the end of that episode, when Dean discovers that Sam gave Rowena the page of the grimoire that she’d wanted, Dean’s angry. Sam… trusted her, believed in her, despite saying if that decision went sideways, he’d “take care of it.” Because of what we learned in 13.19, that every single one of Billie’s books about Rowena end with Sam Winchester killing her… I mean… it’s kinda… a profound… sort of bond… they share…

She was heartbroken in that scene in the alley, when she realized that yes, Sam really could shoot her. And that moment was literally when everything changed. Sam… saw that look on her face.

You can see him feeling regret here, despite already knowing that he is “destined” to kill her. I mean… by the end of the episode (yes, Dean is there participating in the conversation, too, but this was so much between Sam and Rowena), they’re talking about changing their fates. And Rowena is now officially Team Sam.

This is also the episode where she has several opportunities to kill Sam, and yet doesn’t. She could’ve very easily rewritten her own destiny by killing him, but instead let go of one pain of her past (her guilt over Crowley). And in that moment she chose to move forward in a new way.

And since then she’s been in multiple episodes where she and Sam have paralleled Dean and Cas. I just don’t know why people refuse to see the same exact parallels they used to set up Sam’s two episode relationship with Eileen are being used between Sam and Rowena (and have been, on a much slower course than with Eileen).

She was brought in by Sam in 14.07 to help heal Jack, and Dean literally “fuzzed out” during some of those conversations. Sam was her primary contact there, despite the family feel of the episode. And then we have 14.14 where Rowena’s literally paired with Sam having some sort of heart to heart study session while Cas and Dean have their own… through the whole episode…

She stands up to Michael, terrified, and laughs at him anyway because Sam Winchester will be the one to kill her, not him. SAM WINCHESTER has effectively become her mantra that allows her to laugh in the face of her own death. I mean, that’s a freaking powerful thing. Not “oh the Winchesters” but SAM.

(this is starting to feel like attempting to explain destiel to someone who doesn’t see it… and I’m afraid I’m not doing a very good job of it)

She also fits every single one of Sam’s criteria for a relationship. She’s someone in the life. She understands his worst trauma and his struggle with magical powers. She understands his desire for security and stability. And even though she’s a witch, she’s a hunter by every definition they’ve ever given… she’s even died and come back to life (multiple times).

I need someone to tell me how this– and what I’ve shared here is literally off the top of my head and by no means the full meta I could write on this– doesn’t measure up to Sam’s relationship with Eileen. Sure, he doesn’t have a history of the “cuter” stuff they gave him with Eileen in 12.17, but that, to me, gives his relationship with Rowena even more weight in comparison.

I’ve read a lot of meta comparing Saileen to Destiel, trope for trope, the direct parallels. But that’s… small scale. Sam and Rowena, to me, parallels the bigger picture of Destiel. Maybe not point for point, but that wouldn’t really be fair to Sam, would it? Doesn’t he deserve his own unique thing, and not just a speed run through the destiel highlight reel? But the overarching, big picture evolution of their relationship is just as profound as what Dean and Cas have, and honestly that is the LEAST that Sam deserves, you know?

This is obviously not to say that I definitely think the show is going there, just as I wouldn’t say they’re definitely going there with Destiel. This is just how I see things now, and the potential I see for the future if they chose to take it there.

eta: a couple of links mel found to more structural meta on samwitch that may be of interest in addition to the added checklist item that they’ve both been possessed by an archangel now, as well (they have REALLY been pushing Rowena into being more of a hunter):

https://neven-ebrez.tumblr.com/post/183371417718/so-youre-right-about-michael-killing-the-au

and

https://neven-ebrez.tumblr.com/post/184229815703/i-really-liked-how-mary-was-portrayed-this-season

#spn s15 speculation #samwitch #well i mean sort of speculation? more just freeform thoughts about sam and rowena's history #sorry this is so slapdash i literally typed most of it up while doing six other things...#flyingfish1

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twopedalpushers · 5 years ago

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Travel update #5

Ecuador

A lot of events have transpired since I last posted a blog update! I signed off my last post at the border between Colombia and Ecuador. There is a lot to get through and so without further ado, welcome to the fourth country of our travels so far - Ecuador.

Normally at a border crossing the scenery subtly merged from one country to the next but upon arriving into El Ángel National Park at the Ecuadorian border, we were transported into another world. I don’t know how to describe El Ángel National Park as even the photos that I took are pale in comparison to the experience of being there. We were travelling through the park on a dirt track and there were frailjones (a specific type of Latin American sunflower) as far as the eye could see in every direction. We were the only souls along the entirety of this track and the only sounds were those of our tyres on the dirt. It was surreal. It felt like we were the only people on this strange, desolate new planet.

We passed through a few different towns before we reached the famous Ottavalo Market. The market is known throughout South America for being the best place to buy alpaca wool goods handcrafted by the indigenous people of Ottavalo. The market was vast, bursting with piles of rugs, jumpers, gloves, hats, toys (to name a few) being sold by charming Ottovaleños. We both bought a jumper each and I’ve pretty much been living in it ever since.

Probably the nicest thing about Ecuador is the amount of indigenous people wearing traditional dress. In Ecuador, 25% of people define themselves as indigenous - 22% more than in Colombia. More often than not in Ecuador, entire villages will be wearing their own cultural variation of the traditional dress. It was interesting to see how this changed as we crossed the country. Women in the North tended to wear long blue dresses, handmade blue sandals, a white blouse with an ornately embroidered belt. Men wore a blue poncho or shirt and a fedora. Once we travelled South, the women of the highlands now wore extremely bright coloured felt shawls held together with a brooch. They wore knee length bright skirts -usually in a contrasting colour to their shawl, wellington boots and a fedora. The men of the highlands wore striped ponchos and wellingtons. This was the first time I had ever seen so many people dressed traditionally throughout the entirely of a country and it was inspiring to see a culture so rich.

The capital of Ecuador is in the North, so we reached Quito fairly early into our journey. Out of all of the Latin American capitals we had visited, Quito felt the most European. It had a really relaxed yet quiet and private vibe. People ran in the parks and took their dogs out for walks in the evening. It was extremely civilised but it seemed to lack the intensity, drama and disinhibition of cities in its neighbouring countries.

The roads after Quito were beautiful. We were cycling through Ecuador’s Volcanic corridor, which took us around Cotopaxi Volcano and ended with the vast and breathtaking Quilatoa Lake.

The scenery was spectacular but the cycling was becoming extremely difficult. The small roads that we usually cycled on were now cobbled instead of paved or dirt. We had to bump along up hills of extreme gradients. It was rainy season in Ecuador so we frequently found ourselves cycling in dense fog or rain all day. The dampness made cycling uphill on cobbles extremely slippery and dangerous to do, especially on a bike that weighed the same amount as I did! I found myself having to get off the saddle and push my bike up steep hill after steep hill, most of which only 4x4’s were able to drive up.

Ecuadorians seemed to prefer to build roads straight up the mountain rather than having the road switch back a few times to gradually take you up. Because of this, our progress became infuriatingly slow - down from 80km per day in Colombia to 40-50km in good weather.

Ecuador took us to new heights. Most days we were at an altitude of 3000-4000m. Although thankfully neither of us got altitude sickness, doing such intense physical activity so far above sea level left me incredibly out of puff to the point that I would struggle to catch my breath.

The picture painted of cycling through Ecuador online and on social media contrasted immensely with the reality of doing so. Cycle-touring blogs and Instagram accounts that I’ve been following whilst on the trip are endlessly positive highlight reels of what it’s like cycling on the best days. Nobody tells you that you will be woken up in the middle of the night with searing pain in your legs from the build up of lactic acid. Nobody tells you that on the worst day of your period you will be biking 2000m of elevation instead of running yourself a hot bath and stuffing your face with chocolate.

After a while in Ecuador, I started to expect every day to be another bad day, which kickstarted a dangerous spiral of negativity. I would look at Max cycling ahead of me in the distance, conquering each hill much more easily and happily than I could, and I would wonder why I was not able to do the same. I was asking myself why on earth I was putting my mind and body through this every day. It was the first time on the trip that I truly missed home.

Ecuador uses the dollar and is much more expensive than Colombia. Because of this to save money we did a lot more camping than we usually would. However because of the persistent rain we found ourselves needing to camp under shelter, once taking refuge on a volleyball pitch next to the side of the road, other times in hostel courtyards. Not splashing out on a bed in a hostel very often meant that we were tackling the Andes on very little sleep for as long as ten days in a row without a break.

This has been a pretty negative account (sorry!). However it was not totally miserable in Ecuador. On dry days, we got to camp in some of the most amazing, wild spots that have been better than anywhere else on the trip thus far. We spent time camping next to waterfalls and at the base of volcanoes. Between villages while cycling on dirt roads we were very often the only the people around. We saw lots of llamas and alpacas for the first time on the trip!

However no amount of cute, fluffy llamas could make up for the difficulty of the cycling and unfortunately my morale was low. The strain of undertaking such an intense physical challenge and spending every minute of the day together began to take a toll on mine and Max’s relationship. We were exhausted and bickering with each other at every opportunity. I was falling out of love with the cycling and in the end we decided that it would be good to take a break from biking and spend some time apart.

Max and his family were heading to visit him in the Galapagos for ten days, and although I was invited along too I decided to fly to Brazil instead. We were 5 months into the trip and halfway through our time on the continent so it felt like a good moment to rest our bodies and treat ourselves a little bit.

Our cycle route down the Western side of South America doesn’t take us through Brazil and it has always been a country that I have wanted to visit. I booked my flights to Rio de Janeiro and found out a couple of days later that I was going to be there while it’s Carnival! I really needed to blow off some steam and now had the perfect opportunity to do so - it felt like the stars were aligning!

So about a week ago, we both left our bikes behind and flew to completely different places. We are going to return to our bikes refreshed, rested and ready to take on the Peruvian section of the Andes! Other cyclists that we have met on this trip rave about Peru being one of the most beautiful countries to cycle through, so I’m pretty excited. More importantly others have said that Peru is far less steep than Ecuador because they thankfully build long, winding hairpins up the mountain at a gradual gradient when possible. Obviously, there will still be hills to climb but after a good rest I’ll be able to take them on with fresh legs and a positive attitude.

I landed in Rio de Janeiro a few days ago and Carnival is every bit as exciting, intense, raucous and dynamic as you would imagine it to be - just times by one hundred. I’ve been at some of the street parties (that seemingly have no start or end) for a few days now. I will save writing about my time in Brazil for my next update.

Below I’ve posted the full video of our time cycling through Colombia. I’m in the process of putting together the Ecuador video and will upload it in a few days.

Here is the link to track our progress (although we won’t be cycling for a while so you won’t see a lot of progression!)

http://share.garmin.com/DMB7R

Similarly to my previous post about reaching the end of Colombia, I thought I would write a list of all the interesting things that I noticed while travelling through Ecuador. Again, it’s lifted from my journal so it informally written.

Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream! For a country so cold it’s crazy to see how into ice cream the locals are. On every street there is an ice cream shop. In the North they cover ice cream in cheese (crazy combination I know...) I was intrigued by this but in the end I was too grossed out to give it a try.

The possibility of taking a hot shower is back- for the first time on the entire trip! Ecuadorians mostly have warm showers, which is nice. They don’t have central heating in their buildings so they use propane tanks to heat their water. Every morning a truck selling gas canisters trawls around every neighbourhood, blaring a song sung by children with shrill voices. It’s the same song in every town we have visited.

Ecuador has a strangely large amount of Chinese restaurants called “Chifas.”

They’re mad about topiary gardens. In the North every town square had shrubs with peoples faces and animals cut into them.

Ecuadorians are very quiet, reserved, friendly and humble people.

A very large amount of people drive old school classic VW Beetles. It’s definitely the most common type of classic car you will see in Ecuador.

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a1kitkat · 6 years ago

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Roswell New Mexico - Episodes Ranked

In celebration of Alex Manes Appreciation Week, I have decided to rank every episode of season one of Roswell New Mexico. Now these are my thoughts and may include some unpopular opinions but my criteria is quite simple... episode enjoyment, script, pacing, character development and Alex screen time. That last one is the most important (of course) as my overall episode enjoyment is directly linked to Alex screen time.

But other factors are key too. For example, episode 4 was quite entertaining but there’s no Alex in it. Episode 7 was possibly one of my least favorite yet it was our first glimpse of happy, sassy Alex so I’m not sure where to rate that one...

Let’s get going, starting with WORST TO BEST!!!

13 - Champagne Supernova (Episode 11)

No Alex, OOC behavior from literally every character and the oh so obvious reveal of the fourth alien! And let’s not get into the beginning of the show’s “love triangle”

12 - I Saw The Sign (Episode 7)

Okay yeah, this ranked low despite how super adorable Alex was in this one... It was also the beginning of the show erasing his disability. Max was a major d**k here and just an all around big fat No!!!

11 - Where Have All The Cowboys Gone? (Episode 4)

A solid enough episode but No Alex so my biased opinion is that it wasn’t good... but it was for the plot and they managed to squeeze a lot of plot into this one. This ep gets major props for making us love Michael (like we didn’t already!!!)

10 - Recovering the Satellites (Episode 13)

Season finales usually rank high on my lists but not this time. I wasn’t impressed by any of this episode, the 1.5 Alex scenes just hurt and don’t even think of mentioning the scene in the Wild Pony to me or I will cut you!!! Michael scores & loses points for this episode, winning for his goofy confession to Isobel but loses majorly for what he does after (again, DO NOT SPEAK TO ME about this!!!)

9 - I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing (Episode 10)

So many feels in so few scenes but I love any episode that gives us quality Malex AND Kylex scenes :)

8 - Don’t Speak (Episode 5)

Kylex! Kylex! Kylex!

Adorable cinnamon roll Alex was his adorable self while repairing an old friendship and damn Kyle shows major growth here. He acknowledges his dickiness and apologizes so he scores brownie points.

7 - Pilot (Episode 1)

I wanted to rank the pilot higher for the reunion kiss alone but I tend to find pilot episodes a little slow as they have to create and set the entire tone of a series in just one episode and this was a solid intro (but I’m a huge OG series fan). I had very mixed feelings watching this but the Malexness alone completely won me over.

6 - Tearin’ Up My Heart (Episode 3)

Again, this episode could be higher since it essentially gives us the best & worst Malex scenes of the series (excluding episode 6). As we get to see them at their best (happy, gentle, relaxed) until they’re rudely interrupted (I’m never eating bagels again in protest!! Not). Then we see some of Alex’s daddy issues and the fandom swiftly moved to the edge of their seats to see where this would take them (and us).

This episode also made me fall in love with Nobel.

5 - Barely Breathing (Episode 8)

I love sassy, gay Alex & he truly shines in this episode... and he said ‘Michael’ sure not to his face but he said it! I also loved the plot with the serum and Isobel. Liz & Michael teaming up is still a series highlight. I’ve watched this episode A LOT & it’s a solid episode from start to finish.

4 - Songs About Texas (Episode 9)

This is going to be controversial but as I said above, I’m an OG series fan & this episode was a great throwback to the OG while still feeling like its own show. Kylex were on fire, their friendship makes me smile. Liz calling Michael ‘Mikey’, Max & Liz we’re just adorable.... So yeah, I definitely became team Echo with this episode!

Even Michael & Maria hooking up didn’t bother me so much, in the context of the episode it was fine (and it should’ve just stayed limited to that one episode).

We also got the whole ‘That I Loved You’ scene, the ‘I’m tired of walking away’ moment so I really like this episode.

3 - So Much For The Afterglow (Episode 2)

This one speaks for itself. We got follow on from the pilot, Max acknowledging something is wrong with him and him going all dark, nearly killing someone before Michael stopped him. We had a glimpse of Maria/Liz/Alex friendship that we desperately need to see more of. And Isobel defending Max to Michael, her ‘Is there really nobody in this world you wouldn’t risk everything to save?’ Still managed to move the Malex storyline along.

And do I even need to mention the ‘I Never Look Away. Not Really’ scene? Yes, I do because it’s f**king Important!!!

2 - Creep (Episode 12)

I was terrified gong into this episode but DAMN it was near perfect! We have the fallout of episode 11 with Max/Liz/Isobel/Noah playing out while Mylex work on the Caulfield mystery. We meet Flint and learn just how evil Project Shepherd really is.... and Michael.... Gah, Michael! The most painful scene of the series (made even more painful by Tyler’s song playing over the top)... Highlighted by Alex’s “I Don’t Look Away” line (told you Michael’s line was f**king important!)

1 - Smells Like Teen Spirit (Episode 6)

This episode killed me... I watched it twelve times in a week. I have reeled in the watching of said episode since but I loved every minute!

They all looked adorable (Alex in his UFO Emporium outfit!). Michael & Max’s friendship, Isobel!!! (I fell in love with her in this episode). Michael’s bi-awakening! Echo dancing in the desert! Malex’s first kiss! Malex’s first time! Rosa’s death explained! This is, without a doubt, my fave episode!!!

#roswell new mexico #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #liz ortecho #max evans #kyle valenti #isobel evans #roswell episodes #alexmanesweek2019

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kutemouse · 5 years ago

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Caught (Prologue)

Disclaimers: All “Save Me” webtoon and BTS MV/highlight reel/film references and plots belong to BTS and BigHit. Not sure who edited it or made it, but the “I’m Fine/Save Me” ambigram pic I used came from here. All pictures of Kim Taehyung belong to BTS and BigHit, I just edited them for my header. The picture of BTS came from Vogue Japan, I just edited it for my header. I got the Kim Taehyung Wings Film Gif from DannyBriz on Wattpad.

A Note from Kutemouse: Awwww, thank you for reading my stuff, @chocolatewolfuniversitytrash!

So, this sweet little mini series is inspired by several things… The movie 365 DNI, the Save Me webtoon, the BTS MV universe, and ideas I’ve come up with waaaaaay too late at night 😂 Honestly, I’m OBSESSED with the whole MV/highlight reel/wings films arc that started with The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Pt. 1, and I’ve ALWAYS wanted to write a story inspired by it. So, kutie pie @chocolatewolfuniversitytrash, thank you for allowing this dream to come to light.

About the non-con request, I was all like, “EEEERRRRRRMMMMMMMM idk,” because I’ve never written non-con and therefore don’t… know… if I’m comfortable with it…? I will attempt to do my best. Either way, I hope you like what has come out of my brain 😅

Also, thank you to @btssmutheaven for revealing my drafts (NOT REALLY, ILY) to @taemaknae for reading my shit and loving it, and to @kpopyandere for being the best unnie account and helping me realize I can write all the yandere ideas I want.

Age Recommendation: 21+ (this is NOT one for youngsters, kuties, and is MOST DEFINITELY NSFW)

Genre: Mafia!AU w/ BTS, Jailbird!AU w/ Taehyung, Yandere!BTS

Warnings: ALL THE WARNINGS. Just kidding, uh… Swears. There are minors in this section but they do NOT do anything sexual. I ain’t about that kinda life, y’all. F*ckboy Taehyung. Fluffy friendship. Angsty jealousy. Mentions of drug use and alcohol consumption (NOT by minors tho). Yandere themes including unhealthy obsession and possessiveness. Making out. No smut in this part, but it’s heavy af.

🚨TRIGGER WARNING. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE ISSUES WITH THE FOLLOWING.🚨

Mentions of abusive relationships, mentions of a parent abusing their child, mentions of sexual abuse, mentions of schoolyard bullying, mentions of a violent murder.

These are not fleshed out or detailed scenarios. When I say “mention,” I mean briefly discussed after it happened, not during, and definitely not in any detail whatsoever. You DO NOT have to read my work. You decide what you are comfortable with. All I want is for you kuties to be happy.

Word Count: 6.1k (WTF is this even allowed?!)

Summary: Kim Taehyung was the absolute love of your life… until he became a murderer. With him serving a life sentence in prison, you were finally free to live out the rest of your life however you wanted. Just when you thought you were at the top of your game, ready to take on the world, Taehyung reappears like a monster not even your worst nightmares could dream up. He gives you a year to fall in love with him, but now the question is, can monsters even be loved?

Master List

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Caught (Taehyung Series, Yandere, Smut, Angst) Prologue

I remember the first time I saw Kim Taehyung. We were both fifteen, just starting out in high school. Back then, I remember the way he lazily leaned against a locker with his arms crossed, seemingly waiting for someone. His hair was bleached a ridiculous bright blonde on the top and left brunette everywhere else. He had on dramatic, black eyeliner that served to accentuate his inky eyes, and he wore a studded leather jacket with his shirt and tie rather than the traditional uniform. Intrigued, I opened my locker and picked out my books for my next class, watching him out of the corner of my eye.

I saw him zero in on his target and take brisk, wide strides towards her as she twirled the combo to her locker. She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes as he caged her in by leaning down to whisper something in her ear. Suddenly, the hallway was filled with flirtatious giggles and I turned away, rolling my eyes. So he was one of those assholes.

I watched him do this with every single girl in our class. I swear, he had his routine down to a science. Chat her up, openly flirt, flirt some more until she caved in to whatever he desired, then drop her like a hot frying pan. It took a couple months for his interest to finally land on me.

“Hey.”

I didn’t bother to look up as I twirled the combination to my locker and popped it open.

“Hey,” he said louder.

I flicked a glance his way. “Do you need something?”

His eyes narrowed. “Do I look like I need anything?”

I huffed out a sigh. “What do you want, Kim Taehyung?”

He let out a snort, leaning against the locker next to mine the same way he’d done a thousand times with a thousand other girls. “So you know my name, but I don’t know yours. You’re new, right?”

“I transferred in at the beginning of the year,” I said impatiently. “And we’re in the same class, so you should know who I am.”

Taehyung’s lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Really? No, that can’t be right. I definitely would’ve remembered you.”

I rolled my eyes and slammed my locker shut, walking quickly away. Taehyung jogged to keep up. “Just tell me your name,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“C’mon, I’m just trying to make friends.”

I whirled around, stopping both of us in our tracks. “Friends? Is that what you’ve been doing with every other girl here? Just making friends?”

Taehyung smirked once more and took a step towards me. I don’t know why, but I took a step back. I should’ve held my ground, should’ve told him to fuck off right then and there. Instead, I let him back me up against the wall and entrap me within his darkened gaze, the same way he would for the next three years of our lives.

He leaned down to whisper in my ear, his breath tickling the skin of my cheek. “We can be more than friends… but first, you have to tell me your name.”

I shoved him off me and practically sprinted down the hall, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. My peers and classmates who saw the exchange teased me for weeks afterward, no matter how much I kept my head down and avoided Taehyung like my life depended on it. It wasn’t until I heard him telling off some of the more tenacious gossipers I decided to give him another chance.

I tapped him on his shoulder as he stood in front of his locker. His eyes widened when he turned to see me standing there. “I’m L/n Y/n,” I said meekly. “And I wanted to thank you for what you said to those people.”

“You heard that?” he asked, the skin of his neck flushing pink.

I nodded.

“You’re welcome,” he said, tossing me a boxy grin.

That day, a seed was planted that eventually grew into a steady, beautiful friendship. A year later, I had come out of my shell quite a bit thanks to Taehyung, and I had a solid group of mates that I adored and relied on. Tae was my best friend, and I was his. Of course, we still got teased quite a bit about being a couple, but I figured we were both long past that.

Taehyung matured alongside our friendship. He stopped wearing thick eyeliner and sporting ridiculous hair colors, instead opting for a softer, more natural look with caramel brown locks and the unblemished glow of his slightly-tan skin. Gone were his dramatic, attention-seeking ways. His voice also deepened, dropping almost an entire octave. Yet despite all of his changes, he still stayed an absolute fuck-boy, shagging a new girl every other week. I came to realize it was all part of his personality, though, and I loved him no matter what.

The summer before our senior year was when I realized that love ran way deeper than friendship. We were at my best girlfriend Chaeyoung’s house when Taehyung stumbled in with yet another girl, his hair freshly dyed a bright cerulean blue. “Hey everyone!” he called out, slinging his arm around the girl’s shoulders. My smile faded as I looked over and noticed she was beyond gorgeous, with waist-length black locks that seemed to flow down the perfect curve of her back. I shuddered as a green monster reared its ugly head deep within me.

Taehyung was with that girl for a few months, which by his standards, was practically a lifetime. The entire time they were together, I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff about to swan-dive into devastating heartbreak. Each time I saw him kiss her, each time I saw him smile at her, each time I saw him lean over and whisper something in her ear, a piece of my soul shriveled up and died. I did my best to put my feelings aside, knowing I already had my chance and he would probably never look at me that way again. Even after they broke up, I kept my love for him tamped down and tucked away deep in the recesses of my heart, scared of ruining our friendship.

His break-up only served to draw us closer together, and slowly, without me realizing it, our friendship began to bloom into something more. Taehyung and I started to tell each other everything, including the messed-up secrets our home lives made us keep. One day, we were sitting in an empty classroom after school. I was trying to study, but kept getting distracted by Tae staring longingly out the window. “What’re you looking at?” I finally asked, putting my pencil down.

“Nothing,” he said simply. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About when we’ll finally get out of here.”

I smiled, my heart thumping a little faster. “We?”

He turned and tossed me his signature boxy grin. “Yeah. We. We’ll make it out of here someday, Y/n. I’ll get away from my bastard of a dad, you’ll get away from your selfish mother, and we’ll have a house in the country with big, open fields and plenty of space to finally fucking breathe.”

I smiled and stored those words away, using them to comfort myself whenever my mother and her asshole of a boyfriend wouldn’t stop yelling at each other, or worse, when they’d pass out on the couch, too drunk or high to stay coherent.

One night around three in the morning, my phone began to buzz and didn’t stop until I finally popped an eye open, fumbled around for it in the dark, and pressed it to my ear. “Hello?” I mumbled.

“H-Hey.”

I sat up. “Taehyung?”

“Y/n, I n-need your help,” he said shakily. It sounded like he was… crying?

I immediately got out of bed and pulled some jeans on. “Tae, it’s okay,” I said soothingly, trying to hide the panic I was feeling. I knew Taehyung’s home life was extremely hard. In fact, most of our home lives were terrible. The only two in our friend group who even came close to “privileged” were Chaeyoung and Jin, and that was because their parents had more money, not less problems.

I myself had plenty of issues. The reason my mother and I moved here when I was fifteen was to escape her abusive boyfriend, and even then, we still lived in constant fear of him finding us again. I guess that fear drove her into the arms of the first strong-looking man who looked twice at her, because her new boyfriend, Manseok, seemed to fit the same abusive pattern. At least he didn’t hit her when he was sober.

I wasn’t exactly sure how terrible Taehyung’s life was until the night he called me. At his request, I stole a few bills from my mom’s purse as well as her ID and put us up in a cheap motel room for the night. Jumping up when I finally heard his knock, I quickly pulled the door open to reveal Taehyung, his blue hair stringy from the rain outside. He was panting like he ran all the way there. I covered my mouth with my hands as the dim lighting revealed his left eye swollen shut, covered in nasty shades of scarlet and purple. His lip was split and bleeding, and his right cheek had another bruise and cut creeping down to his jawbone. The worst part, though, were the red finger-shaped marks that covered his neck.

“Y/n,” he croaked out. I held open my arms and he fell into them, not leaving their safety until well into the morning. I iced his black eye and bruises as much as I could, and bandaged the cuts that covered his face. Taehyung’s face was pressed into my chest, his breathing deep and even as he finally slept.

I decided then and there I’d never let him go.

Thankfully, Taehyung felt the same way. Within a week, he brushed off every other girl he was chatting up and focused all of his attention on me. We spent hours with each other after school, either in person or on the phone, and it became a common occurrence for him to intertwine his fingers with mine or peck me sweetly on the cheek.

I quickly grew dissatisfied, sick of the friendship barrier preventing us from taking things further. We spent an entire day together one weekend, talking, laughing, walking the streets, and trying different foods from vendor carts. As the sun started to go down, Taehyung wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing his chest into my back. He was teasing me, I forget about what, and he leaned down to kiss my cheek when I turned at the last second and let him peck my lips instead. I laughed as his dark eyes grew wide with shock.

That was all it took, though. One kiss, and he was mine. Or rather, I was his. Afterwards, he pulled me into a deserted alleyway and we kissed until the sun completely disappeared. As the stars appeared in the sky above, Taehyung asked me to be his girlfriend, murmuring in my ear about how much he loved me and how he had never stopped loving me, even after I turned him down. With my heart practically bursting, I readily agreed.

Back then, Taehyung had a knack for getting in trouble, and me being his new girlfriend did nothing to hinder that side of him. He was definitely the “bad boy” of our school, constantly rebelling against the system by swapping his uniform for street clothes and ditching classes. His favorite form of rebellion, however, was street graffiti. He loved spray-painting words and drawings all over the walls of our neighborhood alongside his best friend, Namjoon. Tae was nearly caught by the cops a couple of times, but thanks to his quick instincts, he managed to give them the slip.

Still, a boy with bright, blue hair was bound to stand out, so after a couple nights of close calls, Taehyung finally dyed his hair back to that soft, caramel brown that I loved running my fingers through. We sat together at a bus stop, watching cars and people go by with fingers intertwined, when Tae stood and pulled a paint can out of his jacket pocket.

“Again?” I asked. Despite my teasing tone, I smiled up at him.

Taehyung tucked his bottom lip between his teeth with a grin as he sprayed something onto the panel beside us. “Look,” he said once he was finished, tilting his head to admire his work.

I stood up to see the words “I’m fine” sprayed in green. The font was the most interesting part, though, too curly in comparison to Taehyung’s usual writing. “Now look at it from upside-down,” Tae said.

I threw him a skeptical look before obediently curving my neck and scoping out the piece of art as best I could. “Save me,” I read out loud.

Taehyung nodded. “It’s for us,” he murmured.

I looked up at him, emotions surging through me like a waterfall surging down a cliff. “It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice cracking.

Taehyung looked at me, concern filling his features. “Baby girl, what’s wrong?”

“I-I have s-something to tell you,” I stammered.

With many tears and a shaky voice, I began to explain to Taehyung the events that had transpired only a few nights before. How my mom’s boyfriend had quietly snuck into my room while she remained passed out on the couch. How he had told me to be quiet as his hand started stroking my arm. How he had held his hand over my mouth and yelped when I bit him. How I had screamed so loud our neighbors called the cops. How he was carted away by the police with my mother shrieking the entire time about how I was a brat and a dramatic liar.

Taehyung’s gaze grew darker with each word. “That bastard,” he spat, clenching his fists. “I will end that motherfucker.”

“Taehyung, stop,” I sighed. “It’s over. For now, at least. I’ll stay at Chaeyoung’s until graduation.”

“What do you mean? He’s not going to jail?”

I hung my head. “My mom left to pay his bail an hour ago.”

Taehyung slammed his fist into the same panel he just graffitied. “So that jerk is going to walk free?!”

I stood up and ran my hands soothingly over his shoulders. “For now. I’m going to press charges, but in the end, it’s my word against his. Who knows how the system will treat him.”

Taehyung let out a feral growl, turning away from me. “I’m sick of this shit,” he snapped. “My dad, your mom’s boyfriend… neither of them should be walking free after everything they’ve done.”

Not knowing what else to do, I hugged him tightly from behind. “Just another few months,” I said quietly. “And then we’ll be out of here. A house in the country, just like you said.”

“That’s not good enough,” Tae snapped, turning back towards me. My mouth parted in surprise as I looked into his eyes and saw something there I’d never seen before. It was like a slow-burning flame, one that hadn’t yet risen into a raging wildfire, but threatened to if it wasn’t quickly put out.

Taehyung suddenly grabbed my hand and tugged me down the street. “I’m dropping you off at Chae’s,” he said. “And then I want you to stay there for the next twenty-four hours. I don’t want you going out for any reason, you understand me?”

“Taehyung, what are you saying? You’re scaring me.”

He stopped walking, turning so we were facing each other once more. The flame I saw earlier began blazing, turning rapidly into something uncontrollable and destructive I didn’t know how to stop. “This ends tonight,” he growled.

True to his word, he dropped me off at Chaeyoung’s, not leaving until he made me promise I wouldn’t go out until he said so. After a week, with Tae’s permission, I went home to get some clothes and personal items only to find my mom sitting on the couch, strung out of her mind. “Is he here?” I asked tentatively.

She raised her red-rimmed eyes to meet mine. “Who?”

“Manseok. Your jerk of a boyfriend.”

My mom shrugged and scoffed. “Haven’t seen that bastard for a couple days now,” she said, her words slurring together. “He upped and left us. Stole some money from me to do it, too.”

The feeling of relief that I felt was short-lived once I remembered that asshole would probably be back for more, just like the others. I quickly gathered my things and left, stopping only to make sure my mom had enough food for the next few days.

Ever since that night, Taehyung withdrew into himself. He still held my hand and kissed me, but it was distant, emotionless, like he didn’t know how to feel his feelings for me anymore. He weirdly became somewhat possessive of me, keeping me practically glued to his side whenever he was with me, and constantly texting me when we weren’t together. Whenever other boys looked my way, Taehyung shot them down with harsh words and incessant bullying our friends joined in on. I insisted they stop that kind of behavior, and for a while, I thought Tae and his friends complied. It wasn’t until much later in life when I realized they never truly stopped. They just got better at hiding it.

One night, I was at Namjoon’s place waiting for Tae when Joon’s phone rang. “Taehyung?” he said, turning away from me when I looked up. “Hey, calm down. You did what?!”

He stood up quickly. I motioned for him to put it on speaker, but he waved me off. “Okay, stop. I’m coming over right now. Just stay put, dammit.”

Joon grabbed his jacket and rushed towards the door. “Wait!” I cried. “What happened?!”

“Nothing that concerns you,” he snapped. “Stay here. I’ll bring Taehyung to you, alright?”

Neither of them came back. Before the sun even thought of rising, I determinedly ran all the way to Taehyung’s apartment, desperate to see him and make sure he was alright. As my sneakers pounded against the pavement and my breath started coming out in ragged gasps, I suddenly felt a hand grasp my forearm and yank me into a side alley.

“What are you doing here?” a voice growled as I yelped in surprise. I looked up to see Jungkook standing there, glaring at me.

“I want to see Taehyung,” I retorted, ripping my arm from his grasp.

He crossed his arms. “Not gonna happen.”

“Like hell it’s not!” I snapped. “Where is he?”

Jungkook grabbed the front of my jacket, preventing me from pushing past him. “Go home, Y/n.”

“Absolutely the fuck not!”

Sick of my shit, Jungkook picked me up, threw me over his broad shoulder, and carried me out of the alleyway. I kicked and screamed the entire way. He set me down once we were on the main street. “Taehyung will call you when he can,” he said firmly. “I won’t say it again, Y/n. Go home.”

“No!” Tears welled up, and I furiously swiped them away. “I’m his girlfriend! Tell me where he is right now or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Jungkook snapped. “Y/n, you don’t even know where he is. Fucking leave, or I’ll carry you all the way back to Chae’s myself.”

It didn’t take much longer for me to realize Jungkook wouldn’t relent. Eventually, I went back to Chaeyoung’s and spent the day staring at the wall beside my bed. What did Taehyung do? What were his friends protecting him from? When had things gotten so fucked up?

My questions were never answered. After a full week of silence, complete with him missing school, Taehyung showed up at Chae’s place asking for me. “She doesn’t want to see you,” Chae snapped, closing the door as I meandered into the entry hall.

Taehyung stopped her by slamming his palm against the wood. “Please, Chae,” he begged.

Recognizing his deep tenor, I walked up and put my hand on my bestie’s shoulder. “I’ve got this, Chae,” I murmured. She left with a huff.

Taehyung looked terrible. Dark circles ran under both eyes like he’d spent multiple nights without sleep, his hair was unkempt, and his skin was much too pale. Without another word, I immediately took him inside and dragged him up to my room. He took a shower in my en suite bathroom while I washed his clothes. After he dressed, we sat on my bed, still not speaking. “What happened?” I finally asked.

He tossed me a weak smile. “Life happened.”

I shook my head in disgust. “You leave me for an entire week with no explanation, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Baby girl, please,” Taehyung said, clasping my hands in between his large, rough ones. “I’m sorry I left you alone. I asked the guys to keep an eye on you, and they said you’ve been doing fine.”

“Fine is an overstatement,” I snorted, tearing my hands from his grasp.

He didn’t relent, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his broad chest. “Let go,” I ordered, trying and failing to push him away.

“No,” he said simply, tightening his hold. “I love you, Y/n. Everything that happened this past week happened for us. For our dream.”

I managed to pull back enough to look up into his eyes. The spark of mischief that normally resided there was gone, replaced by a dull sombreness that made me ache inside. Whatever had happened that week completely changed Taehyung for good. He was no longer quick to smile or joke, and I began to yearn for the blue-haired boy of the past. I couldn’t tell him that, though. Despite everything, I still loved him.

A month passed, and as our graduation approached, Taehyung talked more and more about moving out to the country. I responded enthusiastically outwardly, but on the inside, I didn’t know if moving out was such a good idea. It wasn’t just the way he had changed. It was having issues with my mom as well. Since Manseok never came back around, her behavior grew more erratic each day. I moved back in to take care of her, and she depended heavily on me. I was afraid if I left, she would fall off the deep end again and never be able to make it back to the surface.

The last day I saw Taehyung dawned bright and filled with hope. “I’m feeling good today,” he announced, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we walked to class.

I smiled up at him, glee spreading through my limbs when I saw a trace of that mischievous spark back in his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He tossed me a grin. “I haven’t been able to go out and tag anything lately… but I kind of want to tonight. You in?”

“Of course.”

As night approached, we walked hand-in-hand down the street until Taehyung led us back to that bus stop where he painted the “I’m fine/Save me” ambigram. I sat on the bench and watched as he began to create something new. I don’t think he had a set plan. The painting started off in meaningless loops, the jet-black color standing out in stark contrast to the white behind it.

Suddenly, bright lights filled our vision flashing a blinding blue and red. “Freeze!” a loud voice yelled.

I remember Taehyung’s wide, dark eyes finding mine, filled with panic. I remember the rough skin of his palm sliding into mine and yanking me upright. I remember how we sprinted down the street, the fear of being caught pumping adrenaline through us. How he ran faster than me, tugging me along to keep up.

Taehyung looked back and pulled me into an alleyway to try and lose them. We turned a corner and met a dead end. With our backs pressed against the wall, I looked at Tae. “Dammit,” he panted, the corners of his mouth turning upwards despite our situation.

I began to run out the way we came, intending on dragging Taehyung with me, but he yanked me back, slamming me against the wall that entrapped us. He kissed me, feverishly pressing his tongue inside my mouth before I could stop him. He yanked my wrists upwards, pinning them almost painfully against the brick above us as his mouth continued exploring mine and his hands roamed up and down my body.

He pulled back, allowing me to finally suck in some oxygen, and even as I coughed, he continued pressing kisses from my cheek to my jaw to my neck. Tae finally stopped as loud voices and beams of flashlights got closer. “I love you, baby girl,” he murmured. “Don’t forget that.”

“Tae, what—?”

He stepped out from behind the corner, raising his hands in the air. I ducked down into the shadows the alley provided, scooting backwards and pressing my hands over my mouth.

“Get over here, punk,” a gruff voice commanded. I heard the grinding click of handcuffs closing over wrists as another voice began to read Tae his rights.

I scrambled to my feet, realizing too late what was happening. No, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t take the fall for both of us. Not like this. Still, even as I moved to step out into the light and reveal myself, something stopped me. I don’t remember exactly what it was. Possibly the thought of my mother, my friends, how close I was to graduation. Like I said, I don’t remember. All I remember was the panic I felt when I realized the love of my life had just been arrested.

I showed up late to class the next day, not wanting to answer questions from my friends about what had happened and why I looked like absolute shit. I realized my efforts weren’t needed when two detectives pulled me out of class and escorted me to the police station, causing my classmates to start buzzing with gossip like the annoying wasps they were.

“So… L/n Y/n,” the cop, Detective Kwak, said. I looked up at her, nervously twisting my hands in my lap. “You are dating Kim Taehyung, correct?”

I nodded slowly. She had brought me here for “routine questioning,” yet I began to suspect more when they put me in an interrogation room. “For how long?” the detective asked.

“About a year and a half,” I muttered.

“So your relationship was serious?”

“You could say that.”

“How serious?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how serious were you? Did you have plans for after graduation?”

“I guess. We were going to move in together.”

“Here in the city?”

“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “Somewhere far away.”

“Because of your troubles at home?”

It was then I got defensive. “What do you know about that?” I snapped.

Detective Kwak stared me down, an amused smile playing around the corners of her lips. “I know enough. I was promoted to detective only a month or so ago. Back in my street days, I was one of the cops called to your house.”

My mouth parted in surprise at her words.

“I remember that night pretty clearly,” she continued. “Your mom’s boyfriend attacked you, right?”

I swallowed hard and sank down in my seat, rubbing my arms with my palms in an effort to keep myself contained. “And she did nothing to defend you, correct?” the detective prodded.

“Stop,” I whispered.

“What about Taehyung? Did he do anything to defend you?”

“What the fuck is this about?” I burst out. “I thought you brought me here because… because…”

“Because of the graffiti?” she asked pointedly.

I nodded.

Detective Kwak leaned forward over the table. “Look, Y/n, I don’t give a damn about the fact you were his tagging partner in crime or whatever. This is much bigger than that.”

“What do you mean?”

She sat back and stared at me, her eyes like cold, dark tunnels. “Kim Taehyung has been charged with murder. His prints match a partial we lifted off of a crime scene.”

My mouth dropped open. “W-What?”

“That’s right,” she said. “We only identified the body yesterday. Does the name Lee Manseok mean anything to you?”

I froze as the syllables of my mother’s boyfriend’s name rolled off the detective’s tongue. She nodded at my reaction. “I thought it would. He was found in an abandoned warehouse about a week after he was killed. He’d been beaten to death.”

My blood ran cold, causing goosebumps to raise on the flesh of my arms. I shook my head fiercely. “No, that can’t be right,” I said. “The guy was a dick, anyone could’ve done that to him.”

“That’s what we thought at first. We first suspected his wife.”

“He… He has a wife?”

“And two kids,” the detective scoffed. “Your mom picked a real winner. But then we finally got Taehyung in custody thanks to your shenanigans last night and what do you know? His prints match the one we found at the crime scene.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” I said firmly. “Taehyung wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t he?” she asked, folding her arms over the table. “Sounds like he really loved you and would do anything to protect you.”

“No, there has to be a mistake. Even if Taehyung did kill him, it had to be out of self-defense or something.”

“Maybe so. But if you knock a guy out and then continue beating him until he dies, is it really self-defense?”

“It is if that guy could come back and hurt someone you love for revenge,” I retorted.

The detective’s face remained expressionless. “Unfortunately, the law says differently.”

“The law can go to hell for all I care.”

She chuckled. “Whatever you say, kid. Look, the crime scene revealed that more than one person beat the literal life out of Manseok. If Taehyung did this, he didn’t do it alone. Do you happen to know who else would have helped him commit murder?”

I stayed silent as I thought for a moment. Any of our friends could’ve helped him, with maybe the exception of Chaeyoung. I thought of Jin, Hoseok, Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi and Joon. I thought of the way they moved around school like a unified group, making fun of anyone who wasn’t them and bullying people who got in their way, especially any other guy who dared look my way. Still, they wouldn’t have helped Tae commit flat-out murder, would they?

“Anyone at all?”

The detective’s voice brought me out of my thoughts. I shook my head. “No. No one.”

She sighed. “There’s something else. We’ve been trying to get ahold of Taehyung’s father, but he seems to be missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yes. He hasn’t shown up at his job at all in the past month and a half. His credit cards haven’t been used, either.”

“So?” I snapped. “The guy was an alcoholic, he could be holed up somewhere drinking himself to death.”

“Maybe so, but my guess is we’re going to find him in some abandoned building or maybe at the bottom of the ocean one day. Your boy, Taehyung? I’ll bet he’s the one who put him there.”

I slammed my palms on the table. “LIES!” I yelled. “He wouldn’t do that!”

“Wouldn’t he?!” Detective Kwak shouted, rising to her feet. “Tell me something right now, Y/n. Have you noticed him acting differently? Have you noticed any changes in his behavior?”

I immediately looked down at the ground. “No,” I muttered.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said, NO!”

“Enough with the lies!”

“I’m not lying! You are!”

The detective opened her mouth to retort, then thought better of it and sat down instead. “The evidence doesn’t lie, Y/n,” she said.

“Look,” I said. “If you want someone to put in jail, put me in jail. Taehyung’s gone through enough in his life. Please don’t put him through this.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Tears welled up in my eyes and I put my hands over my face and began to sob. Detective Kwak stood up and came around to my side of the table before placing a hand on my shoulder. Once my sobs began to cease, she offered me a tissue. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. “Thanks,” I muttered.

“Listen,” she said gently. “I’ve made arrangements for your aunt to come pick you up.”

I looked up at the detective in surprise. “My aunt?”

“Yes. Your mom’s sister. She’s filed to gain custody of you, and in light of recent events, a judge granted it to her.”

“Wait, my mom’s sister? I thought she lived in America.”

Detective Kwak’s mouth visibly tightened. “No, actually, she lives in Busan. Seems your mom kept that from you as well. Your aunt’s been trying to get in contact with you, Y/n. She says she sent letters.”

I stared at the wall across from me. Every limb, every nerve ending, every cell in my body was starting to go numb. It was all too much. My boyfriend was a murderer, my mom’s ex-boyfriend was dead, Taehyung’s dad was missing, and now all of a sudden I had a long-lost aunt who was now my sole guardian?”

“She’s very well off,” the detective continued. “She’s even offered to pay for your mom to get treatment in a rehabilitation facility. Whatever future you have with her is sure to be a bright one.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so. I’ve met her, only briefly, but she seems very nice.”

I let the silence grow between us, not bothering to give a response. The detective finally sighed and sat back down in her chair across from me. “Y/n, Taehyung is going to jail for a very long time. Maybe even for the rest of his life. I suggest you move on with your life. Move to Busan. You’ll attend a great school there, and probably university as well. You can start down an entirely new path.”

The memory of Taehyung’s handsome face swam before my eyes, his bright, boxy smile lighting my insides on fire the way it had for the past year and a half. “What if I don’t want to?” I whispered.

“Well… That’s up to you. But the sooner you move on, the sooner you’ll stop feeling this pain.”

Detective Kwak stood up, motioning for me to stand up as well. “Come on. Your aunt’s waiting.”

We exited the interrogation room, the skin on my face itchy and dry from crying. I knew I probably looked like a mess, but I didn’t care.

“Y/n!” a deep, familiar voice shouted. I froze in my tracks, slowly raising my eyes to his inky ones. He struggled in the grip of two cops, his hands handcuffed behind his back.

“Hey baby girl,” he said, smirking. “Nice of you to come visit me.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Detective Kwak hissed.

“You said to move him into the interrogation room.”

“While it’s still occupied?!”

“Don’t worry,” Taehyung quipped. “We can share, right baby?”

“Get him out of here!” Detective Kwak snapped. “Now!”

The cops shoved Taehyung towards the interrogation room. I turned to look at him, desperation clenching at my heart. I realized this might be the last time I saw him, the last time I would get to tell him something. Anything. My mouth opened but no words came out.

“Don’t worry, baby girl!” Taehyung shouted, lurching towards me. “I’ll get out someday! And I’ll come for you! I will always come for you!”

I shook my head and felt tears prick at my eyes once more as the police wrestled with him. “I love you, Y/n!” he shouted just before they shut the door on him.

“Sorry about that,” Detective Kim said, holding a hand to her heaving chest. “You weren’t supposed to cross paths.”

“It’s okay,” I murmured, and to my own surprise, I meant it. I was glad I saw him one last time. I realized, in that moment, that the blue-haired boy I once knew and fell in love with was completely gone. His eyes, which once held a spark of playfulness and mischief, now held nothing but misery and woe. He let his anger for the world overtake him, allowing it to blaze a path of self-destruction that I could no longer follow.

Maybe the detective was right. Despite the fact that Kim Taehyung was the love of my life, maybe, just maybe, it was time to move on.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Part One is HEEEEEEERE! 😉

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nothingunrealistic · 6 years ago

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👀 okay I'm starting to get into billions (bc of will). Can you recommend some essential episodes or something to get an understanding for what's happening? (And also I really like Asia Kate Dillon so like important episodes with them too)

the tricky thing about billions is that those of us who are into it aren’t, for the most part, actually watching the episodes in full or trying to understand all the plotlines. so if you want to know what’s happening with Everyone on the show (which is a dizzying number of characters), i can’t really pare it down to what’s important because i refuse to care about like half of them. but if, as it seems, you’re primarily here for winston and taylor (will’s and asia’s characters respectively), then good news - that’s almost all we care about too

the essential episodes for understanding winston are easy enough because he’s only shown up in five so far (3x03, 3x09, 3x11, 4x03, 4x08, and 4x11) for a couple minutes each, and all footage of him has been lovingly collated and posted on here. his first several appearances, and the context for them, are collected here; his moments from the most recent episode, which we were yelling about all day on sunday, are here. (he’ll be in this coming sunday’s episode too, which is also the season finale, so expect even more yelling about that.)

narrowing down the Essential Taylor is a little trickier because they’ve been in nearly every episode of seasons 2 3 and 4, of which i have watched exactly one episode. if billions had a decent fan wiki or anything similar, i would direct you to that, but they don’t, because they suck. the main way i keep up with the episodes/figure out what happened in previous seasons is via fan-run sites (which are superior to the recaps on Professional Media Websites usually), as follows:

fanfunwithdamianlewis has multiple recaps of every episode (including some from people who actually understand and can explain the financial stuff going on), as well as lists of all the locations shown, transcripts of cast interviews, and other fun stuff, all thoroughly tagged with actor and character names

gingesbecray has a recap of every episode as well (including gifs), always very detailed and entertainingly opinionated in ways we generally agree with

the billions companion collects and explains all the references that characters make (which is half the dialogue), sorted by episode, character, and keyword, as well as listing a wide array of other helpful sites

from these sites, the decent number of clips floating around youtube, and a collection of all taylor’s dialogue in seasons 2 & 3, we’ve pieced together the basic arc taylor’s had in the show so far. here’s my best approach at a season-by-season highlights reel (with links to relevant clips in bold) under the cut because it’s ridiculously long

season 2: taylor arrives at axe capital as an intern. axe recognizes their talent and convinces them to stay, and they gain experience, status, and respect at axe cap over the course of the season, becoming the chief investment officer by season’s end.

2x01: taylor is an intern working for mafee (an executing trader at axe cap), and mafee wants them to stay once their internship is over.

2x02: taylor meets axe and impresses him with their insight. though taylor knows they don’t fit in at axe cap and plans to leave for grad school, axe later convinces them to stay, with a salary of a million dollars for a year.

2x03: taylor gets invited to play at a charity poker tournament (a real thing!), to the chagrin of others at axe cap. taylor has reservations but ultimately agrees to play; they win the tournament by outthinking their opponent, but are reminded of how out of place they are in hedge fund culture.

2x07: taylor is involved in figuring out what to do about a struggling small town that axe cap is heavily invested in.

2x08: taylor notices that mafee has been struggling at his job ever since he introduced them to axe, and asks wendy (who’s married to chuck [one of the main Legal Side characters], the performance coach at axe cap, and one of axe’s closest friends) if they should do anything about it. (ultimately taylor decides to assuage the guilt by giving mafee a signed wrestling poster. that’s the world of finance for you!)

2x09: axe’s birthday party, which everyone is expected to attend, is in conflict with taylor’s personal life, so they talk to him about what they should do and why they’re conflicted.

2x10: taylor is questioned by connerty (another of the characters on the legal side of things, who we don’t care about otherwise) about what happens at axe cap.

2x11: taylor is warned by connerty that this line of work might endanger their soul. they’re also given the responsibility of assessing all the analysts at axe cap and firing one - and told that it can’t be based solely on the numbers - and decide not to fire rudy, who is the worst performing analyst but is dedicated to succeeding.

2x12: axe is arrested/indicted/somehow penalized for insider trading and other hedge fund shenanigans, and he puts taylor in charge of axe cap’s investments.

season 3: taylor keeps axe capital running and thriving in axe’s absence, but once he returns, he overrules their decisions and undercuts their trust, leading them to start their own hedge fund (taylor mason capital, or tmc) by season’s end.

3x01: taylor calls a meeting at axe cap and tasks everyone with preparing for an Idea Dinner where they’ll impress other hedge funds with a new and exciting plan for making money. ultimately taylor comes up with a plan that involves reverse engineering microchips, and it goes over well.

3x02: taylor struggles with making the right choices of investments after a tsunami hits brazil, confronts axe when he shows up at the office despite being banned from trading, and talks with him later about how the day has gone and how to move forward.

3x03: taylor interviews quantitative analysts (”quants”) for axe cap, much to the chagrin of analysts who are worried about losing their jobs and traders who don’t trust computers. ultimately none are hired because wags (the COO of axe cap and the epitome of everything absolutely wild about billions), who conducted the interview with taylor, doesn’t trust quants either and sabotaged the process. (this is also where winston first appears! hi winston!)

3x04: taylor expects a space mission led by weird off brand elon musk to fail and invests accordingly. they’re rooting for him anyway and are horrified when he dies in an explosion after launch. they also deal with attempts to get them to invest in a charitable organization brought to axe’s attention by oscar langstraat, a venture philanthropist, and wind up with significant distaste for oscar.

3x05: taylor encounters oscar again in silicon valley where they’re hearing pitches, and though they’re hostile to him at first, a conversation about star wars makes taylor regret that they made other plans for dinner, and playing an obscure board game is enough for them to sleep with him. (like i said: enemies to lovers speedrun!)

3x06: taylor is “rattled” (their word) by something related to axe’s legal troubles in this episode. oscar flies in from silicon valley unannounced to keep taylor company while they’re working on their quant project because he’s That invested. no clips of any of this online though

3x07: axe and wendy are planning to convince mafee to take the blame for some shady investing they did at the end of last season, and taylor inadvertently enables them to do it by giving them information about how mafee thinks and what he believes in.

3x08: axe returns to axe cap free to trade again, and immediately undoes all of taylor’s work (including the quant project), though he also invites them to join the team that will raise money for axe cap. taylor wants a fund of their own to manage (still affiliated with axe cap but separate), but axe won’t give them as much money for it as he’s promising.

3x09: axe needs money and tries to take some from grigor andolov, a russian oil oligarch, which taylor thinks is a terrible idea. they also restart the quant project again, in secret, which means winston’s back! winston & taylor’s meeting in a room with a chalkboard and taylor’s introduction of the quants to the quant headquarters are both from this episode.

3x10: taylor and oscar are celebrating a deal that oscar’s about to make, but when taylor mentions it to axe in asking for his help with getting a dinner reservation, axe, who’s searching for more sources of money, makes the deal before oscar can, which crushes taylor and ends their relationship.

3x11: taylor discovers that winston has driven off the other quants, but asks him to work on The Algorithm instead of firing him. it’s also comp time - axe won’t give taylor as much of a bonus as they want and also removes them from the capital raise team; this decision is later reversed when taylor talks to wendy and wendy talks to axe. winston completes The Algorithm, and taylor emerges from the quant basement into the offices of taylor mason capital to talk to grigor.

3x12: taylor meets with grigor and convinces him to invest in tmc, arrives (late) to the capital raise event and impresses the investors there, swipes a good portion of that capital for tmc, and leaves axe cap for good, having successfully convinced mafee (and failing to convince ben kim) to join them. axe and taylor argue about taylor’s betrayal and what comes next. taylor also tries and fails to bring wendy to tmc.

season 4: taylor strives to keep tmc successful while fending off axe’s repeated attacks and dealing with their own interpersonal relationships interfering with business. how will it end? we don’t yet know [UPDATE: it ends with taylor making deals with both axe and chuck, but truly being on no one’s side except their own.]

4x01: taylor, mafee, and sara (taylor’s COO) struggle to hire employees due to axe paying off tmc’s headhunter (though they don’t initially know that’s the case). taylor disguises themself as a cis woman to get money from a sovereign wealth fund that axe cap is also seeking money from. (the full episode is available on youtube.)

4x02: taylor can’t get funding because axe has persuaded all the banks to cut them off. grigor brings in a pair of shady brothers to invest in tmc; taylor would really rather not depend on the brothers’ money, so they trick the banker the brothers are using into cutting off their credit lines and ask grigor to use his influence to get independent funding for tmc.

4x03: axe cap has managed to get a hold of tmc’s trading patterns, and they start front running tmc (making trades based on what they expect tmc to do) to throw taylor off. (this is where winston comes in again! and declares himself cassandra!) taylor’s dad, douglas, shows up and spends nearly all of his screentime either persistently misgendering taylor or helping them create a mathematical equation, which includes a mistake added by taylor as a message to axe (who of course is watching) for a meeting. when they meet, taylor asks axe for a truce, and he declines.

4x04: grigor brings down axe cap’s whole computer system, allowing tmc to profit off a natural gas crisis that axe cap was hoping to benefit from. taylor also agrees to support douglas’s aerospace project, a “lattice grid fin,” now that he’s actually respecting them as a person. but the climax of this episode is chuck talking about his and wendy’s sex life in front of the press, and taylor calls wendy afterward to offer sympathy. (and chuck, who subsequently wins his election, gets grigor deported and his money frozen.)

4x05: taylor is #Stressed about the loss of grigor’s money, which endangers tmc overall and douglas’s project especially. sara brings in lauren, an investor relations expert, to help out; lauren gets taylor a meeting with the new york firefighters’ fund, who used to invest only with axe but are looking elsewhere, and taylor gains their support.

4x06: taylor is working with douglas and a couple other companies on getting his lattice fin project off the ground, while trying to avoid axe cap’s spying (not that successfully), and douglas is mad that he isn’t being treated like the smartest person in the room. taylor and wendy also meet up repeatedly, in a seemingly friendly way, but wendy mines their conversations and her patient files on taylor to figure out how to force taylor to destroy douglas’s project.

4x07: rebecca, axe’s girlfriend (though tmc doesn’t know that) and a business mogul herself, offers to buy douglas’s project (as a way for axe to access and destroy it), which taylor turns down. taylor has also enlisted wendy’s help to furnish a new apartment for their parents. then taylor gets the news that douglas’s project has been found to be a threat to national security (thanks to axe) - and though they initially choose to hold onto his project despite the ensuing loss of funds, wendy comes over to commiserate and inadvertently gives away that she’s been playing taylor this whole time. taylor sells the project to the government to save tmc, at the cost of their relationship with douglas.

4x08: taylor wants financial revenge for being manipulated, and first taunts, then argues with axe on live television. at mafee and dollar bill’s charity boxing match, taylor first is confronted by wendy about reporting her for malpractice (which sara did without taylor’s knowledge), then reveals that they tricked axe into getting fracking legalized so they could profit from buying water rights where fracking happens.

4x09: taylor is going to great lengths to destroy rebecca’s new position as ceo of a department store (saler’s), including buying out three of the largest shareholders and planning to meet up with a fourth who already hates axe. the plan doesn’t work in the end, but taylor finds out that axe will make huge sacrifices for rebecca - and starts a relationship with lauren, who helped them get a meeting with the fourth shareholder’s son.

4x10: taylor is preparing for wendy’s malpractice hearing, buying an appliance manufacturer closely tied to saler’s in order to have power over rebecca, and doing a terrible job of hiding their relationship with lauren. wendy comes to see them at tmc, and taylor claims they won’t go to the hearing, for wendy’s benefit.

4x11: taylor indeed doesn’t go to the hearing, and wendy fesses up to her wrongdoing. it’s comp time at tmc (winston’s most recent appearance! we’ve only just recently stopped shouting about it!), and everyone defers their bonus except lauren, who says she’d be too heartbroken to stick around if she and taylor broke up. rebecca, who’s tired of taylor making her life difficult, offers taylor a business deal related to saler’s, and taylor, who’s tired of being at war, accepts.

4x12: here is imdb’s summary of this episode: “Axe makes a big decision. Connerty gets closer to the truth. Tensions rise, and dynamics shift.” real specific. [UPDATE: taylor apologizes to their employees and promises to focus on running tmc The Right Way. and then axe sinks tmc by effectively killing saler’s, and sends a former axe cap employee who tried to get a job at tmc to try and bait taylor into engaging in insider trading; he hopes that chuck will then arrest them and blackmail them to work for axe again. taylor doesn’t take the bait, but chuck arrests them anyway, and makes a deal with them to work together to take axe down. secretly taylor plans to set up chuck and axe to destroy each other, and then get out of the way. the episode ends with taylor and their tmc team walking into axe cap and being “welcomed home.”]

#inbox #cockbiteproductions #billions #taylor mason #winston billions #if you have more questions feel free to ask! i unexpectedly love talking about this lmao

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thesportssoundoff · 5 years ago

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“A bittersweet ESPN Fight Night” UFC Rozenstruik vs Overeem Preview

Joey

December 1st

It's been an "interesting" experience on ESPN, one with plenty of ups and downs and roundabouts but we come to an end on December 7th withwith a finale card for ESPN from DC. It's a good card on paper but one that a) has been besieged by injuries and b) overshadowed by some truly heartbreaking circumstances. It's headlined by a heavyweight fight pitting Alistair Overeem in the midst of his 3rd (fourth?) renaissance run taking on rising HW Jair Rozenstruik. Underneath that we have a bevy of solid women's fights that have also been somewhat shaken by injuries as Cynthia Calvillo faces solid Brazilian striker Marina Rodriguez in the co-main event with Aspen Ladd vs Yana Kunitskaya settled in underneath that. After that we've got some great fights at bantamweight, a few fights at HW and MW and then some action filler. It's not the worst card in the world and it's got some merit especially if you're in the midst of this rather gross MMA drought we got goin' on.

Fights: 12

Debuts: Billy Quarantillo, Jacob Kilburn, Joe Solecki

Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: (Claudia Gadelha OUT, Mariana Rodriguez IN vs Cynthia Calvillo/Walt Harris OUT, Jair Rozenstruik IN vs Alistair Overeem/Courtney Casey OUT, Mallory Martin IN vs Virna Jandiroba/Carlos Condit vs Mickey Gall CANCELLED/Chris Fishgold OUT, Jacob Kilburn IN vs Billy Quarantillo/Alonzo Menifield OUT, Makhmud Muradov IN vs Trevor Smith)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 8 (Alistair Overeem, Cynthia Calvillo, Ben Rothwell, Aspen Ladd, Yana Kunitskaya, Stefan Struve, Ricky Simon, Thiago Alves)

Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC: Ben Rothwell, Trevor Smith

Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC: Alistair Overeem, Cynthia Calvillo, Marina Rodriguez,Yana Kunitskaya, Song Yadong, Bryce Mitchell, Jair Rozenstruik

Main Card Record Since Jan 1st 2017 (in the UFC): 34-15-1

Alistair Overeem- 4-2 Jair Rozenstruik- 3-0 Cynthia Calvillo- 5-1 Marina Rodriguez- 2-0-1 Aspen Ladd- 3-1 Yana Kunitskaya- 2-1 Stefan Struve- 1-3 Ben Rothwell- 0-2 Rob Font- 3-2 Ricky Simon- 3-1 Cody Stamman- 4-1 Song Yadong- 4-0

Fights By Weight Class (yearly number here):

Women’s Strawweight- 2 (30) Heavyweight- 2 (39) Bantamweight- 2 (57) Featherweight- 2 (59) Women’s Bantamweight- 1 (21) Middleweight- 1 (47) Welterweight- 1 (73) Lightweight- 1 (75)

Light Heavyweight- (44) Women’s Flyweight- (33) Flyweight- (15) Women’s Featherweight- (8)

2019 Number Tracker

Debuting Fighters (40-62-1)- Billy Quarantillo, Jacob Kilburn, Joe Solecki

Short Notice Fighters (32-41-1)- Marina Rodriguez, Jair Rozenstruik, Mallory Martin, Jacob Kilburn, Makhmud Muradov, Virna Jandiroba

Second Fight (56-40)- Makhmud Muradov, Virna Jandiroba

Cage Corrosion (Fighters who have not fought within a year of the date of the fight) (23-40-1)-

Undefeated Fighters (42-40-2)- Bryce Mitchell, Marina Rodriguez, Jair Rozenstruik

Fighters with at least four fights in the UFC with 0 wins over competition still in the organization (12-9)- Tim Means, Matt Wiman, Trevor Smith

Weight Class Jumpers (Fighters competing outside of the weight class of their last fight even if they’re returning BACK to their “normal weight class”) (33-26)-

Twelve Precious Ponderings

1- First and foremost, this is the saddest main event in UFC history. Jair Rozenstruik is fighting in place of Walt Harris who right at the peak of his UFC run was forced to step away and endure a situation you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. As much fun as we may poke at Walt Harris the fighter for some of the sillier moments in MMA that are attached to his name (a six fight non fight series with Mark Godbeer, fighting Werdum on two hours notice, his first UFC run), professionally speaking he had finally begun to put everything together and was on a 5-1 run that really should've been a 5-0 streak if you remove a fight vs Fabricio Werdum that he took on a days notice to help save the card. That doesn't even account for his other loss being a silly DQ loss where he clearly fouled Mark Godbeer during a break in rather controversial fashion. It's sad on a professional level but heartbreaking on a personal one as Harris pulled out of this fight due to the then disappearance (now confirmed murder) of his stepdaughter. What Walt Harris and his family are going through currently pales in comparison to anything fight related and is truly one of the worst things a human being has to endure. Walt Harris put his fighting career on hold as his personal life crumbled around him through no fault of his own and that is tragic. As intrigued as I am by this main event, it's the epitome of "With a heavy heart" because in a just, fair and loving world this is Walt Harris going for the biggest win of his career. Rest in peace Aniah Blanchard and may the Harris family find the strength to get through this trying time.

2- Is Alistair Overeem essentially blocked off from the title picture? Let's say Overeem beats Jair Rozenstruik and does it impressively. That's now three wins in a row. Normally three wins in a row at HW gets you a title fight but ahead of him in terms of contenders you have Curtis Blaydes (beat Overeem), Ngannou (almost killed Overeem), Volkov (likely fighting Ngannou) and DC (this would've been a hell of a fight 2-3 years ago). Derrick Lewis is about to be tied up in an utterly meaningless fight and OVereem probably beats or HAS beaten everybody behind him. As such---what's really his place in the division? Is he the official Keith Jardine/Kenny Florian/Mark Munoz gatekeeper to the title shot who never gets the title shot?

3- Had this discussion a few weeks ago but is Alistair Overeem a top 5 HW of all time?

4- Why are allowing Aspen Ladd to fight at 135 lbs? It just feels needless.

5- A lot has been made about the lack of contenders for Amanda Nunes but I think we can have a genuine conversation about Yana Kunitskaya taking none of those spots if she can beat Aspen Ladd. Kunitskaya with three straight wins over the likes of Lina Lansberg, Marion Reneau and Aspen Ladd would probably at worst put her in a #1 contender fight if not directly into being Nunes' next opponent. With Amanda Nunes basically being a better Mighty Mouse in terms of name value, it's not like you need to be a big name to get a fight.

6- Tim Means vs Thiago Alves in 2019, eh? Fine. You guys do you.

7- The same should be said for this rather blegh Ben Rothwell vs Stefan Struve fight. Rothwell has not been the same guy since coming back from his USADA suspension and Stefan Struve really should've gone through with his retirement.

8- Is this too much too soon for Song Yadong? To this point, Yadong's fought guys ranging from fun but limited (Bharat Kandare) to established quality veterans lacking a defining trait (Felipe Arantes and Alejandro Perez). Alejandro Perez was a fine but safe step up since Perez's defining traits (consistent workrate, a solid kicking game at range) weren't going to do much against Yadong unless we were all wrong about him. Outside of a blip here or there, Yadong has passed every test but Stamman is IMO a genuine top 10 bantamweight who brings high level strength with him. We've seen that Yadong does some of his best work in tight but we've never seen him have to wrestle with a strong compact wrestler type. Stamman is also probably the most polished fighter Yadong has ever faced in his time in the UFC with experience against elite dudes like Aljamain Sterling. This is a really good fight and perhaps a bridge too far for China's best male fighter in the UFC.

9- Matt Wiman's long awaited return to the UFC was about what you'd expect for a dude who basically missed out on the rise of the athlete/real sports era of the UFC. Wiman looked woefully out of his depth vs Luis Pena and while he didn't humiliate himself in terms of heart, it was certainly not one of the highlight reels. Wiman is back and taking on debuting fighter Joe Salecki in yet another "old school UFC LW vs DWCS guy" fight. Perhaps Wiman can get some good vibes after Joe Lauzon boxed up Jonathan Pearce and had one of the cooler moments of 2019 in his out of nowhere win. Remember debuting fighters have bad numbers in 2019!

10- Cynthia Calvillo vs Claudia Gadelha was on paper a tremendous fight with plenty to discuss but Marina Rodriguez vs Cynthia Calvillo feels like one of those weird throwback style clashes. Rodriguez is a fantastic muay thai striker with good movement who cuts a frenetic pace. On the other hand, Cynthia Calvillo eats up this kind of fighter with her grappling and quick takedowns. Rodriguez allowed Randa Markos to spend 10 minutes taking her down at will. As such, I get the feeling things are about to go real bad for Rodriguez unless her takedown defense has grown overnight.

11- Ricky Simon is subjecting us to more Urijah Faber fights so let's just say that I hope he has a great performance to make up for that.

12- Should there be a limit to the number of DWCS guys on one sole card?

#MMA #UFC #Rozenstruik #Overeem #fights #Rothwell #Struve

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disgraced-doctor-junkenstein · 6 years ago

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Title: Bottles Doc knows how to deal with his feelings. He just bottles them up.

This was a lot to take in. Doc accepted the concept of alternative realities and dimensions when it had all been a proposed theory in the past but now. Now it was undeniable and while it confirmed many things it was still just a lot to take in when the reality of it hit. There were different varieties of himself. Worse yet, maybe he was just a variant of someone else. Nothing original about him. Nothing special. Not one in six billion from his own world but one of a possibly limitless amount of the same person. There was some hope in his distress though. Of all the Rats he had come across he was the only one strikingly different but they spoke of others. There were movies of his story, granted who was to say they were not based off another variant of himself from another universe? A foil of himself but more successful. What if he was the worst of them all? Someone had to be, right? It was maddening really. Facing all this now not so long after having lost everything. His home, his revenge, his Hog, his sense of direction... One would think that when they hit rock bottom there would be no place to go but up. No. Unfortunately it seemed Doc had brought with him a pickax and was going to dig into the earth’s core at this rate. Maybe then he would finally stop being such a screw up. His actions might finally hold a consequence that would burn him alive and make him suffer in a way he knew he could recover from. Physical pain was nothing compared to mental or emotional in his experience. And right now he felt feverish with how alight his thoughts were. All of them overlapping like waves of gasoline and all it took was one more misstep to cause a spark to ignite it all. All the other Rats he met so far were strange. They could fake a smile much like himself but they lashed out far more than he did. They were feral in nature thanks to their world being blown apart at a young age. Sense of family far different from his own or just simply did not have one. In that instance Doc was lucky. He was not sure he would have the resolve they had to make it though that particular hell and back. His parents were such a integral part of his life that losing them at such a young age would have changed him. Perhaps then he would have been more like the others. Doc ran his hands down his face. Fingers unable to leave marks though the goggles he had pulled down in his frustration had snapped back, pegging him in his nose. In a rage he yanked them off and hurled them from himself. A small plume of dust rising from the impact in the distance but the wind carried it away. God. How he wish his thoughts could just come and go as easily. But even as he wished for that guilt was starting to edge its way back in like shadows. Throwing tantrums was not acceptable in polite society. It was taboo. As was many things Junkenstein found himself fascinated by but those things were encouraged by his parents. Lashing out, however, was not. Sinking his face back into his palms, Junkenstein sniffled loudly trying to reel himself back in. Talking was the recommended way of venting one’s thoughts and feelings but his peers found him unsettling, his appearance strange, and his general outlook on life to be backwards. He could never really tell them anything without it getting warped into something awful that the town would eventually hear and believe. His parents would offer to listen, such kind souls they were, but somethings one just simply could not tell their folks. So Junkenstein coped by pushing it all down. The girl he once liked when he was but a youth? Oh how he wrote silly little love notes on the way the light hit her shoulders and highlighted he face like reflections off a glassy wave. He thought he had truly liked her but when she reacted poorly to his confession his pride had taken a blow. Childish, sure. But he wanted to explain but it was soon apparent that when others teased her about the disgusting boy that fancied her nothing he could say would matter. He had torn all his letters up. Tears drying on the torn pieces as the wind carried them off over the cliff-side he had sat at back then. Another thing to bottle up. When Junkenstein found himself attracted to boys as well a few years later he felt shame. His parents would have understood but the town was religious in the way that was sickening. They spoke of acceptance and loving one another but the next week there would be chatter and disgust for anyone rumored to have looked at someone else of the same sex for too long or even dare to touch hands. So he bottled it up. A choking whimper was lodged in his throat now as Junkenstein couldn’t help thinking about it all. The girl, the town, the King he would later fancy, the acquisitions, the lashings, everyone talking- he could practically hear them now and see the look of repugnance on the multitude of faces. His bottle had been full for some time now. He felt it crack before but tried to fix it with tape in the form of booze. A bottle to drown out another bottle. It held then but the pressure never let up. Doc’s throat burned and he wasn’t sure if he was even breathing in the moment. His world just becoming a steady blur of colors in between the darkness of when he rubbed at his eyes. Tears wetting his palms and no matter how much he tried to dab them away he knew he was breaking. His metaphorical bottle was so splintered with spiderweb cracks that the lightest touch was sure to have it all come crumbling down and no amount of tape could keep it from leaking. He was beyond his limits and becoming a seeping mess. “I can,” Junkenstein wheezed for breath. “Fix it.” A glove hand soon pulled at his own hair for a hopeful detraction. Nothing like physical pain to mask the real threat the bubbled just underneath the surface. “I can-” he hiccuped. He was a doctor and a scientist. He could fix anything if he tried hard enough. So...Why was he breaking? Maybe he just needed to push it all down harder. He was raised in a polite society. Emotions had no place to be seen if they were anything but happy. But this was not his home. The rules did not apply here and he could not seem to grasp that. All he knew was how to push it all down until he would break and once his madness would pass, he would be hollow again. He could start over with a new bottle. It would be plain and numb, devoid of color and crushing feelings. And Junkenstein would do what he knew best. He could start to fill it up again and not let anyone see. For he was a polite man. That was all anyone needed to know...

#Fanfic #Angst #It ain't fading. Man I got to let it out.#Am I quitting? Screaming- nothing ever comes out #I keep feeling lost. I'll never find my way out- I'm not thanking them unless the truth can pour out~#Korn is such a good band

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vagrantblvrd · 6 years ago

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Burn the Stars (1/1)

Summary: Trevor meets Alfredo when he’s having one of those pesky out of mech experiences. (The kind preceded by being dropped into a combat zone as support for a Federation Militia squad who is just incompetent enough to lead them into ambush.)

Notes: This video gave me Ideas. I also borrowed elements from Titanfall 2 in this because I love that universe a lot. /o\

(Read on AO3)

Trevor meets Alfredo when he’s having one of those pesky out of mech experiences.

The kind preceded by being dropped into a combat zone as support for a Federation Militia squad who is just incompetent enough to lead them into ambush.

========

While Trevor does love a good I told you so, protecting the squishy humans under his protection comes first. He covers the squad as they retreat into the underbrush and engages in good old-fashioned fisticuffs with the other pilot who has the gall to cheat by using missiles. (Uncouth.)

The Consortium's mech he goes up against is all shiny and new, most likely just off the supply ship that arrived a few days ago.

And that’s another I told you so right there, since the Militia commander in charge on this planet hasn’t been taking their warnings seriously. Seems to think a bunch of low-life mercenaries know fuck all about war. (Ironic, really, when you think about it.)

“Well now,” Trevor says, information about the mech he’s facing flashing up on a screen for him thanks to the onboard AI. Vanquisher-class combat mech, its key weak points highlighted in red. There’s...not a lot red to speak of really, which is far from ideal. “This ought to be fun.”

========

Trevor wins, on a technicality.

The Consortium mech goes down, but his own is so badly damaged he has to abandon it. Pulls the AI datacore, and tucks it away all nice and safe in a handy pocket in his pilot suit. Waits until he’s at a safe distance before setting the self-destruct to make sure its chassis doesn’t fall into enemy hands.

From there -

Well.

They were dropped far behind enemy lines and Trevor’s armed with a pistol and a survival knife.

Also, he’s bleeding. (Just a little, because believe it or not, mech battles are brutal things.)

Still, he’s got all his limbs and while they’re a bit battered and bruised, they work well enough to get him started o his way back to base.

If he’s lucky, he’ll run into the militia squad. If not -

Well.

========

Trevor is not lucky.

Not lucky at all.

========

No, Trevor runs into a Consortium patrol instead.

Couple of ground troops perched on the shoulders of a Strider-class mech.

Lightly armored, it’s mostly used by civilian law enforcement agencies since they’re perfect for navigating city streets. The Consortium’s adapted them to support patrols on heavily forested planets like this one.

Nimble little things, really.

Terrifying when one’s coming after you, and you become so very aware of how soft and squishy you are in comparison.

Back to a cliff and the Strider looming over you with all it’s shiny weapons primed to fire, when you suddenly remember you never quite got our affairs in order. (Whoever will take care of your precious collection of leftover condiment packets from all those scrumptious MREs now?)

Trevor’s hands are in the air. He’s considering taking his chances with the drop behind him when his earpiece crackles and a voice he doesn’t know reels off a set of numbers.

Coordinates.

He has no idea what he’s supposed to do with that, when a gunshot rings out – and the Strider’s canopy spider-webs around a neat little hole just about the height where its pilot’s head should be.

There’s a moment where the Consortium troops don’t seem to know what just happened, looking around for the source of the gunshot. Haven’t realized the mech pilot is dead, that their major advantage has been taken out of the equation.

And then the sniper fires again, taking out the patrol commander and scattering the others giving Trevor the chance to escape into the forest.

========

The coordinates takes Trevor to a nice little cave where by a gently babbling brook where a group of mercenaries hold him at gunpoint until the sniper makes an appearance.

The mercenaries lose interest in Trevor when the sniper ambles over with a wide grin on his face as Trevor gives him a betrayed look.

“Yeah,” he says, looking Trevor over. “I probably should have given them a head’s up about you.”

It would have been nice, yes, but -

“I mean,” Trevor says. “You did save my life. It would make me seem ungrateful if I held that against you.”

========

Alfredo’s friends are more hospitable when they recognize the patch on Trevor’s shoulder, realize what he was doing out there. (Which squad he must have been with, what with chatter about it being all over their comms.)

“Your squad made it back to base safely,” Alfredo tells him, a little too casual and nonchalant. “No casualties.”

Booked it straight back to base, didn’t bother looking back, which is part and parcel with this whole war thing.

Stings a little bit more sometimes, though, when you’ve got your militia soldiers on one side of things and mercenaries like them on the other.

People fighting for their homes, their loved ones, all nice and noble. Honorable sorts, not like those dirty mercenaries. Cutthroat bastards with no loyalties to speak of to hear some people talk.

Come in with their guns and mechs. Their fancy little ships, and help the militia with their war out here. Thrown into the thick of things and expected to give their all, and treated like they have no stake in the outcome.

Like most of them are from colony worlds the Consortium has a stranglehold on, like their families aren’t involved. Like they don’t give a damn if the resistance falls, how many friends they lose, because at the end of the day they’re just chasing a paycheck.

“That’s good,” Trevor says, light and carefree. “I’d be annoyed if they hadn’t.”

Alfredo hums, and Trevor nudges him with his elbow as he pulls out his lucky coin and rolls it across his knuckles.

“Want to see a neat trick?”

========

Alfredo’s group gets pulled out a week later, and Trevor goes with them. Hitches a ride here and there until he gets back to his base and Geoff yells at him for being a goddamned idiot for ten minute straight. (Trevor times it.)

He’s put on medical leave – something about injuries and parasites and tap dancing all over Geoff’s last nerve.

Gets drafted to deal with Geoff’s paperwork that piled up in Trevor’s absence because Geoff was too busy trying to get answers out of the militia about his whereabouts. (Very secret, hush-hush, mission that needed a mech to them take out a weapons depot before they walked right into an ambush.)

“Trevor,” Gavin says, sidling up to him with this gleam in his eye that means trouble. “What do you thing would happen if we - “

And Trevor, who’s been eye-deep in paperwork and red tape for days now, turns to him and grabs him by the shoulders.

“I have no idea, Gavin,” he says, very much aware he sounds a bit unhinged. “But whatever it is, let’s do it.”

Gavin blinks, clearly expecting more of a fight to get Trevor to agree.

“Are you sure? You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

There is absolutely no doubt in Trevor’s mind that whatever Gavin is up to is a terrible idea.

The worst.

And yet -

“Yes!” Trevor is going to lose his mind if he has to deal with the mind-numbing tedium any longer. “Yes I am.”

“Okay then,” Gavin says, and pulls out a datapad. “We’re going to need - “

========

There’s a fire.

A tiny, one really.

Certainly not something that necessitates another bout of yelling from Geoff, but he provides it anyway because he’s a generous soul when it comes down to it.

========

Trevor gets a shiny new mech off the assembly line, and decides it looks like a Billy.

“’Billy’,” Ryan says, like he’s not sure he heard Trevor correctly, which is fair as the hangar’s always noisy the day before a mission. “You’re going to name him Billy.”

Trevor grins, sitting pretty in the cockpit of a forty-something ton Titan-class mech. Missile pods on its shoulders and sweet chainguns mounted on its forearms.

It’s not really a done thing to go around naming a mech chassis when they’ve got AI partners, but Trevor thinks it’s a little rude not to.

“Billy the Murder Robot, yeah.”

The basic AI from his previous mech has been loaded up and it’s getting a feel for the new chassis.

Running diagnostics and poking around like the new tenant it is. Smoothing all the rough edges in the coding and unnecessary redundancies. Making room pretty little bits of code and protocols the engineers back home still haven’t caught on to. (Don’t realize how vital they are no matter how many times Trevor sends a data packet back detailing the reasons why they’re so important.)

A window pops up on the screens in front of Trevor with an ASCII thumbs up.

“See? Hector approves.”

Ryan sighs, but there’s a faint smile on his face as he moves back to the catwalk and to watch Trevor finish running initial checks on Billy with Hector’s help.

========

Geoff worries, Trevor knows.

In charge of a bunch of assholes he sends into combat and wondering when one of them won’t make it back.

A hell of a position to be in, but there’s no one else any of them would trust with it.

“Geoff - “

“Look, asshole,” Geoff says, rubbing his temples and looking a hell of a lot like he'd wants to kick Trevor out of his office on his ass. “The last time I sent you on a mission, you blew your mech up. You think those things grow on trees?”

Well that’s just ridiculous.

Everyone knows that when a mommy mech loves a daddy mech very much -

“Trevor.”

Trevor looks at Geoff, who is using his Serious Voice.

“Geoff.”

Trevor is an asshole.

Geoff scowls at him, because he is very much aware of that.

“I’m cleared for duty,” Trevor says, and does a little spin to demonstrate how uninjured he is. “And you can’t keep sidelining me when you need everyone out there.”

“I know that!” Geoff snaps, but it’s less anger at Trevor and more at the entire situation, this ugly little war.

Trevor waits, because this is Geoff, and after a few moments, he sighs.

“Talk to Ryan, he’s leading the next mission.”

========

It’s a retreat, plain and simple, and Trevor and the others have been called in to back up the Militia’s forces. Protect the dropships as they ferry troops back to the forward base and various outposts.

It’s loud and chaotic, Billy’s filters and scrubbers working overtime to pump clean air into the cockpit, Trevor can still smell the smoke, taste it.

Hector sends up a warning trill before a new voice comes over the cockpit speakers.

It’s Alfredo, and he’s in trouble. Squad pinned down and there’s not much a heavy sniper can do up against the armor plating on a Harbinger-class heavy, but there he is anyway.

Trevor reaches up to tap the pair of fuzzy dice Lindsay gave him for luck, and goes to help. (He’s got a debt to repay after all.)

========

“You know,” Trevor says, when everyone is back at base. “It takes a tank to bring a Harbinger down.”

Or a Titan-class combat mech, not to toot his own horn.

Alfredo gives him a look.

“Hey, you just stick with your mech, and I’ll stick with my sniper,” he says, but there’s laughter in his voice and an easy smile on his face he does.

And to be fair, he has a point.

In a fight everyone’s focus is on the mechs in play. Tend to forget about the squishy human running around with their heavy sniper. Powerful enough to punch through the plasteel canopy of most mechs, and a small enough to go unnoticed in the thick of battle. Slip behind enemy lines unnoticed to take care of enemy commanders and high-value targets.

The base is still in a bit of an uproar, mechanics running around barking order as they race to get damaged mechs back up to fighting speed. Militia soldiers waiting to be ferried back to their own bases, and the odd displaced mercenary like Alfredo just loitering about.

“Alright,” Trevor says, and pulls out that lucky coin of his again, because they’ve got time to kill and everyone loves a good magic trick.

#alfreyco #burn the stars #mech au #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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