#you should know ive put none of my thought process here which took far too long. also didnt mention the 4 peice orignal concept | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

liannyeong · 4 years ago

Text

Things just work out (in the end)

Summary: Two close friends who decided to marry each other if they’re still single at the age of 30. What can happen, right?

Word count: 3181

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): Fluff, Just a pinch of angst

A/N: Yay a new fic! And finally, I have gotten used to spelling Jaebeom’s name correctly. This idea is totally cliche lol but well, I just had to write it when ideas started popping in my head. Originally, I had other plans for this plot but I decided to condense it into just a short fic lol. I actually aimed for a 2k word count but well, I always end up writing more whoops ~

Long-time friends, that's what they really are, Not the best of friends but they're close enough to lean on each other and share about their problems. For example, failed relationships. None of their relationships ever last a year. Their friends wonder why, but not even they know the answer to the problem. In the end, they're labelled as the curse in any romantic relationship.

"You know," Jaebeom starts, after a night out with their mutual friends. He had just dropped off their friends who lived along the way, and is now left with her as always. They live the closest to each other anyway. "I'd say we should make a deal."

"A deal?" she echoes.

"Yeah. Let's get married if we're both single by the age of 30."

She snorts. "That's 5 years from now!"

Jaebeom shrugs. "Anything can happen in 5 years."

She keeps quiet, thinking it over before she speaks. "And if we're still single?"

"We marry," Jaebeom says so offhandedly, as if it's nothing serious.

She has a brow raised. "Just like that?"

"Yeah, why not?" Jaebeom retorts. "Nobody seems to want us. And even if they do, it never last more than a year. So why not we skip the basics and get married?"

She bursts out laughing. "You're mad," she says disapprovingly.

"Well, just think about it," Jaebeom insists. "I don't think we've got anything to lose. After all, how bad can it be if there are two 'cursed ones' in a relationship?"

---

ii.

Surprisingly, she agrees. In the year they both turn 30, they hold a small wedding. Then, she moves into Jaebeom's apartment because it is larger. As the months go on, nothing seems to change -- only that Jaebeom has become more gentlemanly towards her. Perhaps being married to someone, having another person to take care of has made him kinder, she doesn't really know. What she knows is that she doesn't hate it. It actually feels nice to have someone to be with at the end of the day. Jaebeom has been a spectacular husband: he listens to her rants about anything, helps her cook dinner. It has been really great.

But sometimes, she can't tell the difference between Jaebeom being chivalrous or... well... having feelings for her? It sounds as if she's too full of herself to think about it, but how can she not when he does things that are questionable?

For example, in one breezy day, Jaebeom took off his jacket just to tie it around her waist when she was wearing a dress that touched just above her knee.

"In case there are any perverts lurking around," he had said dismissively.

Or the few times when he noticed her shivering from the coldness of the air. Be it the air-conditioner of their car or the chilly air anywhere else, Jaebeom would drape his jacket over her body silently, and focus back on whatever he was doing.

Or that one time when they were stranded in the rain with no umbrella. The man threw his precious leather jacket over their heads, then pulled her by the waist with one hand as he led them across the street.

It doesn't seem anything, really. But that last incident is the last straw. Jaebeom has never held her without her permission. He has always made sure not to do anything physical to her, if she doesn't consent to it. The other part of her mind argues that it was just a one-time thing. She can't really comment much on it, can she?

The easiest way to figure this out is to ask him directly. But god, wouldn't it make her look like fool? Imagine Jaebeom saying that "No, I don't have feelings for you. What made you even think that?" Or "We married because of our promise, nothing else." Ugh, this seems like an unnecessary stress on her mind.

One thing's for sure though: even if Jaebeom doesn't harbour any feelings for her, the things he do certainly has an effect on her... She wonders what kind of feeling this is...

---

iii.

Jaebeom is an aspiring singer-songwriter. He has put his works out there to the world through his Soundcloud, which landed him a stable job at a local music company. She knows he's well-known in the music industry -- he's always got big projects to do, producing songs for popular idol groups out there. It's fascinating. Having known him for years, seeing him slowly gaining the recognition he deserves makes her happy.

But with bigger projects to tackle, that means longer working hours. And he will certainly bring his work home. It's frequent that Yugyeom, Jaebeom's partner, comes over to their shared apartment to continue with their projects. Usually, she would hear the same damn beat played a million times across the house. Today, it's more quiet. Perhaps, they're sourcing for inspiration? she wonders to herself. Well, it's not as if she minds the quiet ambience.

She heads to Jaebeom's room-slash-studio to call him for dinner but as she raises her hand to knock, she hears Yugyeom saying, "Hyung, you should tell her you like her--"

She freezes.

"Shut the hell up, Yugyeom. These walls are thin!" Jaebeom hisses.

"But hyung--"

"Drop it, Gyeom-ah. We're not talking about this now," Jaebeom cuts.

Her mind reeling. Jaebeom has someone he likes...? What...?

She totally misses out the footsteps on the other side, until the door swings open suddenly. She jolts in surprise, her hand still raised up.

Jaebeom is looking at her, wide-eyed, as if caught doing a heinous act.

"How long have you been standing here?" he asks after clearing his throat and his face from any expression.

"Just. I was about to knock your door but you opened it," she lies smoothly. "Dinner's ready."

"Great! I'm hungry!" Yugyeom exclaims as he jumps out of his seat and brushes past the two of them like an excited puppy. He heads to the kitchen by himself, leaving the married couple in the hallway.

Jaebeom's voice is soft and cautious as he asks, "Did you hear anything?"

She blinks up at him, trying her best to put on a blank expression. "No? Was I supposed to hear something?"

Jaebeom actually flushes. "N-no. It's great you didn't hear anything," he mumbles.

She nods, eyeing the man. "Let's eat."

---

iv.

Jaebeom always lets her listen to his finished work before its official release to the public. One particular song is about wanting to get closer to another, but they can't because of certain circumstances. Another is about loving a person from afar. It bears a resemblance to Jaebeom's situation, if her thoughts are correct. And her curiosity only gets bigger.

"Your songs... It sounds real," she tries to start the topic in mind. "Do you... possibly... have feelings for someone?"

Jaebeom swivels his chair to look at her in surprise. He looks caught.

She lets out a gasp. She sputters, "You-- Wait, who is she-- Oh, wait, no--" She halts herself when her mind clicks. "Why did you agree to this marriage thing if you have someone you like?! Oh god-- What have I done??" she panics.

"Hey, relax," Jaebeom's calm voice cuts her panic. "It's nothing, don't worry."

"Don't worry?!" she repeats in anger. "How can I not worry?! You're-- Oh god, you could have been with the person you like right now, if not for this--" she gestures the space between them, "thing between us!" She buries her face into her hands, mumbling to herself, "What have I done..."

Jaebeom crouches before her, hands closing around her wrists delicately to pull them away from her face. He brushes her cheek with a knuckle, smiling softly. "It's fine, really. It's no big deal."

"How are you so calm about this?"

"It's because I don't regret anything."

"You don't regret anything?" she echoes his words. "Not even this marriage agreement between us?"

Jaebeom's smile falls just a little. There's a certain warmth in his gaze, a gentle expression on his face. It's one that she has never seen before. Well, not directed to her at the very least. "I don't."

"Why?"

"Because," he starts slowly, "you have been a great partner so far. I don't have any complaints about you."

She frowns, feeling that something is amiss. "There's something you're not telling me."

Jaebeom blinks. Then his shoulders slump. He settles on the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of her.

"You're right. There is something I haven't told you," he admits. He lets out a sigh. "But how can I, when I might risk losing everything I have?"

"What's going on--"

Jaebeom looks at her dead in the eye.

"I like you," he confesses.

She draws a deep breath.

"I don't know when it began. But after the wedding, after a few months into this marriage arrangement, I guess I developed a soft spot for you. Which gradually became real feelings. Perhaps the feelings have always been there, I don't know, but I only realized it through this marriage."

"I--" she gapes her mouth like a fish. "I thought you-- I thought you like someone else!"

Jaebeom shakes his head. "I don't. I like you."

She gasps.

"I--" Jaebeom reaches forward but she immediately rises, backing away. The man looks hurt but she can't wrap her mind around this new revelation.

"I'm sorry I need time to process this," she says hastily before striding out of his room.

---

Jaebeom seems to understand her position, so he minimizes any interaction or encounter between them. After all, she's still a little confused. It's not easy to accept the fact that Jaebeom has fallen for her when all they've ever been was close friends. Sure, she may have liked the chivalrous way Jaebeom treated her, but she doesn't think it's any indicator that she may harbour the same feelings toward her.

Anyway, Jaebeom doesn't been home for days. She doesn't even know how he's been. Is he eating alright? Is he stressed? Is he okay? She knows it's her fault -- it was her reaction to his confession that made them like this. Still, she can't help the uneasiness in her heart when Jaebeom disappears for days.

So when the man comes home in the wee hours of the night, she feels her heart pound. He looks so tired, so ragged, like a homeless person. He looks like his life got sucked out of his body.

"Jaebeom--" she calls softly.

He slowly turns, his eyes are heavy, dark circles and eye bags underneath. "Did I wake you? Sorry about that... Well, good night." He drags himself into his room and the door clicks shut.

She stands alone in the doorway of her own room. He looks horrible... She wonders if she could cheer him up. She realizes she actually misses his company. The way he would always be there for her at the end of a long day. The way he would listen to her attentively as she rants her heart out. When has she ever done the same for him? She reckons she has never.

With new determination, she pads over to his room silently, then sneaks in. Jaebeom is already fast asleep, not having changed out of his clothes. He's sprawled out on the bed, and she slowly makes her way to him. The bed dips under her weight, then she rests her head on his arm, snuggling close to him.

"Wha--?" he mumbles groggily, looking over at her.

She only shushes him, curling an arm around his waist as she joins him to sleep.

---

vi.

When she wakes, Jaebeom is still passed out. But his body is turned towards her, his breathing soft and slow. She's still got her head pillowed on his arm. Her eyes wander his face, from the two brows to the twin moles above his left eye, down to the two closed slits and to his round nose, until--

His lips, crafted perfectly like a cupid's bow. The soft pinkish color. She wonders what it feels like to kiss him.

Wait.

What?

K-kiss Jaebeom?

She jolts up, suddenly very awake. She glances back at Jaebeom and her eyes automatically lands on his lips again. Her heart pounds in her ears. Oh my god.

She stomps out, into the safe haven of her own room, her heart beating fast.

No way.

Does she actually like Jaebeom???

---

vii.

Things are still awkward between the two of them. She doesn't mention about the night she slept over at his room. Neither did Jaebeom. It's probably best to leave it for now. She wouldn't know how to face him when she's been having weird feelings since then.

Speaking of which, her mind is plagued with thoughts of Jaebeom and her newfound feelings. She has been trying to rationalize her emotions, but now, she wonders if she's in denial.

What's so bad about liking Jaebeom, anyway? she ponders. He has been a great husband. Hell, she hasn't felt this comfortable with any man before! Comparing to all the boys she has ever dated, she must admit that Jaebeom is the best among them. But wait, Jaebeom and her are not considered as dating, right? If Jaebeom is already this good, what more a real dating relationship? Or even better, a real marriage?

She blushes furiously, raising a hand to cover her face. At the same time, she accidentally knocks over a hot pot, letting out a yelp of pain. The first thing her body does is to put her hand under the running tap water. As she lets the burn cool, she looks over at the kitchen floor. The contents of the pot have spilled all over the tiled floor. She sighs. She shouldn't be this distracted while cooking.

The man who plagued her thoughts emerges from his room haphazardly, his face painted with worry. He glances over the floor before going back to her, especially on her hand.

"I'll grab the first aid kit," Jaebeom says. He comes back, calling her over with a hand held out for her to grab. He then leads her to the couch in the living room, sitting her down and opening the kit. He takes the seat next to her, their knees knocking.

Jaebeom helps to apply a burn cream onto her hand. She will never admit this, but his touch is more scalding than the heat of the pot. She flushes.

"What happened?" he asks gently as he rolls a bandage around her hand.

"I just--" She makes the mistake of looking up. She realizes how close they are. Jaebeom's face is just a few inches away. She can hear his soft breathing. She can even count his lashes. Embarrassed, she averts her eyes, mumbling, "I got distracted, that's all."

"You should be more careful," Jaebeom says, closing the kit and putting it away afterwards. "Just rest, okay? I'll clean the kitchen. We can just order in today."

She nods. Jaebeom heads to the kitchen and starts to clear the spill on the floor. She watches as he picks the soggy vegetables and dispose it into the bin. She slumps in her seat. All she wanted was to cook a simple soup for dinner. Now, Jaebeom who is busy has to clean the mess she made. She feels sorry.

So she turns on her phone and places an order on Jaebeom's favorite from his favorite restaurant.

---

viii.

After coming to terms with her own self, she decides that it's time for them to settle this awkwardness between them.

She knocks onto Jaebeom's door and the man lets her in. He looks a little worried, a little uncertain about what's happening.

"It's about us," she begins once she settled comfortably on his bed.

"Oh," he lets out.

"Look, I-- Um--" she stutters. She breathes out then starts again, "When you confessed to me, I just... I didn't know what to make sense of it. So I'm sorry with how I behaved afterwards. I just didn't know how to deal with it."

"It's fine, I understand," Jaebeom says softly.

"But I just can't stop thinking about it," she adds.

Jaebeom leans forward now, quick to assure her. "Hey, look... If you're uncomfortable living with me, I can move out. We can just sign the divorce papers. It's not a big deal."

She shakes her head. "It is a big deal--! I just--"

The man smiles weakly. "You don't have to force yourself to live with me. I'm not hurt if you don't return my feelings. I understand really. I have made you uncomfortable--"

"No, Jaebeom!!" she nearly shrieks. "What I mean to say is-- I think I-- I think I like you too..." Heat rises in her cheeks and she knows without doubt that her face is as red as a tomato.

Jaebeom stares blankly at her, stupefied.

"I've been thinking a lot about it," she continues. "Back then, I thought... It isn't a bad idea to marry you. But now..." Embarrassed, she's staring at her lap, afraid to look at Jaebeom's face. "I want you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you," she confesses.

Jaebeom moves forward, kneeling on the floor, a hand gently cupping her left cheek.

"Do you really mean that?"

She nods, blushing.

Jaebeom smiles, his eyes forming crescents. "Spending my life with you, I'd love that."

She looks at him, face gleaming with happiness. Her eyes accidentally look down to his lips and she turns redder. She looks away quickly, abashed.

Jaebeom must have noticed this as he follows her face, peering at her. His hand is still pressed against her cheek. "Can I kiss you?" he asks softly.

She gulps. What does it feel like? her mind wonders. She tilts her chin up, a silent agreement. She watches as Jaebeom moves closer and shuts her eyes when he's just a breath away. Their lips gently brush against each other, and it already feels otherworldly. The moment their lips connect... God, it feels so good. She feels how plump and soft his lips are. And god, the way he rolls his lips against hers... It's electric.

She swears that is the best kiss she has ever had. Reluctantly, they pull apart for air, both their chests heaving. Jaebeom doesn't move away though, he presses their foreheads together. Her eyes feel heavy as she opens them. Jaebeom is already staring back, as if he couldn't believe that they kissed.

"Is this real?" he whispers.

"Yes, it is," she answers before lunging forward. Jaebeom topples backwards, his head hitting the floor with a thud. She worries, but the man laughs it off, giddy with happiness, so she can't help but smile along. She leans down, pressing a quick kiss onto his lips. Jaebeom stares up at her fondly, tucking her hair behind her ear. That hand cups her neck, and he directs her for another kiss. His other arm tightens around her waist, pinning her close. They kiss like teenagers, when chemicals are high.

#im jaebeom #im jaebeom scenarios #got7 #got7 im jaebeom scenarios #jaebeom scenarios #got7 im jaebeom #got7 jaebeom #jaebeom #got7 scenarios #got7 jaebeom scenarios

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perahn · 4 years ago

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Palliative Nursing

One of my patients died today.

I first met Arthur a couple of months ago. I’m a community and palliative nurse primarily, but I was covering a shift on the ward. He’d been transferred over from another hospital. I never really worked out why, since he was only coming in overnight before being discharged home.

When I came in, his wife Anne was trying to comfort him. He had only received his diagnosis recently – prostate cancer, which had spread to his bones and his brain – and he desperately wanted to go home. He was also frustrated to the point of tears at the way his body had betrayed him. He had been strong and independent, and now he was tired and weak. The struggle to find the words he wanted left long gaps in his speech, and so often neither Anne nor I could help.

He wanted to die. He wanted – he could convey that much – to leave the world ‘with dignity’; if it was time for him to go, he wanted to go. And Anne sat there, and tried to soothe and calm him. He wanted euthanasia, and he could not have it, and I was never sure whether she wanted that for him, or if she wanted to hold onto him as long as she could.

The next time I saw him, he was home again. They’d been in the process of selling their house and downsizing, but Anne cancelled it. So Arthur came home to a warm, sunlit room with an en suite, and they moved their bed down into it. He was a different man when I saw him at home. The words that had deserted him in hospital came more easily, and he smiled, and he could enjoy food again. By about my third or fourth visit – I was seeing him twice a week at that stage, just making sure he had everything he needed to be comfortable at home – he was telling Anne it was a pity all their sons were married and he couldn’t have me in the family.

He had time and support. His daughter Eden moved in for a while; his son and grandchildren live next door. The weather turned warmer, and he sat out in the garden. The family gathered around him, and they took a photo. He was, for the most part, free of pain. You don’t expect that once it gets into the bones, but I am grateful for it.

There is a distance, and there has to be. You aren’t there for every step of the journey, and you come into it as a stranger. Anne woke every time he did, and walked him to the toilet. She coaxed him to eat, helped him use the walker, rubbed ointment into his swelling legs and reminded him to elevate them. She nursed him, and so did Eden. I… stepped in for the other parts. The paperwork. The questions you never think about until someone you love is dying. How do you, and what if, and when, and what do we do about -?

There were changes, last week. Words began to slip away again, and sitting up grew harder. I asked Anne if they wanted a bedside commode for him, so she didn’t have to walk him all the way to the toilet three times a night. She said no, that the exercise was good for him, and they were managing. Then she rang the next day, told me he’d slipped while trying to sit on the toilet, and maybe they’d better have one after all. So my boss Sam and I got one out to their house on Friday. Eden followed me out to the car. She didn’t want to ask in front of Anne, but what needed to happen if, or when, Arthur died? Who did they call, what did they do about his body?

It was a long weekend, and we had the Monday off. Anne rang Tuesday morning. Arthur had significantly deteriorated over the weekend, she told us. She and Eden couldn’t get him up, and they’d been nursing him in bed. His painkillers didn’t seem to be helping as much, because he was restless, turning in bed and plucking at his clothes. My boss covered two of my patients so I could go see Arthur as soon as possible.

Anne was curled up beside him in their bed. Other family members were gathered around, and one of them left the bedside so I could go talk to him. “Here’s Katherine,” Anne said, and Arthur opened his eyes and reached out his hand. He tried to say something as I took and held it. I know he recognised me, even if I couldn’t understand what he wanted to say.

Later I came back with a syringe driver. We use these a lot in palliative care: little machines that very slowly administer a dose into the subcutaneous tissue over 24 hours. Usually, like this one, they’re loaded with morphine, for the pain; midazolam, for agitation and the restlessness that comes over the body in dying; and metoclopramide, for the nausea the morphine can cause. They’re smaller, simpler, and less invasive than an IV line, or repeatedly sticking someone with needles. Arthur didn’t even flinch as I put the first line in, or the second one. The second one is for top-up doses; I used it immediately to give him a loading dose, then taught Eden and her brother how to access it if they needed to give him more pain relief. I left an envelope with the verification of death form at the house.

I left the house not long before seven pm. According to the roster, I’d been supposed to finish at 4:30. That was all right.

The syringe driver runs over 24 hours, but I stopped in to see Arthur and his family around 11am. Arthur was lying on his side. Eden had needed to give him some extra, and so had Anne, but on the whole he’d had a good night, they told me. He didn’t respond this time, although he called out hoarsely a few times. I gave him another top-up, and told Anne I’d be back to change the syringe driver once I’d spoken to the doctor.

I discussed how much top-up Arthur had needed with the doctor, and then one of the other nurses made up the new syringe with me, and my boss covered a patient appointment I had, and I went out to Arthur around 2pm.

Eden was in the front room, continuing to work from home; Anne was on the lounge with a laptop. Arthur had been so peaceful and quiet, she thought she’d get the laundry and a few other things done. Anne and I went in, and she told him I was here to change the medicine, and she’d help him roll over so I could reach. She reached out and touched him, and then she turned to look at me.

“He isn’t-” and she backed away.

I checked the carotid artery.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Anne. “He’s gone.”

And then I held her as she wept.

She was so devastated. She hadn’t been there for him as he died. He’d been alone and she’d been sitting outside, and she hadn’t known.

And it doesn’t matter how many hours she lay beside him, how poorly she slept, half-listening and ready to help the moment he stirred, night after night, the literal around-the-clock nursing she gave him, the long years they lived together. It doesn’t matter how hard, physically and emotionally, it is to support someone you love dying at home, how much she and Eden had gladly sacrificed to give him what he wanted. It doesn’t matter how many people do die alone, waiting for the moment everyone’s back is turned to slip away in privacy. None of that softens the pain, not in a moment like that.

I pray they will eventually.

I got Eden for her, slipped out to the car to get what I needed, and to give them time to themselves.

They had him cuddled between the two of them when I came back, and eventually they chose to leave the room so I could do the necessary things.

I rolled him onto his back, heard the faint groans. Wiped his mouth and crusted eyelids. Removed the lines I’d put in yesterday, straightened his shirt. I was talking to him, every step. It’s just something you find yourself doing. “Sorry, Arthur. I’ve just got to roll you over and get these lines out. I’m sorry if this hurts...”

It’s… not an easy thing, verifying a death. I had thought he was dead the moment I came into the room, and I’d checked for a pulse. Even so, part of you almost refuses to be sure. His hands were so cold, but his throat was still warm. I couldn’t feel a pulse, but maybe that just meant I was doing it wrong (I knew I wasn’t, but what if? What if I had hurt these people so much, and I was wrong, and I had to go tell them he was still alive, and however would they cope with that?) I put a stethoscope to his unmoving chest and listened for a heartbeat, or for breath. I couldn’t hear anything, but I was breathing very loudly myself in my mask – would I hear it? Wasn’t his chest moving, just the tiniest bit? I had to rub his sternum very hard to see if there was any movement away from the stimulus, and I apologised.

Then I lifted his eyelids. ‘Fixed and dilated pupils’ is what the form says, clinical terminology that is accurate as far as it goes. What it means is that you look into those eyes, and they are still and glassy, and the soul behind them is gone.

I could doubt the rest of the tests. Not that one.

I went out, told them I was finished. We talked; I told them what an amazing job they’d done, how proud they should be, all the things that don’t mean anything to them right at the moment, but might later. I stepped into another room to ring the doctor and let her know. I filled out the verification of death form and hid it away in a plain white envelope. Eden rang her brother, and again we went over the final things to be done. Here’s the form. Ring the funeral directors when you’re ready for them to come pick Arthur up. There’s no rush. Call anyone else you think will want to come say goodbye. Give yourselves as much time as you need.

Eden’s brother arrived. She’d sent him a text to come over, but hadn’t wanted to say why. So he came striding in with a cheery ‘hello’, and Eden said ‘He’s gone’, and she choked, and he crumpled. He went softly into the room where Anne was lying beside Arthur, stroking his face and murmuring to him. Too softly; he touched Anne’s arm and she jumped.

Clearly despite herself, Eden laughed.

“I thought for a moment,” Anne said, “that he’d fooled us all. That he was just pretending.”

Which hurt, and still hurts, and I shall remember.

When I left them, it was with the three of them clustered around the bed, the son trying not to cry. They didn’t need me, but I’d drop by in a couple of days if they wanted, I said quietly.

Anne would like that, she told me, and she thanked me for all I’d done. That Arthur had always been glad to see me. “He had his favourite nurse,” she added. “Beautiful Katherine, he said.”

I don’t understand the depth of grace that lets you say something like that in the midst of such terrible grief, but I shall remember that, too.

The last time I made a post a bit like this, I had a little bit of a moral to share. I don’t, this time. I am writing because it helps me process, and I shared it because…well, I still think we need to talk about dying, I suppose, and this is a way to add to the conversation. Because it is such an honour and extraordinary privilege to be a palliative nurse. Because some of you might, like my patients and their families, have questions you don’t know how to ask. Because it touched me, and it might do the same for you. Because love and grief and service to each other are such essential parts of our humanity.

Eternal rest grant unto him, o Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Amen.

#nursing #personal #palliative care #tw: death #tw: dying #disclaimer: all names changed

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miss-lumiere · 4 years ago

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Redemption – Part III

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x reader

Summary: A young sith apprentice on their first mission. Although a chance to prove yourself to your dark masters presents itself, you do the exact opposite of what is expected of you. Putting yourself at the jedi master Kenobi’s merci, you plead him to lead you from the dark side and show you the way of the light. But will your attempt to redeem yourself be futile and the pull to the dark side be too strong?

Wordcount: 3.2 k

Warnings: slight angst, otherwise fluffy bonding (there will be more in the future!)

A/N: I already have a lot of ideas for the next chapters. This is more a filler chapter to set the story and have the characters’ relationships evolve. Let me know how you like it and what it was you liked best! As always, enjoy! :3

Masterlist Chapter IV

The next morning you were awakened by the soft rays of the morning sun on your face that were falling through the blinds of the window. Opening your eyes you were confused were you were at first, the events of yesterday coming to mind slowly. Excitedly although slightly wary of what was to come you got out of bed, starting to get ready for the day ahead of you.

Today would be your first day as a… Jedi trainee? Whatever your place was, you certainly weren’t trusted enough to be considered a Padawan yet, but too old to be a youngling. You moved in unchartered regions, a grey area of the Jedi code. According to the reaction of the masters at least, this was a new situation for everyone.

After you had put on the extra robes you had been given for training and entered the small bathroom space to take in your appearance you heard a hesitant knock coming from your door.

Moving to your door expecting to see a guard at the other side of it, you were surprised to see a young togrutan woman standing in front of you. You had seen her before, she was the padawan of Skywalker that had been sneaking curious glances your way. Something told you that she wasn’t supposed to be here.

The padawan was carrying a plate with some bread and fruit in one hand and a decanter filled with water in the other. She seemed to be maybe a few years younger than you.

“I thought you might want to eat something before your first training.”, she stated hesitantly.

Taking a moment to process, you stepped to the side allowing her access to your room, closing the door after her. Turning around, she had already placed the food on the floor next to the bed.

“I’m Ahsoka, by the way.”, the Togrutan said fiddeling with her hands awkwardly. “I hope you feel welcome here.”

You slowly walked towards the bed, before sitting down on it, her doing the same on the floor a few feet away.

“Well, there are guards posted in front of my door at all times.”, you stated tensing slightly.

“Oh, of course, you’re right. But at least that’s only temporary.”, she said smiling for the first time.

“It’s okay, I get it. They don’t have a reason to trust me, but I plan to change that.”, you said with a sigh.

She nodded, silence engulfing you two again.

“You aren’t really supposed to be here, are you?”, you inquired with a small amused smile.

“I-…No, I don’t think my Master would approve of me being here.”

“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.”, you replied mischievously, taking a bite of a Jogan fruit. You thought back to the fight between her and her Master against Ventress, how protective the two Jedi had seemed of each other. They seemed to share a strong bond.

“My Master can be very protective and stubborn. He thinks it’s not safe for me to be around you.”

“He isn’t wrong. I was still a member of the sith a few hours ago.”, you acknowledged furrowing your brow in thought, the contrast of your own relationship with your former master compared to hers coming to mind.

As you had spoken the words you noticed her tensing, realizing that she didn’t have much to trust you either. “Don’t worry. I don’t mean to harm you or any of the Jedi.”, you added, Ahsoka relaxing visibly.

Ahsoka opened her mouth as if to say something, just as her eyes snapped to the door. “Someone’s coming. I should go before they see me.”

“Good luck, today.”, she said with a reassuring smile before she silently slipped through the door out of your sight.

You had just finished eating as a guard entered the room to escort you to the training area. Kenobi was already waiting for you, his back turned towards you as he meditated.

Stepping closer, you took in your surroundings. The guard had led you outside to a courtyard that was supposedly the training grounds of the temple. In the center of it, in front of which Kenobi was meditating, sat a large tree. A rare sight for the vegetation-less coruscant.

“I see you changed your attire. I’m glad, we couldn’t have people getting the impression our doors are open to sith now.”, the Jedi addressed you as he had stood up, ending his meditation.

“Wouldn’t want to destroy your reputation.”, you sassed back with a smile. He laughed before turning more serious again.

“The robes fit you well, you almost seem like a different person entirely.”, he stated with a genuine smile. You smiled awkwardly, not used to being complimented even though it managed to make you feel more at ease. “You must have many questions, but before I answer them I would like to test the extend of your training.”, he continued.

He stepped towards you, pulling a lightsabre from his belt that he handed you.

“Isn’t it too dangerous to hand me a lightsabre? I thought we would start with testing my force ability first.”, you asked a little confused. You hadn’t thought that they trusted you enough to hand you such a dangerous weapon, given the Jedi Order’s cautiousness. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, your own lightsabre being taken from you had felt wrong as every force wielder had a connection to their weapon, you simply hadn’t expected that action.

“You will only be given the sabre during training. The more delicate training will be reserved for later, don’t worry.” Pushing his outer robe of his shoulders, he activated his blue sabre.

Rolling your eyes at the master’s dramatic antics, you activated your own lightsabre. It had a blue color and a very different energy than your own. No, that wasn’t your lightsabre any longer, it belonged in the past.

With a reassuring smile, the Jedi gestured for you to attack, your heart beating rapidly against your chest. This was only training, neither of you would attempt to cause actual damage. And yet this situation reminded you of the training under your old master. Taking in a deep breath to calm yourself you raised your new weapon.

Charging forward your blades clashed together once again. The action was familiar, yet the energy between you felt very different. You weren’t angry and neither of you pushed as strongly as the last time you had found yourself in this situation. His fighting style was very different as well; he was more passive and held back, observing your movements closely.

Parrying strike after strike from you, you slowly grew frustrated. Obi-Wan Kenobi seemed calm and focused and none of your attacks seemed to phase him.

“Don’t focus too much on using as much strength, you will tire very easily. Use fast and efficient movements as they are to your advantage over a physically stronger opponent.”, the older man observed as you huffed in frustration after another futile attempt at retaliation.

Training under your old Master was very different. He had never cared whether you were injured as long as you pushed yourself to the edge. Pushing to break you physically and mentally, showing his dominance over you every chance that he got. Many times had you found yourself in the medbay of the sith’s ships, broken and bruised.

Letting the anger fuel your movements you pushed your sparring partner forcefully backwards making him land on his back, his head hitting the sand-colored stone.

With a shocked expression you rushed to his side, letting out an alleviated sigh as he didn’t seem to be injured. Lending him a hand you pulled him to his feet with a groan on his part.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to harm you.”, you apologized still a little shocked. You awaited your punishment.

“I do believe I am fine, although you need to learn to control your emotions. Anger is only going to distract you in a fight.”, he sighed brushing the dust off his clothes.

As you didn’t seem to relax he added, “I really am fine. Mistakes happen, that is why we are doing this.”

“I think I have had enough for today, please excuse me.”, you stated as you pushed the deactivated weapon into his hands turning around not capable of showing him the extent of how irritated with your actions you were, with losing control.

With fast strides you made your way to return to the guards that had waited at the edge of the training grounds.

The next days had turned out much better - you had returned to training even if it meant swallowing your pride. This time you had focused on staying calm and had managed to not lose control again. You had never thought about how letting your emotions control you would affect you in battle, let alone that it would influence you negatively.

Hurting someone on accident had never been something that had worried you in your old position since you had only ever fought on a battleground or in training with your master or Ventress where violence was welcome and restraint unappreciated. You had never feared it either as that required caring for someone, something you never had since you had been taken from your family. The family whose memory slowly faded more and more.

Thus the connection you had been forming with the Master Jedi that had been training you had scared you. You had grown fond of his disarming honesty and kindness he treated you with. Developing relationships with others was new for you, at least ones build on mutual trust, making it understandable that you felt a little uneasy.

The only other person that you had had contact with next to Master Kenobi thus far had been Ahsoka, but you hadn’t seen her since. Most of the other Jedi eyed you with either curiosity or suspicion and stayed out of your way. So you spent most of the days training with Kenobi and the times you weren’t on the training grounds you spent alone in your room, eating your meals or reading any of the books that you had been supplied with.

You hoped to perhaps spend more time with Ahsoka in the future although you weren’t sure that she was fully comfortable around you yet. Despite the kindness that she had offered you she seemed on edge the time you had met. On the other hand, it had been her seeking you out in the first place. That hadn’t been just morbid curiosity, you supposed.

Perhaps she simply wanted a connection with someone as much as you did.

Today you had been surprised to find out that your training had changed to strengthen your connection with the force. Finally, some variation in your schedule, you thought.

Well, you had been wrong, you would have preferred the sparring over this any day.

You had been meditating with the Master for hours now, or at least that’s what It felt like. And it felt more like not trying to fall asleep while you were sitting in total silence with your eyes closed than meditative. Honestly, you didn’t really get what you were supposed to do or feel or even why you did this. It’s not like the siths had deemed mediation relevant.

“I can feel your restlessness radiating off of you.”, the man meditating in front of you stated seemingly amused.

Sighing you opened your eyes, giving up your attempt to focus on your breathing.

“I have never done this before and I find it very hard to stay focused when there are so many things on my mind.”

“What is it that keeps you distracted?”, he inquired now opening his eyes as well.

You paused positioning yourself more comfortable, letting your gaze wander over the wide area of the training grounds behind your master. Another Jedi master was currently training a group of younglings on the other end of the courtyard. You smiled at the excited looks on their faces.

“You are aware that you can talk to me about anything that bothers you, are you not?”, he added with the thick Coruscanti accent of his.

Feeling conflicted about opening up to anyone, even him, you pondered making up some excuse. Yet one look at his face and you wavered. You didn’t know what it was about Obi-Wan Kenobi that disarmed you the way he did, but his caring expression made you want to spill all of your secrets.

“Go on.”, he retorted, his blue eyes observing you patiently.

“I don’t really belong here. I mean you are really the only person that I talk to.”, you explained with a frown. “After all, I can’t blame them. I was their enemy.”

“You are not anymore. Nevertheless, it is true that they do not trust you yet. Give them time and after you have proven yourself to the council you will be integrated into our Order. Yours is an unprecedented case. It is rare for a force wielder who has once succumbed to the dark side to return to the light path. It is only natural for others to be sceptical.”

His words soothed your anxiety and irritation that used to plague you lately. From the beginning on he had been this calming, reassuring influence. You wouldn’t have made it without his empathic and forgiving nature.

“I suppose you are right. Thank you for believing in me. For everything really, all you have shown me is kindness since I turned away from my past.”, you stated, tears filling your eyes that you quickly blinked away.

“Do not forget that you saved my life. I would call us even.”, he said winking. “But let us get back to our meditation, I am sure you will be able to concentrate now.”

“What is the use of this exercise again?”, you asked a little exasperated. The master sighed, having explained it a few times already.

“The meditation is meant to strengthen your connection to the force. In your case, it will help you focus on controlling your emotions better.”

Groaning you closed your eyes again at which the man in front of you chuckled amused. Taking up the appropriate pose for the meditation, you found that getting things off your chest indeed had helped you focus.

Later that evening as you walked back to your room, sweaty and exhausted from training you heard two familiar voices argue. The council had granted you more freedom meaning that you were allowed to retreat to your quarters on your own. The halls of the temple were contrary to the living quarters opulently designed. Large pillars framed the walls, leading to the high ceiling and the floor was covered in a long carpet that muffled your footsteps .

The voices, now louder the closer you got, could be identified as belonging to Ahsoka and her Master Anakin Skywalker.

Hearing your name being dropped you hid behind a broad pillar, too curious to know what was being said about you. The two figures just rounded a corner becoming visible to your eyes.

“I told you I want you to stay out of her way.”

“I understand, Master, but I don’t think that she is trying to deceive us.”

“She was Count Dooku’s apprentice. If all those years of fighting against the separatists should have taught you anything it is that you cannot trust them no matter the circumstances.”

The Master’s voice was unmistakably angry and aggravated, just as the man himself was rumored to be often. The Count had once called him unusally emotional for a Jedi.

“I know that you are only trying to protect me, but I do believe her. I just feel that she is being honest about her intentions.” Turning around to face his padawan the young master looked at her sternly, running a hand though his chestnut hair.

“Ahsoka, keep your distance.”, he admonished, before turning and leaving without another word.

You heard Ahsoka huff in frustration before walking in the opposite direction, vanishing from your view as well.

You sighed returning to walking back to your quarters. Would the Jedi ever accept you?

To be continued ...

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#obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi #star wars #star wars imagine #obi-wan imagine #kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x you #star wars the clone wars #imagine

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lancetuckershairgel · 5 years ago

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Dollhouse

Chapter Three: Procedure

Characters: Jefferson x Reader

Words: 1,110

Warnings: dark, medical fetish, body modification, breast enlargement, mention of blood (just the word no graphic details), stitches, smoking, brainwashing, edging with vibrator, non consent

AN: Surprise! I dropped another chapter unexpectedly and hold on to your flashlights because its getting dark in here y'all.

Tag List: @southernbell91 @marvelgirl7 @buckysforeverprincess @tranquil–heart @brat-in-a-teacup @anxiousamandapanda @msruchita @i-have-arrived-bitch @buckysteveloki-me @kissmecap @angryknightstatesmantrash @stupendousshepherdloverpony @slytheringswift @marvelfansworld (If you want to be added or removed let me know)

Three days had passed since Jefferson had brought his new toy home. The madman had been busy making the less severe of the modifications he had planned for her and the poor girl was already broken, or so she thought. After Jefferson had removed every strand of hair from her body, including her head, he forced her to look at herself in a mirror. She couldn’t even recognize herself, her eyes were swollen from crying, her face was flushed pale white from fear, and her beautiful blonde locks were no more. He had even waxed her eyebrows away. She sobbed as she looked away from her once beautiful reflection and he just laughed.

“Oh, my precious doll, this is just the beginning of what I have planned for you.” He spoke darkly as he stroked her bald head “I’m going to push you so far down the rabbit hole you’ll never come back.”

Jefferson placed a kiss on the naked crown of her head and walked away, leaving her bound to the steel table to process what he had said. When he came back hours later he was carrying three bags of fluids. One of them was a bag of blood which he put in a cooler to be used another time. The other two, a bag of saline and a bag of nutrients, were then hung upon a metal stand. After Jefferson inserted the medicine IV into her arm he began to prepare the saline.

“Know where this one’s going, Doll?” He asked as he held up the needle, watching the drops drip down

She shook her head, whimpering into the gag. While she was thankful he hadn’t gagged her with a rag that would dry her mouth out this time, she hated the dental gag. It stretched her mouth wide and the metal against her teeth hurt.

“It’s going right into your tits. The viewers love when the dolls have huge tits. More fun to abuse too.”

With that, Jefferson inserted the needle into the meaty flesh of her breast and began the drip. It was cold, she could feel the saline filling her breasts and while it didn’t hurt she was terrified of what the end result would be. While Jefferson waited he lit a cigarette and sat on the rolling stool, taking a long drag. He blew the smoke out directly into her face and laughed when she coughed and her eyes watered.

“You know what my daddy used to do to me when he finished smoking?” Jefferson asked her without looking in her direction as he took another pull “He used to call me over and tell me to lift my shirt. Fucker would put the stub out on my back.”

She didn’t have the chance to feel sorry for him because all thoughts were immediately focused on the burning pain and disgusting taste on her tongue. Jefferson had ashed the cigarette into her open mouth and if she wouldn’t choke to death on her own vomit she would have puked. She had no choice but to swallow the disgusting black ash.

Fifteen minutes and another cigarette later and Jefferson stood and removed the needle carefully from her breast.

“Already a cup size bigger.” He remarked

She groaned when he gave her breast a squeeze, suddenly aware of how tender the globe of flesh was. Tears slipped down her cheek as he inserted the needle into the other breast to finish the bag.

“I think twice a day for a few days will do the trick, don’t you?”

Now here she was three days later bound to a high backed chair that resembled an upright dental chair. He arms and neck were strapped to the chair and her legs were splayed far apart and strapped down at the thighs and calves. Her breasts were huge now, swollen and sore. They jutted out from her chest and ached with the slightest movement, something Jefferson had no issue taking advantage of.

Jefferson stood in front of her, one arm folded across his chest and his other hand resting against his face as he tapped a finger against his chin.

“There’s still so much to do to you but I think now we should begin your training. I’m not a professional doctor but I do know that we need to take these procedures slowly. A little mind warping should give you a nice break.”

“Mind what now?” She thought to herself

Jefferson placed headphones over her ears, making sure they were snug, before placing a black latex hood over her head. Unknown to her the hood had the face of a doll painted onto it, an unsettling face that would give a child nightmares and even Jefferson wasn’t a fan of it but the pictures he’d take and show her later to humiliate her made the creep factor worth it. The hood was tight and if it weren’t for the small holes under the nostrils she wouldn’t be able to breathe. The hood also prevented any light from penetrating and she was left completely blinded. This terrified her and she sniffled. She would have screamed and begged him to release her but he had clipped her vocal cords the night of her first day, after the second round of saline injections, just as he said he would and to prevent her from doing any damage to her throat he had sewn her lips together, temporarily. She could only thank her lucky stars that he had drugged her for that particular procedure although he didn’t want to, it was just necessary to prevent damage.

She twisted her body in the restraints in an attempt to find any slack but there was none. All she could do was sit and wait for him to begin. She jumped and made a gurgling noise when she felt something slick and cold press against her labia, spreading the lips apart. Jefferson used his fingers to spread a numbing lubricant over her sex, coating the clit well. Then he moved a metal stand in front of her and lowered the arm to the correct height. The stand had a vibrating wand attached to it and she jerked when she felt the buzzing head press against her exposed vagina. She tried to squirm away but it was no use.

“Welcome to your new life.”

Jefferson’s deep voice came through the headphones

“You’re no longer human. You no longer have a name. You are an object and a toy to be used for my pleasure.”

The pre recorded message played on an endless and the vibrator buzzed mercilessly at her clit, slowly breaking down her will.

#jefferson #jefferson ouat #jefferson x reader #sebastian stan #fan fiction #fanfic #dollhouse

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littleeyesofpallas · 4 years ago

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I don’t usually dwell on American cape comic shenanigans too much, because it’s a fast and loose kind of writing that doesn’t really play well with being scrutinized or really thought about at all, at least any longer than it takes to get through a page, but man... this whole Tynion IV Batman thing is still rubbing me the wrong way... and what bugs me is how it’s definitely not all “bad,” and in fact a lot of the build up is great, but then the resolutions (or lack there of) are massive let downs, but then also he keeps skirting by with these loose ends that feel like they weren’t forgotten but that they might get picked up later. It would almost suggest he has a real big picture planned as a through line across multiple stories...

So, when Tynion took over with issue 86 and Their Dark Designs, he actually provided a great premise: In the aftermath of City of Bane and Alfred Pennyworth’s death, Bruce muses over his apparent old habit of sketching himself little snapshots of an idealized Gotham he holds in his head. We have a clear establishment of the theme of Design, and also the idea that Bruce has an end game in mind. He’s not just reacting to crime as it happens, he has a long term plan. This is a genuinely good angle to have for a Batman story.

To build on this, we learn that Lucius is working on some new tech for Bruce and he specifically marvels at how far Bruce’s war on crime has escalated. The bat-gear hasn’t just been getting more sophisticated over the years, its development is beginning to outpace its practical applications.

Additionally, we get a weird kind of distraction of a B-plot with various master assassins convening in Gotham under a singular organized job, but among them the spotlight falls on Deathstroke. Does Tynion talk about Deathstroke being one of the classic anti-batmen? Does he talk about Deathstroke’s healing factor? No. He talks about Deathstroke’s augmented brain processing faster than Bruce can keep up with (a trait most authors tend to overlook with Slade); this means his only means of competing with Slade is to have a plan that puts him down before his super fast brain can think of a way out, because implicitly he will out think Batman given time, and if they’re both whittled down to adapting to one another in the moment, Slade wins.

Again, our theme is Master plans/Designs/end games.

Enter the heretofore unmentioned legendary, nigh mythical, Gotham villain named The Designer has reemerged after an indistinct time missing from the criminal underworld. His claim to fame is planning 20 steps ahead, outpacing his adversary’s planning to snub any and all resistance utterly and completely.

He’s brought up because he once mentored Penguin, Riddler, Catwoman, and Joker in their early days(and in their 90s era outfits as a clever reference) and apparently the master plans he devised with each of them that were never enacted have been queued up by “someone.” Designer is back, but he’s supposed to be dead; In a painfully uninteresting, cliche “twist” Joker was too KuHrAaZzY to handle and Designer turned on him rather than finish his tutelage, and in the ensuing firefight the 4 Gotham rogues killed the legendary Designer.

So, there are a lot of fun questions this raises, like who the apparent new Designer is, what his plan is, and what he wants...

Bruce has another run in with Slade and launches into an awkward, kinda whiny rant where he tells Slade that if only super villains hadn’t wasted so much of his time escalating the arms race of powers and gadgets and gimmicks, that he could have fixed Gotham years ago. So, here we are again, this idea of plans, of reactionary escalation, and of the absolute need for a master plan that snubs the opposition before they can react and learn. Batman beats Slade, of course, which just goes to show what we’re always meant to assume from Batman anyway, that he already had Slade beat from the get go. He had a plan; Batman always has a plan.

So this is super cool! It took us kind of a plodding 6 out of 9 issues of this story to get here, but this is a good place! We know Batman has a master plan for Gotham, we know from what we’ve heard about plans/Designs as a theme that means he’s already got all his villains accounted for, and that he’s just going through the motions: turning the wheels to make the machine work. It’s only a matter of time, now.

I’ll be honest, my thought at first when I was reading these? I thought The Designer was Batman, or some part of Batman’s plan. That he’d resurrected this mythical villain as part of his own master plan, to perhaps trick all his biggest adversaries to go all in on a singular massive criminal enterprise that Bruce had already designed from the get go to fail, and to take them all down with it once and for all. It fit the profiles, and it felt like the natural direction this all was headed...

But then it was just The Joker. Designer really was dead, Joker brought him back, stole his master plan and pulled it off himself. He stole Batman’s money and gadgets, and took over Gotham (again). That’s it. It was a 9 issue/4 month long fucking prologue to Joker War. And more importantly... NONE of these themes paid off, even a little... And to be fair, if these had turned into something to be addressed and resolved in Joker War, I might have been okay with it... But they weren’t...

Also there’s a (would be)great little moment towards the end here where we learn that The Designer’s original nemesis, a master detective whom he crushed and humiliated, once taught Bruce “how to lose.” And this went nowhere. But it could have been super interesting, because what exactly does that even mean? Does it mean learning to accept loss and move on? Does it mean letting the opponent’s plan succeed because if they put everything into the one plan, then it means they never actually had a follow through, so now the board is wiped clean and everyone’s back to square 1? What exactly was the point of bringing back the Designer’s legacy if we just learned that the real Designer wasn’t even the master mind of this whole story?

So then we meander into Joker War, curiosity still piqued, but expectations drastically lowered...

Joker has all Batman’s gadgets: that’s actually kind of cool. I like the idea of Joker having infinite resources and Batman being the one working underground. It’s kind of been done before in pieces, but never quite as explicit as this. It’s not genius, but its a solid premise. Joker goes on a meta-rant about people watching “the classics” over and over, and audiences being content to see the same old story, provided it’s done right. (A bold called shot, Tynion.)

And we glimpse the mysterious future Batsuit that apparently Bruce doesn’t remember designing. It’s kind of a throwback to the gray and blue look of the silver age Batman, when comics were a little more cheery and goofy and child friendly. It’s a nice commentary on the idea that Bruce wants to make Gotham into a better place, not where he doesn’t need to be Batman, but where he can be a less grim Batman. It speaks to Bruce’s character, his vision for Gotham, and Tynion’s nostalgia that is now being strongly established as a driving force of these stories...

Joker’s plan involves paying Gothamites, in the middle of this citywide takeover by clown gangs, to attend screenings of Zorro, at which point he’ll kill them walking out of the theaters. Batman shows up at one theater, fights some Joker zombie things, get gassed, gets rescued by Harley and given an antidote that induces a hallucination chat with Alfred.

Laughably, in this talk Bruce admits “I failed...” when talking about letting Alfred die and letting Joker take over the city but then hallucination Alfred talks Bruce OUT of it. So whatever it was Bruce learned about losing from the old detective, this apparently wasn’t it; this was the wrong kind of losing.

Joker mentions part of his plan was to make a new generation of heroes and villains with the massive shared trauma of the theater killings. We’d been seeing bits of Clown Killer, but that’s it. He actually seems pretty cool, but he wasn’t really doing much more than cameo in this. No new villains* actually, not until the epilogue gives us the anti-hero GhostMaker.

*correction: there are a few retroactively established villains who are new to publication, but no new villains born out of the actual Joker War scenario.

The whole Batfam shows up to wrestle clowns. For some reason Tynion or DC editorial in general went to GREAT lengths to contrive Dick being back in the old Nightwing outfit, Tim being Robin again, Cass and Steph being Batgirls, Babs being Oracle, and Damian having renounced the Robin title for this... They don’t do jack shit; They wrestle clown goons in the background.

Yet, again one of Joker’s stupid genius plans ends with a fist fight between a highly trained martial artist and a guy in a purple suit and we’re expected to be excited about this. Harley shows up to trick Bruce into leaving Joker to die, but of course he survives anyway...

So there are a few themes here that got heinously underutilized... Joker’s super into this self-aware thing about this being just another Batman-v-Joker affair, and about recreating Batman’s origin, and we see this play out on the other side with the weird walk back on the Batfam’s costumes. But we know Joker will lose, so ostensibly the bottom line here should be that, no, actually... doing the same old thing isn’t enough, and people aren’t as predictable as Joker thinks.

But if we’re acknowledging this idea that Batman-v-Joker is a thing that happens in cycles and it’s always kind of the same thing, and people are sick of it, then you know what one undeniable fact of continuity flies in the face of that? That no matter how many times we reboot the universe and repeat this whole song and dance, Batman keeps accumulating more sidekicks. I’d have loved if this whole thing had just climaxed with Joker “winning” in his over elaborate 1v1 grudge match only to have half a dozen extra bats bust in and kick his ass.

But more over, Batman NEVER had any sort of plan in this... The whole lead up in Their Dark Designs, which took LONGER to set up Joker War than Joker War actually lasted, was about Bruce having this Design for Gotham... And Joker War goes out of its way to remind us of this lingering concept, and doesn’t actually do anything with it, but tries to still dangle it over us, like... “oh no, we didn’t forget it, it’s just for later!” And like, I’m still kind of on board for it, but less and less so the more this shit drags out without any satisfying benchmarks along the way. And it’s just super frustrating to want to give Tynion credit for the genuinely good set up he seems to have here... Except is it still a “good setup” of it ends up not actually setting anything up? or if what it sets up turns out to be disappointing and bad??

It’s just really bizarre to me that I honestly kind of desperately want to like Tynion’s Batman (Clearly I’m having a fucking field day digging my teeth into it) but in spite of the good that’s there, and the clear forethought that appears to have gone into it, he keeps tripping himself up somehow.

#batman

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unholyhelbig · 5 years ago

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Knock, Three Times

A/N: Okay, so you guys know that horror is kinda my element. Which makes me sad that I missed out on the first day. I did actually write something but didn’t like it- so I might post it later!

Fic Title: Knock, Three Times.

AO3 Link

Day #2: Accidentally Summoning a Demon

The hospital’s corridors were bleach white. There was no color to the hallways or even the rooms. Just an undeniable white that countered the fluorescent lights with a brightness of their own. Walls were devoid of posters telling patients to keep their heads up and instead were replaced with chain-locked doors. Deadbolted and impossible to move.

Beca Mitchell chose not to look at those doors, the numbers painted in black and chipping away to reveal even more white. She could still tell that they counted up in even numbers. A little window carved out of each metal slab to give the patient, the prisoner, a better view of the world. Which just happened to be a blank nothingness.

“Don’t’ feel bad for them.” The guard walking with her snapped her from her haze. One of those women who had probably gone straight from the military into a psychiatric hospital. She wasn’t like the nurses dressed in a sunny yellow. She had a gun attached to her belt and her features were stoic with knowledge. “They made choices that threw them in here, just like you made the choice to visit your friend. Most of them are killers and crooks just trying to seem insane.”

“Do you ever believe them?” Beca took to asking instead of denying what the woman had said.

“You can’t believe anything other than what’s in front of you in my line of work, honey.”

Beca decided to leave it at that. It was a cynical way to look at the world, but she understood. Women who drowned their own kids, and men who had purposely driven a van through a campground without stopping. All claiming insanity and sticking to the guilty plea. She didn’t strive to make eye contact with any of them, caged and desperate for an ounce of human contact.

They walked a few more feet before a long stretch of windows let in some natural light. It soothed Beca, seeing the stretch of barbed wire and chain link fence wasn’t the same as a beach view, but it told of a world further from this one.

The guard fumbled with the keys on her belt before pulling one covered with masking tape to the front. Room 113 was written in sharpie sloppily. “Right, well, I will be right outside of this door. You feel uncomfortable, or in danger at all, then you just pound on the wall three times and I’ll pull you out. Handle her.”

“What will you do?” Beca’s voice was tight, scanning over the baton she had on her leather belt, and then back to the gun that was a few inches away. “I mean, you won’t hurt her, will you?”

“Relax, sweetie, It’s a sedative.”

Beca didn’t’ know if that soothed her nerves at all but she again let the words hang in the stale air. She had the nervous instinct to play with her keys that she usually kept in her jacket pocket, but they had stripped her of the whole coat. Took her belt, and her shoelaces too. The tongues of her shoes flopped as they walked to their destination.

The metal door creaked open and the hinges groaned in exhaustion. She was hit with the instant scent of rot, not so much as fruit that had succumbed to the elements- more like an old library that was filled with leather-bound books, pages disintegrating the second gloveless fingers touched the print.

Her room was bigger than Beca would have guessed, not large, but more than a classic jail cell. It was white too, but some letters were tacked to the walls and a small window rested on the far wall, barred and then barred again. There was a metal desk and a bookshelf that was occupied to its capacity. They had started to pile on the floor next to the raised cot that had a folded blanket and one bare pillow.

Beca jumped when the door slammed behind her. The girl who was huddled up on the windowsill didn’t so much as look up from the novel in her grasp. Pale and slimmer than she remembers- Emily Junk looked dwarfed in the grey sweatpants and stained white t-shirt. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and her features were shadowed by the outside light. Maybe it was a better view than the barbed wire on the other side.

“They didn’t’ tell me you were coming.” She finally said after a long bout of silence. “I would have tidied up a little bit.”

Beca scanned the girl with wide eyes, those greenish-brown ones finally finding hers with an uncharacteristically simple smile. Too simple for the girl that was trapped in a mandated insane asylum, though, she had read somewhere that they weren’t supposed to call it that anymore. Something about rehabilitation. She had a feeling that Emily was never going to find her way back into society.

“Lighten up a little, it was a joke. It’s okay to laugh.” She spoke again, putting the book down on the nearby desk and adjusting her position so her feet were hanging off her perch. “You look good, California has made you tan.”

“I never went. I put the album on hold for a little, until the trial-“She swallowed thickly, trying to gauge a reaction, but she never got one. “Things need to settle down at home before I make a new one.”

Beca thought she registered a look of guilt from Emily, but she was standing before the other girl was completely sure. Crossing the room to set the book down on the cot and then herself in the corner. Beca could feel the chill of the metal door on her back, almost through her t-shirt. She was pining for that jacket that they had stolen and housed in a plastic bin.

“You know, the only people who visit me in here are my lawyers. And Aubrey that one time. That was in the beginning though.”

“You killed someone, Emily, can you blame them?” A type of fire licked at her stomach. She was told not to say anything, not to bring up why Emily was in here in the first place, that it could damage her recovery process. Beca quickly clenched her jaw shut and looked away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“You don’t’ have to tip-toe around me, Beca.”

Emily was standing again, directly across from her in the small expanse of blank space not occupied by an item of furniture. Her hands were slack in the pockets of her sweatpants. “What’d they tell you, that I’m liable to snap? To forget everything they’re trying to do to me? Not likely. You can’t erase something like that, no matter how pokey they get with their sticks.”

Beca’s eyes hardened “Why’d you do it, then? Because I’m not buying this whole demon excuse.”

It had all been so fast, raining the night that Beca got the call from Aubrey. Aubrey who had found Emily covered in black syrup in the center of a salt drawn circle. She had panicked, thought it was the younger girl's blood. That’s when she found the neighbor in the bathtub, draining slowly and meticulously. Beca never questioned the design the salt was in or the book that was opened beside her to a blank page. None of it made sense.

“You of all people should be the most willing to accept that as an excuse.” She lifted a brow. “After all, Beca you were the one that told us to stay out of the basement. Said it was haunted. I thought it was just a prank on the new girl- a hazing of sorts.”

Beca’s jaw clenched as she watched the girl meander back over to the desk with hard eyes. She ran her fingers over the dusty surface until they reached the spine of the book. Emily’s stare was filled with longing.

“What exactly were you doing down there all those years?” Emily glanced back up, stray hair falling into her eyes. “raising the dead was my first guess. But then I found that book of yours. It was naive to leave it out in the open like that. Though- I must admit, it was a bit of a challenge to translate all that Latin.”

She was still for a moment, who body rigid as if it were frozen in place. Emily wasn’t as washed as she had thought. It was a simple clean up, hide the book and she looked like nothing more than a girl in the middle of a salt circle covered in someone else’s blood.

Beca let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. What do you want, then?”

Emily looked taken aback by the question. What did she want? Beca was hoping deep down inside that the weight of something like that would puzzle her- the start of a smirk crept against her upper lip. It was unfortunate Beca thought, that someone as sweet as Emily had stumbled upon her book and had read from the darkest page of them all. A cruel trick. Beca almost felt sorry for her in the aspect.

“you’re going to get me out of here,” Emily said.

“Now, I think that’s asking a little too much, don’t you? I mean, you sealed the deal the second you opened your mouth about demons and some ancient spell to summon them. It’s called a secret art for a reason, Em.”

“I’ll tell them about you,” Her voice was flooded with panic. That was another mistake Emily made, confusing hope with the reality of one of her storybooks. “Your book, and your sacrifices, and your… your magic.”

“And who exactly will believe you?”

Beca could smell the bubblegum medicine that they made Emily swallow twice, maybe three times, a day. She was that close. Could see the paleness in her skin and the timid flow in her stance. She had bruises from IV”s in her hand and equally as dark ones around her wrists from straps Beca had failed to notice before.

“Emily, you know how much I adore you and your naive nature, but it’s just that, isn’t it? You say anything about me and they’ll just up your dosages. I think you got confused by my visit here. But if you stick to the program, maybe they’ll let you out one day.” Beca took an even step back. “I’ll keep visiting you, don’t worry.”

She swallowed thickly and tucked her arms closer to her body. Beca couldn’t tell if it was anger or something more. Stirring in her usually placid nature. “Can you at least stop the nightmares?” She asked.

Beca lilted her head with a dark smile and banged on the wall three times.

#hw192 #Pitch perfect Horror week #Beca Mitchell #Emily Junk #bemily #bemily fanfiction #spooky

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destiels-w · 6 years ago

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Chapter One

so this is a story I wrote a long time ago, and now is a better time than never to post it. reader is Tony Starks long lost daughter who moves into the stark tower. and well. its a bucky fanfic. obviously before endgame i wrote this.

word count: 1.5k

triggers: none

------

Sometimes when I’m bored, I try to think about what my birth family’s like. Are they content not knowing me? Are they looking for me? Do they live in the states? One thing is sure, whoever they are, they’re better than who I’m stuck with. Who I have been stuck with for 20 years of my life. The optimistic thoughts of my biological family tree keep me going. Knowing that there had to be something, someone better out there for me. I look at the time. 12:43 PM

Midnight isn’t too late to go running. I slide my tennis shoes on & cover my arms with a long sleeve shirt. Goosebumps spreading throughout my forearm from the sudden warm. I walk into the living room, quietly making my way to the door. I ease the door open without letting it creak, shutting & locking it on the way out. I press my headphone into my ear & begin my run. The closest track is about 5 minutes away, only a couple minute run.

Running clears my mind because, mainly because I have to focus on not tripping. I begin my run at a slow pace, trying to ignore my gut feeling someone was around me. I stopped, removing my headphone to focus on my surroundings. I shook my head because I was obviously being paranoid. I continued my run, picking up the pace.

I can’t shake the feeling, maybe I should just head home. I turn around & almost stubble due to the sudden light in front of me. A small drone, with a letter sticking straight out. I look up at the drone & back at the letter, gathering enough strength to grab it. I pull it from the drones grasp, unfolding it with a single address with a date & time. When I look back up, the drone is already gone. I walk back home, trying to figure out how familiar the address looked. When I get home, I can see the kitchen light on. That means Tyler or Trisha are awake. I trot over to my window, I always keep it open in case I need to sneak my way back into the house. I stealthy get into my room, kicking of my shoes off & changing out my sweaty shirt. When I slide into my bed, my eyes shut & although my mind drifts off I can’t sleep. Was it a random selection? Was I the wrong person the drone was supposed to go to?

I hear my bedroom door open with gusto. I hear Tyler grunt & clink his beer bottle on my door. I hear him walk around my room & kick my shoes.

“Fucking slob” he mutters under his breath, and with that he slams my door shut.

• •

When I get to the address, my eyes look up to find the top, which is found difficult because the building is looming over me. I walk around trying to find any clue of what the building was. And there is was, the Avengers symbol. This is the fucking Avengers HQ. I take my phone out trying to to search the address again, because this was not right. This had to be some sort of mistake.

Sure enough, this is it. I walk in shakily, taking deep breaths.

“Hello? I, uh, I guess I’m expected here at 1?” I told the guy at the desk.

“Name” very charismatic.

“Y/F/N” I replied.

He glanced at me for a few seconds then got up, walking around the bend of the room. It was about 5 minutes that he came back with a petite blonde woman.

“Y/N? I’m Pepper Potts. Please follow me, Mr. Stark is expecting you” she said sharply. Turning on her heels & walking to the elevator.

I pick up the pace quickly to catch her.

“Wait Mr. Stark? You mean, Tony Stark?” I breathed out. She stared directly ahead, pressing the up button on the elevator.

“You’d be correct” she said in an annoyed manner.

I swallowed the information I was being given & tried to clear my mind during the elevator ride. It was silent, and I almost was thankful for that. We finally arrive at the top floor. The doors open up & we walk into a large office with Iron Man suits everywhere. Pepper walks away, into another room. As I’m looking at the suits, I hear, “don’t touch anything. Take a seat.”

I collected myself long enough to walk over to the couch & sit.

I hear the door open, I stood up quickly. Tony Stark was standing in the same room as me. He looked at me with a smile

“I see you’ve already made acquaintances with my suits, you should know me, but for my own purposes, I’ll go ahead & introd-“

“Mr. Stark, I know exactly who you are. But I don’t think you have the right person. I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.” As I slowly inch my way towards the door. He looks down at his feet, then back up at me, putting his hands in his pockets.

“You’re Y/F/N. You were born into a shitty family & you have shitty parents. You’ve lived in the same house your entire life, and you just recently graduated. Am i right so far?” He asked, using a lot of hand motions. I nodded & walk behind the couch.

“I could tell you some things about shitty parenting, for starters my dad always put work before me, was never proud when I hit a home run & I always told myself, I’d never be like that. I’d always take my kids to get ice cream after an achievement and...” he looks up at me, realizing he’s just babbling, “my point is. As a father, it’s important for me to take responsibility,” I look at him with confusion, not knowing what the fuck he is talking about.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t understand where I fit in with all this.” I finally blurred out.

He took a deep breath, and finally said “I need you to understand, this new might be a lot. You might not like it, but you’re my daughter. I’m your biological,” he took a pause “father.”

I could feel my eyes widen, and my face turn red. My stomach fell, I had no ideas how to process this. I’d always wanted to have a place, Ive always wanted to fill the void in my life I’d been missing. This is it, it’s all right here & I can’t even process it.

“I know your home life, it’s not the greatest. It’s been rough, & that’s why I want you to move here to the stark tower. Now please know, you’re not obligated. It’s your choice, but there’s a whole floor I’ve made just in case you-“

“Mr. Stark. This is a lot to take in, my foster parents will be furious if I just leave.. and I just met you, I don’t even know how to take it all in” I admitted. Knowing that it was stupid to even question an offer like that.

“I understand, I’ll give you a bit to process things. This home is always here, when or if you decide you want it. Here’s my number, please call anytime if you have questions. And well, just if you want to talk.” He said with a grin.

We sat in silence for about a minute before he spoke again, “I’m having dinner here on Saturday, if you’re not busy, I’d be more than happy to have you here. Just think about it”

“Okay, I will. I’d stay longer if I didn’t have so much house work... but I’ll see you Saturday” I said to him in a reassuring manner. This seemed so important to him.

“I have a guy outside that will give you a ride anywhere you want. Just tell him.” He smiled & waved me out.

I went outside to meet the driver, “where you wanna go, kid?” He said.

As much as I wanted to tell him that I wanted to stay right there, I didn’t want to move anywhere but stay at the Stark tower, I of course gave him my home address.

I had no idea how I was even going to tell my parents. How I was going to explain the situation. How to tell them I’ll be leaving. If I even should leave. The stark tower is for heroes, and I would feel so out of place there. I don’t even know Tony, or anybody there. But he’s my father. I need to be with family, I need to know where I’ve come from. My history. My Story.

Before I knew we were already at the house. I fiddled with my fingers, anticipating the conversation going south already. Staring into oblivion. My parents are malicious people, they are not open to the idea of having their slave go elsewhere.

“Here’s my card, kiddo. Call me if you ever need a ride” he handed me a business card & I made my way inside. I can’t do this. I’m not doing this.

#Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #reader x bucky #stark!reader #stark!readerxbucky

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machine-gunn-eddie · 6 years ago

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Retaliation, Part 1

The High Rollers Universe (WWE Mob!AU Series): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [current]

Parings: Dean Ambrose/Renee Young

Rating: M, for blood and injury

Dean's down for the count, and it's up to Renee to lay down the law. With her own form of justice, of course. The Authority is going to pay. Long live the Queen.

Flashbacks denoted with italics

“I’m so sorry for the interruption, but it’s urgent,” Corey explained, trying to maintain a neutral expression. His face couldn’t hide his worry from Renee.

“It’s fine,” she waved, setting down her cup of tea. “Mr. Bálor and I were just finishing up.”

“Please, call me Finn,” a certain dashing Irishman insisted, placing his own cup down. “I won’t take up any more of your time. T’ank you for the tea, Ms. Young. I look forward to our organizations working in harmony in the future.”

Renee got up to show Finn out and give her final remarks as Corey hovered nervously.

“Now,” she prompted, sitting back into her chair. “What’s this about?”

“Roman just called. Dean...there’s no good way to put this,” Corey sighed, rubbing at his knuckles absentmindedly. “Dean’s been shot. He’s stable now, but the Authority got him.”

Renee sat back for a moment, trying to process this. Corey wasn't sure whether to be consoling or aggressive, so he patiently waited for Renee to speak first.

“Where is he?” Renee asked, finally. There are so many ways she can respond to this, but right now she’s favoring the most immediate thing she can think of doing. I need to see Dean.

Seeing Dean pale, and bloodied, and hurt...it’s been a while.

“I already told you everything, big guy. Either put your fuckin’ money where your mouth is or let me go, because for once in my goddamn life, I’m telling the truth.”

Hearing her enter, Roman steps back from his victim to turn to her, and Renee can get a good look at the man in the hot seat. He’s bleeding profusely, from a cut above his eyebrow and from his split lip. His nose looks crooked, and one eye is already swelling. This guy must have one hell of a set or one hell of a mouth to get Roman—the level headed, naturally intimidating one—to play piñata with his face.

“Says he didn’t know better. That he’s from out of town. Running from folks back in Cincinnati,” Roman reports, ignoring the vagrant tugging at his restraints to focus entirely on his boss.

“Not my fault they pissed themselves when RICO slammed them,” the seated man chimes in, spitting some blood out to the side, so he can speak clearer. “I’m not an idiot, I got out clean, but to them that’s the sign of a turncoat.”

“And his attack on one of our boys?” Renee inquires, still addressing questions to Roman.

“Says he didn’t know. Just thought it was a normal bar brawl.” Roman gives a faint shrug in her direction. He’s angry, but his shrug would indicate that he’s angry because the man is right.

“Self defense, big guy. Check the tapes, your boy doesn’t take losses too well. 8-ball scratch and he tried to impale me with the cue.”

“You fractured his skull with the 12-ball,” Renee notes, finally turning her attention to the squirming man in a bloodied leather jacket. “Knocked him clean out in one hit.”

“I’m resourceful, doll,” the guy cracks, and Renee reaches out to tug on Roman’s sleeve to stop him from decking the man again. Resourcefulness is a skill the High Rollers need.

“I’m inclined to believe you,” Renee says. Cesaro had pulled the tapes and shown her that what he said was the truth, but she didn’t need to tell him that. “However, you still attacked one of our boys, under my protection, in my territory. He might be a hot-headed idiot, but it is an offense against my family that I can’t overlook.” Before Renee can even suggest a possible penance, the man cuts in with his own,

“I’d like to offer you my services.”

“Which are?” Renee drawls, refusing to seem taken aback by the forwardness of their victim.

“Magic and magic tricks,” he says, dramatically, with a wild grin. Roman snorts,

“Plenty of people doing card tricks on the Strip, jackass.”

“Oh, I don’t do card tricks,” Dean says, grinning even wider, if possible. He leans over as far as he can with the restraints, looking right at Renee, getting into her face and under her skin and edging close to her heart in the days to come.

“Then what do you do?” Renee plays along, humoring him while clearly aware of his antics.

“Sweetheart, I make people disappear.”

Dean’s...certainly been better, but considering how Roman described finding him, Renee thought the patch job and IV drip were a vast improvement.

Dean tried to sit up, and Renee was quick to push him back down with a glare. He gave in, wincing when he collided with the pillows below him, and Renee collapsed into the chair beside the bed.

The pallor of her husband is noticeable, and the bandages wrapped tight around his torso are a stark contrast to the usual black tank tops he preferred. He’s conscious, but only just, considering the amount of painkillers and anesthetics they pumped him full of to get through the surgery.

“What the hell happened, Dean?” Renee asked, reaching out take his hand. Dean took a moment to just smile at her, happy to just be in her presence, and she squeezes his hand in hers to remind him that she’s there.

“Not...not really sure doll. One second I’m on my way to check in on Sami, y’know, the friend from Cinci? The next I’m tasting asphalt. I was close to the border but…not that fucking close,” he sighed.

“Is Sami okay?” Renee asked, tracing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb.

“Yeah, I told him to run when I saw trouble coming. He’s a fighter, but I’m not having him hurt on my dime.” There was a pause where Dean just looked down at their hands joined together, worrying at his lip. “I’m sorry your hitman’s shit at his job,” he mumbled, guiltily.

“Getting jumped by three men is not part of your usual responsibilities,” Renee snorted, shutting Dean’s inevitable self-loathing session down before it could begin. “I’m sorry you were hurt. None of this should have happened, Dean.”

“I knew what I signed up for. I been getting beat downs since before I was on payroll. Nothing new to me. It’s just...been a while since I was on the other side.”

Sami’s being held down, the fucker tearing at his grimy black locks. Dean’s clawing at the scuffed up hardwood, dragging himself towards the blurry form of Sami. There’s blood or sweat, maybe both dripping into his eyes, blinding him. God he can barely fuckin’ move, his arms just aren’t responding and god Sami get the fuck up!

The bastard pinning Sami howls, leaping back, a switchblade sticking out from between his ribs like a thermometer in a roast turkey. Atta boy Callihan. Atta boy.

A boot slams into his side, and suddenly he’s on his back. Sami screams out something—he can’t tell what, his ears are ringing—but there’s panic and pain and a foot trying to crush his rib cage like an ant on the sidewalk—

“Listen—“ Dean urged, reaching out to grab Renee by the arm. “I don’t want anybody getting hurt because of me being a screwball. You don’t gotta go to war over me. I’m not worth it.”

“You’re worth it, Dean. You idiot. I’d go to war with the moon if you took offense to it.”

“Well now that you mention it, it’s really hogging the night sky. Better look into that.”

“Dean.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean huffed, the air ruffling his bangs.

“What I still don’t understand,” Renee began, reaching out to smooth over his wild hair, “Is why even attack you in the first place? Hunter is cocky, but assaulting a Roller in our own territory? Idiocy.”

“He thinks he’s got it on lock,” Dean explained, shutting his eyes. “Hunter was talking a big game. Said it was open season on the Rollers. Didn’t sound like the first time he’s done a little demonstration like that.”

“Something big must be going down then,” Renee realized. Shit.

Dean hummed in agreement, seemingly halfway asleep.

“I’ll take care of this,” Renee promised. She leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss, his eyes fluttering back open to give her a weak smile when she pulls away. “It’s my turn to protect you.” She waited until Dean was back asleep before quietly exiting the room.

Roman looked up as she stepped through the door, making his way over to her. For a minute she doesn’t know what to say, focusing on the floor as she tried to get a hold of herself. Strong arms were suddenly around her in a hug she didn’t know she needed, and she sank into Roman’s hold gratefully.

It also made her notice Roman’s lack of a jacket. He had removed it because it had been soaked in blood. Dean’s blood. If Roman had been a minute later—

“Thank you,” Renee said, raising her head to look Roman in the eyes. She hoped he could see how grateful she was.

Roman just nodded and pulled her back in close, planting a soft kiss into her hair.

When Roman had been all but gift wrapped and handed to her by his family, she was unsure what to make of him.

“So, you’re the sign of good faith the Reigns family was offering?” Renee wonders, looking over her desk at the powerhouse of a man standing before her. “Roman, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he offers, with a courteous nod.

So went her exchanges with the silent Samoan.

Roman was...cold. In the ‘hardened killer’ sense, but even at ease he remained a living statue. He’d always be hovering somewhere in her peripherals, but he rarely spoke and seemed to be all business, all the time.

“You can sit down, you know.”

Roman honest to god flinches when she speaks to him, breaking the silence that laid heavy over the room for an hour. He nods absently and settles into a chair, not looking relaxed in the slightest.

She had made him a bodyguard since she wasn’t sure what else to do with him. If what Sika said was true (and Renee had no reason to doubt it) Roman was capable of handing the more dangerous side of their proceedings...but was he comfortable with doing that? Taking someone’s life was no small task, after all.

“You know what? Let’s get out of here,” Renee huffs, gesturing to Roman. “Kitchen, now.”

Roman trailed along behind her like a lost pup, and she had to order him to sit at the counter.

“Do you like chocolate? Moose tracks? Strawberry?” Renee asks, rummaging through the freezer.

“I’m fine, ma’am,” Roman replies.

“Bullshit,” Renee spits, looking over her shoulder at a genuinely confused Roman. “You can afford to have some ice cream, Reigns.”

“...chocolate, then.”

It took another 20 minutes of homemade sundae making and chit chat to get Roman out of his shell, but once he got talking off-the-cuff, Renee found there was no shortage of interesting conversation.

“I know you come from a huge family,” Renee prompts, during a lull in their chat. “But the Rollers are family too. I know this is all new to you, the house, the city, the people. I hope one day you can see us as family too.”

Years later, Roman couldn’t remember when he ever saw them as anything less.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Roman said. “What happens next is your call.”

Renee nodded, steeling herself for what’s to come.

“Call everyone. We’re taking the Authority out.”

#High Rollers Universe #dean ambrose/renee young #dean ambrose #roman reigns #renee young #wwe #wwe fanfic #my writing #I'm back baby!

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dailytechnologynews · 6 years ago

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GloFo 7nm: A Lost Hope

So as you may know GloFo 7nm was recently cancelled, in this article im going to analyze all of what this implies in a lot of levels but mostly on the technical one, both in short and long term

before beginning please have in mind:

1) im Spanish and my english writing might be poor, also this is by far the longest article ive ever wrote and it took me 2 and a half Hours to complete, there can be mistakes but don't be harsh pls

2) i currently own a bit of AMD stock, this means I focus on them more, but as you will see this doesn't affect my thinking

3) i link various articles in this one, i recommend you reading them for better comprehension

4) this article contains A LOT of estimates, they are based on public knowledge, if some of that knowledge turns out to be false or inaccurate the estimates based on it do the same, however they are the best that I can do, if I had more hard data I will use it. in particular, my estimates about TSMC 7nm are… weak and early, please don't complain about them, its the best I can do without more hard data

9001) WARNING: this article is LONG, the character count its literally OVER 9000!!!!

with that said lets begin

The first important question is WHY? Why did GloFo cancel their 7nm node? the answer is simple: MONEY, this quote from anandtech sums things up:

So, the key takeaway here is that while the 7LP platform was a bit behind TSMC’s CLN7FF when it comes to HVM – and GlobalFoundries has never been first to market with leading edge bulk manufacturing technologies anyway – there were no issues with the fabrication process itself. Rather there were deeper economic reasons behind the decision.

the full article is here: https://www.anandtech.com/show/13277/globalfoundries-stops-all-7nm-development

The second question is: how does GloFo 7nm compare to TSMC 7nm, because if glofo’s node was worse than TSMC's then the only loss here would be the competition, well this is absolutely not the case, GloFo 7nm was superior than TSMC 7nm, maybe by a wide margin, but this depends literally of thousands of factors, so the best that i can do is to approximate the final answer basing on all that we know first we have to know the specifics of GloFo 7nm, here is an excellent article containing them and more: https://fuse.wikichip.org/news/641/iedm-2017-globalfoundries-7nm-process-cobalt-euv/ if you read the article and understand most of it, you have my respect, but lets list the facts that we care about:

1) 55% power reduction at the same frequency

2) 40% frequency improvement at the same power

3) extremely tuned fin profiles

4) cobalt for some critical layers, improving interconnect speed and drastically reducing electromitigation, this is very important as the wall to reaching high clocks is interconnect speed

this looks extremely nice, but how does this translate into real world max clocks? Well if you assume the GloFo chart was linear then the results are very good, here is a calibration based in real data, done in the anandtech forums by /u/catmerc (thanks!): https://forums.anandtech.com/threads/next-gen-zen-2-3-starship-and-derivatives.2511914/page-3#post-39322122 you watched right: 4,6 GHz at the same power you would get 3,3 GHz on 14nm, WOW, this means that (again if the chart was linear) 5 GHz wouldn't be far fetched at all, this is probably too good and my estimations are that GloFo 7nm was a bit worse than what this chart implies, still I think 5 GHz would have been doable, but only for single core turbo, just in case: im referring to the SoC version, clocks on 7HPC would have been ludicrous

now we have to analyze how good TSMC 7nm is, this is harder to know and there is less data about this but lets do it anyway. first we have to get the advertised numbers, and those are 60% power reduction at the same frequency or 30% frequency improvement at the same power, source: https://www.anandtech.com/show/12677/TSMC-kicks-off-volume-production-of-7nm-chips, this is starting to look worse than GloFo from the first moment, however there is a big issue here: the bases are different, GloFo bases their 7nm numbers on their 14nm, and TSMC does it over their 16nm+ this makes comparison hard, I remember that TSMC 16nm clocked higher than Samsung 14nm which is the same as GloFo 14nm, but consumed a bit more and was less dense, I cant source those claims but if you look at the numbers they make sense, anyway this approach failed as a solid comparison point so lets move on, how about taking the words of their clients? Spoiler alert: worse than GloFo

Speed gains of 16% at 10 nm may dry up at 7 nm due to resistance in metal lines. Power savings will shrink from 30% at 10 nm to 10–25% at 7 nm, and area shrinks may decline from 37% at 10 nm to 20–30% at 7 nm, said Paul Penzes, a senior director of engineering on Qualcomm’s design technology team. source: https://www.eetimes.com/document.asp?doc_id=1333109

Arm claims that the latest 7-nm nodes will only deliver 2% to 3% more speed than the 16-nm node. “There hasn’t been much frequency benefit at all since 16 nm … wire speed hasn’t scaled for some time,” said Peter Greenhalgh, an Arm fellow and vice president of technology. source: https://www.eetasia.com/news/article/18060102-arm-announces-high-performance-laptop-cpu

so basically two clients of TSMC are saying that there are close to none clock gains on 7nm (compared to 10nm, this is important) and I know they mean TSMC and not GloFo because they both say the problem is interconnect speed which if you remember from above is one of the things GloFo 7nm improved a lot thanks to cobalt and other things, also GloFo is a much smaller fab, it was going to get into HVM later and most people were going to use TSMC anyway. So now we know TSMC 7nm isn't as good as GloFo 7nm was, but by how much? Well a little time ago I made a prediction of how Ryzen 3000 would clock on both nodes, I recently updated it to reflect that AMD will use the HPC variant: https://www.reddit.com/r/aceshardware/comments/923t76/ryzen_3000_clock_predictions/ so there is your answer, a not at all laughable 300 MHz loss, but I think you also want to know how did I get to that concussion, well… it is a bit tricky and fail prone also it has a 100mhz or higher margin of error, anyway here it goes: the base is Ryzen 7 1800X which turbos up to 4 GHz on GloFo 14LPP TSMC 16nm+ clocks higher than GloFo 14lpp but lower than 12LP, 4,2GHz is my best estimate, TSMC 10nm should give about 5% of a boost to max clocks (remember max clocks ALWAYS increase less than “performance” for high end CPUs) that gets us to >4,4 GHz, going from 10nm to 7nm should give a negligible boost of around 2% but this is just enough to put that number on 4,5 GHz, this is the number for the mobile variant, but as i discovered during the writing of this article, AMD is going to use the HPC variant which features a 7.5 track library instead of the 6 track one found in the mobile variant it also should use fater interconnects, finding how much will this variant boost clocks is again as there is EVEN LESS data on it, the only numbers that I could find are +13% perf over the mobile variant and up to 4,4 GHz speed for the sram(L* cache), cache usually is a bit slower than the CPU itself so this doesnt mean the limit is 4,4 GHz. with all of this my estimation for 7nm HPC is 4,7 GHz which is still lower than the GloFo 7nm SoC version, have in mind im being a bit cautious with this one 4,8 GHz is possible , just for laughs if we compared max clocks of GloFo 7nm HPC(IBM only) vs TSMC 7nm HPC the difference will be ~0,8GHz, LOL just LOL (the number is serious tough) as you can see this is tricky as is based on estimates over estimates, however there are some limits to how good or how bad it can clock, so while my number might (and possibly will) fail, it cant fail by much The third question is: who this affects and how does it? The answer is AMD, IBM, Intel, TSMC and maybe Samsung, so lets analyze how it affects everyone on that list

AMD: Negatively

after the previous paragraph you can see why: 300-200mhz loss its not good, but this is just the tip of the iceberg, even if GloFo continued with 7nm AMD might have chosen TSMC 7nm for ryzen 3000 because of time constraints, the really bad thing about this is that the clocks of TSMC nodes are expected to be flat until 3nm which will mean a tech change from finfet to gaafet, this means Intel has 3-4 years of wide and increasing clock leadership so the only way AMD can beat Intel’s performance in the desktop market is through big IPC increases, which are unlikely to be big enough,still AMD should be able to beat Intel in value (perf/price) by a very good margin, server and laptop market are a VERY different story and I expect AMD to do very well on those. another HUGE concern for AMD should be prices, with near zero competition TSMC can increase prices both on the short and the long term, similar to the DRAM market, this means either smaller margins for AMD or higher final product prices.

for those all reasons I did cut my personal stock price target for AMD by a BIG 20%, yes you heard right: the day before the announcement I thought AMD was going to reach a 25% (because percentages work that way) higher price than today, im not going to say what my exact price targets are but I believe AMD is going to go up from the current price, just much less than before

IBM: Negatively, VERY negatively

well.. this guys really take the worst part, basically they have no node suitable for their high-end CPUs for the foreseeable future, glofo spun off an ASIC group which is said to help port costumer designs to other nodes, the problem is that there is no high performance 7nm class node apart from intel 10nm (if they fix it)

Intel: Positively

a lot of what I said for AMD applies here in reverse, Intel basically has an assured performance lead in the desktop market over AMD, but still they will have to compete to a denser, cheaper to produce 7nm chip lineup with their 14nm one, their server market share is still posed to get lower maybe by a bog amount

TSMC: Positively, VERY positively

on the short term they get more volume and therefore revenue, and in a now 2-player game (3 if intel opens its fabs) they get the ability to increase or even pact prices

Samsung: Positively

Samsung on the short term will probably see no gains, but on the long term they might win some designs, however the big win for them is the lack of competency driving prices an therefore margins up

YOU, the consumer: Negatively

as per the points stated above you might get more expensive chips, and maybe even worse ones, cutting-edge node development is mindblowingly expensive and that maybe is an understatement, with less competition tsmc and samsung might opt to do less aggressive jumps to save a huge amount of money on RD, this remains to be seen, it may not happen, but the possibility is out there and I wont dismiss it

to end I would like to quote an excellent comment from /u/nagromo which summarizes perfectly some of my thoughts:

I was hopeful that IBM research working with them meant it would be more like "IBM 7nm, manufactured by GloFo", similar to how they've done well with Samsung 14nm. I still think there's a decent chance it really was on track, and they're telling the truth and just think they can be more profitable using their successful 12/14nm technologies instead of investing $10B+ into 7nm. I'm really disappointed to hear this. I thought it was a reasonable hope that the IBM research team would be able to achieve or approach their 40% performance, 55% power numbers. There's rumors about poor performance from TSMC 7nm. My hopes for Ryzen 3 aren't nearly as high as they were yesterday.

this article was originally wrote by me to /r/aceshardware

#hardware #Computer #Technology #Tech #News

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aphorisnt · 7 years ago

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Padawan Ben Continuation Part 10 (End)

You read that right; this is indeed finally the end! Holy shit this has been a wild ride and I’m still kind of in shock that I managed to complete all this abd actually posted it and that so many of you folks actually read and liked it!!

So part 10 is actually 2 parts, what was the rest of part 9 (I split it because 3k is a lot to read in a tumblr post) and an epilogue. I’m not 100% sure I like the epilogue but I’ve looked at it for I don’t know how long and fixing it would entail doubling or tripling the length which would take another few days and I kinda want to get this out now (maybe I’ll rewrite it or make the long version in the future, I dunno).

Huge thank you and endless love and appreciation to @swpromptsandasks, the one who started it all!! (I know I said most of this already in an ask I sent you but I’m gonna say it again.) Without you none of this would exist and I just can’t thank you enough for the opportunity to finish this fic. Also, without you spreading the word and reblogging, none of the people reading this now would’ve even found it in the first place, so in the end I owe every single like, reblog, reply, ask, and new follower I’ve gotten to you. That support just means so incredibly much to me and I wish I had better words than just “thank you” to express my gratitude.

Another huge thank you to anyone and everyone who has read along with me as I’ve posted this thing!! I can’t put into words how much your support means to me as a beginning fic writer and just in general. I always got so nervous right before posting, just wondering if what I was writing would be even remotely ok, but the overwhelming positive response made everything worth it and it’s thanks to you folks that I’m feeling a tiny bit more confident in my writing. And if any of you have any feedback you want to give or comments you want to make

Thank you everyone who has joined me on this adventure and I hope I do the ending justice!!

(Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9)

It started with a small twitch of fingers, the movement barely perceptible and small enough that Anakin might have missed it completely if it weren’t for the accompanying soft nudge he felt through the Force. His eyes snapped open as he pulled himself out of his meditation.

Ben was starting to wake.

Fingers twitched in his hand again, this time stronger and Anakin felt hope begin to swell. He kept his eyes glued to that copper-framed face looking for the slightest flicker of eyelids and listened for any change in the man’s breathing.

“Ben?” he calls gently. “Ben, wake up, it’s me.”

Ben’s eyes stayed shut but this time his face twitched along with his fingers before stilling. Anakin called again, this time a bit louder.

“Ben, it’s me, Anakin, your husband. Can you hear me? Ben, if you can hear me I need you to open your eyes.”

He gently squeezed the other hand in his and reached out with his free hand to stroke his husband’s hair.

Ben’s breathing picked up a bit, his heart rate climbing ever so slightly. He was coming back, surfacing from his long sleep. Anakin could feel it.

“Yes, Ben, I’m here, I’m here. I just need you to come back to me, open your eyes and come back to me.” Reaching out to his husband through the Force, Anakin said, “I love you, Ben. I’m here for you, I’m waiting for you; come on, just open your eyes, even just a crack. Just come back to me.”

“Slowly, with near painful effort, Ben’s eyes blinked open.

“Anakin?” he tried to say, throat dry and voice rough from disuse.

“Ben!” Anakin yelled in sheer joy, nearly launching himself at the other man in his excitement but catching himself just in time. Instead he moved his chair that much closer and leaned over so he could look into Ben’s eyes.

“Oh, Ben,” he said as tears pricked his eyes. “You’re ok.”

He bent forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his husband’s forehead, then pulled back, a huge grin stretching across his face.

“What happened?” Ben asked.

“That’s a long story,” Anakin replied, wiping his eyes. “But it doesn’t matter, the important thing is you’re safe now.

“Water?” Ben asked, unable to say more than a few words at a time.

“Oh, yeah, of course, let me get you some to drink.”

He grabbed the cup of water off of the small bedside table, placing a straw through the lid and handing it to Ben.

“Here, let me help you sit up,” he offered.

He used his arm you pull Ben up to an almost sitting position, supporting Ben who gratefully drained the entire cup. Anakin took the cup back, replacing it on the table, then helped Ben to lie back down.

“Better?” he asked.

“A bit,” Ben answered, voice still rough.

Anakin regained his seat, taking Ben’s hand back in his and returned to carding fingers through Ben’s hair.

“I love you so much,” he whispered reverently.

“Love you,” Ben said back.

Master Che chose that moment to walk into the room.

“Ben!” she exclaimed. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. You look to be doing better. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Ben replied.

“After all you’ve been through I would imagine so. Well you can get back to sleep in a bit, but first I need to run some tests and do some labs. If you like, Skywalker here can keep you company,” she said with a grin.

Ben nodded, a smile stretching across his face, and gripped Anakin’s hand that much tighter.

While Che checked him over, Anakin took the opportunity to fill him in on the events of the past several months: Ben falling into a coma, getting kidnapped from the Halls, Palpatine revealing himself and the subsequent battle, the second shorter battle with Ventress in the Works, the chips, and everything else up to that moment. Throughout the whole retelling Anakin kept Ben’s hand in his, only releasing it when he needed to move out of Che’s way.

“But now you’re back and you’re safe and you’re ok,” he reiterated as much for Ben as for himself and squeezed his husband’s hand. Ben just smiled.

All right,” Che said. “I’m all finished. So far you seem to be healing quite nicely. The bacta is doing its job though there may still be a small scar at the incision site and your heart and lungs sound good. You did lose a significant amount of weight during your convalescence and we’ll work on putting that back on you as you recover. We’ll start slow, liquids only, and then we’ll steadily bump you up toward the high calorie diet you’ll need. You’re also pretty dehydrated right now, but between the IV drip and just drinking enough glasses we should be able to solve that quickly. You also spent a few days in a Force suppression collar while with Ventress, so if the Force feels a little hard to reach, that’s why, but your Force sense should return to normal in a few days.

“Now,” she said, voice turning stern. “You are going to be on strict bed rest for a while. That means no getting up or walking around except to use the refresher, and even then I want you to get someone to help you for at least today and tomorrow. I don’t care how good you think you’re feeling or how recovered you think you are, you are not to get out of this bed until I say so. Is that clear?”

Ben made a face, hating being stuck in the halls, but he acquiesced. “Fine. No moving.”

“Don’t worry, Master Che, I’ll make sure Ben follows your instructions to the letter.”

Ben narrowed his eyes at Anakin, unhappy at this betrayal, but Anakin just smiled back.

“That’s what I was counting on,” Che said.

“Well, that’s all I have for now until we process these labs. Remember: you,” she said pointing at Ben. “Bed rest. And you,” she turned to Anakin who grimaced. “You can visit a while longer but then you need sleep. Don’t make me hit you with a sedative. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

With that she swept out of the room.

Ben turned to Anakin, narrowing his eyes again. “Sleep?”

Anakin smiled sheepishly. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, just I was too worried about you to sleep. I know I need to take care of myself, and I will, but later.”

“No, we’ll sleep now.”

“We?” Anakin asked.

Ben nodded and pulled Anakin’s hand, inviting him up into the bed. Anakin gently helped Ben shuffle over and climbed into the space on the bed before pulling Ben to lie against his chest.

“I love you so much,” Anakin said, pressing a kiss to the top of Ben’s head.

“Love you,” Ben said back, voice tired and eyes already drooping.

Anakin wrapped his arms tighter around Ben holding his husband close, and the two quickly drifted off to sleep.

Epilogue

“Sure, you are that want this, you do?”

Anakin and a fully recovered Ben stood hand in hand before the full Council, every one of the Masters present. It had been one year since Palpatine had died, the Sith dying with him. A full year since the end of the Clone Wars and peace was restored to the galaxy. A full year since saving Ben.

While his recovery had been long and arduous, Ben had since gained back most of the weight and muscle he had lost, was performing katas and sparring at near his former ability, and was one check-up with the healers away from being put back on active duty.

Or he would have been.

“We’re sure, Master,” Ben said, smiling at the diminutive green Jedi. We have thought long and hard on this, have spent much time meditating and discussing, and I believe we are following the will of the Force.”

He squeezed Anakin’s hand and Anakin shot him a quick smile before turning back to face the Masters.

“ We both agree that this is what’s right for us,” Anakin added. “It’s what we want and what we need. I talked it over with Master Jinn as well and he supports us in this. We’ve made our decision.”

The Council members looked at them with expressions ranging from gentle smiles of encouragement to outright sneering disgust. Not that it mattered to Anakin anymore; he was done caring about what the council thought.

Yoda just gazed at them both, face sad for a moment, before a tiny smile broke out.

“Understand and respect your choices, I do, and wish you well.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda,” they both said in unison.

“Well then,” Mace said. “Let it be recorded that on this day, Knight Anakin Skywalker and Padawa–“

“Wait a moment, you will,” Yoda interrupted, holding up one hand. “Other business we must attend to first. Ben,” he beckoned to his Padawan. “Step forward please.”

Ben looked confused for a moment but did as asked, walking closer to the front of the room and standing in front of his Master. Yoda stood up from his chair and walked to meet him.

“Kneel, you will,” Yoda said.

Ben again followed instructions and dropped to one knee.

“Ben, a wonderful Padawan you have been. Learned much you have; an accomplished Jedi and good man you have become. Proud I am to have been your Master. Many trials this year, you endured, and faced them all you did, mastered them. For that, upon you I bestow the title of Jedi Knight.”

Yoda stepped forward and, in one quick motion, ignited his lightsaber and severed Ben’s padawan braid. He then pressed the braided strands into his apprentice’s–now former apprentice’s–hand.

Ben just stared at him in shock. “Master?” he asked.

“Deserve this, you do,” Yoda said. “And forever acknowledged your skills and efforts will be.

A wide grin stretched across Ben’s face and he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the Master in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered, tears pricking his eyes. “For everything.”

They broke the embrace but before Yoda could return to his seat Ben caught him by the arm.

“Wait, Master, I want you to have this.” He pressed the braid into Yoda’s hand and closed three clawed fingers around it.

“Thank you, Padawan,” he replied with a smile, and before Ben could interrupt he said, “because to me, my Padawan you will always be.”

Ben stood back up and returned to his place next to Anakin, who quickly pulled him into a tight hug.

“All right,” Mace said. “Then let it be recorded that on this day, Knight Anakin Skywalker and Knight Ben have chosen to step away from the Order and live their lives as private citizens. From this moment on they are no longer a part of the Jedi Order.”

Anakin grinned, the smile stretching wide across his face. It was over; they had done it. He and Ben were free to live their lives however they chose, together forever as husbands.

“Thank you,” Anakin said, bowing in once last show of Jedi decorum. He decided he could give the council that much.

Ben followed his lead, bowing as well, and the two walked forward to hand over their lightsabers but Mace just shook his head.

“Keep them,” he said. “You’ve earned them.”

With one final glance back, Ben and Anakin rejoined hands and turned to walk out of the council chambers for the last time. Anakin wasn’t sure how he felt. There was joy at finally leaving the order and escaping the council’s judgment, but also sadness and a little fear at leaving the life he’d spent so long building. One look at Ben, however, and everything but overwhelming love faded away.

“So,” he said, still smiling. “What would you like to do on our first day as not Jedi?”

“I don’t know,” Ben answered. “But I don’t really care as long as it’s with you.”

Anakin leaned over and kissed his husband’s cheek. The two of them continued on their way, walking out the main Temple entrance, down the stairs, and into their new lives.

#swpromptsandasks #PadawanBen #sw #fic #obikin #holy shit i actually did it #*loud screaming*

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abigblueorganicmagnet · 6 years ago

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Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm finally actually wrote somethin’ with mah lawbutt Watson (Thanks again @bliss-bayou!!!). Also has my deer toon Aiushtha and tall black cat Oblique Feline. Been working on it on and off for.... a while. Hope it’s well received!

Watson silently sifted through one of the many, many, MANY file cabinets in the DA office they were working in. An office C, to be exact, fourth floor. They pulled out a few legal briefs that they would need for later, and slid the drawer shut again. Watson, a level 10 legal eagle, had been working in said office for a number of years. They were a capable lawyer, with an impressive success record, but honestly preferred working behind the scenes, prepping cases for higher-ups. Not because they didn’t like working in the courtroom specifically. There was something inherently gratifying about successfully nailing a prosecution, a feeling ingrained in the programming of all lawbots. No, Watson just didn’t like interaction, period. Working a case up front meant talking to other cogs, or worse, toons! They despised it all, so instead got a job working in one of the offices preparing legal briefs and prepping cases. For someone who didn’t like discussion, Watson was a very skilled argumentative thinker, and their wicked twists of logic had won plenty of cases. The logical compromise was to have Watson prep the cases while other cogs delivered them. Of course, 9 times out of 10 those cogs took credit for everything, but ultimately Watson didn’t really care. They weren’t invested in the cases or the recognition that came from winning them, they just wanted to earn their pay and be left alone.

That was the best part about their job, as far as they were concerned. The fourth floor was pretty quiet, the only real regulars being the occasional big wig or the clerk himself. Usually their boss would send Watson down the details of a case and give them a few days to put together a brief with airtight arguments and assertions. On a good day, Watson would be the only one on the whole floor, left to their work with no interruptions. Judging by the characteristic “Ding” of the nearby elevator, today wasn’t one of those days.

Watson turned to see who was entering the floor, anticipating a few high-ranking lawbots from above. What they didn’t expect was to see four fairly short skelecogs, sellbot by the looks of them, toolboxes in hand, to come pacing in. Watson grimaced, and casually stepped into the entrance to the hall, blocking the skelecog’s path. “Aren’t you runts a little far from sellbot HQ?” they sneered. The biggest of the group, a gladhander skeleton judging by proportions, stared up at them with the emotionless gaze that only a skelecog could pull off. “Here for stomper maintenance. Just need to run some diagnostic tests, make sure everything’s lubricated, check for wear and tea-” “Yes, I know what maintenance is,” Watson cut him off. “Just don’t be too loud, and don’t set off any of the virtual skelecog traps,” they said, going back to their papers, not giving the skelecog crew any more of their attention. They hated sellbots. The whole branch had this habit of talking too much and not saying anything worthwhile. “Right,” grunted the gladhander, leading the way deeper into the office.

Watson grew irritated merely by knowing the sellbots were there. Of course someone scheduled maintenance and didn’t tell anyone. They just hoped that none of those sellbots got any of their greasy little skelecog hands on any of the books in the office. Grease was impossible to get out, and some of those legal tomes were out of print. The very thought of it ruffled Watson’s synthetic feathers. As if on cue to further their irritation, a particularly skinny skelecog walked back into the room and began bugging them. “Where is your security stomper switchboard?” it asked. Watson rolled their eyes. “Two rooms down, probably behind a few boxes of paper on the right side wall,” they replied, not even looking up. When the sellbot tried to prompt for further instructions, Watson just waved them off. They couldn’t be bothered right now, there was a financial dispute between a couple of cashbots that needed resolving.

Time passed and thankfully the skeletal intruders had been fairly quiet. Either they actually knew how to do their job without making a huge fuss, or they were all still trying to move the painfully heavy boxes to reach the switchboard. Regardless, Watson was happy that no one was interfering with their work. Their beak tightened into a dry smile, they were happy with what they had completed. The briefs on this file, if used correctly, would cost the defense every cent to their name, and garnish their earnings for at least a few years to come. Knowing that their efforts would lead to such misery made it all worthwhile. Watson grabbed their copy of “Cog Financial Legislation Vol. IV” and went down the hall. The shelf where this book went was, unfortunately, passed the stompers that those grubby little sellbots were working on, but if Watson was lucky, they could slip by without a word. What Watson didn’t expect was to find the stompers still shut down, tools scattered across the floor, and no skelecogs to be found. Those slackers probably took a break to discuss what brand of oil they like best, thought Watson. They crossed to the other side of the room and nearly tripped on something. Glancing down with no subtle hint of irritation, Watson saw a couple of sprockets that looked to be about the right size for a telemarketer. They were covered in whipped cream. “Toons…” Watson hissed. Just what they needed. They snuck further down the hall, careful not to make too much noise. Eventually they heard what sounded like a conversation happening in the next room…

“...Yeah, this is all new stuff! Thanks again for the help getting up here!” said one voice. It was slightly scratchy, and right on the cusp of what would be considered a ‘deep’ voice. “Oh of course! It’s great to spend time with you!” Replied another, smooth, feminine voice. “Though, we should also try to hang out in places outside of lawbot HQ?” Watson crept around the corner, staying as silent as they could, to get a view of the intruders. One was a brown deer toon, wearing an obnoxious getup of rainbow and tie-dye items. The other was a tall black cat, dressed in a more subtle color scheme, a mix of dark blues and maroons. The two seemed to be sifting through the enormous collection of books that lined the shelves of the room. Watson sneered at them, they didn’t even think toons could read, honestly. “...How about ‘Cog Zoning Laws: Revisions After the Peltzer Act’?” asked the deer in her satin voice. “Uhh…. how old is the publish date?” replied the cat. The deer pulled the tome from its shelf and flipped to the first few pages. “...A few years ago?” The cat seemed to rack his brain for a moment. “I mean…. Cog law revision is a pretty slow process… could still be relevant? Couldn’t hurt to look into it?” he shrugged. The brown deer handed him the heavy book, which looked to have at least seven or eight hundred pages in it, and that was low-balling it. Watson watched the cat open it to a random page and skim over it. What did these conniving toons want with cog law books? “...Oooh! Yeah, okay. This is good stuff!” smiled the cat. He chuckled. “Get a load of this. Apparently by cog law, businesses can purchase rights to land planned for infrastructure and/or utilities if…” Watson had heard enough. Though they weren’t sure WHY these toons were in here seemingly studying the laws of cog society, they DID know that these intruders needed to be driven out. Not by them, of course. If these toons had made it this deep into the facility, then they had to be packing some pretty powerful gags. Thinking quickly, they slipped back into one of the nearby rooms, one with virtual skelecog traps. While they weren’t sure if the cog projectors could reach into the room the toons were in, the alarms would at least likely scare them off. They stamped a metal shoe onto one of the red skulls that lit up the floor. Immediately, alarms started to blare, and the cog projectors crackled to life. “ALERT! THE DOCUMENTS YOU ARE TRYING TO ACCESS ARE NOT PUBLIC RECORD. YOU WILL NOW BE FORCIBLY REMOVED FROM THE PREMISES!” spoke the hallow voice of a projected skelecog, expecting to be greeted by toons. Watson silently pointed down the hall, toward the toons, signaling them to move. “PATROL RADIUS RESTRICTED TO THIS ROOM!” while Watson made eye contact with one of the skelecogs, the voice itself came from a speaker off to the side. They rolled their eyes at the projection’s insolence. “Then reroute some goons! Unless you want a bunch of grubby animals going through the office’s library,” The projection flickered for a moment before loudly stating “THE APPROPRIATE AUTHORITIES HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED OF THE INTRUSION! LAWBOT FORCES WILL ARRIVE VIA ELEVATOR SHORTLY. DO NOT ENGAGE THE INTRUDERS!” the four virtual cogs flickered out as the trap reset itself. The alarms continued to blare. “As if I needed you to tell me that,” grumbled Watson.

Oblique Feline jumped at the sound of an alarm from another room. His friend, Aiushtha, gave him a worried look. “Are… we not the only toons here?” she asked. He shrugged, slamming the book shut. “I don’t know. Just grab a few books that seem pertinent and I’ll sort the rest out later!” he said, sliding it into his backpack. Aiushtha gave a short nod and grabbed a few random books from the shelves. The pair quickly snagged what they could carry. Oblique Feline glanced at the nearby elevator, and saw the display overhead show that something was going up, probably on its way to their floor. “We gotta split!” he said, hurrying them along. “I’ll meet you back at the estate?” asked the deer. “Yeah, I’ll take those off of your hands when you get there!” replied the cat before the two quickly placed and hopped into their respective teleport holes.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a pair of high level, elite looking cogs. A spin doctor and the clerk himself, a big wig, who entered the now empty room, followed by a small brigade of goons. Watson peeked around the corner to see if the toons were gone. “You!” grunted the big wig, who noticed them immediately. “Did you sound the alarms?” Watson huffed, and confidently sauntered down the hallway to meet them. “Yes. The intruders just teleported out,” they reported. The spin doctor frowned, “Why didn’t you remove them yourself?” he asked, rather pointedly. “My priority is to stay in one piece. You sacrifice pawns, not the queen,” they shot back. “What were they up to? Hoarding jury notices as usual?” interjected the big wig. Watson shook their head. “No, no. They were… stealing books,” The two elite cogs glanced at each other. “Are you certain?” prodded the spin doctor. Watson rolled their eyes and pointed to the empty spaces on the shelves. The doctor’s frown intensified as he sneered at the empty spots, trying to remember what was once there. Most advanced cogs like him had near photographic memory, it was just a matter of ‘retrieving’ it. “They stole… zoning law records? Why?” Watson was growing increasingly exasperated, how would they know?! “Do they even know what those are? Can toons even read?” the doctor turned to his wigged boss, who hadn’t said much. The goon troop returned after sweeping the office. A series of short, harsh beeps told everyone that there were no toons in the area. “I want security increased in this office, and I’m going to convene with other clerks to suggest the same. Order more goons, and have more hologram traps installed. Have the interns take inventory on our library, so we know what else is missing. I want to know what these loons are looking for,” the big wig rattled off. The spin doctor nodded and re-entered the elevator, taking the goons with him. “And you,” the clerk said to Watson. “Cancel any plans you have for the night. I want a detailed record of what you saw happen delivered to my office by tomorrow. Tell me what they looked like, and if you have names, share them,” Watson sneered but accepted. “Good,” the big wig joined the spin doctor in the elevator. Watson signed as the doors closed. This was going to be a long night.

#Watson #toonblr #toontown #toontown rewritten #ttr #fanfic #long post

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thisbrutalbelle · 7 years ago

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chatzy with @ianncardero, feat. penny.

bella and iann speak to iann’s ex-wife about letting them go, she agrees to help them escape the facility.

tw: blood, guns, kidnapping.

Bella rose, eyes fluttering. Her make-up had been removed upon her arrival and since healing she probably looked particularly odd. Her skin was a little more textured despite lacking the discolouration of most humans, her lashes were thin and a light brown shade making them near invisible, her lips were a natural hue, and her brows were almost nonexistent. This was the first thought she had, of course, before she tried to stand, lifting her hand to feel tough metal, jerking more and realising she was not going to be able to stand up. That was when it hit her, what had happened and she let out a self-loathing sigh. "Let me out!" she screamed, though she knew it would do no good. It felt better to try. "Wasn't that what you wanted? Let me go!" she repeated, distracting herself from thoughts of Iann's terrified face.

The 'tour', such as it was, ended up being vague but informative nonetheless. Iann learned a few things, not that he shared any of it with Penny. What he gathered, from the other masked black ops people around the compound, was that they were underground; how deep Iann didn't really know, but it seemed pretty damn deep. It also seemed to be a pretty good set-up. Fully self-sufficient, sprawling. Iann was surprised at the level of sophistication, and even asked Penny how the hell this was all being funded. Penny gave him that sly side-smile of hers and mentioned private corporate interested parties, then laughed because she knew that would drive Iann nuts. Anything corporate did, just as anything overly-governmental did. "Trust me - we got money coming out of our ass. This whole supernatural business is big money." But it was all for the greater good - that was what she kept maintaining, and Iann eventually grew too tired to keep rolling his eyes everytime she said some nationalist jingo. Pride and loyalty and bravery and all those things Iann tended to scoff at. "I'm telling you, everything you're describing is everything Bellamy hates," Iann said. "She doesn't give a damn about fighting the good fight."

When the tour was over, Iann was brought back to a medical wing, where Bellamy was being contained in one of the rooms. "She's recovering in there. You can go talk to her, you're perfectly safe," Penny tried to reassure Iann, even if he gave a snort at that. "Take you're time, huh? I'll be out here. And please, Iann - please don't try to do anything stupid. I know that's hard for you, but you know. Just try?"

Iann gave Penny one more eyeroll for good measure, before he was let into Bellamy's room. He hustled over to her, looking at the medical equipment to check the readings of her vitals. It was clearly set up for a vampire-healing, not a human's. "Bellamy?"

Eventually Bella settled, looking at the IV that was in her arm, pissed off that she was being force fed some kind of bad blood, basically fucking gruel in her opinion when she had made her demands quite clear. In this it was evident that Iann was right, Bellamy did not care about the greater good and she did not care about fighting. Bellamy cared for herself above all else. In some ways this was her biggest undoing but as of late it had been her strongest asset. She had learnt, through all of her misdeeds that if she truly wanted to be happy she could not actively pursue immediate self-gratification but consider long term affects. She could put others first then by knowing later putting them first would ultimately bring her the most happiness, either by knowing she was not bound to someone who did not truly want to be connected to her or by being happily engaged in a connection with someone who did.

Perhaps this thought process was why it hurt Bellamy so much to think on Iann feeling the affects of her metuo sanguis. Long term she needed Iann, his friendship and protection was unquantifiable to her, a rare quality to find in any person. To think in trying to save him immediately had possibly damaged their long term friendship pained her. It also silenced her, Bellamy no longer screaming at the top of her lungs, instead closing her eyes and trying to find him in the building, knowing his heartbeat was one she could find in a crowd so a building would not be ultimately difficult. She frowned though when it seemed so close before hearing her name, blinking once her twice.

"Pa?" Bella asked, still not completely trusting that he had been brought back to her. It seemed as though they didn't trust her, being bound as she was. "Who was that?" she asked, having heard a heartbeat so close to his own move away.

"It's me, mija, it's Iann," he said, coming closer. He was covered in the edelweiss flowers, a precaution from Penny which had surprised Iann somewhat. He figured she wanted to prove that Bellamy wouldn't hurt him while in her turned state, with or without the edelweiss. So to be carefully decorated with them made Iann think...what? That she somehow cared? Iann didn't want his mind to go there, and he was sure Penny wouldn't want it either. Regardless, he was reunited with Bellamy now, and he pulled up a stool and sat beside her. "How're you feeling?"

It was hard to look at him and not be able to hold him. Each part of her body wanted to just wrap herself up in his arms and ask how he was going to get them out of there. Logically she knew she was stronger, especially now they'd fed her up, but he was always the one that knew what to do, knew how to fix something awful. Yet, he seemed to merely sit and her eyes flickered to the camera on the ceiling, the CCTV one she had spotted upon arising and wondering if perhaps he was putting on some sort of show. It was an easier thought than thinking he did not, at the very least, take her hand because he was afraid of her. "I'm so sorry, I thought-I thought the glass would keep it in," Bellamy said because how she was feeling was just worried, pushing her hand out to him as far as she could, fingers stretching to reach for his own hand while her forearm was now stuck tightly in the metal. "I didn't - If I died I thought -," Bella tried, only hearing excuses as she began. "I'm so sorry I scared you, Iann," she said. Words like 'I never' weren't going to be anything but excuses, and if he thought she was or was not at fault saying them would not change his mind. Actions only ever could.

"What? Bellamy - no, don't worry about that, I know you didn't mean it. It wasn't you anyway, it was the illness, hm?" Iann said, and when Bellamy's hand flexed to reach for him, Iann leaned forward and took it, gripping it tightly. Iann wasn't exactly the type of person to act rashly. He wasn't going to start pulling out the IV and tubes and trying to bust Bellamy out of her restraints just to do....what, exactly? Bellamy was stronger than him, but she'd be weaker than the soldiers outside those doors who could easily detain them and then they'd just be back to square one. "You...when it took you over, there was still some of you. You were...trying to save me," Iann said with a smile. He pet Bellamy's hair. "I know this is all really scary, but you're being healed right now, hm? We need you to be healed up..." Iann glanced up at the CCTV before he then said. "Before we can start talking about...what's happening here."

Bella began to shake her head and then nodded. Yes, and no. Yes, it technically was the illness but the illness hadn't made her shift. She had decided that, in part to save him, and, undeniably, in part to save herself too. She didn't have a death wish, least not currently, and she did not intend for Ephram and Miles and Teddy and Elena and Cassie and everyone who worked for her to imagine that she had just up and abandoned their friendship or their connection, whatever it was. "I know...," Bellamy rolled off, a little confused by his comment about her trying to save him. She remembered, did he think she had forgotten? That she had lost her faculties? "It didn't take over, I let it...rise," she reasoned. "It's not like before, it's not like when you and Ephram came to the house. That's...that's when it's all built up inside me. That's when there's so much I can't reach my own head. I'm taking my medicine, I had complete control of my mind, Iann. I...I've shifted a few times since that all happened, purposefully, and yes, I do want to do certain things more but it's still me. Even if I had got out of that cell I wouldn't have done anything to you, I'd have got you free and then found a way to get whatever I put inside you out," she insisted. That was her plan and it hadn't faultered when she'd shifted into her final state. Feeling his hand in her hair was comforting though, and his immediate acceptance that she hadn't done what she had maliciously or through just not caring made her worries fade away. "I need something alive," she whispered, trying to barely move her mouth in case they were watching her lips. "I haven't had live blood in over a week, I'm never going to be strong enough to take on anyone without it. Least not...like this," she said. Obviously knowing he would likely become immobilized with fear were she to become her black eyed creature self again.

It was all news to Iann, but it was good news, and despite their current situation Iann couldn't help but feel grateful for this new information about Bellamy's condition and her control. "Okay, I think I get it now," he said, but he knew he never actually would fully understand. Things would keep evolving, as Bellamy learned more about herself and the illness. Which was what made it so ironic that Penny's group seemed to think he was the expert; he wasn't. Bellamy was the expert on herself, as it should be. As for Bellamy feeding on someone live, Iann screwed his mouth to one side as he exhaled, looking up at the cameras again. "Sweetheart, none of these soldiers are going to let you feed on them." He looked down at his arm. "You could feed on me, if you like. Ah....if I drink your blood first, you know. Like how we've done before?"

"Why do they have to let me?" Bellamy asked, a little confused. In general, now, Bellamy was opposed to feeding on people that didn't agree to it. She hadn't fed on anyone that had not agreed since well before Teddy had found her the man of muscles she had dined on until she and Miles had struck their deal. This seemed an exceptional sort of case though and Bella's skewed logic dictated if they were so willing to treat her like an animal in a cage then why should she not act like one. "Why should I have to hurt you? Do you not think I should kill anyone here?" she asked him, frown coming over her brow. It wasn't angry so much as confused. Was it the sight of it he did not want? Another imagine in his head of her killing? Had he seen her kill before? Actually witnessed the act of it? She couldn't recall. "Who were you with?" Bellamy repeated her earlier question, realising he had ignored it.

"Ummm, I mean. I wouldn't recommend feeding on people by force..." It was the only way Iann could think that Bellamy could feed on anyone but him, and if Bellamy was confused about what he was saying then he was similarly confused about what she was saying. He felt apologetic, like he wasn't handling things right. Like once more Bellamy was expecting something brilliant from him, and he just wasn't delivering. He felt an inkling of helplessness, and then frustration that he was so helpless. "That one guy - Anton - he wasn't good to you, he didn't treat you well. The others, well. Not all of them are like that," Iann said, staring at Bellamy's collarbone as he spoke. He didn't believe that Bellamy would want to hear these words, and understandably so. Thus far, she'd been treated abhorrently, she had every right to despise everyone here and want to murder them all. "Killing more people won't help anything, mija...." Then the question again, which Iann had missed the first time because of his worry for her. "Um...well you see. One - one of the soldiers...mercenaries, whatever they are. It turns out that, ah...one of them - the human - she's actually, ah, my - my ex-wife. Penny. Hm? Penny's here."

Bella grasped his hand tightly that held her, not enough to break his hand or anything but certainly forceful. It was all she could do not the shake the chair as he insisted that there were people in this building that didn't have as malicious a set of actions in mind for her. It seemed unlikely, if they were watching then how were they better? Iann had not allowed her to continue her rampage, why should this man be allowed by his peers to burn her flesh and break her face. Yet, as she tried to think of someone in her life that would allow her rampage of the place, killing Anton at the very least, she suspected there was not a person that would and settled. Sinking into her chair he began to answer and Bella took a second to register before she blurted out her first thought. "I thought your first wife was dead," she commented, though there was every chance he'd never said that and she'd merely made the assumption with only half listening to him when they'd first befriended one another. "Is that why you're not in chains but I am? Tell her to let us go, Iann," she requested, voice growing louder. Why on Earth were they sitting there if someone could let them go?

"No she's not dead," Iann said, shaking his head as his thumb made circles on her small hand. "She's right outside." He wasn't in chains because there really was no point; what could Iann do to these people? He couldn't hurt them, even if he tried. One punch and he'd be out like a light. Bellamy on the other hand, could do damage, and a considerable amount. "I'm not in chains because I'm not you," Iann said, but he turned an ugly red at Bellamy's implication. "What do you want me to do? Just ask her to let you go? Like it's as simple as that?" Iann asked, frowning. He turned to the door. "Hey! Penny! Let us go!" He was greeted with silence, and then he just looked back at Bellamy. "Yell at me all you want, but that's not going to help anything."

Bella frowned at him now with an actual sternness as he sarcastically responded to her questions. It wasn't like she knew more than he did. It wasn't like she was meant to understand, especially in relation to his strength. It was a constant reminder she needed to place in her own head that Iann was not nearly as threatening as she was because in her mind he was entirely formidable. "And what will?" she responded, now actually yelling, shaking her arms vigorously as she sat their confined to her chair. It bred an anxiety in her that she loathed, the same anxiety that she had being trapped in that glass cell, the same anxiety she had felt in that cage in the basement of the vampire twins green house, the same anxiety that had risen when she realised she had invited a demon into her home and his intentions for her were not as he had claimed, and most obviously the anxiety that had first been gifted to her knowing she had been a caged bird all along with Valentin and had not known it. "Let me go!" she hollered loudly as her body shook violently in the chair. "Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!" she screamed, over and over as her hair thrashed about her face and she cut her arms on the metal, healing instantly. She probably screamed those words twenty times before her wet eyes shut and she leaned back in the chair, unable to move for desire to thrash was all she had.

"Patien--" Iann was about to answer her question, but then Bellamy started to scream. Over and over, she screamed and raged through her entire small body, as she once more started to destroy herself, and her body wouldn't let her. Iann closed his mouth and watched her, unable to stop her. Iann was filled with sadness, but his expression remained neutral, not angry or sad or anything. There was, after all, nothing he could do while Bellamy was like this. There was nothing anyone could do but witness her rage and anger.

Patience had always been lacking in the little vampire, something she had to learn and practice over time. But that behaviour came with the safety of her home, the safety of her companions and her work. Bellamy did not want this, she did not want to be here and slowly began to sob as she rested there. It was wrong, she needed to be proactive, put her feelings away and thing of what to do if he had not already formulated something but she could not. With all she had done for the past three days, starved herself, been asked questions without care to inform her of what was going on, then to see him there, trapped with her and remaining trapped still. It was more than she had prepared for and it ached inside of her to think she could want none of this and still find herself stuck being the monster, a monster that needed to be changed. "I want to go home," she cried, tears falling from her eyes and making her short lashes appear darker. "I just want to go home," she begged, eyes still closed and tears still falling from them. For all Anton had said, and for all the growing up she believed she had done, it was true that Bella was still a spoiled child. Why would she not be? Bellamy was still a twenty-four year old girl who ached inside regularly, put into this she felt wronged, like her efforts were meaningless. "What do I do?" she asked.

Of course Iann wanted to try and think of a way to escape and get back home, but he was under considerable stress as well. Definitely not as much or no where near Bellamy's which was why so much of Iann's attention and concentration was currently focused on her. Every thing that happened to her, all of her screaming and her threats and her injuries and all her suffering, that was what filled Iann's brain above everything else. He couldn't think about getting out, until he knew that Bellamy was going to be okay enough to get out at all. So far, she hadn't been. So far she'd been too starved and too enraged and too destroyed and now far too distraught for Iann to think about anything else but trying to attend to her. When he was allowed to, anyway. So when Bellamy asked 'what do I do?' Iann sighed, and rubbed his fingers on his brow. "I don't know. I just....I need some time to think. They won't un-restrain you unless they're sure you won't kill them. There's no way I can free you and you can't free yourself. They want me to convince you to join them, for their...I don't know. Some sort of fight to...save the world or something," Iann said with a sigh. "Or at least fight alongside them. I told them that they pretty much went about it the exact wrong way." Literally the completely wrong way. It wasn't as if Bellamy was averse to helping others, but Bellamy always did things her way: her ideas, her decisions on how to help others, her benevolence delivered in her way. She wasn't a vigilante seeking justice. She was a businesswoman who wanted to provide small credit loans to cottage industries. "I told Penny - just because you have this metuo sanguis, doesn't mean you want to use it to...fight evil across the country or whatever. That's never been your sort of calling." Iann sighed. "They're not bad, they're just stupid."

Leaning her head back she listened to him quietly. It didn't upset her he did not have a plan, she did not have a plan, and usually, when awful things happened they had far longer to formulate something. Anaxis had been in Ephram for weeks, the metuo sanguis had grown and taken hold of her over a month. They had only come to even realise the other was there mere hours ago, and that was a kind estimate based on her progressed healing. "So I need to stop screaming...," she rolled off, as he said they would not remove her restraints unless they believed her to be safe. Bella wasn't sure at this point what would convince them of that, what would make them believe that she was safe. Especially as she had said such...ferocious words to the one who had grabbed her and held her in the cage. "One doesn't rule out the other," she said from experience. Bellamy's ignorance had fed her awful behaviour, their ignorance was clearly feeding their own. "One thing is for sure, I can't do anything, whatever they've got me in is going to hold me," she said, looking down at the bars. "Perhaps we offer them a trade. They don't really need me, they've seen I'm not exactly a fighter, they just need to know how to use my blood." She didn't really like the idea, but she also knew a bit more about her blood than they did and while the black blood they had taken from her was still likely in the vial it had been collected in it would not remain that way for long. "I'll help them make a weapon that lasts until we're back in town, block those arseholes from breaching the barrier again. Unless...you think I should help them?" she asked, for clarity rather than judgement. He said they'd gone about this the wrong way, said it wasn't her, and he was right but so were they, if Iann told her to do this then, while she might protest, she probably would.

"That's the thing - they're all supernaturals, except for Penny, as far as I can tell. So the Soapberry barrier wouldn't block them - they're free to come and go as they please. Probably how they were able to learn so much about you...about us." Only Hunters and humans-not-in-the-know were blocked from entering Soapberry, although Iann had seen some loopholes. Fawn's denial for instance, and Grace being an ex-Hunter. Regardless, Penny's group were not blocked from the Soapberry barrier. Which meant even if Iann and Bellamy didescape, it wouldn't be difficult to come after Bellamy again. And again, and again. There had to be some way to convince them or trade, as Bellamy had suggested. "No - there's no way we're using your metuo sanguis as a weapon. That's - no..." Iann shook his head vehemently. "The only thing keeping that illness safe and sound is you and your willpower." Whatever they'd taken from her, Iann highly doubted they'd be able to do anything with it. It was simply too powerful, even for Penny's group. Bellamy was right as well about her restraints - after the threats she'd described in loving graphic detail, there was no way in hell they'd trust her. "Alright...alright. Just..." Iann sat back and thought for a few minutes, looking at Bellamy, then the CCTV, then the door, then back to Bellamy. He glanced at hte door again, knowing Penny was out there. "Bellamy..." Iann said suddenly, his eyes bright, an expression that could only mean that Iann was coming up with a plan - but it was hinging on Bellamy. So he had to ask. "Would you like to meet my ex-wife? You won't...cuss her out or anything, will you? I want...I want you two to meet." If Bellamy could talk to Penny - if Penny could see that Bellamy was just a little girl despite her vampirism and metuo sanguis - what if? Iann knew the Penny he knew was a kind soul underneath all of her bravado and machoness. She could kick a guy in the balls and then carefully collect a spider and take it outside. If she could take pity on Bellamy...maybe they had a chance.

The funny thing was, despite her aching self that wanted to be free a smile came upon her face at the suggestion of meeting his ex-wife. It easily pushed out the knowledge that they would come after them, it pushed out the note that Bella keeping her knowledge to herself was the best way for it to not fall into the wrong hands, and it pushed out the thought they had no freaking plan. "Of course not," she let out, eager as ever. In her mind she could focus on the wonderful part of this that meant, like going to Portland, she was seeing more of Iann. Focusing on that made everything seem easier - even when it was not. "Do you think it could help?" she asked, leaning forward in her chair, blonde hair draping around her wet face.

“Maybe..." Iann said, coming closer to Bellamy again and fussing with her hair and face, trying to get her to look more neat and tidied up. He was like a fusspot Aunt who wanted to keep up appearances. Iann leaned in closer to Bellamy. "If we can talk to her, maybe get her to help us...then we might have a chance, hm? Our only chance..." Iann added, giving Bellamy a look. "So be nice. She's very rough around the edges - just remember if she gets all insulty, that's just her way, hm?" Iann backed away from Bellamy, figuring she was as nice-looking as she ever was going to look, while strapped down and immobilized. Iann knocked on the door. "Penny? We're ready to talk now." After a couple minutes, the door slid open, and Penny came in, her handgun lowered but securely held in both hands as she slowly came in. Her eyes were pinned to Bellamy, taking in everything about her, wary that Bellamy and Iann were planning to attack her. They were planning something alright, but it wasn't any sort of physical attack.

With Bella's experience of having Miles meet Alina she was somewhat nervous, the playing with her appearance and the instance that this was their only chance to escape making her more so. Bella felt she was awful with first meeting people. It was easier when she didn't care, clearly she cared now. She needed to care now, to not think on how easy it would be to begin insulting the woman back were she to make comments about her. So when Iann left she took a few breaths, counting them as she had been taught by Bek, a simple and calming act. Only when Penny and Iann returned did she open her eyes, taking in the woman who held a gun in her hands. In the back of her head she knew she'd have usually rolled her eyes, Bellamy found guns, in the presence of supernaturals to be mostly for show, a way for a human to feel strong when they were weak. Instead she just sniffled, wriggling her nose a little and taking in the woman's scent, but mostly just getting the scent of the gunpower in her bullets that clearly had been affected by something to make them work on Bella. Nervous still she wriggled her shoulders against the back of the chair, appearing to pull away from her, eyes moving to Iann's with pursed and uncomfortable lips. She was...pretty but it was hard to focus on anything but her weapon.

Penny was wary. The first thing she did when she stepped into the room and assessed Bellamy, was glance up at the camera. It seemed in tact, which meant it was working and wasn't tampered with. Iann, she nudged ahead of her, not wanting him to be behind her. And then, she looked at the girl . Really looked at her, instead of from behind a mask or on the screen of some camera monitor. She watched as Iann went around to the girl and sat back on his stool and held the girl's hand. Penny looked down at the restraints, but they seemed to be holding her quite securely. The girl's looked normal - well, as normal as a strapped down girl could look, but sadly in her work and travels Penny had seen far, far worse. So she wasn't too phased, especially considering Bellamy was healing up so fast. "So what is this," Penny finally grunted, giving Iann a cursory glance. "You bring me in here and then she jumps me and...what? Rips my face off and feeds me my eyeballs and tears off my tits and eats me out?"

Iann sighed (a trait he was doing more often these days, a trait he'd picked up from Tuah) and he looked down at Bellamy, petting her hair down before returning his hand to hold hers. "She's restrained, even she can't break out of them. Whatever you guys have set-up here, it's really fucking fool-proof." Of course it was; this wasn't humans or even Hunters dealing with them. Where oversight was always a possibility when it came to supernatural restraint. This was supernaturals restraining other supernaturals, and being good at it. "She does need to feed on someone alive though. I'm not volunteering you--" Iann quickly added in a slightly annoyed tone (he couldn't help it. When Penny rolled her eyes like that, his reaction came instinctively, dredged from their past), "- god, I'm just saying. Bellamy - this - this is my ex-wife, Penny. And Penny, this is Bellamy, my, ahhh, my friend."

Penny nodded evenly at Bellamy. "I heard him," she said, talking directly to Bellamy now. "He calls you mija."

Bella wanted to point out that she also had cuffs made that vampires could not get out of, it wasn't hard to do that but Iann had said be nice and it wasn't like everything else in this place would have been easy to come by. If not for what she had shifted into, for them, she'd never have been able to crack the glass as she had. So instead she just, lace her fingers with his and watched as Iann immediately began to step on himself. Perhaps it was okay for him to be this way because being any other way would be false? When she was the one being spoken to Bellamy looked back into Penny's eyes and nodded, slowly before flicking them back to Iann and smiling. "Yeah, I mean, but he's not wrong...we're friends. It's just he looks out for me," Bellamy insisted. Even now he was looking out for her, surely he could have got himself out of there with Penny working there and left her behind if he wanted but as she knew she wouldn't leave him behind, she knew he would not leave her - well least not without a plan in place. "Did you know Iann when he was a teenager?" she asked, a little curve to the corner of her mouth, it didn't seem rude so she figured she could push here and there. Besides, if Iann wanted her to see a real girl wouldn't something so trivial be important to a real girl the way it was to Bella?

Of course Iann's relationship was much, much different to Penny than Bellamy's was to Penny. For one, Iann and Penny had a history of friendship, love, strife, estrangement. Maybe Bellamy didn't understand the context of how a history together tended to make people interact differently, to strangers meeting for the first time. Iann and Penny had familiarity, even after nearly 20 years apart. They had memories together. Their first impressions of each other were created when they were both teenagers. On the other hand, this was both Bellamy's and Penny's first impression of each other. Did it make sense therefore for Bellamy to talk as familiarly with Penny as Iann did? Not really. And as the two women began to talk, Iann watched Penny's face carefully, trying to read her microexpressions. She was doing a good job of that military-neutral-face, the one that looked dulled-out, semi-hostile, but nonetheless listening to what Bellamy had to say.

Penny looked doubtful. "Iann looks out for you," she repeated flatly, clearly not really believing it. She gave a bitter half-smile. "I'd ask if he was fucking you, but..." Penny glanced over at Iann. "I think we all know he's never been good at that sort of thing." It was hardly an insult, because Iann looked back at Penny and gave her a smile back, and a half-hearted shrug of 'well, can't argue with you there'. Satisfied, Penny looked back at Bellamy. Bellamy's question did throw Penny off, and she blinked rapidly, shifting from one foot to the other as the question brought back a lot of memories. Not the bad memories, either. "I - yeah. He was... we were best friends. Did he ever tell you that?" Penny asked, looking back at Iann for a brief moment. "I taught him a lot of shit, and man...he soaked it up like a sponge. Remember - I asked you if you had any friends before me, because you were like a fucking puppy."

Iann blinked, like the memory just popped into his own head and took him by surprise. "I remember. I said no. I wasn't going to lie. You were my first friend...first friend my age, I mean."

Penny nodded, but then frowned when she realized she was getting nostalgic. Like any typical human with a gun, she half-raised it, as if trying to reassert her control over this situation. "Stop smiling like that, it gives me the creeps," Penny said to Bellamy. "You look like one of those weird porcelain dolls in those horror movies. The ones that are always smiling, until they leap at you and tear your head from your neck." Penny rolled her shoulders, in that way people did when they were trying to work out some muscle kinks. "So Bellamy. What do you think about, you know. Joining up? Iann said you wouldn't but we all agree - your ability, the things you can do, it's amazing. Anton pushed you hard and...well, I'll apologize for him. We didn't realize that maybe you needed a..." She glanced at Iann, then back at Bellamy. "...a kinder and gentler touch. Your rap sheet made you out to be a real badass motherfucker, huh?"

The notion of him having sex with her made Bellamy pull her lips back, it wasn't like Iann was ugly but...no. No. "Maybe," Bellamy answered, probably too honestly for what they were attempting to accomplish. "I sort of wasn't a great person to be around when we first met. Most everything he told me up until about a year ago sort of...went over my head," she admitted, solemn in her tone. Bella did feel badly, she had wanted the two of them to care about one another but a lot of the time it was mostly just her wanting him to care and to merely say that she was. Things had certainly changed since then but still, it didn't mean she liked saying she'd treated him so badly.

Yet the two of them fell into conversation with one another and Bellamy mostly just watched. It was odd, to see Iann with anyone let alone someone from his past. In her mind when she was with Iann it was just them. Even instances where Tuah and his second wife had been around it was sort of peripheral to her, perhaps because Tuah was so shy and perhaps because his deceased ex had worked so very much. They just fell into this grove of speaking to one another that was understandable but definitely made Bella feel like she sort of needed to leave. If they'd been at a party together she would have backed away from the conversation, let them fall into their words with one another. As it was she obviously was not going anywhere and when attention was returned to her she just gave a half smile.

"Amazing is...," Bellamy wanted to say 'a fucked up way to describe it but instead looked down at her hands and let out a harsh breath. "Subjective." Not a lie. It was subjective, lots of people thought it was amazing but lots of people thought a lot of awful shit. Hearing the name of the person that had hurt her she decided against commenting since she still wanted to murder him, and would not let the chance go were it to come up. Honestly, she wasn't sure she'd be able to let it go even if they left this place. "I can't-I really can't. It isn't about wanting to or not wanting to even. What you would be asking of me would be to use that constantly. The edelweiss works because I don't use what I can, it works because I work at things, eventually that stuff doesn't work, there is too much of the black blood in me that removing as much as the edelweiss can isn't enough, then I'd be the bad guy and I-I-I don't want to be put down like I rabid dog. I reacted like that because I am done being put in cages by people who think what I am is their blessing, it's my curse and I'm ten times more than what that is. I just - I just haven't go there yet. I can't risk anyone else and I can't risk damning myself more by saying using it will help people, perhaps, for a moment, but that moment of help would not equal the damage I could end up doing. You saw a second of what I can be and three men lost themselves, one died and removing the edelweiss doesn't remove the memories. Iann can attest to that."

"Well shit," Penny breathed out finally, after listening to Bellamy's extraordinarily reasonable explanation. Penny released her gun from one hand as well, keeping it in the other and just letting it hang at her side. She turned from Bellamy and Iann and paced into the corner, smacking the on the safety on her weapon and she muttered to herself and sucked her teeth. She didn't holster it yet, but perhaps, Iann believed, that was for the sake of whomever was watching through the CCTV. "You were going to be our Hulk!" she said with a mirthless smile at Bellamy, as she rubbed at her eyes with her free hand. "Fuck. Fuck! So this was all just a huge fucking waste of time and resources, fucking fantastic," Penny ranted, in a way that was all too familiar with the way that Iann could sometimes rant. Like she had anger in her, but it wasn't directed at any one person in particular, and like she just needed to get it out. "I told Anton this was a mistake. And when I saw you -" She motioned with her chin towards Iann, "I knew it was an even bigger mistake. Honestly I was kind of hoping you'd sell her to us..." she snorted at Iann, but then just shook her head, massaging her brow with her fingers. "Something....something big is coming is all. Something big and fucked up and we were on some desperate goal to save the world..." She gave Iann a glare of 'don't you start', because she knew Iann hated her sense of heroism and sacrifice. It drove Iann nuts, her sense of righteousness. "Anyway. It doesn't matter now. If you can't come with us, then we - we should keep moving, maybe find someone else to be our Hulk. You're special, but there are lots of special people in the world huh?" Penny said to Bellamy. She took a step closer, back to the CCTV camera and also blocking Bellamy's face from the CCTV as well. "I promised Iann I'd help you guys go back to Soapberry, but the others won't be as convinced as me. The group's split, between Anton's way and my way. So...hold tight. You're both gonna get put back into the glass cage - I'll convince 'em to get you in a cage together, and then tonight I'll...I'll come get your guys. Don't do anything stupid before that." Penny looked at Iann and then back at Bellamy. "Make sure Papa here doesn't do anything stupid."

Iann shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them to look down at Bellamy. He held Bellamy's hand, hoping that the little vampire could trust Penny. Did Iann trust Penny? He wasn't even sure at this point; but he really wanted to. Because so far, their options were slim to nil of getting out of here alive.

"Hulk is one of the better Avengers," she conceded though she was not one for superhero movies and only knew the names of like three of the members of the team. Yet she silenced as the woman before her began to rant, it didn't mean anything to Bella who did not understand guns that the woman had switched to holding it in her opposing hand and so she still felt unsettled, wondering perhaps if the woman would shoot her because she was surely of no use. Big picture killing one person never tended to matter to corporate types of collectives. Hell, didn't like hundreds of people die in those Avenger movies just for being bystanders? Besides, she didn't like the implication Iann would or could sell her and immediately had to resist the urge to tell her off, even if it wasn't a dig at Iann's home life like it sounded it was certainly implying that people could be bought and sold. Ideas Valentin had.

In the end Bellamy did not trust the woman. She didn't really like her particularly either. The way she spoke felt like the way a lot of old vampires spoke around Bella, like their big ideas were far more important than little ideas and little actions. Bellamy was not the type of person who thought what someone did only mattered if it was large scale, little things helped and history showed that. Acting like this was some Hollywood blockbuster only made her seem very stunted to Bellamy - hypocritical really. "Okay," she said simply, squeezing Iann's hand and looking at him hopefully. Once they were far enough away from the building Bellamy knew Iann would know enough to hide them, so she just needed hope to get out of the building, everything beyond that he could hide them from and she could protect them from. Yes, yes, if they made it that far they'd be fine.

Penny didn't look like she trusted either of them very much either, but there was little choice she had on her side. She gave Iann a look once more, and then with a curt nod, Penny left. After about fifteen minutes, five other soldiers came into the room. One removed Iann first and then four of them took Bellamy, keeping her restrained. They threw her into the glass cage where Iann was already sitting. It was the cage Iann was in; the bruiser who Bellamy had killed was still laying dead and bloodied in her cage.

Once the solderis removed Bellamy's restraints, they left and Iann came over to Bellamy. "Are you okay?"

Bella didn't resist those who had grabbed her, even though she didn't like being held that way. It made her smile that she had four men holding her while Iann only had one, surely he warranted at least two. Still she walked steadily, only flinching when she was literally throw into Iann's glass cage. Perhaps Penny had been able to convince them that putting her in where she had been would be bad because of the body. "You're ex is...not like you," she answered because actually thinking about whether or not she was okay would fucking suck.

Putting his arm around Bellamy, he smiled and cuddled her close to him. They probably had a few hours (they took away Iann's watch so he had no concept of time down here) so for now all Iann figured they could do was sit around and wait. "Oh yeah? You mean because she's a fighter and I'm not?"

Bella curled up into him easily, cuffs between her hands that she did not completely understand. If she shifted she could remove them after all. She smirked a little, she considered Iann a fighter, when necessary anyway which was the only reasonable sort of time to fight for most humans. "No, because she's talking about these big picture impersonal things. I know you say you're impersonal, least you did about getting close to the people hiring you for your services, but they're personal to someone, the person you're helping." Her cuffed hands rested on his lap and her knees curled. "I mean, it was sort of clear in how they did everything, I don't mean the kidnapping but the information. They knew all this detailed stuff about what I am but in working out our connection they thought you could convince me, they thought I called you something I don't, it's like all that personal stuff was...irrelevant."

"Penny was always a 'change the world' kinda person," Iann said. He didn't really consider it bad, he didn't think in such black and white as Bellamy did. Just because he did things one way and Penny did things another way didn't make either of them right, or wrong. They just were. And they were also incompatible, at least as husband and wife. "I guess both my wives were, come to think of it. Grand ideas and grand ideals...." Iann shook his head. "God...I wish I had a chance to talk to her more. Find out what she saw when she went overseas. She was in the army, hm? Marines....something like that. Something that took her to Afghanistan and Iraq and into Central America too, apparently." Penny had told Iann all this while she was showing him around the facilities.

Bella didn't think it was wrong, it just seem...hurtful on a smaller scale and she just didn't like it. It wasn't Bella and so it wasn't something she could really understand as casually as Iann could. Honestly Bella had never got that picture of his deceased wife, in fact Bellamy had seen her as someone on an even smaller scale than Iann. To Bella she appeared content to run a store, and live above it with him, helping anyone that might need it. Perhaps grand ideals but not grand ideas, still Bellamy had never come to know her that well. It was difficult and she had found the woman to be a very private person, at least with her. "Perhaps, if things go as planned, you can find a way to speak with her," she reasoned of Penny, not going to argue with him about her perceptions of his ex, especially since they were clouded by her mentality at the time she knew her. "Why did you two break up?" she asked. "And not stay in contact?"

Just because Iann could see more than one viewpoint, didn't mean he wouldn't criticize it. In his opinion, the only way he could criticize anything was to understand it first. And he welcomed his methodologies being critiqued as well. But Penny and him clashed because they'd known each other so well, that they ended up knowing how to push each other's buttons just like that and get under each other's skin. "We - ah - we didn't see eye to eye. And the more I got obsessed with supernatural and occult stuff, the more I...well. I ignored her. I sold her stuff for money to buy things I thought were valuable, I couldn't hold a job or pay our rent. I wasn't very good at keeping house either," Iann said with a rueful smile. "She was trying to balance work, school, and a 'lazy' husband. I was angry at her for not believing me and understanding how important my research was. That it meant more than all that stupid boring normal shit like 9-5 jobs and washing dishes. The more she wanted me to spend time with her and talk with her and go out and do all the fun stuff we used to do, the more I pushed her away because it all just...god it had seemed so pointless. I was on the verge of realizing werewolves and vampires and witches were real. Who had time to watch late night TV with your wife?" Iann lay his head back against the wall. "She wanted to know more about my family. I never told her about the brothel, hm? I was too ashamed of...of my Ma. I thought Penny would judge them. And her family haaaaated me, I was such a fucking deadbeat who cared more about fairy tales then about their precious little mija."

Things like this Bellamy could understand a bit more fully. Relationships were vastly complex as she had come to feel. There was no part of her that imagined one particular party was at fault for them no longer being in a relationship. Besides, she felt when it came to such things she could easily support a friend with acknowledging that they were not the only person scorned in such an instance. Iann did not sound a particularly good husband from the way he described things but she also imagined that he was purposefully putting a lot of the blame onto himself. "You certainly sound a lot younger than you are now," she said because that was mostly what she was getting from Iann. Bits and pieces of him that were not as they were now. He had his business with Freddie, he half-watched her ridiculous reality television shows and vampire movies while he did his own work, he had told her about his mother and her business a long time ago. He might have been untraditional in the way he lived his life but she did not ever see him as a deadbeat. "It's not shocking to think they would think that way," Bellamy said of her family. "And it's not surprising you're divorced but perhaps she would enjoy at least knowing who you are now. To think that perhaps leaving one another had made you each better. I like to imagine Isaiah is happier now than when we each expected such different things of one another. Besides, perhaps she'll have some interesting things for you to find out about, if I'm not the only special person they have then there must be a dozens of interesting sub-species," she reasoned, rubbing her head on his chest.

"I was a lot younger," Iann said with a smile. "It was almost twenty years ago, hm? You? You would've been...jesus. You would've been four, five years old? Think how much you've changed in the little time that I've met you. Of course things were a lot different then. I was an asshole, for one. I never - I never hurt her, not physically, but. I know I said some pretty terrible things." Penny said terrible things back to him of course, but Iann could excuse that now that he was older. Back then, he'd felt sorry for himself, felt that Penny had mistreated him and bullied him and didn't care about him. It took a long time for Iann to realize where he'd gone wrong, even if he wasn't sure he could forgive Penny. Or if there was even anything to forgive. It was the same as his mother - things had been so complicated between them, and Iann's worst time happened around the time that Iann had met Penny. Penny was innocent to it all, but Iann had used her as a weapon to push back and isolate himself from Mala and the brothel, he used Penny's bright, happy, wonderful normalness against the dysfunction of his mother. And then, when he got married, he turned on Penny and blamed her for being so fucking boring and normal. How could he explain any of this to Bellamy? He tried, telling her as much as he could. "I don't think she really needs to care about how I am now. I don't want to show her anything, she - after everything I did and didn't do, I doubt the last thing Penny should give a damn about, is what a great, stand-up guy I am. The damage has already been done, mija. No one likes knowing they were the stepping stone who had to put up with my awful shit, to my personal growth. That wasn't her job, to improve me."

"Four," Bella answered. It was odd to imagine that. Imagine Iann was so much her senior. He really could pass for her father, perhaps not based on their appearance but if based on age alone. It would not be so completely easy to understand exactly what Iann felt and what Iann perceived. "It's not really about that though," she continued to reason. "It's not about thinking she was some kind of personal growth for you, I'm saying personally if one of my exes came into my life again I'd like to know the choices I had made hadn't only benefitted myself, that person mattered to me, them being happy matters to me. If you want to talk to her I just don't see why you shouldn't at least give her the option because there is every chance she wants to, for her own reasons, she loved you, at the very least."

Iann was quiet for a long time, and then eventually he just curled his hand around Bellamy's head and kissed her forehead. It wasn't like he just wanted to dismiss what Bellamy said to him, but Iann just didn't know how to respond. He was slow when it came to emotional things, especially things that had been this deeply locked away, and now the doors were burst open. So he had nothing to say but he didn't know how to say it. "Thank you, Belle," Iann said instead, hoping she'd understand that he'd listened he just needing time (time that he didn't have).

Bella rested against him, allowing him to merely take in her words and think on them if he decided. Pushing him to speak on things now was no longer her first way of getting to know him where it had once been an easy go to. "You could sleep, if you like," she told him, wondering if he had done much of it over the past few days. Bellamy hadn't but she didn't need to sleep, she slept out of habit and out of comfort. If they were to escape this place, especially running beyond where Penny could assist them then he'd need to rest. "I'll wake you if anything happens or when Penny arrives," she whispered.

When Bellamy suggested sleep, Iann didn't realize how sleep deprived he was until he heard her ask. He nodded and curled against her and closed his eyes - and true to Iann, the moment he did, he fell fast asleep. And snored rather loudly against Bellamy's neck.

It did not bother Bellamy that he snored, in a way it was a comfort. It meant that he was alive and there with her. Not exactly the most comforting, she would have preferred for him that he be home, but for her having him there helped her stay calm. Even if she had not behaved as easily as she did back home she decided it was not a total fuck up on her part, she hadn't hurt him, she hadn't killed anyone that wasn't trying to kill her and she remained in control of her own mind.

Unsure of how long it had been, time never passing for Bellamy at the same speed in her head, when she heard the door open, she shook Iann quickly, keeping her golden eyes on the door to see who had come in.

It was hours later when the power went out, and the emergency lights blinked on, bright and green and flickering. Almost immediately, Penny came into the room, followed by five other black-op members. She looked grim and baleful at Bellamy and Iann, but opened the glass door and reached out for Bellamy so she could undo the vampire's restraints. "I'll take you as far as the exit but from there you're on your own," she stated matter-of-factly as her friends guarded the entrance. "We're in Ohio, out in the middle of nowhere but there's a gas station two miles from here. I'm sure you'll know how to find your way home from there," Penny said to Iann, implying that it could steal a car. "C'mon, follow me."

#gun tw #violence tw #blood tw #ianncardero #chatzy #chatzy: iann #iann and bella will have a travelling back chatzy #but i'll be posting an open text starter tomorrow probably to announce she is back

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readerwinterbarnes · 7 years ago

Text

Square One

Gentle Touch Pt. 4

Bucky x OFC (Jules Carlson), Steve/?, OMC, Avengers

Summary: Jules works with Bucky some more and Bucky learns more about Jules.

Word Count: 5,544

Warnings: Touch-deprived, flirting, fluff, nightmares, attempted rape

A/N: Jules POV, Ok, so this timeline will be broken up into fragments, showing Bucky’s improvements and his growing relationship, connection with Jules. Eventually the team will find out the truth, hopefully, there’s no confusion.

I headed back down to check up on Bucky, still fuming from the incident that happened previously. None of that shouldn’t have happened, none of it. He shouldn’t have gone through what Rumlow put him through either, no one should.

Helen was sitting outside of his room going through files and writing reports. I sat down next to her and slouched in the seat, letting out a huge sigh. “How’s he been? His heart doing okay?” Helen closed the folders, placing them on the seat beside her, staring worriedly at him through the window.

“It was touch and go if I have to be honest. Not much longer after you left. He regained consciousness, had another full blown panic attack that put even more stress on his heart. His heart stopped and took us a good full two minutes to get it started again. We have him on oxygen so he can fully get the air he needs due to him being slightly weak from the earlier episode.” She leaned back, letting out a sigh of her own.

“We’re going to have to inform the others soon about this. Or at least a very slight summary, some warnings for what they should and shouldn’t do. We can’t have this happening again.” I nodded in agreement.

“We do, but I’m going to have to talk to Bucky about it first. Find out for sure what are the things he absolutely is not ready for yet or even at all.”

“Looks like it might be earlier than you think.” Helen nodded towards Bucky, who was beginning to stir on the bed, groggily reaching up towards the oxygen mask. “Go, Jules, I’ll stay out here for a while longer. You’re the one he’s the most comfortable around.” I stood up and headed into Bucky’s room, careful not to startle him into another attack.

“Bucky,” tired eyes met mine in recognition, “it’s me, Jules, do you remember me?” He slowly nodded and proceeded to try to remove the mask from his face, but I raised my hands to stop him.

“Leave the mask on, Bucky, it’s helping you breathe. It’s completely safe.” He ceased his movements and sunk back down into the mattress, watching as I made my way to the chair sitting on his right. Looking up at me as I stared down at him. He looked so tired, slightly in pain. Someone who was lost, trapped in a place with a lock but no key. “Do you trust me?” Again he nodded, which was good because he was coherent, making his own decisions and was aware of his surroundings.

Slowly, I leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, hearing him sigh underneath me. I pulled away and sat down, taking the book that laid on the bedside table. “Sleep Bucky, we’ll talk again when you wake up. Just relax and sleep, you’re safe here. I’m not letting anything happen to you.” I watched as heavy-lidded eyes slipped closed as he gave into the demand for sleep. So I sat there and read the book until I too had to stop and give my own body a rest. Not once leaving his side.

I woke up not due to the machines soft hums and beeps, but to something poking my shoulder. Mumbling in my sleep, I groggily swatted the object away so I could go back to sleep, but the poking continued, so I glared at the source responsible.

“Oh, so you are alive. Thought I’d have to call 1-800-REVIVE.” Bucky was staring at me with a smile and clearer eyes than yesterday. I groaned, but stood up and stretched out the stiffness from my muscles, cracking my back before heading over to the coffee machine in the back corner.

“Ha ha very funny, glad to know someone’s awake and ready to start the day,” I said as I filled two cups of the hot black gold I eagerly wanted in my system.

“Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be I guess,” Bucky replied as I sat back down, kicked my shoes off and rested my feet on the bed at an angle so I wouldn’t disturb the IVs. “What happened to Mr. Grouch Face? I remember you breaking his nose before I blacked out.” Placing the cup down, I reached behind me for the folder Tony made a copy for me and pulled out the agreement form.

“Yup broke his nose, his glasses and his massive dick ego,” I handed Bucky the form to read who took it with a raised eyebrow, “and got promoted, well kinda lost my job and got hired for a much better one.” I watched as he read through the form, face unreadable at first, before it broke out into a small laugh, then dropped down to a low hum.

“So what happened to him?” Bucky asked as he handed the form back over to me.

“He’ll be transferred to a different SHIELD location, a far location, and if he messes up even once, he’ll lose his job and get stripped of his occupational title,” I answered as I slipped the sheet back into the folder and relaxed into the chair once again.

“So, what happens now exactly? You give me a huge therapy lecture, sign me off to a bunch of medication?” I looked at Bucky concerned, I had patients who would often react like this after they had a relapse or a panic attack. It was heartbreaking to see them like this, the verge of giving up on treatment altogether and just let the therapists do whatever they wanted. But that wasn’t what I was here for, I wanted Bucky to know that he was in charge of his own decisions and that I wanted him to get the best help he could, comfort being a priority.

“No to all of the above,” I leaned forward and crossed my arms on the bed next to his arm, “I thought I’d ask you where you’d like to start. Go back to square one, start where we left off, give you time to process everything we’ve talked about like I promised I would. But it’s up to you, I’m here to help you in any way I can, but I won’t make the choices for you unless I believe I absolutely have to.” Bucky watched me, trying to see whether or not I was lying or not. When he decided I was speaking truthfully, he answered me.

“Square one, but...can we, can we skip all the stuff I already told you? I don’t think I’m actually ready to go through all of that again.” He nervously picked the fuzzy clumps off the blanket, hesitant to look at me.

“Of course we can skip that. We can focus on a different part of your therapy, we can focus on just the touch aspect. Do regular, but small, everyday activities and engage in physical contact. We could start off small, like sitting together and watching a movie, or -”

“A kiss on the forehead?” Bucky’s innocent face, but teasing eyes watched me as I blushed slightly.

“O-Or that, but we’ll work our way up from the small things.” I pushed aside the remark in hopes of moving along in the conversation, but boy was I wrong.

“So, moving up as in full body skin to skin contact? Or are we meeting halfway?” I felt my face grow hotter in embarrassment and glared at Bucky when he started to laugh.

“Y-You should, you should see your face! Oh man, that was, that was good.” Luckily, I was quick to repay the favor.

“Sure if that’s what you wanted. Or I could just slide my silky smooth body over yours, trail my fingers through your hair as I whisper breathlessly into your ear, ‘I just farted.’“ I said with a straight face but rejoiced when Bucky’s own face turned beat red, eyes wide with shock.

“Ha!” I pointed at him, smiling in victory, “Now you should see your face. Man, you weren’t expecting that now, did ya?” Bucky held his hands up as a sign of truce, returning my smile.

“What happened to the sweet, innocent therapist I had? Surely you aren’t her.”

“I grew up with four brothers and worked with complete idiots, so I’m not so sweet and innocent as many believe.” I felt relieved when Bucky smiled and laughed as we talked, letting his body fully relax into the mattress. Knowing that we were already off to a good start.

“Sorry to crush the awkward moment, but time to get serious again.” I stood up and searched through the menus for the cafeteria the room provided. “What would you like to do as a start?”

“Eat, watch a movie and, um...maybe stay with me? And we could just...talk? Never mind, sounds like a stupid idea.” Bucky looked away with a frown, but I was having none of that.

“First of all, stop right there. The idea is definitely not stupid and yes I’d love to join you. This is good Bucky, really good. We’ll go at your own pace and just let me know when you’re ready to move on to the next phase.”

“Okay, yeah...yeah, I-can I pick the movie? I heard Die Hard was a good one.” He asked, excitement shining clearly through his eyes. It struck me that this man who went through so many traumatic events, who was never given the power of choice, still managed to smile and crawl his way into my life.

“Think you can stay up for all six? Or are you too old and need your beauty sleep?” He gasped in mock hurt.

“Ouch, that hurt. Jules, I thought you were my friend. Beauty sleep my ass, let’s order a shit ton of food because I’m fucking starving. And the answer to your question is yes, let’s watch all six, not like I’m going anywhere soon.” I handed him half of the menus, while JARVIS cued up the first movie.

“Thank fuck I grew up with brothers.”

“Why’s that?”

“I learned how much food I can eat without getting sick and still manage to function afterward.” I took one last quick look at the menus before giving JARVIS my order along with Buckys. As I waited for the food to arrive, I swapped out my chair with the big arm chair, throwing my feet up on the bed again, making myself comfortable.

“Thanks for, for everything, Jules.” I turned my attention from the screen to focus on him.

“You have nothing to thank me for Bucky and I’m here for you, whenever you need me.” We were interrupted when our food was delivered with Helen trailing in behind to check up on Bucky’s vitals, then leaving shortly afterward. We ate as we watched, content and relaxing after the rough ordeals. When we began the second film, I noticed Bucky’s hand inch its way towards mine. I didn’t move because I wanted to see what he would do and smiled to myself when he linked our pinkies together. It was a step, to someone watching it looked small, but to Bucky, it was a huge step. He made the first move, he made the choice to initiate the contact and I was more than happy with the gesture.

Bucky was getting released today after three extra days and I was currently heading down to meet with him. However on the way to the elevator, I bumped into Steve who was straightening his shirt horridly, belt still was undone and a rosy tint to his cheeks.

“AH! Oh, uh hi Jules, how are you?” He asked as we made our way into the elevator. Steve straightened his clothes as if nothing happened, but I just watched him. The flush on his face, the belt, shirts askew, his button down missing a few buttons, his hair standing on end, but the biggest clue was the tip of a purple bruise peeking out from the neck of his shirt.

“Me? Oh, I’m fine, Bucky gets released in a few minutes so I’m just going to meet with him and continue therapy.” I didn’t mention anything about his appearance, but he was definitely not going to hear the end of this. “How ‘bout you though? Looks like you just got out of bed.”

“Yeah, yeah, I uh woke up late and I have a meeting with Tony. Something about a new feature on my suit, then I have to train some of the new recruits today as well.” Yup Steve was definitely hiding something and I was determined to find out what that ‘something’ was, but all in due time.

“Well show ‘em new recruits how serious we need them to be Captain.” I shouldered him, which also gave me a view of his neck. Fading red lines, obviously from fingernails, were running down the back of his neck.

“Will do, but seriously, how’s Bucky doing? Helen said he had a panic attack shortly after we brought him in.” I sighed and leaned against the wall of the lift.

“He’s, well, we’re....we’re pausing on the previous subject, focusing more on the actual physical contact approach. So we’ll be taking things slow, like sitting next to each other, touching hands, side hugs, that type of thing. Baby steps or until he feels ready to take a much larger step.” The elevator stopped on the med floor, but I made no motion of leaving right away.

Steve turned to me, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just, I hate having to do this, but I have to talk to Bucky about some...rules and guidelines we...I have to give to the rest of the team.” I said in a rush but was hesitant to look into Steve’s eyes, already knowing this was going to hurt him.

“What kind of rules Jules?” I could tell he was trying to keep his voice level, but a hint of his Captain America voice leaked through.

“Steve, what Bucky went through was more than traumatic. Touch scares him, any form of physical contact that sets him on edge will, not can, will trigger a multitude of things. The rules or guidelines are mainly for Bucky’s mental state. Uh...a protective hedge so to speak so he can feel comfortable around the team enough. However, the team needs to be informed of them so they know what to do and what not to do.” I looked at Steve and could see frustration bubble deep underneath the surface.

“Stop that right now, Steve Rogers and listen to me,” Once I could tell he was calmed down, I continued, “I know this sucks, I get it. You’re his best friend, you want to help him, keep him safe, and protect him. I. Understand. But if you really want to help him get past this, you need to listen to me and trust me. Trust Bucky and the decisions he makes. He needs his friend to support him, so do that. It’s not going to be easy. Hell, he might bounce back to square one after we took five steps forward. It takes time and I’m not one of those therapists who sets the time it takes to get them to where they need to be. It’s all on the patient, but if Bucky needs to take baby steps the whole way to get there? Then we’ll take the small steps as they come.” I looked behind me to see Helen and Bucky already waiting for me at the end of the hallway, watching us. I really needed to wrap this up.

“Just give him time okay, Steve?”

“I’ll give him time, thanks...thanks for letting me know, Jules. Or I would’ve done something stupid.” I knew this was my opportune moment and I was going to take it.

“You’re not stupid, Steve, well, besides the fact that you might want to check for injuries the next time you wake up. Others might get suspicious.” I replied while gesturing towards the hickey on his neck. Steve checked his reflection and immediately covered his neck, the flush returning. “Must’ve been a rough night last night. Oh, I know how to sew buttons too in case you’re wondering.” I said over my shoulder as I headed towards Bucky, smiling with glee as the doors closed to a gaping Steve.

“Hey Helen, Bucky, how’s our dark and brooding patient this morning?” Bucky frowned and grumbled.

“I’m not brooding, I’m a deadly assassin who’s being lectured...again.” Helen crossed her arms, totally unfazed by Bucky’s attitude.

“Uh-huh, well Mr. Dark and Brooding here has just been waiting anxiously for you. He’s good to go, I had a copy of his file sent to your office about what medications he can take if need be. Hearts all strong and healthy and he has agreed to your request of being pulled from missions until you give him the go ahead.” I nodded at Helen.

“Thanks, Helen, come on Buck, let’s leave her to her doctoral duties and go grab some breakfast.” I began to lead the way when I felt something brush against my hand. I looked down to see his right hand inched towards mine. So without saying anything, I just stick out my pinky to him and smile when he wraps his own around it.

“What were you and Steve talking about? He probably hates me, he has every right to.” Bucky said the last part quietly I had to strain to hear it.

“Why would you think that?”

“I pushed him away, I’ve been avoiding him, hiding from him...lying to him.” I stopped our way towards the kitchen where I could hear the voices of the others.

“Hey JARVIS?”

“Yes, Ms. Jules?”

“Could you have our breakfast sent up to my office please and Code B-JURN,” I told the AI as I headed us back to the elevator.

“What does B-JURN mean?” Bucky asked as the doors slid closed.

“It means that no one will be disturbing us in my office unless they want to be sent down to Helen for major injuries. I had it placed for both my office and my floor since that day. Luckily no one’s been stupid enough to go against it.”

“Why?”

“It’s supposed to make you feel comfortable whenever we’re in a session. As a warning to others and a safety for you.” The lift fell quiet as it continued upwards until Bucky’s voice cut through the silence.

“You’ve used it before. That’s why you chose it.” I don’t say anything right away, stepping out of the lift when the doors finally opened. I made my way towards my office but was stopped when Bucky took my hand in his, pulling me to a stop. This was the most physical contact he initiated in the past few days, so it took me by surprise when he grabbed my hand.

“Did I say something wrong?” His voice small and insecure.

“No Bucky, it’s not,” I sigh and look down at our joined hand, his was large, strong, calloused but yet soft and gentle. Contrasting against my small, dainty one. “Let’s sit, I need to sit.” I steered us towards my office, kicked off my shoes and let gravity suck my body down into the couch cushions, Bucky doing the same on the opposite couch.

“Code JURN was something I - we used on our street corners, bars, streets, hotel spots when we’d try to pick up a client. Uh, when, it was back when I was a hooker, whore, street treat, take your pick. The more money you offered, the more us girls were willing to do. It was easy money, I could make five hundred easy in one night, more if I actually wanted. But us girls always stuck together, had each other’s backs if one of us felt uncomfortable in any kind of situation.”

“So you guys came up with code names?” I nodded, finally registering that our breakfast was already delivered and decided to pick at the eggs.

“Alice, she was one of the first girls who approached me, gave me pointers, introduced me to the other girls, ya know, she was one of the first ones to find me after a night gone bad. I got picked up, was supposed to go the hotel for the night, that type of thing. But we never did, instead he told his driver to stop in an alley - he was a big money type person - and he wanted to have a threesome with me and his driver, which was not what I agreed to. Not unless he paid extra, which is what you had to do at the start.

So imagine my surprise when his driver hops in the back and they both start getting frisky with me. This was only my fourth client by the way, so I thought this was normal up til the point when they began to get more urgent. Long story short, they tried to rape me, almost succeeded if it wasn’t for Alice and some of the other girls. They found the car in the alleyway, recognized the license plate and took action. We always hide crowbars and bats in our areas for things like this, so they bashed a window, scared them shitless, took what they owed me, helped me out of the car and the creeps left with a promise not to turn us in if they wanted to keep their dicks in one piece.

So that’s where Code JURN came into play. We each had our own, mine was Code Jules-Unavailable Right Now. To others, it didn’t mean anything, but to us it did. If any of us had a bad or sick feeling about a client or someone who’s willing to pay for a quickie, a full night, wild night, whatever, if they gave off a vibe one of us would steer the person away while another would text their own code to them as a warning to lay low for a while. It helped, kept us safe, made us feel safe.” I felt nervous, uncomfortable. I’ve never told anyone this before, well besides my own therapist who helped me move past it.

“You added me to your code, Code Bucky-Jules Unavailable Right Now. That’s why you added it, to make me feel safe here.” Bucky looked at me, still trying to take it all in that someone would even do this for him.

“Yes, I did. I hope that’s okay, I can change it if you want.” He shook his head, smiling softly.

“No, I like it. Makes it sound like we’re spies or something.”

“Well technically you are a spy, so it would be the spy slash assassin and the evil mastermind.”

“Bucky and Jules, the Dynamic Duo.” I pointed my fork at him in excitement.

“Yas! I like it! I can see the headlines now; ‘The Mysterious Dynamic Duo Strikes Again! Who Are They and What Are Their Plans?’ I think it fits.” We both ended up sprawled on the couches holding our sides as we laughed. I haven’t heard Bucky laugh at all, so just to hear him be free like this felt really good, made him look good too.

“You’re amazing you know that?” Our laughter slowly died down as I glanced over to where Bucky was laying down, a complete satisfied look on his face.

“You’re pretty amazing yourself too. Even though you have an ugly ass.” His head whipped towards me, a playful hurt look on his face.

“Ouch doll, that really hurt. JARVIS, Jules is being mean to me! If you must know Jules, my ass is awesome. I can prove it to you if you want.” He started getting up and began to unfasten his belt.

“No! Don’t, I don’t want to be scarred for life from all the wrinkles and sagginess!” I squealed and covered my eyes.

“My ass doesn’t sag and it doesn’t have wrinkles. Their smooth, firm and are the perfect roundness. I worked hard for this ass.” I swatted his butt away from me when he playfully wiggled it in my face.

“Fine, fine, your ass is the best ass I’ve seen, but shake your ass somewhere else you goof.” He turned around and sat on the floor beside me instead of returning back to his previous spot. He reached for my hand again, which I willingly took, watching as he fiddled with my fingers deep in thought. We stayed like this for who knows how long, lost in our own thoughts.

“How do you do it?”

“What?” He asked me, curious blue-grey eyes watching me.

“How come every time I’m around you I feel...at ease. It’s like I’m drawn to just be near you, want to touch you, not like that but like this,” he gestures towards our clasped hands, “all the hurtful touches disappear when I’m with you. I don’t understand. When you helped me that first day, it felt as if your touch alone was pulling me out from the touches that were drowning me. It’s like I need your touch just too even get through the day.” I wasn’t prepared for that confession at all. I knew that my presence helped him, but I wasn’t aware of the full extent of it.

“I don’t know, maybe I saw myself at first. Someone who was lost, desperately seeking for help that they weren’t sure how to find. Leo Buscaglia once said, ‘Too often we underestimate the power of touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.’ “I held his hand in both of mine, putting all my focus on him and him alone.

“Bucky, you were deprived of something that everyone needs in their life. For the full 70 years Hydra had you, they took a lot from you and twisted the physical contact you craved, turning it into something you absolutely feared. How you reacted that day was completely understandable. That’s why I want to help you, I want to help you so you no longer fear the contact that others offer.” I waited as Bucky let everything I told him to sink in. Hell, everything I told him in the past, what hour? Was a lot to take in. Plus we could afford to veer off topic for one day, we could continue on the next day, so, for now, we’ll take this as a well-needed break.

“What do we do now then?” I squeeze his hand once, then reach over to the side table and pull out my Stark Tablet opening up the notes app.

“Well two choices, either we continue breakfast and finish watching Die Hard or we can finish breakfast, order in for lunch, cut to the chase and get one object out of the way.”

“And what would that object be?” Bucky asked as he reached for his own breakfast, which was well beyond cold now, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Um, it, it would be how we’re going to inform the team. So, we’re going to have to set up rules, guidelines for the others to follow so they’re prepared on what not to do around you so they don’t accidentally switch on a panic attack.” His hand froze mid-way on bringing a slice of toast to his mouth.

“This is only if you’re ready. They won’t need to know the full extent of what happened or none of it at all, but after what happened before,” I thought back to the major panic attack Bucky went through. How scared he was when the asshole and his minions barged in here and almost causing his heart to fail. “I can’t have that happening again Bucky, I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared and pissed off in my whole life.”

Bucky finished his breakfast at his own pace as I let him think about the next step we needed to take towards his recovery. Overall it was a baby step, but to him, it was as if he was going to be taking a full leap over a cliff. I would never put him in a position like this ever, but his health and safety were a priority at the moment and this would make sure that the others would know to back off and not do anything stupid.

“I would come up with the rules and everything? Whatever I come up with they would have to respect it?” He finally spoke up after a few good minutes.

“Yes, or they would have to answer to me and that won’t be a good thing. I’m pretty sure Tony showed them the footage of the meeting I had with Fury, Roberts, and Tony. You are my patient first and foremost and if I feel your life and safety are at risk from anyone I don’t care if they’re Avengers or not, it won’t end well for them. And if SHIELD decides to step in then I’ll be more than happy to show them who they’re dealing with.” The tension in the air dissipated as Bucky smiled at my protectiveness over him and how threatening I was trying to be.

“Could we maybe, do you think we can do that tomorrow? I kinda, I want.” He seemed to struggle to actually get the words out into the open. Face furrowed in frustration when he failed to do so. Placing the Stark Tablet aside, I uncurled myself from my spot on the couch and kneeled beside him, brushing aside the hair that covered his face.

“What do you want Bucky?” I asked him quietly. This was about him and what he wanted, not what I wanted.

“Can I, I want,” I waited patiently, not wanting to rush him into answering me, giving him all the time he needed. “I want to watch Die Hard with you, stuff my face with all the pasta I want, I want my fucking life back, I want the nightmares to just go away and…” He looked away sheepishly.

“And what Bucky?” Now curious to know what else he wanted.

“You to kiss my forehead every once in a while...it’s probably stupid, but I, I kinda liked it.” If you would’ve asked me that day if I ever thought he would make a permanent residence in my life, I wouldn’t believe it. But now, now I do.

Without saying anything, take his face in my hands and lean forward to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Then you shall get all the forehead kisses, hugs, hand holding sessions you want. Just never be afraid to ask for it. And yes, I’d love to finish watching Die Hard with you and you will get your life back, but for now we’re going to be lazy.” I stand up and pull Bucky up to his feet, then proceeded to whip out blankets and pull off the couch cushions onto the floor.

“JARVIS cue up where we left off and could you do a double,” I stared at Bucky who was standing there all confused, “no a triple order of the pasta place on the corner?”

“Right away Ms. Jules. Would you like extra garlic bread as well to go with your order?”

“You know me so well J!’ Once I deemed the floor, now covered in blankets and cushions, satisfactory, I plopped down and patted the spot beside me.

“Get your ass down here old man, we’re going to watch movies, pig out and get fat on bread and pastalicioiusness.” For a second, Bucky just looked down at me with concern, but then a smile cracked on his face, followed by him laughing.

“Old man my ass, have you even seen Steve? He’s old as fuck, he definitely needs to get laid or something.”

“About that, I think he already is.”

“What?! No way, who is it? Is it someone we know? That punk, how come I’ve never noticed this?”

“I have no idea who it is, but he definitely got some serious action last night. When you saw us in the elevator a while ago, he was obviously sporting some hickeys and nail marks from his passionate fuck session with his mysterious lover.”

“Did he really have a hickey?”

“Oh yeah, he thought he might’ve been all sneaky about it. He also had a little gait to his walk too. Ooh not to mention the faint smell of perfume either. So believe me, I 100% determined to find out who this mysterious gal is, but for now,” I got up when a knock sounded at the door, thanking the delivery man who brought over our food, “I’m starving. So eat, be lazy and we’ll focus on brass and nails tomorrow.” This was the perfect way to end the day. With a plan set for tomorrow, Bucky could just relax and just be himself and focus on nothing except for right now. I already knew this wasn’t going to always be this easy, but I’d consider this as a huge win.

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kas-not-cas · 8 years ago

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Flirting with Death (3)

**PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO WARNINGS**

This is part three to my serial killer!AU!

Summary: When yet another victim of Vigilante is brought to the morgue, Y/N discovers more about the serial killer. In doing so however she is kept late at work, and she finds herself in a dangerous situation.

Characters: Gordon Walker, Castiel Novak, Garth Fitzgerald, Dean Winchester, Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventually)

Rated M

Warnings: **PLEASE READ** Mentions of murder, blood, gore, death, language, assault, violence, angst, attempt of sexual assault. **PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU!!**

Word Count: 3,674

Catch up here!

Part One, Part Two Part Four Part Five Part Six

A/N: Thank you @impala-dreamer for reading this through! This is part three guys, again before reading please pay attention to the tags. As a reader these would trigger me, so please head my warnings!

The morgue was colder than it usually was for some damn reason. Perhaps it was because the second body you had seen in Seattle was being brought in. What was even more bone chilling was the fact that it was possibly the work of Vigilante. You wouldn’t know for sure however until the actual body came in. Right now all you had to go off of was the page you received claiming it to be his handy work.

Doctor Simonson had arrived shortly after you. “Doctor Y/L/N, I hope you’re in for a long night with me.” He handed you a cup of coffee, “We’ll be here for a while depending on how he killed this specific victim.” He took a sip from his own cup, setting it on the desk in the corner of the room.

“He has different ways of killing victims?” His eyes wandered from you towards the stack of files he had given you earlier. “I never got a chance to look through them this evening, I hope you don’t mind me asking.”

“Vigilante does in fact kill his victims in different ways depending on what crimes they have committed themselves. Sometimes a body will come in showing the victim had died of strangulation, multiple stab wounds, or they have been burned to death.” He grabbed a few of the files, flipping them open. “They’re all so different, if it wasn’t for the mark he carves into the bodies, we would have assumed it was different killers.”

You flipped through the pages of the file, looking at the medical pictures before stopping to stare at one specific one. It t was supposedly carved into all his victims. Whoever it was they really did take there time slicing and dicing up their victims. They must have had a lot of time on their hands in order to do what they did. That made you think about what this killers process was. Did he have a basement full of potential victims? Did he grab them off the street and kill them hours later? There were so many different things running through your head, so many unsolved questions. You were curious about this killer, you found yourself intrigued and wanting to learn more about him.

‘Coming in hot!” Both you and Dr. Simonson turned to see a tall and skinny young man rolling in a gurney. On top of it laid a black body bag, zipped up, as he rolled it near one of the examination tables. “Detectives Novak and Walker were right behind me; they’re not in too good of a mood tonight.” He smiled softly at Dr. Simonson before turning to face you. “Ah you must be the new Doc!” Tossing his pair of purple gloves into one of the trash bins, he held his hand out to you. “My name is Garth Fitzgerald the IV.”

You shook his hand, returning his smile, “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Garth seemed like a fun loving guy. Even if he was around dead people, he seemed to have a positive outlook on life. “So Garth,” you slipped on a pair of gloves, “what have you brought us tonight?”

He grabbed a clipboard off the side of the gurney staring at the page. “We have a male, late thirties, early forties. He was found in an alley downtown, there was no sign of a struggle or any blood at the scene of the crime.” You perked up while listening to the details.. “Victim suffered from a stab wound in the lower abdomen; which seems to be stuffed with salt or some other substance.” Garth rested the clipboard back down on the side of the gurney. “The body was also burned it looks like, it’s possible an accelerant was poured over his body.”

“And the mark?” Dr. Simonson joined your sign pulling on a pair of gloves, “Are we certain it was Vigilante for sure?”

“Yes sir, the same mark was carved into the base of the victim’s neck.” Garth handed the file over, shooting you a glance before standing up straight. “Sir, there’s not a doubt in my mind that this is his handy work. So far everything fits his M.O.. All we need is your clarification to be truly sure.”

Looking back at the soon to be retired medical examiner, you watched his face fall as he stared at the file. He looked exhausted, you would be too if there was a serial killer constantly sending bodies into your morgue. Each of them had a different cause of death wthout a single clue as to who was behind them. For three years this man has been examining these bodies and knowing he was retiring with the killer still on the loose had to be hard for him.

With a heavy sigh he shut the folder, tossing it on his desk, “Alright, let’s go ahead and give you that straight forward answer then Garth.” He motioned for you to join him in moving the body to the right examination table. Garth helped, unzipping the body bag and revealing the body within.

Immediately you covered your nose with the inside of your arm when the smell hit you. It reeked like charred flesh and burnt hair; the smell burning your nostrils instantly. Your stomach turned as you dry heaved into your arm trying to hold your dinner down. Being a medical examiner you could handle a lot of things, blood, gore, intestines hanging out, the whole shabam. What you couldn’t handle were the smells sometimes. The body in front of you had to be in the top five worst smelling bodies you had ever examined.

“You doing okay there?” Garth asked as the three of you moved the body to the metal table. “You look a little pale there Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat taking a step back, “I’m fine, the smell just took me off guard.”

“Well maybe if you can’t handle the smell you picked the wrong job.” The words immediately pissed you off as you turned around, watching detective Walker and Novak walk in. “See this isn’t even the worse when it comes to this freak. I suggest if you have an issue with smells, pick another profession.”

Well wasn’t he a fucking ray of sunshine, talk about a douchebag! As much as you wanted to say something you decided against it. It was still technically your first day and the last thing you wanted to do was piss off a higher up. So you simply stepped out of his way, allowing him to stare at the body. He might be a detective but that didn’t give him the right to act like his shit didn’t stink.

“So doctor, is it him again?” Dr. Simonson nodded towards you to help him out with the body. You both lifted it up, resting it on its side, revealing the same pointed star symbol you had seen on the other victim’s body. “Shit, two in one day. This little shit is getting cocky.” He ran his hand over his face, his nostrils flaring as he breathed. ‘We need to find this sick freak before anyone else dies.”

Dr. Simonson pushed his glasses up with the back of his wrist, “We’ll do the best we can, but you know as well as I do there’s probably hardly any evidence for us. This person is well thought out, he isn’t one to slip up and make a simple mistake.” Gordon glared at him, “I’m just stating the facts detective. In the last three years he’s never once made a mistake or given us a solid clue to go by. I doubt he’s going to start now; he’s too smart and has everything planned out.”

“He’s not that smart; one of these days he will mess up.”

You were doubtful of that; for a serial killer to have gone three years without getting caught, there was a slim to none chance he was going to mess up. However, you weren’t going to go voicing your opinion with Walker in the room. Instead you were going to keep your mouth shut and do what needed to be done before leaving for the day.

So that’s what you did. You drew blood, send it to the lab to be tested for any suspicious substances. You and Dr. Simonson also performed an autopsy to the best of your ability. The skin was so charred it made it somewhat difficult, but it all worked out in the end. The cause of death was internal bleeding from the stab wound. You assumed once the victim was dead Vigilante set the body on fire. Once the flames died down the star sign was carved into the skin.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” you looked up from your computer, “why don’t you head on home? We can finish the reports later.” Glancing down at your watch you realized it was one thirty in the morning. Wow how the time flies when you’re busy.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying a bit longer to finish this up.”

He started gathering his things, glancing down at his own watch. “You should get some sleep, it’s been a very long day. You’ll need all the rest you can get tomorrow to file all these reports.”

“Alright,” you closed out your computer, putting your jacket on. “I’ll get started on those first thing in the morning.” He nodded his head, heading holding the door open for you. “Have a good night doctor. See you tomorrow morning.” He bid you a farewell, heading the opposite direction, leaving you all alone.

What a crazy and busy day it had been, two bodies in the same day killed by the same man. This case was going to test your knowledge for once it was going to be a challenge. You were always up for a challenge so it didn’t bother you, instead it made you even more excited about this new start.

The possibilities and thoughts of what was to come rolled within your mind as you walked down the dark streets. But as exciting as everything was, you kept vigilant over your surroundings. At this hour of night, lots of people were out, and you would rather be safe than sorry. Not that you were to worried about it; you always carried a can of pepper spray on your keys. Your father had insisted on it since you were going out on your own.

There were a few people walking around, a lot of them leaving bars, while some of them were walking with others. No one looked too shady so that made you feel a little bit at ease. It didn’t look like this neighborhood was ridden with violence and crime. It actually seemed peaceful and quiet, for a rushed decision you picked a pretty good neighborhood. At least that’s what you were thinking before someone grabbed you by the jacket, yanking you into an alleyway.

The man was strong as he slammed you against the brick wall. The smell of cheap liquor radiated off of him as he chuckled softly, looking at you. You reached into your bag, digging around in search of your keys as he continued to stare at you like a piece of meat. Your heart was pounding, but you had to remain calm. Panicking was not going to solve anything for you at this moment.

“Hey look guys,” his words slurred as two men stepped out from behind a dumpster, “I told you a pretty girl would come around.” He hiccuped as the other two mean stalked towards you. “You both owe me an apology.” Turning his head he gave them a disgusting smirk, giving you the opportunity to pull out your keys. By the time he turned to look back at you, you were holding the spray right in front of his eyes.

“Look at this motherfucker!” You shouted, holding down the button, spraying it in his eyes. He let out some screech as you took off heading towards the main street. Your efforts were rendered useless though as one of the other men tackled you.

Just before you could scream, he covered your mouth with his palm, dragging you further down the alley. “Shut up you stupid bitch, before I shut you up myself.” His threats didn’t stop you from fighting. You kicked and flailed your arms around, reaching for anything you could use as a weapon. “I said shut the fu-” You grabbed an empty beer bottle off the ground, slamming it into your attackers head. “Fuck!!” he screeched, releasing you, grabbing at his head trying to assess the damage you had caused.

“He-!” you started to scream before the third and final attacker, a man much bigger than the others, punched you across the face. Your ears began ringing as he grabbed you by the hair, dragging you behind a dumpster. Your head was spinning as you tried to shake it off. Once you thought you were finally back to your senses, he slammed you into the concrete ground. Pain coursed through you as you opened your mouth letting out a wordless scream.

“Now,” he pulled your hair forcing you to look at him, “what do you say we get this party started?” Even if everything was hurting and that you were in danger, you couldn’t just give up.

You slapped at him, kicking your feet, trying to get him off of you. That however did nothing, he just stared at you, laughing at your failed attempts of escaping his grasp. With every slap and kick he tugged harder on your hair causing you to wince. This man had no intention of letting you go; he wasn’t as drunk as the other two. This was bad, very, very bad.

“Help me!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, “Somebody help me!” The attacker growled, punching you several other times. The bitter taste of iron began flooding your mouth as he growled.

“Shut the hell up!” He began working at his belt, “Be a good little slut and take it like a real woman!” Gritting your teeth, you were fuming with anger as you glared into his eyes, “Ah you’re a feisty one aren’t you?” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pocket knife. “Maybe I can break that fighting spirit; I was always up for a challenge.”

Pushing yourself off the cold ground, you head butted him with all your strength. This took him by surprise as you used all your upper body strength to somehow manage to throw him off of you. He hit the back of his head against the ground and groaned loudly as his hands rushed to the back of his head, cradling it. Your sneakers skidded against the ground as you started to run. Lightning flashed about you, the sky lighting up as you tried to escape for your life.

But to tonight just wasn’t your night. A clap of thunder rumbled above you as the man pulled you back. His two comrades were out, but he wasn’t going to be as easily taken out. You shrieked, thrashing your body around as he dragged you back to the space behind the dumpster. Rain began pouring, hitting your skin like a bee sting on the cold January night; making this even more terrifying than it already was.

“Now,” the creep grunted through gritted teeth, “I told you take it!” He grabbed a handful of your scrub top pulling it away from your body. “Now you can be good and suffer through this quietly.” He gripped the small pocket knife in his hand, allowing the blade to be set free. “Or I’ll stick this blade so deep in your neck, you’ll never know what hit you.” He ripped the fabric of your shirt open with the thin yet sharp blade. The sickening sounds of the fabric tearing sent a shiver down your spine.

You were never good at listening to others, and your attacker needed to learn the hard way. “Somebody help me! Please help me!” Tears welled in your eyes, mixing with the rain. “Somebody!!” The man scoffed, holding the blade up above his head. Fear settled in your stomach as you watched in horror.

“Stupid girl, I’ll just cut that pretty little tongue out. That’ll shut you up!” You closed your eyes tight, waiting for the sting of the blade to come in contact with your skin. Instead the man gasped, his body freezing as he didn’t dare move. Opening your eyes slowly you saw the attackers face painted with fear. His eyes were wide as he stared at the brick wall in front of him. The rain fell on your face as you glanced up further, seeing a silhouetted man looming above him.

“Now,” the familiar voice rang, “I’m going to give you the count of three to get the hell off of her.” The man’s body began to tremble, “If you don’t, I’ll blow your brains out right here and now.” The man didn’t move, “Fine have it your way dickbag.” There was a clicking sound behind the man’s head, “One, two, three.” The man jumped off your body, bolting down the alley as far away from you as he could get.

You turned your attention back to the man standing above you. Squinting your eyes, you tried to make out who he was through the darkness and the rain. Lightning flashed, illuminating his face, as he stared down at the alley making sure the culprit was gone. It was none other than the Dean Winchester. He was holding a gun in his hand, and you managed to put two and two together. He must have had the gun pressed against the back of the assaulters head. His friends began to stir groaning in discomfort and pain. Your comfort suddenly dissolved back into fear as they stood up stumbling to their feet.

“Hey,” Dean shouted, winning their attention, both of them coming face to face with the barrel of his gun. “Get the hell out of here, before I pump your asses full of lead.” It only took one glance at the gun to send the two of them running. They were gone, and you were still alive thanks to the brave man in front of you. “They better pray I never see them again, they’ll regret it if they do.” He put the safety back on his gun before sliding it into the holster attached to his jeans.

When he finally looked down you could only imagine he was struggling to see who you were. Thunder rumbled above head as he crouched down closer towards you. He rubbed his hand over his wet face as he let out a sigh of relief hearing you whimper softly as you held back tears. Lightning flashed above you again, allowing Dean to see who you were. And as soon as he saw your face his whole demeanor changed.

“Y/N!?” He feel to his knees, gently lifting your head off the ground. “What the hell are you doing out here this late!?” His eyes roamed your body, assessing the damage of your wounds. “Christ sweetheart, you could have gotten yourself killed!”

“I was just heading home from work.” You choked back a wail of pain as he picked you up in his arms. “I-I had to go in, I didn’t think it wou-would be an issue coming home this late.” He stood up holding you tightly in his arms as he started walking down the alley. “You can just take me home, I’ll be okay it’s nothing serious.”

Dean made some sort of sound between a laugh and a scoff. “Yeah right, you think I’m going to just take you home? You got another thing coming sweetheart.” You opened your mouth to assure him that you were going to be fine, but you found yourself getting sleepy in his arms. “Hey,” he shook you in his arms, “stay with me Y/N.”

“I’m cold,” your body started trembling in his arms, as he struggled to do something. “I’m so cold.” you repeated your voice cracking as he placed you down on a warm seat. Your vision began to blur in and out as looked around. Where the hell were you? Where had Dean gone? “I-I’m s-so-” you couldn’t even think straight, your mind was racing at one hundred miles per minute. You were confused, unaware of your surroundings, and you were freezing.

“Y/N,” something slammed making you jump, “Y/N look at me, talk to me, how are you doing?” There was a roaring sound that filled the small and confined space you were in.

Staring down at your pale shaking hands you realized what was going on. ‘Shock,” you whispered feeling your eyelids grow heavier, “I’m going into shock.” You leaned your head against something sturdy, doing your best to calm down.

“What do I need to do?” He asked as hot air hit your skin, “Y/N what do you need me to do?”

You wanted to answer him, to tell him you needed to lay down. Darkness however began blurring your vision starting from the corners before slowly creeping inward. There was no way you could tell him how to help you, or what he needed to do. In all honesty there really was nothing for him to do. He was rendered useless at this point, the only thing he was going to be able to do was watch you. Not that you wanted him to do anything else for you, he had already saved your life. You would be forever in his debt after this; you were lucky he showed up when he did.

“Y/N?”

“Tired.” Was the only thing you could say before the darkness fully engulfed you. Your head fell against the sturdy and strong surface as Dean screamed your name.

“Y/N!!”

_________________________

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