#& they could very easily have just not sent him in to testify anyway

[concoulor]

wait wait wait in DC does logan send roman to get the money because he knows roman is the best charmer or because he wants him out of the way of the cruises hearing because of his weird sex thing

[scripturiends]

law school episode 9 musings

warning: very very long post ahead. i have a lot of thoughts.

hey folks — how we feeling about episode 9?

given that there are so many plotlines in the show, i’m afraid i won’t be able to extend my analysis of the episode as far as i would like, but there are three characters who stood out to me the most last night that i’d like to talk about for now:

kang dan

there’s a lot that we got to uncover about her thanks to professor yang’s trial. if i’m piecing it all together right, the basic summary of what led to her disappearance goes like this:

she was a volunteer for assemblyman ko’s campaign, but upon discovering that he was spreading fake news about his opposition, dan reported him to the authorities (i’m guessing not just the police but also the media) and became a whistleblower. assemblyman ko tried to buy her off with money, but she refused, so he attacked her where she’s most vulnerable instead — by using her family.

i’m not completely sure about this (please feel free to correct me!) but it’s either byeol is (1) the twins’ half-sister, or (2) their stepsister? it’s so hard to tell, especially since korean terms can get lost in translation in the process (i watch on netflix, if that helps). but anyway, sol and dan’s mom married someone who was abusing her, and in exchange for dan’s silence (and her fleeing), the husband signs a contract that he would stop hurting his wife.

so that’s the backbone of dan’s story. however, this still doesn’t answer a lot of things, like where seo byungju or lee manho fits into the equation, the whereabouts of their mom’s ex-husband, or why dan was sent into boston in the first place.

i usually don’t like theorizing, but i do have one: there is an ivy league school located just outside of boston — harvard. (it’s technically in cambridge but you know, i’m taking liberties here.) professor yang said in passing one episode that he thought he saw dan when he went to the school for a seminar or a talk or something. could it be that assemblyman ko offered her an education at a top school in exchange for her silence? it could explain why she gave it up all so easily. what if she took that topnotch education as a chance to prepare, so that when she came back, she had much stronger leverage to take assemblyman ko down, given the knowledge and network of connections she’ll have earned in that school?

the theory’s plausible but i might be overestimating assemblyman ko’s kindness — unless he’s insanely desperate, he might not give a damn about dan’s education. it actually benefits him more if she stayed uninformed, but still. let me know what you think about it.

yoo seungjae

in this episode, we learned a little bit more about how yoo seungjae was able to hack into the professors’ laptops, and they also confirmed some of our previous speculations about him: that his wife yujeong was an ob gyn, and so was he, and that they were trying for a baby. unfortunately, i find it all to be a bit lacking in substance. i was hoping we could get down to the nitty-gritty of why he did what he did.

i say this for one important reason: i don’t know about you guys, but i would never make such a stupid mistake in undergrad, let alone in law school. seungjae has gone to med school, so we know that he knows the repercussions of his actions. why would he go to such lengths? sure, he found an opening, he was tempted, and he took it. but he didn’t just do it once, he did it multiple times, and those offenses add up (hacking, stealing exam papers, and cheating). surely he must know that something like this can ruin careers even before they even start, and not only would he get kicked out of the school, he would also get blacklisted from the industry once he implicates himself. so we understand why he’s so hesitant to testify (especially now that his wife is pregnant).

but why did he do that in the first place? we could say he’s insecure about his skills, but he’s survived med school. how much harder could law school be for him? i just don’t think that the payoff is worth the risk. what must be so important for yoo seungjae to do all of this for? what does he get in return if he successfully pulls it off and gets straight As during his entire time in law school? who is he doing for?

i hope it runs deeper than just wanting a ‘good future’ for him and his wife and their baby or something — because he could just as easily do that as a doctor. there must be another reason he went into law.

still, though, and this is just a personal opinion, even if i did find out his entire backstory, there’s no way i could ever defend him. we see in the show how his guilt builds up (from observing how kang sol A studies so well, to his conversation with jeon yeseul in the hospital), but at this point there is no more excusing what he did. not that i ever condoned it in the first place.

we’re still in the dark about a lot of things regarding yoo seungjae. hopefully by the next episode, we get something. but until then, he is still a shady, shady man to me.

kang sol B

her screen time in this episode was short, but i still wanted to highlight her because she is pretty much a ticking time bomb.

she’s in a tight spot right now because even if she testifies about having seen the sugar packet, the prosecutor will just twist the argument by saying she colluded with a murderer just to cover up her plagiarism.

and now, seo jiho needs her help, probably for something related to his case with prosecutor jin. in exchange, she puts pressure on him to ‘confirm’ that she didn’t plagiarize in middle school, since they were schoolmates and rivals.

there may be more to this plagiarism issue than meets the eye. who knows, we might find out later on that she actually didn’t plagiarize? but given what i know now, i have no reason to believe that she didn’t. i don’t blame her specifically for that, seeing as she has to pay for the consequences for something that her awful mom forced her to do. but now that the mess has been made, i want to see how she cleans it up.

kang sol B is a very elusive character to me. the scary thing about her is that she’s on no one’s side but her own. and that’s why i think she’s a ticking time bomb.

~

bonus: han joonhwi

so that’s all i have for the serious stuff. as a bonus, i’d like to talk about han joonhwi and his four (4) children jeon yeseul, seo jiho, kang byeol, and min bokgi.

one of my friends brought up how it’s so funny how he’s somehow just at the right place at the right time all the time. this happened when he ran into kang sol A when she was looking for yeseul (i still think they were on the phone with each other beforehand but this is just my shipper self talking — truthfully, if the focus was shifted towards that phone call without divulging who it was, i have a feeling it might be more important later on), and when seo jiho confronted prosecutor jin. adding his elevator conversation with kang sol B, i think it just solidified what we already know: han joonhwi is a very compassionate person. but he doesn’t sacrifice his own personality just to appease them — he recognizes that these individuals have agency, and he’s just giving them the little push they need to make them realize what they need to do.

i also felt the need to bring up kang byeol. the show does such a good job of ensuring that all the solhwi scenes that we get, no matter how indulgent and “fanservice-y” they might seem, actually have a deeper purpose. again, i could go on and on about what each solhwi scene has actually contributed to the development of the plot, which is exactly why i love them so much! because all of their scenes are so meaningful. but anyway, it’s nice to see han joonhwi care so much for his, ehem, future sister-in-law.

and for min bokgi — this scene was so short, but i absolutely loved it so much (i tend to pay attention to the throwaway scenes): min bokgi is going off about how yoo seungjae is acting weird, and he says to joonhwi, “hyung, you should call him.” and joonhwi responds with, “sure. eat your food.” it’s such a fatherly thing to do and it’s such a great contrast to bokgi’s dynamic with sol A, with whom he’s so loud and vibrant, moods that both match their personalities, but with joonhwi, who is more subdued, he’s like a little kid in need of rescue from an older brother, or even a dad. ah, i love it so much. min bokgi is such an underrated character. i wish he had more screen time. (if he doesn’t get a central ep, well, you guys know where i’m going with this, right? it means i’ll give it to him myself.)

~

so that’s it for now! i’m sorry i went on rambling again, but if there’s anything noteworthy in this post that you think is worth discussing, please do tell! if there’s anything that you found thought-provoking in the episode that i didn’t get to touch up on, let me know as well!

i personally don’t make any theories about the overarching plot myself, seeing as by the time the new episode comes out, we get fed information that renders the theory useless. still, that doesn’t mean we should stop coming up with our own ideas. sometimes, the theories are more interesting than the canon itself.

[vaguely-concerned]

TF x Graves, 2500 words, complete and utter fluff

Stifling another yawn against the back of my hand I glance over at the window, which shows only the flat dark of a moonless night outside, before turning my eyes back to the line of T.F.’s naked back.

I’m already undressed and perched on the side of the bed, watching as T.F. is still in the middle of his nightly ritual of hanging or folding his fine clothes up all properly and neatly, lest they, I don’t know, unduly crease somewhere they ain’t meant to or somethin’. Listen, I keep my clothes in a pile on the floor by the side of the bed, right next to the shotgun, both within easy reach in the case of a middle-of-the-night emergency skipping of town. Our priorities in these matters don’t really intersect much, but to each his own and so on.

I don’t know why I’m waiting for him to come to bed to lie down myself, exactly — my eyes are already making a spirited attempt at staying shut on me whenever I blink, I’m pretty sure I’d be out and snoring in about three seconds once I got settled — but my skin has that thin restless thrum all through it that I know from experience won’t be satisfied until he’s settled into place against me and besides, the view is nothin’ to sneeze at in the meantime. He stands there shirtless, belt unbuckled and hanging loose around his narrow hips, though the fastenings of his trousers are still done up. In the light of the oil lamp across the room he’s in a rare state of relaxed unselfconscious disarray, his hair grown out long enough again that it spills over his shoulders and down his back while he fastidiously fastens the cufflinks back into place on the empty shirt so they’ll be easy to find in the morning. As he finishes up with the cufflinks he sings to himself under his breath, a good-natured jaunty little tune I vaguely remember the Brick would sometimes break out once you got a couple of drinks in him.

The hum under my skin grows higher and keener.

Stretching an arm out I hook my fingers into one of his belt loops and gently pull him in by it towards the side of the bed, until he’s standing between my legs. It prompts a half-bemused noise from him, but he goes along easily — when I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my forehead against his belly he seems to catch on, though, a sound of amusement vibrating through his chest.

He slides his hand to the back of my neck, twining his fingers into the short hair there, thumb trailing back and forth along the hairline.

T.F.’s too damned scrawny to have much in the way of padding anywhere, but there’s the warm body softness to him here nevertheless, the sweet yield and shift of a living thing whose pliancy belies the supple strength beneath. I rest my cheek against the flat of his stomach and sigh, moving my hand at the small of his back in slow caressing circles.

“Come to bed already,” I murmur, too sleep-softened along the edges to worry overmuch about makin’ sense.

He chuckles, fingers stroking through my hair. “Well, I was on my way, but then I was waylaid by some deplorable fellow in the process. Hell of a thing.”

I grin and turn my face up to him, so that my chin is resting against his belly and my lips brush his skin when I talk. “Huh. Sounds like a real shady character. You want a trustworthy sorta guy to escort you safely the rest of the way?”

“With such dangerous reprobates skulking around in the area, that’s probably for the best,” T.F. nods somberly, fond amusement deepening his voice. He runs his thumb down the bridge of my nose. “Could I afford to hire the services of a strapping upstanding gentleman like yourself, though?”

I make a nonchalant sound in my nose, squeezing him closer against me for a moment. “Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it, this one’s on the house.”

His thumb drifts down to rest at the upturned corner of my mouth as he grins back at me. “Hey, looks like it’s my lucky day.”

I kiss his stomach and lean back enough so I can start in on the fastenings of his trousers — not with any sort of heat behind it, there’s no hint of sex in the air, but in a weird way this is equally satisfying, the everyday-textured contentment of being close without any particular purpose, being the one to slowly render him naked in front of me for no other reason than that he lets me, his hands still smoothing patiently through my hair while I work.

Once I’ve got all the buttons sorted I run my thumb along the sharp edge of his hip bone until I can tuck it into the waist of his trousers and use it to tug them down. We get them about half-way down his thighs like that before we have to pause for him to shimmy out of them the rest of the way on his own, his hand resting on my shoulder for balance as he does the traditional one-legged hop to extricate his foot. Serves him right for only ever wearing pants that might as well have been painted onto him. I mean, not that I’m complainin’, mind.

“Whoa!” he says, laughing as he almost overbalances at the last hurdle, but my hand shoots out to steady him by the hip before too much disaster can be wrought. “Well, not the smoothest strip tease I’ve ever pulled off, sorry about the inconvenience.”

I nose at the newly revealed crease of his hip over the edge of his underwear. “Eh, that’s okay, if I actually wanted a proper show I’d just suggest a round of strip poker again and sit back and watch while you lose.”

“Oh, that’s a strange yet beautiful dream world you’ve made up for yourself there, Malcolm. It’s touching, really, the things the mind will do to protect itself from the truth. Positively — aah!”

T.F. jumps as I draw some of the skin of his hip between my lips and use them to nip sharply at it. His startled yelp turns into a snigger as I let go, possibly ruining the castigating effects somewhat when I brush my lips soothingly over that spot right after.

“Let that be a lesson to ya,” I say sternly.

“A lesson on what, that your mom was apparently half turtle?”

I grunt, still trailing soft kisses over his skin. “That judge in Piltover was right back then, you are an incorrigible menace to all decent and right-thinking people everywhere.”

“First of all, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Malcolm, thank you. Two, including yourself among the ‘decent and right-thinking’ feels like the invention of some fresh new form of fraud by way of imposture unfolding before my eyes, and it’s an honour. And third, that seems to me to be some very selective memory you have there, considering His Honour Judge Highton had some even more colourful words for you after you blew up the entire north wall of the court building breakin’ me out.”

“He might’ve been given to wearing a damn silly mop on his head, but you couldn’t fault him on his vocabulary,” I concede. Before that whole incident I’d honestly thought the wigs were some sort of practical joke the Pilties would play on gullible outsiders, but as it turns out no, if you get sent to jail in the twin cities they add the indignity of makin’ someone wearing a dead badger on their head break the bad news to you. It’s a strange ol’ world out there, alright. In Bilgewater, where people are much more sensible, the justice system basically boils down to the bounty board, or — if you’ve really managed to make a nuisance of yourself — a bunch of captains may call a temporary ceasefire with each other and go get your ass together. I’ve found that the risk of getting on the bad end of an unfair trial is about the same in both places, though of course the Bilgewater one tends to be harder to come back from if carried out to its fullest. I consider myself a bit of an expert in these things.

T.F. makes a thoughtful sound. “To be fair I don’t think anyone had ever given him cause or inspiration for profanity like you did.”

“Aw. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He leans down and kisses the top of my head before he straightens for long enough to work his second foot free as well, standing there in just the sleek silky underpants he somehow seems to have an endless fresh supply of wherever we go. (My money’s on some sinister underground ring of lingerie-oriented tailors across south-eastern Valoran, for the record; when it comes to secret societies the Noxians just can’t help themselves.)

“I do my best. Hang on just one moment, I’ll be right back,” he says and ruffles my hair before he turns around, which I would complain about except that the view is, as previously mentioned, impeccable, and I’m sleepy enough to be magnanimous.

After meticulously folding his trousers and leaving them with the rest of his clothes, T.F. moves over to the table across the room and extinguishes the oil lamp, then whistles under his breath as he produces a card from somewhere — he does this, seemingly from thin air and no matter how little he’s wearing; I prefer not to speculate too much about how, exactly — and lets a little magic into it so it gives off a low glow, only enough to light his way the short walk back across the room, ‘cause in T.F.’s world the stubbing of toes and smacking of shins against unexpected furniture in the dark is somethin’ that happens to other people. That probably says some things about him I’m not ready to go puzzlin’ out at this time of night, and that he wouldn’t want to have anyone go puzzlin’ about too hard in the first place anyway.

When I hold out my hand for him in the dark he smiles and takes it, twining our fingers together, and I use the hold to tug him in and deposit him, in a neat controlled wrestler’s roll held close against me as I lay down, to his side of the bed. He laughs again at that, a surprised delighted sound that edges dangerously close to a giggle but hey, I ain’t no snitch, so who’s gonna testify against him, huh?

The card ends up on the far side of his pillow after the tumble, still giving off a glow, enough to illuminate the bed and lend the shadows around it some warmth. It makes the bed seem a small cozy island, the rest of the world rendered a not-unfriendly ocean of darkness around it.

T.F. looks at me like the world’s most contented castaway, bourgeoning crow’s feet punctuating his smile on either side and fingers still linked with mine. His hair is mussed from the meandering fall onto the bed. If I were only fractionally less about five seconds away from fallin’ asleep, my body might start to get ideas about it. Well, tomorrow is always another day.

With the back of my free hand I brush some of his hair away from his brow, and he cranes into it like a well-pleased cat. Even with the blankets tangled around our feet and the not-quite-right positions we’ve ended up in, having tumbled into place rather than settled ourselves with purpose, everything feels warm and loose and comfortable, like I could fall asleep like this even with the decidedly odd angle my arm is at.

As if sensing that the drowsiness is about to claim me for real, T.F. brings our linked hands up to his face so he can press his lips to my scarred knuckles before he lets go, then reaches to pull the covers over us, taking a moment to tuck the blanket around my shoulder properly before snuggling under it himself, hooking his leg over my thigh as he settles into place. I shift until we fit together, the familiarity of how to rest against each other just right comfortable like an old and well-loved piece of clothing. On a sigh he rests our foreheads together, craning forward the tiny amount needed to brush our mouths together and humming contentedly when I meet him there. It’s a slow kiss, but it lingers, a dry sweet press of lips like one last spark sending the day off down into the gently drifting murk of sleep that’s about to claim me for a few hours.

When it ends — I don’t think either of us was really the first to pull back, at some point the kiss simply, in the way of snowflakes on tongues, melted into something different and less defined with the warmth — there’s a moment when my eyes can still fight against slipping shut. It’s weird, the way you can look at someone every day for years and still not feel like you’ve had your fill. T.F.’s sharp narrow face, his high pointy little cheekbones and mouth still curved with a smile as he watches me back — there’s something to knowing I’m gonna see all that again tomorrow morning that all the damn money on Runeterra couldn’t get you. And take it from me, from what I’ve seen of the world there ain’t a lot of things in this life enough money won’t buy. Stumbling across one of them long before we even knew what we had, by a stroke of little more’n dumb fucking luck… sometimes it feels like the biggest heist we ever pulled.

“Hey, Tobias?” I say, brushing the tip of my nose against his as my eyelids finally give up both the battle and the war and slide closed.

“Hmmm?” he says, cheerfully drowsy as well.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur, because I can’t think of any damn happier thing in the world to say to him.

He wraps his arms around me, his hand stroking meanderingly up and down the scar-crossed span of my back, fingers trailing over my skin with the perfect amount of firmness because he’s taken the time to learn exactly how much pressure it takes to make it comforting. As sleep starts pulling me under to calmer depths I tuck my head under his chin, so my face is pressed to the line of his throat and to his chest. He smells so nice, all warmly real and well-known like my own breathing.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees on a yawn, nuzzling at the top of my head and tightening his arms around me, just for a moment.

I've been trying to write stuff -- literally just anything, no matter how meandering and nonsensical -- to try to break out of a writer's block; it's not really working so far but at least I've got SOMETHING tangible to show for it at the end of the day, so, you know, uh... partial success I guess?? haha

The idea of T.F. having a judge somewhere out there who considers him the One True Nemesis of his career, J. Jonah Jameson style, even though T.F. barely even remembers his name, came from a wonderful conversation with @inversway, and the idea makes me laugh so hard every time I think about it.

ETA: Also put this on AO3, so I have somewhere to put these ficlets that isn't just tumblr! I'm grimly clinging on to this blue hellsite like a obstinate barnacle to the hull of the Titanic, but I do realize it's not the best place to archive uh anything lol

[flying-nightwing]

Sparks Must Fly to Start a Fire (1/2)

(spongebob theme voice) Are ya ready kids? OoooOooh, who keeps updating in the middle of the night? That-lit-tle-bitch!

Hey guys! I was supposed to do one chunky fic but uhhhh I decided to split it in two so (1) you can have it sooner and (2) not have to pay attention for 10k+ words because I’m there guys and it’s not over (doing this for my ADHD people lmao where y’all at). So yeah. I’m having mad fun with that one, I can’t seem to stop typing. All the tropes, people. All of them. For y’all. Can’t say I’m never doing anything for you (ok I might be trying to make up for the recent heartbreaks I caused). Stay tuned for more juicy stuff in part 2, and as always, enjoy 💕💕 

Masterlist in bio // pinned

Requested: Yes (anon)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 5477

Warnings: Language, violence.

Summary: When you make a move against your family, a known associate of big crime syndicates in Gotham, you find yourself in a precarious position of danger. Luckily, your new collaborator Bruce Wayne got an idea to keep you safe, which might not please the people involved. 

Note: In this house we stan flawed characters with room to grow (also Jason is bratty af in this but I swear it makes sense in these circumstances)

Day 1

“... For now, no assumptions can be made on the nature of the disappearance. No ransom note was sent to the family, according to the phone interview with the mother conducted by Gotham News, but the possibility of a money related kidnapping is not out of the question...”

Jason turned down the radio as he pulled into the driveway of the manor. He hadn’t been there in a while, but Bruce’s call sounded somewhat urgent. Usually, he would laugh in his face and hang up before he could even begin explaining himself. But a recent conversation he had kind of kicked him in the butt to at least try and rebuild some sort of family links with his adoptive father and brothers. He had been the last he reached out to, but he got there. And he knew he would have to be the bigger person at some point, so he agreed to hear Bruce out this time.

He pulled his sunglasses and let them hang on his t-shirt, adjusting his leather jacket, before getting out of his car. He walked around it and jogged up the stairs, looking at the empty space where Alfred used to greet him. He probably didn’t count on him showing up, so he didn’t waste his time waiting by the door. Either that, or the stain he left on the family was one of the permanent kind and he was more or less welcome home now. He told himself he didn’t care, but deep down, he prayed it wasn’t the latter. 

Coming in, he immediately heard the low chatter from the foyer. He walked there, announcing his presence by the groaning of the heavy wooden doors. The conversation quieted down, and Bruce stood up. However, he paid him little attention as his eyes instantly found the second party, looking immaculate in black and white designer clothes, and the more he looked, the more his eyes narrowed.

However, you didn’t back down. You held the stare of the man who stuck out in the decor like a sore thumb, but seemed comfortable enough in his environment to show he did, in fact, belong here in his own way. 

“Why the fuck is Vitto Maroni’s wife doing in your living room?”

While Bruce looked both embarrassed and pissed at the lack of manners, you simply raised an eyebrow. “Fiancée”

“Yeah whatever” He brushed you off, now giving his entire attention to Bruce. “What the fuck?”

“We need to talk”

“Ya think?” He was unsettled, shifting his glance back and forth between Bruce and you. You crossed your arms against your chest, unimpressed by his display of whatever he was doing. 

“Come and sit” Bruce invited, but it sounded more like a disguised order. The younger man just stood there in defiance. “Jason”

He didn’t move, so Bruce sat back down with a tired sigh. This exchange seemed like it was a common occurrence rather than a sudden act of rebellion. 

“Fine, stay there” He mumbled. “Jason, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), meet my son Jason”

“Adopted” He corrected almost instantly. “And I know who she is. By the way, the whole city’s looking for her, just so you know-- Wait did you kidnap her?”

“I’m right there” You waved sarcastically, annoyed at the fact he was talking like you weren’t even in the room. “And do I look like I’m here against my will?”

He gave you a sneer. 

“Jason, stand down” Bruce warned, but it didn’t seem to have much effect on Jason. “She’s here because she just dropped an important number of explicitly incriminating documents on the whereabouts of crime families in Gotham to Gordon, putting herself in a dangerous position by doing so”

“Congratulations on doing something morally right” He gave you a cold smile. “The precinct is that way, we aren’t a security company”

“You aren’t really bright are you?” You tilted your head, ignoring Bruce’s slow, tired closing of his eyes. Jason looked insulted. “All the GCPD cops beside Gordon and maybe one or two idiots fall under the paycheck of a big family. When they trace back the leak to me, and they will, I become fair game. It would be better not to be surrounded by cops when it blows out”

“Poor little girl” He mocked. “I bet--”

“Enough!” Bruce’s voice was loud enough to bring both of your attention to him. “Jason, I’ve seen the documents, and it will be strong enough to deal a blow to the crime family they won’t easily recover from. We’re talking here bank statements, fund transfer receipts, contracts, everything to build a solid case”

Jason took a deep breath, but still sent you a quick glare. “Go on”

“My side of the family isn’t strong enough to come out of a trial with the information I provided” You explained calmly, mirroring his behaviour. “It means prison for my father, brothers, uncles, cousins, all of them, and since I leaked, nobody will want to bail them out and associate with the family of a traitor”

“What about the Maroni side?”

You held his expectant stare, knowing it was the information he wanted to hear. You weren’t sure he would like it, though, seeing how he reacted for everything else. “Well, that really depends on me”

The suspicion in his eyes returned before you could blink. “How so?”

“The evidence will definitely not be sufficient to even convict them, they will worm out of this without much of a hassle...” You paused, sending a quick glance at Bruce. “... But if I testify, it might just be enough to bridge the evidence I got to the Maroni, or a part of the family anyway”

“Okay…” He trailed off. “Then just do that? What’s stopping you?”

“Well first off, the trial will take time to set” You began, and he still looked at you like he didn’t see the problem. You sighed. “I need to stay alive to testify. Fair game, remember? If they get me first it’s over”

“What do you even want us to do about this?”

You slid your glance again to Bruce, expectantly this time. Jason looked in between you two, and his face slowly fell at the realization of what was happening, and of why he was really there. 

“No”

“Hear me out” Bruce entered negotiating mode like it was a second nature to him. You observed the exchange closely and with interest. “We can’t afford to let this opportunity go. This is big, Jason”

“Yeah, I know” His tone was anything but understanding. “But it doesn’t change the fact we’re not a fucking security company”

“You think the idea of the back-from-the-dead Wayne son keeping me alive brings me joy?” You argued. Bruce had told you a priori that his son had experience in security type of jobs, but you were beginning to doubt the extent of his professionalism. 

“I wouldn’t expect it to” Here came the sarcastic comment once again. “Why can’t you ask another one of your soldiers?”

Bruce flinched ever so slightly, in an almost impossible way to notice. But you did. “For personal reasons you already know”

“And you thought my reasons were different rules?” He challenged.

“You’re the one who is the most familiar with patterns and comportment of criminal families” Bruce explained. “You don’t have to familiarize yourself with systems, m.o., anything, which leaves way less space for mistakes others would make”

Jason remained silent.

“Please”

The both of them kept staring at each other in a silent conversation. The silence was uncomfortable, so you rolled your eyes and grabbed your hand bag, pulling out a wad of cash. You slammed it on the coffee table and pushed it towards Jason, effectively grabbing his attention. 

“That’s five thousand dollars upfront, which you get to have now” You said with a sigh. “There’s two more like these once I make it through the trial”

“So now you’re trying to buy me?” He asked, glaring at the money like it was the plague. “Dirty money is dirty money, so what is stopping me from just taking it out of your stupid Gucci handbag and call it a day?”

You had to smile, although it was far from sincere and friendly. “You think I’d keep it all here on me? I’m not an amateur”

“Oh boy” Bruce intervened again. “Let’s not get carried away, please. There is an important matter at hands”

“Fine” He finally conceded. “But you owe me a big one, Bruce. I’ll make it count”

“I didn’t expect any less” He replied in a neutral tone, but there was relief in his posture.

“What’s the game plan here?” Jason crossed his arms against his chest. “So the princess here doesn’t die on me and puts it on my fault”

“I am very sorry for his behaviour” Bruce apologized to you. 

“No worries, I’m used to dealing with that kind of attitude” You smiled at him, before returning your hardened glance to Jason. He made a face at you, subtly enough not to warrant another intervention.

“I think the best plan would be to move constantly, never staying in one place more than two or three days at the time” Bruce resumed. “Ideally, put as much distance from Gotham as you can, without either straying too far so you can come back quick if the trial is rushed”

“Which will be most likely the case” You pitched in. “They’ll know I’ll be hiding, and they’ll try to make it as hard as possible for me to come back on time. That is still if a bullet doesn’t find me first”

“So we move you frequently enough they won’t have the time to locate you” He hummed. “Alright. Then let’s go, before I change my mind”

“Reassuring” You breathed out, standing up with your handbag. However he was still standing in the way, unmoving. “Aren’t we going?”

“Not dressed like that, no”

“What’s wrong with this?” You frowned.

He gave you a smirk. “Your little Versace outfit is an attention magnet” He pointed at your clothes. “Add this to your missing person profile, they’ll get you in less than 24 hours whether or not I’m involved. You’ll have to dress like a commoner, princess”

This is ridiculous, you thought. You glanced at Bruce for support, but he refused to meet your eyes, tilting his head from side to side. If anyone should back you up, it was Mister Armani Suit currently sitting to your right.

“He has a point” He admitted, and your jaw slightly dropped. “You’ll have to lay low”

“This-- This is tailored!” It was truly your last argument, and it made Jason snort. 

“I don’t care” He shrugged. “I’m sure Grayson still has some things around and won’t mind if you help yourself”

You grimaced, but still followed Jason around the hallways of the manor. His steps were suspiciously light, letting you know he enjoyed this way too much. You should have seen it coming by reacting the way you did to the idea of a considerable downgrade of clothes. You opened the door way too wide and he barged in like he owned the place.

This would be a long, long not-so-vacation.

He finally reached a room, which had been left mostly empty except for furniture. You could see nobody had been there in a while by the lack of personal items beside a few pictures and little items. He rummaged through drawers, pulling out t-shirts and pants.

“You’re lucky Grayson liked tight clothing” He shouted above his shoulder, knowing you were in the threshold waiting for your self inflicted doom. “This might just fit”

He threw you the pile of clothing, half of which fell onto the ground. Yet, you could clearly see that it was only t-shirts, jeans and sweatpants. You gulped as he gestured to the bathroom door, showing you the way. You reluctantly went in and carefully took off your clothes, still planning on taking them with you just in case. 

“Oh my god” You muttered as you slipped the rough cotton over your head. The poor quality of the material was screaming against your skin. It was large enough to swallow your frame, but you managed to tweak it in a knot like you had seen so many fashion bloggers do before. You never thought you’d be the one who’d have to do it, though Then came the pants, whose rather skinny cut you were thankful for. It was still somewhat large, but it could have been worse. The waist was still a problem, however. But you grabbed a belt from your bag and called it an outfit--a sorry excuse of an outfit but an outfit nevertheless. 

You came back in the bedroom, only to be met with a raised eyebrow. You halted your step, unsure of what to do under his close scrutinization. You felt way less powerful and invulnerable now that your twelve thousand dollars shell was gone, and to make it worse, his expression revealed nothing. He took a good minute before he spoke.

“The belt” He said, but you knew what it meant. He wanted you to get rid of your last lifeline.

“No”

“Yes”

“I’ll lie and say it’s a fake” You compromised, but he still didn’t look convinced. “Look at how I’m dressed, they won’t even consider it’s a real”

“Hmm, alright” He nodded slowly. “I’ll let it slide this time”

You didn’t add anything else as you went to the pile of clothes you had left on the floor, and began packing them in your handbag. You thought it was a crime to put a five dollars shirt in a 5k bag, but you didn’t have much of a choice. 

“How much stuff do you have in there?” He called from behind you. “That thing is huge”

“I have enough” You replied cryptically, to which he muttered something no doubt sarcastic under his breath. You had a rotation of underwear, two full outfits and your essentials, and now you added three t-shirts, a pair of jeans and a pair of sweatpants. It was getting pretty full. “It’s very practical”

“Sure” He drawled out. “Will this be a fake too?”

“Gotta commit to the counterfeit gimmick, right?” You said as you turned around. He shrugged. “Are we good to go now?”

“Sure thing, princess”

You bit your lips not to yell at him anymore and followed him to his car. You put your bag on the backseat, which was surprisingly clean, and got it on the passenger seat. Jason got behind the wheel and started to drive down the driveway, until he pulled over on the side of the road. Before you could ask what was going on, he pulled a gun from nowhere and pressed the barrel under your jaw. 

“I don’t know what’s your game here, but for your sake I better hope that's exactly what you sold back there” He spoke in a slow, menacing tone. You weren’t moving, but you held the stare down contest anyway. “If this is a scheme to hurt my family, or screw Gotham over even more, I swear the Maronis won’t be the ones you’ll need to hide from”

“You’re not the first man to put a gun to my head and threaten me, so don’t think you can intimidate me that way” You spat back, teeth clenched and venom in your voice. Whatever he expected from your answer, it wasn’t that. “If I tried to play you, there would be a hundred better ways to do so, so lower the fucking gun”

Slowly, the cold metal left your skin, followed by the distinct click of the safety. You controlled the sigh of relief that silently left you, so he wouldn’t know how much your breath was truly trembling on the inside. It’s not because you had been in that situation before that it was any less scary.

Without so much as another glance in your direction, he pressed down the gas pedal and sped away from the manor.

Day 2

You had been on the road for more than thirty hours when Jason finally pulled into the driveway of a remote cabin, far from any passing road.

You were tired and sore despite the little sleep you had gotten, making you wonder how he hadn’t crashed the car yet. Beside rare gas and bathroom breaks--usually done at the same time--he hadn’t stopped at all. However, it showed in the quiet sigh that he was relieved to finally not need to channel his attention on the road. He got out of the car, not bothering to talk at all to you. It had been like that for the entire way, silent except for the one or two “are you hungry” grunts at gas breaks. The only sound in the car had otherwise been the steady rotation of the CDs laying around.

You got out of the car at your turn and stretched. It felt good on your muscles after all that time sitting, and you didn’t want to think about how this would be your routine for an undetermined time. However, you were kind of glad you did not have on your usual clothes for this one, and rather something large and breathing. You would never admit it out loud, however. 

You grabbed your bag from the backseat and followed Jason inside. The cabin was small, consisting of a kitchen area, a cluttered desk, a bookshelf, a bed and a half bathroom. 

“Where are we?” You asked as he dropped the keys on the desk. You just hoped he hadn’t changed his mind and took you here to murder you, or something.

“Safe house” He replied. “I have maps here. I’ll draw a more tactical trajectory before we start moving for real”

“Okay…”

“I’d say you can take the couch, but…” He trailed off, looking smug as he threw himself on the bed, gesturing at the empty, couchless space and shrugging in mock apology. “Sleep on the floor for all I care”

“I’m not sleeping on the floor” You rebutted, eyebrows furrowed. Who did he think he was?

“Outside then?” His eyes widened slightly in appreciation. “Even better, good idea”

You stood there glaring at him, sprawled out with his hands behind his head. I’ll make that smirk drop from your stupid face, you thought as an idea to piss him off ever more crossed your mind. You dropped your bag on the floor, and with a confident pace, went straight for the bed. Before he could protest or sit up, you crawled in the empty spot at his right.

“Hey what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He threw his hands up in indignation, like you had just tried to stab him. 

“Nobody treats me like a dog” You hissed. “Get used to it”

“You’re not sleeping in my bed” He argued, but he was still visibly stunned by your bold action.

“Why not?” You said as you turned to face him.

“I-- It’s MY bed!” He stumbled on his childish reply. “MY rules!”

“What are you gonna do, threaten to shoot me again?” 

His flinch was so subtle you almost missed it. But just like Bruce before, you still caught it. 

“Fine” He finally gave in, jaw clenched. “But if you take too much space, I’m pushing you off”

“It’s a queen size, you big baby. You’ll be fine” You snapped as you turned again, this time to show him your back.

You closed your eyes in the hope of catching up on your well needed sleep. It had been a wild 48 hours for you, and you had been left exhausted like you had never been. Your eyelids were heavy and the bed seemed more comfortable now than it probably was, lulling you into the arms of morpheus. But Jason had other ideas, as you could both hear and feel him moving around and changing his position every five seconds or so. You were pretty sure he was doing it on purpose, especially when you felt his arm hit the back of your head. Grinding your teeth together, you forced yourself to take deep breaths.

After fifteen minutes of him not being able to stand still, you finally had enough. You had to do something that would stun him again long enough for you to fall asleep and tune out his antics. So you sat up without a word and took off your belt, then pushed your jeans off. He had stopped moving, but it wasn’t enough. You straight up pulled off your shirt and tossed it on the floor, leaving you in your bra and underwear. You caught a glimpse of his agape expression when you laid back again on the bed and brought the covers to your shoulders, and took the opportunity to fall asleep without a hassle. 

---

The next time you opened your eyes, daylight was engulfing the cabin. You stirred awake with a groan, not knowing how many hours you had slept. But you felt well rested, so it was all that mattered really. 

“Look who’s finally awake”

You lifted your head from the bed, still only half aware of what was going on. Jason wasn’t in the bed anymore, instead he was sitting at the desk and working on it. His back was to you, and by the looks of it, he had no intention to turn around either. 

“Whutaymist?”

His head slowly lifted. “What?”

“I said” You repeated, clearer this time. You admitted your mumbling might have been hard to understand. “What time is it?”

“Twenty past two” He answered. “Congratulations, you slept a whole fourteen hours. You win nothing”

“Well good morning to you too” You muttered, rolling your eyes. “What’s for breakfast?”

“I’m not your fucking maid” His tone was flat and stern. Still, he gestured to the kitchen counter. Your eyes followed his hand to see a single, unopened can of soup.

“Canned soup? Seriously?” 

“Hey, be my guest not to eat it” He said with his usual sarcasm. “If you die of starvation, that’s one less problem for me”

“You would like that too much, wouldn’t you” You bit back, sitting up and throwing your legs to the side. You didn’t miss how his shoulder tensed the second you pushed the covers off, reminding you of your lack of clothing. You didn’t care however, as you just walked across the cabin to get to your bag. You grabbed a fresh pair of underwears, a t-shirt and the pair of sweatpants, which you decided you’d wear strictly on days you weren’t moving around. 

You weren’t emotionally ready to be seen in public with sweatpants.

You decided to take a quick shower, with cold water as you brutally discovered seconds later. You could just see the satisfied grin on Jason’s lips as you squealed in surprise at the sudden extreme temperature. Still, you went through with it just to prove you could. You hurried to dry yourself and your hair with a towel in a cupboard, then dressed up again with the same tricks you had used on your last makeshift outfit. Except this time, the belt was the drawn strings of the pants. 

“How was the shower?” He asked smugly when you came out, still working over his desk with his back to you. “Hope it wasn’t too cold”

“It was just perfect, actually” You answered just as smugly, and that was enough to make him turn his head toward you. “Cold water is amazing for the hair and skin”

It looked like he was waiting for you to crack and admit it was in fact too cold, but you only gave him a serene smile. He huffed and went back to whatever he was doing. You walked to the kitchen and began searching for a pot for the soup, certainly that would come handy, then grabbed a spoon and a bowl to put beside the stove. You however paused at the can itself, not sure where to go from now. You tried prying the top of the can open, to undo the label and see if there was something under to open it, then looked around for anything that could help you.

“You don’t know how to open a can, do you?” 

You jumped at the sound of Jason’s, but also from it being way closer than the desk. You spun around to see him leaning on a cupboard, a mocking expression on his face.

“Well, I’ve never done this before” You defended, folding your arms against yourself. He pushed himself from the cupboard and went straight to the second drawer on your left, pulling out a strange device and handing it to you. “What do you want me to do with that?”

“Open the can” 

“It looks like it’s meant for torture”

“It really isn’t”

You rolled your eyes and began to figure this all out. You tried it one way, then the other, accidentally pinched your finger on the handles and dropped the can about four times on the counter. You stopped for a moment, sighing in defeat. Still, you observed the mechanism closer, then back at the can, then back to the can opener. Surely, the little dented wheels had to go on the edge of the can…

Next time you tried it, it worked. 

You were so taken by the fact that you had figured out how to open a can almost by yourself that you hadn’t noticed Jason coming into your space. When you did notice it though, you took a step back. You still couldn’t read his expression, but if there was one thing you were sure of, it wasn’t a positive kind of invasion of your bubble. You picked warning signals from him and it made you recoil on yourself. He looked a whole other kind of dangerous like that, and it kind of reminded you of the people you were used to having around you. Not quite, but close.

“Did you use my shampoo?”

You squared up your shoulder, not about to let him try and intimidate you once again. “Yes”

He remained there for a moment, like he was trying to either stare into your soul, scare you off or hold back a fart. It could be either, you weren’t actually sure. 

“I don’t like when people take my stuff,” He said. “Especially without asking me first”

“Fine” You huffed. “Do I have the permission from His Majesty the King not to smell like a dumpster?”

He narrowed his eyes, but backed off. “Eat your goddamn soup” He turned around and walked back to his desk. “And don’t burn the cabin doing so!”

Day 5

“I don’t understand this store”

After leaving the cabin, Jason agreed to make a quick stop at Target to grab snack supplies and more fitting clothes for you. First of all because he wanted to avoid a redo of the underwear in bed incident, and also because he realized moving around with unfitting men’s clothes might bring another type of unwanted attention. His goal was for you to look normal, and while it did the trick better than designer clothes by a landslide, it still looked slightly off. 

“What don’t you understand?” He asked back on a condescending tone. “It’s a store”

“You buy clothes, groceries and hygiene supplies at the same place?” You frowned, looking down at the two pairs of jeans and few monochrome shirts you had picked from the racks. There was also a pajama set there with shampoo and shower gel, plus a pair of new running shoes with ankle socks, and a travel bag to put everything you had. Your Gucci bag was getting too full for all of that.  “Why?”

“Welcome to the normal world, princess” He replied, disinterested. “People don’t have the time or money to go to specialized store for everything”

“Hmm” You hummed, watching him throw packs of cashews and beef jerky in the cart. He picked some more things, including water bottles and energy drinks, anything that seemed appealing to him and never asking you for your opinion. Honestly, you didn’t expect him to at this point, and besides, none of these snacks seemed appealing to you.

After a while of Jason lazily pushing the cart around, you noticed it was the third time you went past the potato chips row. He didn’t seem bothered, but you could see a small tension in his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” You asked, thinking it was his way to waste your time. 

“We’re being followed” He whispered back, grabbing your shoulder before you could turn around and take a peek. “Don’t look!”

“Sorry jeez” You breathed, shaking off your shoulder from his grip.

“About fifteen feet behind us” He explained. “If that guy wanted honey mustard pretzel bites, he would have taken them the first two times he checked them”

From the corner of your eyes, you spotted the man in question. He was wearing a black leather jacket and sunglasses inside, and was very obviously pretending to read the back of the bag. Jason nodded at you to keep walking, and the man followed from his careful distance. 

“Would you relax for two minute?” He hissed at you. “If you look like you have a broomstick shoved up your ass, he’ll know we spotted him”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” You replied in the same tone. “I might die in the next minutes in a fucking Target, even irony is mocking me now”

“You won’t die” His eyes were casted forward, like he’d strangle you if he looked at you. “Just--Just walk to the registers like a human being, I’ll deal with him once we’re outside”

You didn’t answer that, only followed him to the self checkout registers. At least you could hide behind his huge frame as he scanned the items one by one, calm and collected like nothing was happening. The sketchy man was on the farthest register from you, checking out his bag of pretzels. Jason finally paid and took the bag, shoving it in your hands. For once, you didn’t complain about his lack of manners and walked a brisk pace out of the store. You were parked in a deserted end of the lot, yet, the man did not change his course. He was set on you. 

You had reached the car when you noticed Jason was, in fact, gone. He was not beside you anymore, leaving you completely open. Fear gripped your heart as the footsteps behind you grew louder and stopped too close to comfort. You shut your eyes tight for a moment, knowing this would be the end for you. You heard the safety of a gun click, and you gulped.

“Vitto Maroni sends his regards”

Then the gun fired, the distinct sound of a muffled shot by a silencer going off. However, you didn’t feel pain, or fall on the ground. Instead, you heard a thud behind you and your eyes popped open. You turned around to see Jason leaning over the unmoving form of the man sent to kill you.

“viTto mArOni sEnDs hiS rEgArDs” He mocked, kicking the guy. “Dumbass. Can’t even watch his five”

“Where did you go?!” You yelled, as it was the only thing you could say in the fall of your anxious state. 

He raised his gun and gave you an incredulous stare. “Uh, you’re welcome?”

“You left me alone!”

“Come on, get in the car, we need to get out of there” He sighed, gesturing to the door. You didn’t argue, but you knew you weren’t done. You climbed in the passenger seat and waited until he was far enough from the store.

“So I am the bait now?” Your shouting fest resumed. “What if he had fired before you did?”

“First of all, you became the bait yourself when you decided to air your family’s dirty laundry” He pointed out, not fazed at all by your outburst. “Second, he was a dumbass. He didn’t even take precaution when I disappeared on him, and he didn’t see me round the car and come up behind. And third, nobody shoots before me”

“That’s a bold risk to take” You raised your eyebrows in challenge. He eyed you up and down and shrugged.

“Meh, I’m fine with it”

“I could have died!”

“But did you?” 

“No”

“Then case closed” He smiled smugly. “You let me worry about your security detail, and you shut your mouth and appreciate it, ‘kay?”

You huffed and crossed your arms against your chest in a defensive position, sinking into your seat further. Your eyes were dead set on the passing trees outside, mad you almost died, but mostly, mad you thought Jason had abandoned you to die.

[popculturebuffet]

Nightmare Time Episode 1 Review: The Hatchetfield Ape-Man/Watcher World

I take a look at the first episode of Starkid’s new show Nightmare Time! Starkid, returns for a zoomcast, bringing back the casts of both Hatchefield plays for an anthology series of science fiction double feature picture shows! This week’s tales of terror:

The Hatchefield Ape-Man: A british heiress gets romanced by a shaved bigfoot with the help of everyone’s favorite kooky college professor. Forgotten fiances, murder and described nudity naturally insue. 

Watcher World: Bill and Alice return as Bill drags his daughter to a kitschy theme park for a day of family fun, which Alice enjoys and is as respectful about as much as you’d expect. As you’d also expect given Bill’s general luck, things take a turn for the Shining real quick. Spoilers and full review under the cut. 

Well this was a nice suprise. With the ongoing pandemic I genuinely did not think Starkid would be back anytime soon. Having just gotten back into them this years after several years of forgetting they existed via the Hatchetfield plays, I was pretty bummed, if understanding. So last week’s announcment of not only this series but a full scripted series from their sister production company the tin bros was a HUGE shot of happy I needed in this troubling times. Still need to watch spies are forver love the soundtrack nto important. 

Point is the Lang Brothers and their merry band of actors found a way to continue on via  format I didn’t realize existed outside of table reads but is a nice way to do things: The Zoomcast, basically a podcast done live on zoom, with the actors in plainclothes for the most part, with one person, in this case Nick Lang, reading out descriptions of what’s going on. Being a starkid production this also has musical director Matt Bohm playing accompaniment and pretaped if still via the actor’s own camera musical numbers. Overall while i’ts an understandably cheap production, only what costumes the actors have on hand and most props mimed, it WORKS, allowing for way more elaborate set pieces than the stage would allow and is anchored by Lang’s impeccable descriptions and the cast’s amazing as always acting really making the stories pop.  So things worked on a technical level despite having the barest of bones to work with. But did it work on a story level? Well yes, but if I ended my reviews with just that i’d have less than the 3 or 4 fans I do have, so without further ado, it’s nightmare time! The Intro: 

Now normally in my reviews I don’t talk about the intro because I come in mid way or because I just didn’t think to. This is an exception since 

A) I should be doing that anyway or at least when I cover a show’s first episode since intro’s are sometimes one of the most memorable parts of a show 

B) It’s a full musical number that’s been stuck in my head since the trailer for this series and has now set up an apartment there.  C) This series is a musical, if not to the same degree as the two plays before it, so it’d be weird NOT to talk about it’s signature song. 

So with that out of the way the intro.. is fucking impressive. Seriously taking disparate videos with probably as much as the directions “Sing this part of the song and be kind of creepy or alluring or whatever” and making it really flow? Good work, both to the starkids for bringing their a game to it as always and to Nick and Matt really did a good job   editing this together, musically and visually to be an abolute jawdrop. And somehow finding utterly stunning stock image animations that none of us realized were stock footage but still fit the tone perfectly. Just great stuff.  Some stray notes: Mariah is absolutely stunning in both voice and apperance in this, John Matheson’s bit as paul was great, and Jeff Blim of course got a great bit with his always astounding hair blowing in the breeze with him at full high pitch. Just an utterly great intro, and for Starkid’s first series in over a decade, and really ever but semantics, they really brought it. Good stuff. Onto the actual episode content. 

The Hatchetfield Ape-Man: Lucy, a british heiress played by Angela Giarratana, was saved by the legendary “Hatchefield Ape-Man”.. who apparently has a hyphen like spider-men because while sasquatches can do that. Point is she’s come back every year in the hopes of reuniting with her savior but has so far failed.  But as Lucy prepares to leave from this year’s failed expedition, an old friend finally gives her what she needs... old friend to us to her she’s just some grey haired lunatic who showed up out of the mist. Which while accurate, dosen’t quite quantify everyone’s favorite playwright/college professor/murderous psychopath/composer.

Yes at long last Professor Hidgens has returned! I honestly didn’t expect the anthology to bring in such a huge fan faviorite so soon. I mean I expected returning characters, mostly because the project allows old faviorites to come back for their own stories or for the stars of the musicals to get a chance at a much happier ending... there’s a lot of potetial there. That and let’s face it “Jane’s a Car” is a pretty dead giveaway it’s going to be about Tom’s dead wife and Tim’s dead mother coming back in horrible mash up of christine and my mother the car. Maybe. I could be wrong. I also doubt many of you know what my mother the car is and to that I say it’s an old sitcom i’m honestly suprised I know exists and know nothing about other than the title and it being about a son’s mom’s ghost possesing his car apparently. Well that and it was the basis for this. 

Point is, while I expected some returns, I wasn’t expecting one this large and this bombastic so soon, but BOY was it welcome.  So getting back on track after all that, HIdgens seemingly takes Lucy to meet her ape man, who goes by the name Klonk, played by everyone’s faviorite sexy caveman Joey Richter. Also it’s adorable he and Lauren share a streaming screen. I know practicality and all that but their engagment is genuinely a sweet thing to hear about at a time when the world’s going down the toilet fast. Fun Fact: I pegged the Ape-Man was either going to be Jeff or Joey, leaning towards Jeff, though given my love of Joey I wasn’t disapointed with him, especially with the twist... but I was EXASTIC to learn the answer was basically “Both.. kinda?”. But yeah Lucy soon bonds with the ape man, with HIdgens encouraging her since it’s more than he’s gotten out of Klonk in 11 months of looking after the guy, and this way they can get him to learn enough to decide what he wants for himself. 

So a few months, and some romantic bonding between woman and ape-man, pass but a wrench is thrown into Klonk’s wooing and attempt to tell lucy he loves her: Jonathan, Lucy’s just now mentioned fiance and royal dickhead played by Kurt Mega. And credit where it’s do whlie he clearly didn’t have to dress up, he did have a nice 50′s monster movie british person suit he put on.  Lucy is now conlficted and what not even though Jonathan is kind of an asshole who just wants to drag her back home. And i’ts not like Lucy didn’t keep in touch: she sent him texts and probably called, so i’ts not like he didn’t know she was here. He’s also a hunter for extra dick points as if he needed them.  Naturally when meeting his romantic rival he’s a dick.. but raises some valid questions: While Hidgens claim he shaved Konk due to lesions, there’s no mark of lesisons or the shaving. But his natural dickheadedness shines through and Jonathan talks about shooting Klonk before lucy takes his ring off and throws it and Jonathan goes after her.  Annnnd yeah turns out the disposable dickhead fiance for once is RIGHT. In a twist I did not remotley see coming but damn if it wasn’t clever, Klonk.. is Ted from TGWDLM and the plan was to seduce lucy with this con, marry her and then bump her off. It’s a hell of a twist and cleverly hidden since Joey’s such a starkid mainstay, it’s not a huge suprise he was Klonk and thus easily hid the fact he was also Ted. It’s clever stuff and pivots the story nicely. 

Ted is naturally a douchey as ever, going along with Hidgen’s plan to have him marry lucy then kill her and take her dough for themselves.. and unsuprisingly, so Hidgens can get Workin Boys off the ground. Granted there are easier ways to do this with the same scooby doo scheme: Just have HIdgens plan working boys casually, have Klonk really love it and being the sweetheart she is LUcy would fiance the thing just to make them both happy. I mean he can still marry her and ted can still have direct acess to her money if they want, it’s just an easier way that dosen’t shine supscion on the caveman who looks exactly like a local douchebag who everyone he’s met would testify against him. I mean would Paul and Bill REALLY be that suprised that Ted did this? 

Exactly. Then again neither of our “heroes’ Here is very bright, and this scheme only works because Lucy is clearly very sweet, very naive, and very much wants a romantic evening with an ape man after all this time and effort searching, so she wants to believe him. So the fact the best they could come up with is something out of Scooby Doo is unsuprisng but still great.  However things take a turn for the

Pretty quick as Hidgens takes disposable british douche fiance hunting.. then kills the guy after freely admiting he’s a fraud in what’s an INCREDIBLY chilling scene. Seriously it’s amazing how Robert takes a character as loveably redicilous, even his evil and murderous plan during TGWDLM was still hilariously rediclous, and makes him UTTERLY TERRIFYING. Even when dropping my fair lady refrences. Amazing stuff.  So the next day, after Konk “asks” what an engagment is and what not, we then get Lucy wondering just WHERE jonathan is and we get the second biggest laugh of the night as Hidgens gives us the iconic line of “Oh he left... said something about you being crazy and going back to london and basically to go fuck yourself. “. Naturally Lucy has followup questions and goes to find out while Ted, also naturally, isn’t exactly pleased when he finds out his partner in crime did a murder on someone. 

Ted may be a sleazy dickhead.. but even he sees maybe murdering a rich british person who just came here, went basically ONLY to this one location, and whose probably got many people who will misss him, one of whom is their primary target, is kinda dumb. Then again this is a plan that hinges on someone who could easily be identified, as he has or at least probably had an office job and three coworkers who know him, assuming a false identity to marry someone for their money. But again we’re dealing with a guy who thinks working boys is marketable to anyone who isn’t a starkid, and a moron who soon says he does his best thinking while erect. They only got this far because their target REALLY wants to fuck a sasquatch, is sweet but naive and well Ted IS still joey richter, and no longer has the porn stache so there you go.  Ted decides to cut Hidgens out of things.. partly because you know, he killed a person, and partly because instead of killing Lucy, Ted realized he honeslty has a LOT to gain by simply marrying her and staying married. He gains a hot rich wife (his word’s not mine, but angie is genuinely beautiful so fair point), a mansion, and while Hidgens points out the obvious, he has to stay Konk.. that’s actually appealing to Ted as he feels better as Konk, not just because he impresses an attractive woman for doing basic stuff, but because he feels better as Konk. This is.. an intresting turn for Ted i genuinely like. It shows that Ted may, as much as he presents with bluster and ego, actually LIKE the kind of shithead he knows he is. I mean looking at his life he has two workmates who calling them friends is a bit of a stretch, and one who he’s having an affair with but seems detemrined to make her doomed marriage to an even bigger asshole work. He really dosen’t have much as ted so it’s easy to see why being Konk is better: He’s a better person as him who actually has someone who cares about him.  Naturally Hidgens takes this as well as you’d expect and when Ted/Konk tries proposing he goes with the logical option for taking the fourtune for himself:

Yes really. Hidgens strips naked, and swings his arms around like an orangutan to try and convince Lucy he’s the real hatchetfield apeman. Sadly this dosen’t mean we get a shirtless robert manion as he needs to keep the turtleneck on for later, but the mental image.. I had to pause the video for a good minute to laugh over it. Just everything about it from it somehow being a dumber plan than his scheme this episode, to the orangutan swaying to just.. everything. It’s fucking genius.  But Higdens has more than a mighty penis to compete with Ted.. he reveals ted’s phone and Ted ends up revealing himsef by telling Hidgens to go fuck himself. Naturally Lucy is distraught and tries to leave and the professor pulls out his shotgun to threaten her into financing his musical because of course it’s about workin boys. Lucy tries to run, Hidgens tries to shoot.. and ted , doing the first good thing in his entire life, takes the bullet.  Lucy gets ted out of there then locks the door behind them, and we get the SCARIEST bit in this segment as Hidgens leans into the camera, simulating the peep hole of the vault door to the ape man inclosure and begs her to let him out. It’s some real Jack Nicholson in the Shining stuff and it’s utterly terrifying, but it’s also an amazing bit of acting. Nice job Rob.  So ted bleeds out, as much as Lucy wants to save him he knows he’s not going to make it and prefers to die as Konk, finally happy with himself. And I just realized everyone at Paul’s job is horribly miserable. I mean good god, Paul himself has serious depression issues judging by “Let it Out”, Ted clearly hates himself, Charlotte is in a horrible marriage and Bill just got out of one and has a strained realtionship with his daughter we’ll get into more in a bit. I mean honestly, Mr. Davidson is the only one of them who really dosen’t need therapy.. he just needs to tell his wife he wants her to choke him while he jerks off. For as ungodly hilarious as that line is he’s probably the most well adjusted person there. Go figure. 

Naturally being already insane, Hidgens breaks out, still naked mind, and chases after Lucy. Also noticable is apparently some people thought hidgens was manipulated by the blue shit hive mind in TGWDLM. Which.. no. I do love the guy dont’ get me wrong.. but it was very obvious both from the way his musical number was done compared to the rest of the ones in the musical, and his actions that was entirely him, and his playing the music was so he could join, especially since we don’t see the hive mind use any mind manupluation on anyone else. Regular manipulation sure as seen with you tied up my heart and not your seed, manipulating charoltte into freeing her asshole husband so he could infect her and torturing bill for funsies. Just something to get out of the way. Point is he was always crazy we just now have him chasing an innocentish woman with his dong hanging out to prove it.  He eventually catches her as Lucy catches herself in one of his bear traps when she hits the woods, because he had those for some reason.. and he has a resonable way out: Just give her the 30,000 dollars he needs for his musical. Thing is she dosen’t have the money.. or hardly any. She spent all of it trying to find the ape man and was marrying jonathan for his money and him for her title. And while it is a bit skeezy, it’s very clear both were using each other and likely knew it, and Lucy still comes out the most moral of our cast here.. granted it’s not a big stretch as hidgens is criminally insane, ted’s a skeeze and Jonathan.. well he’s just a diiiiiiccckkkk. It’s not hard is what i’m saying.. much like hidgen’s dick flopping around in the rain. But yeah he dosen’t take it well, Lucy goes up a tree, which is apparently something Becky did once. But before Lucy can die at the hands of a naked thespian, the REAL Ape-Man shows up and tears Hidgen’s arms off, taking lucy in his own arms afterwords and revealing he remembers her. The two hit it off instantly, it turns out his name is chumby in an excellent gag as that was what Hidgens wanted his fake ape man to be named but Ted froze, and go off into the night together. Awww.. what if a naked ape man played by my boy jeff blim and a british person can’t work who can? 

We then close out the segment with a cameo appearance by Jamie Lynn Beatty, who while not part of the cast for this double feature, does get a fun showtune about the ape man. Also fun fact that i found out here on tumblr: That costume is from something Jamie did in HIGH SCHOOL. As in well over a decade ago. Like holy shit, good for her. She looks great in it. But yeah it’s a fun song and a nice way to close it out.  Final Thoughts on the Hatchetfield Ape-Man: This was a great way to start things off. This one was more in line with starkids pre-hatchetfield work, a goofy story with some hidden depth inside. And like the guy who didn’t like musicals it was utterly terrifying in spots so yeah good stuff ,utterly hilarous and a great way to bring back some old faviorites while giving us a neat new protaganist. Good stuff. 

Watcher World:

Now from a mostly comedy with a horrifying ending to just.. pure unfiltered horror and depression! It’s Watcher World! Bill and Alice are back! And given I love Mariah Rose Faith and Corey Dorris, I was exastic to find this was what the second segment was about.. mostly because I had no idea Starkid had teasers for the episodes on their instagram, or I would’ve known Hidgens was coming. I wouldn’t of known he’d be stark naked for the last third of his story but still, pleasant surprise.

So Bill and Alice are spending the day at Watcher World, a run down amusement park on the edge of town. It’s Alice’s last weekend before College so Bill’s trying to reconnect with her by cramming a good old fashioned family vacation down her throat. Alice is less than enthused, both because she clearly resents her dad in general, and because Deb is throwing a huge rager on the same night. My honest interpretation of that is that Deb fully inteded for her girlfriend to come but Bill sprung this on Alice at the last minute and being pretty oblivious and hating Deb, either didn’t care about taking alice from one last night with her friends and girlfriend or didn’t generally think that through. I mean don’t get me wrong normally i’d side with a parent not wanting their daughter to attend a huge teen rager on their last weekend together.. but it’s also Alice’s last weekend in town for some time, and it’s likely a saturday.. so he has another day, and presumibly had friday before this and while things with his ex wife are tense, fighting for an extra day with her would be understandable and i’ts not like Alice, even if she hates Bill, would really fight him on getting an extra day in the town she didn’t want to leave. 

But that’s what I really like about this one that it’s layered. While Alice is slightly more in the right, she’s still shutting her dad out, refusing to let him follow her on instagram (though he does agree with her keeping it private as he dosen’t want Ted perving on her, which tracks, or Ted’s brother doing it which.. wait what?), and being on her phone the whole time to very clearly spite him and rub how much she dosen’t want to be there in her dad’s face. She dosen’t WANT to be at watcher world but instead of trying to talk to her Dad just wants to complain and apparenlty has on all their vacations.. it’s easy to see why Bill is annoyed by his daughter at times and thinks he has to FORCE HER to have fun with him, because otherwise she’d gladly ignore him for their entire weekends together for Deb. She’s so determined to punish her dad for the divorce, that she refuses to see on some level he IS trying, and is just sad about her leaving, and possibly leaving him forever and alone with nothing else in his life but his buddy Paul, whose getting married next week so that’s probably not helping.  On the other hand the reason I say Alice is more in the right is that well.. Bill’s a grown ass men. And while, speaking for himself, grown ass men don’t always make the right decisions, and not speaking for myself neither do fathers... Alice’s acting out is understandable coming from an 18 year old whose been through hell over the last year, having her parents divorce being forced to move, loosing her friends. Bill however just kind of uses her age and angst as an excuse to undermine and belittle her feelings. Because he doesn’t like deb for the very stupid reasons of she does pot, instead of assuring her that Deb wouldn’t cheat on Alice with Deb’s former crush Zigg, starkid’s first non binary character in a nice show that Nick Lang wasn’t just covering his ass when he said there’d be more representation in starkid, which in his defense I didn’t doubt him on but it’s still nice he did so at the earliest opportunity and very clearly plans to use Zigg if he can find a nonbinary actor for them. 

But yeah instead of assuring his daughter, Bill is just like “well sometimes relationships don’t work out” which while true is clearly his self serving way of trying to get Alice to break up with someone he dosen’t like. INstead of supporting her in her dreams of writing plays, one of which was good enough to get her a scholarship, he tries to act like she has no plans for her future and get her to be a doctor for more security, even though having a secure job has done.. no one at his office including him favors. I mean again, the most stable and happy person at the office is the guy in charge, and even he can’t tell his wife he wants her to choke him out at night. He wants her to choke him, he wants her to choke him while he jerks off, he wants her to choookeeee himmm while heeeee jerrrkssss offfff. 

While part of this seems to be that Deb plans to be a starving artist who can mooch off her parents in a pinch, Alice GENUINELY seems to have a full plan for her life. I do get his worrying about her future.. but she’s a smart kid. A bit of a brat but she knows what she wants clealry and clearly has talent. He’s just projecting his own fears on her. He also refuses to accept any responsibility in the divorce.. his hating his ex wife IS valid, as she took his daughter away, uprooted her life a year before graduation and spends gobs of money on impressive outings, the latter two seemingly just to spite him when honestly, it’d of made more sense for Alice to stay with Bill for the year before she graduates and been better for her. However, Bill still doesn’t take responsibly that he too is shoving fun down her throat to try and win her over, hates her girlfriend and refuses to treat her with any respect, and really DOSEN’T know Alice all that well. As we learn during their fun day she has anxiety, and he never knew about it. And the divorce isn’t really an excuse when he had years before that.  It’s the real problem of their relationship: Bill feels ENTITLED to a good father daughter relationship, but isn’t working at it and blames his ex wife or Alice for it instead of himself. While Alice isn’t an innocent as i’ve made clear, putting up walls and not telling dad things, given bill ignores her when she DOES try to tell him about her life, it’s easy to see she’s just given up. If he won’t listen why bother. Which yeah i’ve found myself there with my own dad from time to time. Bill’s not a bad person, he genuinely loves Alice, as he says “to the moon and back”, but it’s very clear from this outing he still loves the little girl who loved him unconditionally and not the complicated and mopey adult sh’es become, and dosen’t WANT to adapt to that and fears once she leaves for college she’ll avoid him for good, which isn’t unfounded. It’s a good, complex rich dynamic.  Naturally with.. all this I covered up front instead of sprinkling it throughout, the day doesn’t go great, with Alice utterly miserable most of the time, and ending up in a goofy novelty t-shirt due to a log ride. She also has an unsettling encounter with park mascot Blinky, our newest adorable abomination, who not only shows up the moment she does something bad on camera but also stares at her ass, which.. Paul you mind coming back for a second?

Thank you. They end up at the Watch Party, a cheesy kids show musical because Bill apparently equates this with his daughter loving musicals. I mean granted cheesy kids stage shows can be rad just listen to this. 

But I get Alice’s annoyance here. Thus we get the return of the sniggles, who apparently serve whatever eldrich deity is around this week and our first song of this segment, The Blinky Song. Which is catchy as hell as well as hilariously dark (”I’m so hungry”), and uses the stock footage well, as I could buy a cheap theme park ran by an eldtirch eye goblin using stock footage. But yeah it establishes Blinky as always watching and kinda fucked up.  Also the sniggles are now clearly the smurgs with Angie’s now being named Sniglette, Jeff being papa Sniggle and James being Snigglotts. However Sniglette considers leaving with another song with a long string of words. Then, things get.. dark as the rest of the sniggles don’t want her to leave and try and mob her, and then Papa Sniggle accidently wings her with a mallet and apparenlty injures the actual performer, before everyone’s ushered out and the usher pretends nothing happened. Good mind screw horror stuff. 

Alice and Bill then bicker a bit with my above point being made as Alice TRIES to get Bill to accept some respoinablity but he refuses and blames her mom. It’s now time for the Tear-Jerker, the reason they came. Bill’s buddy Paul says someone died. They also find three other people waiting in line and when one goes to the bathroom the other two start making out which.. yeah, dosen’t help Alice’s worry Deb’s going to cheat on her. So she takes the first single rider pass she can, with Bill worming his way in as to not let her get away.  The two naturally end up fighting on the Tear-Jerker before it stops up high, and ends up stalled, with the gloriously returning Nerdy Kid played by Joey from Black Friday being as helpful as usual. Seriously bless them for bringing him back. Man in a Hurry also showed up again, bless him too. Alice picks this time to reveal her fear of heights and anxiety, and an approaching storm isn’t helping. So Bill.. steps up. He helps ease Alice down taking her phone for her, if loosing it due tot he rain and helping her stay calm. It’s a REALLY nice portrayal of an anxiety attack, with Mariah herself apparently having them and thus portraying it really well. As someone who has them myself it really hits home and Bills calm attempts to help her are really heartwarming, getting her to describe her musical for him and the two bonding. It’s genuinely sweet.  But.. it can’t last, as Alice freaks out about her phone and Bill for once is in the right, as .. he was you know.. trying to save his daughter having a panic attack, and really stepped up given he was obnovious she had anxiety in the first place, and managed it well. He then gives the utterly heart stomping line “I love you to the moon and back, but sometime’s it’s really hard to like you. “

Just damn. So Alice runs off and both find their way to the fairway. Bill tries winning a doll for Alice, getting into a test of strength where he fails repedatly and is constantly mocked by the barker, played by James Tolbert who also played Blinky.. 

That should be Tolbert’s twitter handle. Anyway point is, Bill keeps trying even as he wracks up 400 dollars in credit card debt, for a 49.95 doll, before eventually the barker and hte crowd’s jeers get to be too much and he does smack it hard, thinking of all of his pent up rage towards alice.. just as the bell at the top takes the shape of alice’s head and explodes.  Bill is naturally horrified by this by the barker assures he loves him.. and that he should totally hobble his daughter misery style to make her not leave him and use the mallet for it.  Meanwhile Alice is at the shooting Gallery not wanting the blinky doll she wins, just blowing off steam when she runs into an old crone played by Lauren Lopez. But this Crone has her phone... which suspiciously has a ton of instagram photos of Deb and Zigg making out while sharing a toke. Granted Deb COULD’VE cheated, but given Alice is insecure, and her phone was given back to her by a witch working for an eye goblin.. yeah maybe just maybe Deb was loyal, and if she wasn’t wouldn’t be dumb enough to put it on instagram. But given Alice is already worked up it’s easy enough for her to beliive that her relationships in danger and if she gets there in time she can stop it and oh look her gun is now a real gun and can help her get the keys.  So yeah it’s time for a creepy as hell Shining-esque showdown, but if both sides were possesed instead of one. It’s.. a CHILLING as hell scene, not helped by Alice wielding a gun again as both fight. I was gripped the entire time and don’t have much to say utter than HOLY SHIT THIS WAS AS TERRIFYING AS IT WAS RIVITING. 

But a crowd gathers as the fight continues.. all with purple eyes which ave been seen on and off, watchers with a thousand eyes.. and with Blinky, now revealed NOT to be a costume probably, above them all. We also get one hell of a line.  “This is an amusement park but not for YOUR amusement.”

So yeah I love this sequence.. and Blinky as a villain. While it’s vague if he and Blinky  are the same entity.. I’m going with not. It’s not a stretch that like Cthulu, Wiggly has brothers in the black and white, with their own motives, methods and ability to get into our world. Unlike Wiggly.. Blinky’s already here and has no real ambition other than to find people to mentally tear apart and set loose on one another for his own amusement. He doesn’t have grand plans of burning the world.. he just wants to be entertained. It’s an interesting and chilling motive and I hope we see him again eventually. I also believe those at the park are trapped there bound after their own day there and trapped doing whatever Wiggly needs. Except maybe squeaky voiced teen. He probably just complains about cleaning up so much blood.  But yeah Blinky is very happy as the fight escalates into the hall of mirrors and Alice looses her gun.. with Bill now poised to strike down his daughter as the mirror reflects the various workers at the park, all encouraging him to kill her... it’s utterly terrifying as Bill’s eyes take on a purple tint.. and we get a POWERFUL use of the score and the “why does it hurt to love you’ bit from TGWDLM.. as Bill sees himself and what he’s about to do, sees his daughter understandably having a panic attack.. and calms her, his eyes returning and the two reconciling.  Of course Blinky isn’t happy about this “sappy bullshit” and brings htem into his domain, charging at them. But kinda missing that giving a pissed off teenager a rifle she knows how to use when you have a giant target for a face isn’t a good idea and she shoots him, with him bleeding a flood of purple goo that sends them out. While I doubt Winky’s dead, he is done with them.  Our story concludes on a sweeet note as the two find their car, and they finally make as tep forward, Bill having seen almost too late how selfish and controlling he was being and accepting his daughter on her phone.. and Alice realizing her need to open up and after checking Instagram, likely finding out those photo’s weren’t real, she throws her phone in the back.. but not before accepting her dad’s request, letting him in. Sure the road ahead is rough.. but the two have made a good first step towards repairing things and loving one another again in a healthy manner. and all it took  was bill nearly murdering her and allice shooting an eye goblin int he face and getting covered in his blood. Cue the credits, a beautiful song called “One Thousand Eyes” with Jeff Blim fucking nailing it. A great way to send off this bit.  Final Thoughts: This was the best one of the two. While Ape Man is really good too, this one took the darker tone of black friday, but with a tighter narrative. By focusing on a smaller cast, the darker elements really played better and the conclusion felt more satisfying.. though it helped that BOTH of these tails ended without everyone dying, and while I doubt EVERY story will have a happy ending, it makes things more interesting knowing that the heroes can get a happy ending this time around instead of an apocalypse. 

Overall Thoughts: This double feature was great, I’ll be getting a ticket to the next one if I can afford it, and if not i’ll see it presumably in December or next year when it comes on YouTube. Really excellent stuff.  So this was a first for me but if you’d like to see more starkid stuff from me, let me know in the comments or my askbox, commission me to review one of the musicals via dm, and if you liked how I did this review follow this blog for weekly ducktales and loud house coverage, and amphibia coverage when that returns, among more fun reviews. And until next time.. don’t blink. Play us out Jeff. 

I really hope this is the ending theme for the series. 

[blancheludis]

Tagging: @tokky231

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 26/?, Words: 144.831

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

—

Bruce returns to the base much sooner than expected. Perhaps he felt it was unsafe to be out in the open with the police and FBI sniffing around, but his expression is pinched in a certain way that means someone has done something stupid and he could not keep them from it.

He comes in right when they are having breakfast and does not look pleased with seeing them all gathered. They have questions, of course, and while Steve understands that Bruce might want to avoid answering them for a while longer, they are going to insist on it anyway.

“How is Thor?” Steve asks by way of greeting. No matter what else they need to discuss, that is the most important thing. That, and how Tony is doing, but he is not sure he would get a favourable answer to that, so he swallows it down. Even asking about Thor is a gamble, considering how terrible he behaved.

“Back on his feet,” Bruce replies, displeasure ringing in his tone. Unwise medical decisions always irritate him. That this is about his soulmate only makes things worse.

“So, when were you going to tell us you had a soulmate?” Clint speaks up. His voice is already confrontational.

Steve understands where he is coming from. The Avengers are their family. None of them has much beyond that. Lately, it has felt like they are falling apart and finding out that two of their members have people outside of this circle who could draw them away is only increasing the feeling of losing control.

Still, Clint could try to sound less angry about it – which, of course, is a hopeless endeavour. Out of all of them, Clint is probably the most emotional, the most likely to lose his cool.

Bruce gets himself a mug and fills it with coffee but never makes a move to sit down. He looks like he ponders the question – not how to answer it but how to shut Clint down quickly.  “Never, probably,” he then says, a warning in his voice to get them to back off. “Because it is none of your business.”

“Oh, you don’t think it is?” Clint counters immediately, drawing out the words to the point where they become an obvious accusation. “Because we all know Thor, more or less. We’ve worked with him before. And then Steve recommended him as Stark’s bodyguard, which could have easily led to him being forced to testify against us if Stark decided to –”

“Tony has never given any sign that he would report you to the police,” Bruce cuts in, almost sounding like he would not be that kind in Tony’s position.

Clint reels back as if slapped. “It’s already you and not we anymore?” He sounds hurt of all things, causing Bruce’s features to soften for a moment.

“Is that what you take away from this?” he asks, shaking his head. “Tony won’t give us up, and Thor wouldn’t help him with it if he did.”

Clint pulls a grimace, ugly and accusing. “Why, we wouldn’t know because you kept your soulmate from us.”

“Does Tony know?” Natasha pipes up, sounding strangely neutral compared to Clint’s bristling.

“Yes,” Bruce answers firmly and without hesitation, as if there has never been any question whether Tony could know this secret while he kept it from his teammates.  

That only serves to enrage Clint even more, and even Steve feels a stab of something at being kept out of the loop for years while Tony has been informed almost immediately.

“I don’t owe you anything,” Bruce says icily before any of them can raise another argument. His entire body is so still that he looks ready to throw himself at them. “Least of all Thor’s name.”

Steve is not sure when they decided to let Clint lead this conversation since Clint has a habit of taking things too far, always trying to get the worst over and done with. By now, Steve does not think it would do them any good to interrupt. Clint is afraid of things changing to the point where he is sent drifting through a world he does not recognize. If nothing else, Steve understands that fear.  

“If not for us,” Clint intones slowly, “you’d be nothing but a smear in Ross’ basement right now.”

Bruce’s expression shifts from annoyed to utterly blank. His eyes, however, are burning. If not for moments like these, where Bruce is unmoving but ready to cut them all down where they stand, Steve would never believe that Bruce could be capable of what Ross accuses him of.

Blowing up an entire building, a few unlucky co-workers included just because he did not like the research they were doing or his chances of getting out? The soft, mild-mannered Bruce they usually deal with does not seem the type for such drastic measures. They have all seen a different side of him, though. His very short fuse, his tendency to go overboard once he has decided to act, his utter ruthlessness at times – he hides it well, but Bruce is as much of a fighter as all of them.

“And I’ve made that up to you over the years, a dozen times over,” Bruce says, daring them to argue.

He has. Many things have come out of Bruce’s lab that have made their lives easier. More than that, of course, Bruce himself is invaluable, always willing to apply his mind to an argument or to ignore the fact he is not a medical doctor and patch them up whenever they needed.

Bruce is a member of their team, part of their family. Clint does not mean to argue that, Steve is sure, but he has a habit of not being able to stop once he started down a road.

“It’s still –” Clint tries to say, but before Steve can open his mouth to put an end to this, Bruce himself snaps.

“Tell me why I would trust any of you with my soulmate when you are all so stunted in that regard yourself?” Bruce asks, his voice dangerously low as he leans forward, eyeing them all in turn to make sure they know he is not excluding anyone from that. “That’s just asking for disaster.”

“We’re not stunted,” Clint all but yells. “None of us has even met their soulmates.”

Bruce’s expression shifts to something coldly amused. “Steve has, and he’s bodged that up in every way possible, even ignoring the fact that he let you beat up Tony,” he says, too calmly to not make it land like a blow. “And then, of course, there are Bucky and Natasha, who are too blind to even realize that they are soulmates.”

Silence falls, as complete as it is disbelieving. Bruce looks equal parts satisfied and like he regrets letting that slip. Even while Steve’s mind is still reeling with the words, he knows that it has just become impossible that this morning will end on anything but a sour note.

“What did you just say?” Bucky speaks up, quiet and dazed as if he is not quite sure how he got to be part of this conversation so suddenly.

Next to him, Natasha stares at Bruce with a look that would have sent lesser men running. It does not escape Steve that she leans slightly away from Bucky. It is probably not a conscious thing but gives some weight to Bruce’s words.

Bucky and Natasha, though. Steve cannot fathom why Bruce would say something like that. They are friends. Close friends. Family. They trust each other the way they all trust here, like he and Bucky do, or he and Sam. That is like saying that Clint and Natasha are soulmates just because they are so close.

“Don’t look at me like that, Bucky,” Bruce says shortly, apparently deciding not to take his words back. This is as good a way as anything to distract everyone from himself and Thor. “What’s the first thing Natasha ever said to you?”

Steve gears up to protest because Bucky has been through enough and the last thing he needs is for someone to wreck his friendship with Natasha, considering how hard it is for him to let people close.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Natasha intercedes, beating Steve to it. She sounds strangely forceful for an illogical argument about whether or not she and Bucky are soulmates.

Bucky, however, does not lift his eyes off Bruce. “Don’t get shot,” he says, sounding slightly out of it like he is picturing the scene before he returns to the present with a jerk. “A lot of people have told me that.”

That is certainly true. Steve cannot even quite remember when they met Natasha and Clint for the first time. It was on some mission when Steve and Bucky where still doing their own thing after the war, when Steve was desperately trying to convince Bucky that life still has meaning.

In a way, Natasha simply appeared in their lives at some point, inserting herself seamlessly and bringing Clint with her. Steve could not pinpoint a distinct moment when they turned from strangers to allies to friends.

“And you can name every one of these people?” Bruce asks before waving his hand to signal he does not actually want an answer. “Look, this isn’t about the words, and I’m not volunteering as your therapist because I really don’t want to get involved, but you should perhaps look a little closer to home before you blame other people for how they deal with the topic of soulmates.”

With that, Bruce turns away from them. He is too calm. His steps, when he goes towards the door, are too measured. Inside, he is angry. Angry at them prying into his personal business. Perhaps even angry about their alleged incapability to deal with their own emotional baggage first before blaming others for theirs.

“Don’t walk away,” Bucky calls, sounding slightly panicked at being left with this new piece of information, no matter how convinced he might be that it is wrong. “We’re not –”

Bruce whirls around again and cuts Bucky off. “Natasha was awfully quick to trust you, right?” he asks. That was strange, Steve has to admit that. He himself felt like Natasha was walking circles around them for ages, never trusting anything Steve told her without checking for herself. “And you let her in despite being in a place where you pushed everybody away, even Steve. You work together on an instinctual level. You hover.” Bruce looks just a wrong word away from throwing his arms up in the air in frustration. “Look, I don’t have proof, and even if I had, this is your mess. Just stop pointing fingers.”

He leaves and nobody stops him, reeling with what was clearly just meant to be a distraction. Surely, Bucky and Natasha would know if they were soulmates. Even with Bucky’s arm missing and Natasha’s words burned away, the bond would settle.

Steve might feel the bond most clearly in his arm, a constant pulsing and burning, but there is an ache sitting right in his core too. Without the arm, there is still that.

He turns towards Bucky, searching for something to say, but Bucky gets up and walks towards the door without another word.

“Bucky,” Steve tries. Bucky should not be alone with this.

“Leave it,” Bucky says, never even looking back.

And Steve does. He realizes that, no matter whether Bruce was right, he is not fit to talk to anybody about soulmates. Not with how much of a trainwreck his own bond is. Not with how little he is adjusting to it.

“Nat,” he says, but she shuts him up with a glare and follows Bucky out of the room.

Steve nurses the small hope that they might get together and talk this through. Whether or not Bruce is right, this is going to hang between them, and they have enough issues as it is.

With a sigh, he buries his face in his hands, pressing against his eyelids until he sees nothing but swirling colours in the darkness.

“When did we turn into such a mess?” Clint asks, sounding so dejected all of a sudden that one might think he never almost shouted at Bruce for keeping secrets.

Steve looks up, ignoring the way his vision is still blurry, and glares at Clint. “You didn’t help, attacking Bruce like that.”

Not bothering to deny that, Clint shrugs, although he appears slightly uncomfortable at least. “He kept vital information from us,” he says sullenly, likely knowing that does not absolve him from behaving abysmally.

Steve takes a deep breath and swallows his first, angry response. It would not do them any good to keep arguing. Cautiously, he says, “That’s not what you care about.”

Chances are high that Clint is going to shut him down. He might get up too and leave Steve behind with the remnants of their half-eaten breakfast. They are not successful as a group because they are practised in talking about feelings but because they act.

To his surprise, Clint looks at him, his lips pursed with displeasure, and says, “You know what? No, it isn’t. Because Bruce finding his soulmate at least did not tear us all apart.” That is an obvious dig against Steve and the mistakes he made with Tony, but it lacks any sharpness. For once, Clint is simply speaking his mind without turning it into an attack. “But what do you think will happen now? Thor and Stark seem to get along quite well, and Bruce would just love to get out of here, right? And you’ll still try to make things work with Stark, which won’t happen if we all return to DC to stay out of his way.”

Clint is afraid, Steve realizes with an abrupt, acute ache. For the past weeks, Steve has been mourning the fact that they all seem to turn on each other to a degree, that they are chipping away at what the Avengers are supposed to be. And Clint feels exactly the same. They have come to a turning point, and while they cannot quite say what is going to happen, things will change.

It is cold comfort to know that Steve is not the only one struggling with this. At least he knows why Clint is always angry these days. They all react differently to fear and grief. Considering how Bucky has been after they returned home from the war, Steve is no stranger to people lashing out blindly.

“And Stark’s not going to want me around, not even half the city away,” Clint adds, almost a challenge as if he wants Steve to rise to it so he can fight a little while longer. Everything is better than to deal with the emotions simmering beneath that.

“Can you blame him for that?” Steve asks calmly, showing nothing but mild interest. He is too busy thinking about whether Clint might be on to something, whether it is possible that Bruce will stay behind – whether he still has a chance to do the same, to make this work.

“No,” Clint admits. “But –” He trails off, almost like he was only arguing for the sake of it without actually having a point to prove. Clint usually knows when he has gone too far, he just seldom admits it.

Despite his own fears and constantly feeling insecure, Steve says, “We’re not going to dissolve the Avengers.”

No matter what else happens, the Avengers are his family. They have done a lot of good over the years. This group has helped them heal. He cannot just walk away from that. Not on the off-chance that his soulmate might want to see him again.

“It damn well feels like we’re already in the process of it,” Clint mutters, avoiding to look at Steve. A half-eaten pancake is still lying on his plate, which he stares at but does not touch. They have all lost their appetites.

“And you’re not helping,” Steve says. He might have a lot of sympathy for Clint feeling like they are losing something good here, but Clint is not handling any of this in the right way. The constant arguing and lashing out does only more harm.

Clint smiles, although it is a mangled thing, lacking all of his usual confidence. “Better get it over with than to drag it out needlessly, right?”

He looks so lost for a moment that Steve wants to reach out to anchor him in the present, but then Clint nods to himself and wipes the uncertainty from his face. Pushing away from the table, he gets to his feet.

“Clint –” Steve starts, not wanting to leave things like this. More so, he does not want to be left behind by all of them this morning.

“No, Steve,” Clint refuses. “I’ll go find Nat.”

Steve should probably find Bucky too, even though he has nothing to offer than to listen and to be sympathetic. As far as he knows, there is no way to find out whether Bruce is right and they are soulmates. Now that this is standing between them, they have to make a decision themselves.

He almost laughs at that thought. He is not actually good at making decisions himself.

“Perhaps you should let them talk,” he suggests, despite doubting that Bucky and Natasha will allow themselves to even be in the same room together for the next time, much less actually talk.

“They are not going to talk,” Clint echoes Steve’s thoughts with a scoff. “Neither of them. Not just like that. Bucky’s going to hole up in his room, and Natasha is going to beat the shit out of some punching bags.” He shrugs. “Might as well give her a moving target.”

Steve nods, resigning himself to doing damage control too. He watches Clint leave but then speaks up again. “I’m sorry, Clint.” This is long overdue. They have all made mistakes, and instead of arguing with each other, they should seek to make things better.

“For what?” Clint asks, sounding somewhat suspicious.

“For how things went down,” Steve answers, still wishing he could go back and change all that happened these past weeks. Not just with Tony but the entire team too. “For not sticking together as much as we should.”

Rooted in place, Clint looks at him for a long moment. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”

Then he is gone, leaving Steve with the remnants of their breakfast, feeling tired and nauseous, knocked once again off track. He wonders whether that will ever stop. Or, if it does not, whether he will ever get used to it.

 ---

Tony holds his phone in his hands, trying to work up the courage to call Steve. It should not be hard. They have business to discuss. Yet, he cannot get his fingers to move to initiate the call.

The night before, he had been holding Steve’s hand, clinging to it while he was drifting in and out of thoughts. It felt natural at that moment. Steve had come to his rescue and brought him home. There had not been a single doubt in his mind that Steve was safe, and Tony really did not want to be left alone.

Now he has that memory inside his head. Steve’s skin against his, Steve’s warmth close enough for Tony to curl up in, Steve’s reassuring presence.

In a way, Tony feels betrayed by his own senses. Steve did protect him, and he might have his best interests at heart, but that does not erase their history. As soon as Tony was vulnerable, though, he latched onto Steve without any thoughts about the possible consequences. Like wanting to do it again. Like wondering why he should keep fighting their connection now that they have obviously come to a consensus.

Tony is not going to hide, he just does not know whether he can already handle talking to Steve again. For once, the fault lies entirely with him, too. Steve handled the night before more than correctly. He had indulged Tony without indulging himself, kept offering comfort without pushing for more. Also, he had never once mentioned a possible future for the both of them.

With a sigh, Tony puts down his phone. It is ridiculous to make this so hard on himself, but everything is still out of control. Obadiah is gone, but not in a way that leaves Tony any peace. Nobody is trying to kill him anymore, but Tony has never felt any less safe inside his own skin. His soulmate appears to be a decent person after all, but Tony found it easier to talk to him when he was hating his guts.

“Do you want me to call Mr. Rogers for you, sir?” JARVIS speaks up, refraining from making a comment about Tony’s indecision, even though his opinion about it appears clear.

“No?” Tony asks more than says, although it would have the advantage of him not being able to disconnect the call the moment the dial tone fills his ear. He is not sure when he turned into a coward.

With something like a sigh, JARVIS ignores his wish. “Calling Mr. Rogers right now.”

“J,” Tony warns, but then the dial tone sounds and Tony cannot do anything about it. Before he can prepare himself, the call connects.

“Tony.” Steve’s voice is warm if a little breathless. “How are you?”

Tony wonders whether Steve is as nervous as he is. Which, considering their history, is a pretty stupid thing to be. They have already crossed over into the territory of everything being wrong between them. What else could happen?

“I’m fine,” Tony replies and almost asks the same of Steve. This is not a courtesy call, however. “I just had a long conversation with Agent Coulson from the FBI.”

Silence answers him, too abrupt to be natural. It has Tony regretting that he did not ask about Steve’s well-being first. About the team. By constantly pushing Steve away, he might just make things unnecessarily harder on himself.

“Is everything all right?” Steve then says. He sounds like someone has already slipped a noose over his head and the rope is beginning to cut off his air. “Did he find out something that he shouldn’t?”

“Stay calm,” Tony counters immediately surprising himself with it. He does not like the distress in Steve’s voice. In his experience, nothing good comes from putting the Avengers into an emotionally stressful situation. “Please don’t murder a federal agent without listening to me first.”

Perhaps he should have eased Steve into this conversation a bit. They owe each other some consideration at this point. It is unfair to simply throw Steve into this, almost accusingly at that, after they have worked together on taking down Obadiah.

“We were not going to –” Steve protests unsurprisingly, but Tony cuts him off.

“I know.” Kind of, at least. Steve’s We don’t kill policy has some serious holes, considering they came in guns blazing when Tony was in danger. Not that he is exactly mad about that. “Just tell Barton to stop shooting arrows at people.”

Tony is not sure how to feel about Barton. He still does not want to be left alone in a room with him, but what happened last night in that warehouse has put a different spin on his relationship with all the people present. Barton did not show any hesitation when he came to Tony’s rescue. He killed the two men and kept his distance from Tony, looking vaguely regretful but otherwise kept his head up. None of the old hate was noticeable between them, and Tony is just so tired of everything being painful.

“Did that come up in the police report?” Steve asks, sounding somewhat distracted as if he is already thinking about how to solve the problem.

Irritation flickers in Tony’s chest. “Of course, it came up,” he snaps, wondering how the Avengers ever managed to operate for the past years if they have always been this careless. “Have you considered that it will rouse suspicion when a crime scene is full of corpses that were riddled with arrows? You might have taken them all out, but the wounds look distinctly different from bullet wounds.”

Even now, Tony cannot wrap his head around the fact that Barton showed up with an actual bow – or that he wielded it so effectively. When he closes his eyes, he can still see the arrow hit the man’s throat, the blood spraying out of the wound, the life fading.

Tony used to think of weapons as elegant things. To him, they consisted of formulas and sleek edges, of continually more promising performance reports. For years, he managed to ignore the uglier sides of it. The death counts. The mess the lovingly calculated force behind them makes of a human body. The pain and shock he could so clearly see in people’s eyes the night before.

He has given a large part of his life over to destruction and murder, and never even thought to doubt his way because that was what Starks did. He remembers the dreams he had when he went to MIT, studying mechanical and robotic engineering, and how quickly he let go of these dreams when his father, unsurprisingly, protested all of them.  

Steve’s voice brings Tony back to the present, out of his unflattering thoughts about the person he had allowed himself to become. “I’ll have to –”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Tony interrupts him quickly, afraid that Steve will hang up without hearing him out and go off to do something unadvised.

For now, the situation is under control even if Tony does not exactly know why. It should make him suspicious that Coulson offered such an easy solution to their problem because he knows that things are never as simple as they seem, and people much less so. He does not want anything else to go wrong, though. It is high time he got a break.

“What did you do?” Steve asks, a hint of wariness in his tone. “You don’t have to clean up our messes.”

A laugh bursts over Tony’s lips. As far as he is concerned, the Avengers are a single, giant mess, revealing more cracks from each new angle.

“And I wouldn’t know where to start,” Tony replies honestly but, for once, does not mean it accusingly. “So, I didn’t. Tell Natasha that Coulson says hi.”

It should be more satisfying that Tony was right about the fact that something was off with Coulson, that he knows more than he should. On the other hand, it does not exactly inspire a lot of trust to know that their law enforcement willingly works together with vigilantes.

“The FBI knows about us?” Steve asks, a frown audible in his voice.

A note of panic is underlying the words, but Tony cannot savour it. He might have, a few weeks ago, when the Avengers were nothing but a threat, another facet of the enemy that was rising all around Tony. Now, however, Tony has the urge to reassure Steve.

“For years,” Tony says, not bothering to hide his own disbelief about that. “He’s not going to give you trouble.”

Not, at least, in a way that ends up with the Avengers behind bars. That does not mean there will not be any repercussions, any later demands.

“Why?” Steve asks, sounding not at all convinced, and Tony cannot blame him for that. This is about the safety of his team, his family, so he cannot just accept Tony’s word.

“I’m just the messenger,” Tony replies, just short of throwing his arms into the air. He is undeniably glad that Coulson’s interest appears mostly directed at the Avengers instead of himself. “You should ask Natasha and Barton about that.”

Steve does not speak for a long moment, almost as if he is gearing up to protest that notion, but Tony does not ask. He thinks it is wise not to ingratiate himself too much in the team’s business.

“Thank you for telling me,” Steve finally says, vaguely regretful, before falling silent again.

This is it, Tony realizes. This could be their goodbye. Obadiah is dead, Tony is safe, the mission is over. They could make a cut here and go their separate ways. Steve does not want this, Tony knows, clinging to the bond more desperately than he probably should. The thing is, Tony does not want to either. It has not been a conscious decision but crept up on him over the past weeks. He is not even sure when he went from fearing Steve to being furious with him to being strangely accepting of his continued presence.

Their situation is still far from ideal and nothing is well between them, but it does not deserve an abrupt end either.  

“Thank you for last night,” Tony says and bites his lip right afterwards. That was not supposed to come out like this, leaving him vulnerable while almost holding a challenge at the same time. “You didn’t have to bring me home.”

What he means is Steve did not have to hold his hands and listen to his ramblings. He did not have to sneak around his home to avoid Rhodey’s wrath. He did not have to care for Tony after Tony told him to leave just about every time they talked before.

“Any time,” Steve says, his tone gentle, a promise in itself. He hesitates briefly before adding, “Tony, don’t – don’t do that again.”

Everybody seems to be of the opinion they know better what Tony is allowed to do with his own life. Tony doubts Steve is going to have any new arguments.

“What?” Tony counters, considerably less amused than he was with Pepper. “Trust the wrong person and get almost killed by them?”

He can feel Steve flinching in response. It is as if all the muscles in Tony’s arm tense for a short moment before the sensation turns into an ache that continually echoes between them.

“Give yourself up,” Steve corrects him quietly, chewing on the words like he still cannot believe the danger is over. “I was so afraid, and the bond – it felt like my arm was burning. I thought –”

“This isn’t about you,” Tony says sharply, cutting Steve off. Anger coils inside him, spreading like a wildfire. He thought they were beyond that, beyond Steve caring about nothing but his own wishes.

“No,” Steve says, decisive enough that Tony actually stops pushing himself further down this rabbit hole. “This is about you almost dying. And even if we’re – even if nothing’s ever going to happen between us, I don’t think I could bear it.”

A sort of raw honesty accompanies the words that has Tony momentarily breathless, erasing his readiness to fight as if it never rose in him.

“Noted,” Tony says and bites his lip. This is not the time to question what this means for them. Then again, perhaps there is no better time than now, when they are both unsettled and touched by grief.

“Tony,” Steve says, almost a question. More than that, a plea.

Tony sighs, slumping back into his chair. “I’m not going to make any promises,” he says. Life is unpredictable as it is and Tony has enough guilt weighing him down. “I hope I’m all out of people wanting to kill me, but if I’m not, I’m always going to look out for my friends.”

If anyone should understand that, it is Steve. He is loyal to the point of becoming blind to everything else. Somehow, illogically, Tony has become part of the people Steve is loyal to.

“Could you tell Thor I’m sorry for yelling at him?” Steve then says, showing his willingness to let one topic rest only by opening another can of worms.

Thor has not mentioned getting yelled at by Steve, but Tony can imagine what that was about. Beyond his loyalty, Steve has the uncanny talent to throw away any goodwill he gathered moments after receiving it.

“You should tell him yourself,” Tony counters, knowing he will not mediate other people’s relationships while he is still busy deciding whether to fix his own. A small part of him also knows he would side with Thor in this argument and he does not want another thing pitching him against Steve. They have enough baggage already.

Steve is quiet for a long moment as if he already knows his next words will be unwelcome again. He says them anyway. “He doesn’t pick up his phone.”

Tony buries his face in his hand, putting pressure against his burning eyes. How has this become his life?

“Then you should perhaps take a clue,” he says, too tired to make it an accusation. “Sometimes people don’t want to talk to you, especially if you don’t leave them alone.”

He is not sure whether that still applies to him. In a way, he is fortunate Steve did not leave him alone. The FBI would have come and gotten him out of that warehouse. They would have taken Obadiah into custody and Tony would not have his blood on his hands now. But.

Without the Avengers, it would have taken Tony longer to find out Obadiah was behind the weapons trading. He might have died before he ever knew. And Steve did not just come to his rescue, but he brought him home, making him feel safe after the worst night of his life.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, and Tony thinks they all are. “I’m just tired of things breaking and being unable to fix them.”

That is a feeling Tony knows only too well. He does not want to argue. That is not going to do anything but hurt them more.

Tony waits for Steve to keep talking. For some offer to help or a request to meet again. Questions about what is going to happen to them. Instead, Steve seemingly leaves the decision up to Tony.

That is a hard thing to accept. For weeks now, Tony had only been able to react to what was happening around him. Every decision he made was somewhat forced, his interactions with Steve included.

Up until now, Tony’s wishes were clear. He wanted to be left alone, to be safe from the soulmate that hurt him. Things have changed. The Avengers came to his rescue. Steve makes him feel safe.

It would be wrong to end things now, Tony reasons with himself, unsure whether there even is a part of him that needs convincing. He likes to think his brain is wired to tackle all problems in a rational way, but he gets always hung up on emotions.  

“Are you going back to DC?” The question falls from Tony’s lips too hurriedly, a desperate note clinging to the words. This is just short of Tony asking Are you leaving me?

“Not yet,” Steve answers, although he sounds unsure about it, like he knows what he has to do but cannot yet commit to it. “We’re waiting for Bruce to decide what he will do, and he doesn’t want to leave Thor while he is still walking around with stitches in his abdomen. And we’ll have to clean out the base, make sure the rats won’t take over while we’re away.”

That sounds like Steve is searching for excuses to stay. How long could it possibly take to get the base ready for their absence? What would keep them from letting Bruce wrap up his business and following them when he is done? Tony decides to interpret that as Steve not wanting to go at all.

“Good,” Tony hears himself saying but does not mind it very much. In fact, he is not even surprised at his own relief. They have to make a decision regarding their future now or this is always going to stand between them.  

“Good?” Steve echoes, a sliver of hope in his tone.

Tony is not sure how to answer without giving any concessions. He is not ready for that, and he doubts that Steve is, either.

“I thought – I have a lot to deal with still, with the company and –” Getting over his godfather’s actions. Tony cannot bear to say it out loud, though, not without remembering Obadiah’s end at the same time. “I thought I would call so we could talk sometime.”

He expects Steve to protest, to say he is not going to sit around, waiting for a call that might very well never come. Tony is not sure whether he wants him to, on some level, to be pushed into a decision instead of having to make it consciously.

Instead, Steve says, “I would like that.” His tone is so soft that Tony almost does not manage to reconcile it with the man he first met. The night before, though, Steve was exactly that. Gentle and safe, turning Tony’s emotions upside-down again.

“All right,” Tony says, not knowing how to continue. He did not think this would be so awkward. Arguing has always been easy, almost enough so that he is not sure how to stop. “Take care until then.”

He does not want to hang up and, judging on the burning in his arm, Tony thinks Steve does not either.

Nonetheless, Steve says, “You too, Tony.”

When the call disconnects, Tony closes his eyes. He feels out of breath as if he has done something more strenuous than having a phone call where both parties swallowed most of what they actually wanted to get off their chests.

This has not brought him any closer to making a decision about his soulmate. The bond is suspiciously quiet too. The day before, there was no escaping Steve’s feelings, the horrible mess of fear and worry and anger, the protectiveness. Even now, Tony is not sure how much of that had come from him, or whether Steve had really felt all of that at the prospect of losing Tony.

He wants to see Steve again, to find out whether he would feel that warmth again, like being wrapped into a safe cocoon, just from being close to Steve. He just does not want to have to decide whether it is all right for him to feel that way.

Getting to his feet, Tony swallows a groan at the pain flashing through his various bruises.

“J,” he asks, looking for a distraction. “Where is Rhodey?”

“He is currently in the kitchen preparing lunch,” JARVIS answers. If not for the innocence of the exchange, Tony would swear there is a trace of sympathy in his AI’s voice. “He has asked for your presence before you, and I will quote him here, hide away in your workshop instead of dealing with your emotions like an adult.”

Tony laughs. Rhodey knows him too well. The thought of burying himself in some project is overwhelmingly enticing. Numbers and the way his hands are able to shape things have always made more sense than people. This is not something he can run from, however. Perhaps he can spare them all some grief by not even trying to do so.

“Tell Rhodey I’m on my way.”

[rhcdesx]

( gregg sulkin, cismale ) hey ! have you seen KIERAN RHODES around ? HE works as a CHEF AT THE BIG BEAR BISTRO at big bear resort, but they must be off their shift by now. well, if you do see them can you let me know ? they’re 22 years old & they’ve been working here for TWO MONTHS. they tend to be +ALLURING & +DAUNTLESS, but can also be -ARROGANT & -CALLOUS. the other employees have labeled them THE LOTHARIO. thanks a lot ! 

basics:

name : kieran archer rhodes

nicknames : kier, k

age : twenty-two

birthday : 20 august (leo)

sexuality : heterosexual

born : london, england

relocated : manhattan, nyc

height : 5′9

favorite color : teal

accent : english

fluent in : french, italian, latin

hogwarts house : slytherin

when not at big bear : studies pre-law at columbia university

job : chef

hobbies : football, soccer, swimming, cooking

aesthetics : bruised kiss marks on necks, bruised knuckles, mischievous grins, & late night soaks in the hot tub.

family:

mother : freya davenport-rhodes (42)  †

father : oliver rhodes (43)

step mother : katherine rhodes ( née mccoy ) (39)

siblings : ezra rhodes (24)

step siblings : theodore mccoy (20)

half sibings : isabella rhodes (6)

about:

growing up kieran was no stranger to money. hearing the term ‘born with a silver spoon in their mouth’ referred to him better than anyone else he knew. it was all thanks to the empire his grandfather started to stay in the UK. the man had ended up falling for an english woman when he was studying abroad at columbia, he fell in love and needed something impressive to not have to the leave the woman he loved.

the hotel business was a very fortunate one. after his grandfather sent his son (kieran’s father) to america to follow his footsteps at the same university he was able to come back, sign on to be a partner and launch their empire worldwide.

even with being spoiled all his life, it was clear to him that his mother preferred his brother. ezra was the golden child, the first born son blah blah, he could do no wrong in his mother’s eyes. where as kieran found trouble so easily, needing money more often to get himself out of things rather than being rewarded.

most of the time his father was busy working and his mother would give him however much money he requested so he'd go away and not have to dealt with. though he was still required to show up to whatever hotel events, galas, or charity auctions that required strong family representation. they couldn’t been seen as less than perfect when they were all together.

though during those events he’d always find someone to sneak off with, whether it was to do drugs in the bathroom or a hot hookup. the boy liked to be entertained and often found himself easily bored, plus if it pissed off his parents it was a no brainer.

going behind the scenes further, you’d know that not only did his mother prefer his older brother, she didn’t really like his father very much either. they were only married because she got pregnant, a dumb fling sparked from hate, and he felt obligated to stand by her, plus it didn’t hurt that she wouldn’t be able to testify against him in court. they played the happy family for a while, she enjoyed using the money to her advantage.

it wasn’t long before kieran’s dad found himself a mistress, they ended up meeting in fact at a party at the dean’s house while ezra was in columbia. kieran was the one who spotted them, and the fact that she was already pregnant at the party. but perfect families had to go on. his father made sure kieran’s supply of money was constant, anything to keep the boy quiet.

his mother was in a car accident, she didn’t survive. kieran’s dad used the excuse of wanting to find out who was behind it to keep him family in new york. enough time passed and the case had turned cold, which soon led kieran to have a step mother and a half sister.

of course now that his father had the wife he always wanted, the boy was even more invisible which only made him more careless, reckless. his father would make sure that their reputation was in tact.

he finished off his junior year of hs in new york, along with his senior year before being accepted into columbia himself. sure his family has been making donations to the school for generations, but the boy is smart. the money did help clear up anything he was bound to get himself into eventually though.

facts relevant now:

he’s messed up any real relationship he’s ever had whether it was with cheating or something else. he hasn’t met anyone that’s wanted him to stay committed.

he uses sports to channel his anger, when he can’t use sex and basically uses sex for anything else.

kieran acts first and asks questions later, probably why he ends up in so much shit but he can’t help himself.

his family frequently vacationed at big bear resort, the owner being in business with his family.

he’ll try really hard to convince you he’s heartless, he’s not actually but it’s buried deep beneath his surface.

when he wasn’t causing trouble ( & still being ignored ) he picked up cooking, the channels being on an endless loop late at night and he found he was actually pretty good at it. not that he’d let anyone from home find that out.

he got really drunk one night and decided racing the porsche was a good idea and ended up crashing it into the living room. now while his family pays for repairs, kieran was forced to work at the lodge while the rest of the family vacations in paris. his father made it so the boy would finally have to own up to something, so it was either prison or work for his dad’s dear old partner. the choice was simple.

he figured something he’d actually be good at that also allowed him to hide in the back of the bistro was perfect, thus landing himself the job as the chef. 

connections:

bromance/roommate : leo takanashi. two dumbasses together under one roof, what could possibly go wrong? double trouble, always fueling each other to do stupid things. most of the time the stupid things are done together. 

best female friend : aylie monroe. possibly an ex that didn’t go sour. sees the best in him even though he’ll never see it himself. willing to smack him in the head if he needs it.

best bro : ryder monroe. he’s been around forever and always down to do stupid shit with kieran. the two of them are a dangerous stupid mix but it’s never dull and the laughs never stop. 

good friends : jason callahan. open. i know it’s surprising that an asshole like kieran has these, but by some odd reason he does.

mom friend : open. the girl who’s constantly giving him shit, lecturing him, trying to get him to see the error in his ways.

confidant : open. they get high together or get drunk and spill their guts. they both have info on each other so they know how crucial it is to keep each other’s secrets.

his soft spot : cleo ortiz. every asshole has a weakness -- she’s the one who can get to him like no one else can. a close friend. looks out for him while calling him out on his shit, though he just laughs it off, possibly romantic as well?

sexual tension :  open. the tension between the two of them is so undeniable though neither of them have given in...yet.

fwb/frequent hookups/flirtationships : ingrid kelly. callie macdermot. open. open. pretty self explanatory seeing as kieran and relationships don’t mix well. he’s more than likely to send them all the said booty call text and see which one answers the fastest.

one night stand : open. one night of passion, giving in to temptation. possible things are awkward now or they can’t get enough now.

pregnancy scare : open. with all the messing around he does, it was bound to happen.

ex girlfriend : callie macdermot. the one and only. it only lasted a month and the two mutually ended it, just the label part anyway. they both couldn’t see themselves in a relationship but they still like being around each other. 

ex hookups/flings : open. open. relationships that fizzled out, run there course, or more than likely kieran ruined by saying/doing something stupid.

childhood friends : aylie monroe. ryder monroe. they grew up together. the people who would more than likely know about his real mother and what she was like when she was alive.

playful frenemies : open. constant back and forth, flirting he can’t help. she denies him and only makes him want to play with her more. built up tension to where only a kiss can shut him up, though she’s going to act like nothing ever happened.

friendships turned enemies : roman walsh . he had a girlfriend who was kind of a bitch, very persistent and even though kieran turned the girl down she wouldn’t stop, cornering him when he was drunk and his will wasn’t as strong. long story short, kieran helped the girl cheat on his friend and they haven’t been cool since. 

unlikely friends/ current rivals : marco di angelo. these two are always butting heads, who even knows where it stems from, but they have more in common than they realize.

mutual bad influences : ivan anderson. open. pretty self explanatory. they cause double the trouble when they’re together and have a great time doing it and fueling each other’s horrible ideas.

good influence : open.  the person who keeps his head on straight. the good influence friend every mess needs to find balance.

anything else tbh, i’m open to anything and everything.

[apositivelifeaffirmingway]

Holding On and Letting Go

Alex Manes Appreciation Week:    Day 5: what-if (with tiny a side of AU thrown in)  [Mature/Explicit]

What if, when Jesse Manes burst in on Alex and Michael in the tool shed, he'd smashed Alex's hand instead? What if, instead of Alex, it was Michael who enlisted in the Air Force?

 ( AO3 link )

"Alex."

Alex froze, his hands hovering over the ‘artifacts’ he was in the process of rearranging, attempting to make room for some new thing Grant had found on the dark web that he wanted to add to the display.

That voice. His voice; it sent an electric energy traveling up the length of him - from the tips of his toes to the tips of his fingers and back again. Alex had forgotten how much he'd missed it. Both the voice and the feeling it elicited; he'd forgotten how much he’d suppressed the loss, how well he’d been able to ignore the giant hole in his chest that had appeared when Michael had left.

Alex turned, slowly, preparing himself to set eyes on him again, the first time in almost four months.

“You’re back.”

He must have come straight from the airport, because he was dressed in fatigues, a giant duffel and an overstuffed camo print backpack both lying discarded at his feet. His hair was cut short, what used to be a wild mess of curls now tamed and combed back from his face. Alex involuntarily flexed his right hand, the memory of the feel of Michael's curls in his fingers overwhelming him.

"I'm back," Michael echoed, his expression slightly clouded, his brow slightly furrowed, his tone cautious.

Alex felt a pang of guilt, though he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t the one who’d run away… Still, he took a step toward Michael, pulling the visor off his head and tossing it to the ground as he flashed back to their first kiss. It wasn't lost on him that they were in the same section of the museum, the same cheesy displays surrounding them. Really the only thing different now was them.

"How are you?" Michael's eyes flickered from Alex's face to his hand and back again.

Alex, who had only just had the cast removed from his hand a week prior, raised his left hand up and slowly flexed his fingers, internalizing the dull, lingering ache, ignoring the tightness in the tendons from the permanent scar tissue that would prevent him from ever pursuing a career in music...

The surgeon had only been able to do so much...the damage had been extensive.

"I'm okay," he replied, dropping his hand and meeting Michael’s gaze.

It wasn't a lie, not really. He was okay. He was managing, anyway. His father was locked up and his brothers were coming around, being semi-supportive and growing more so as time passed. Alex was surviving, moving past the trauma. He certainly didn't intend to work at the UFO Emporium the rest of his life...he still had plans and dreams and they didn't seem as impossible anymore, even if he had to adjust his expectations to fit his new reality.

"I tried to write you," Michael said, dropping his shoulders and jamming his hands into his pockets before looking away, "so many times. But I didn't know what to say. I feel like that -," he turned his head back and nodded at Alex's injured hand, "- was entirely my fault. I shouldn't have ever stayed in that tool shed."

Michael’s hunched posture was in direct conflict with the authority and respect his uniform demanded and Alex, who had grown up surrounded by military and the supposed steely strength it implied, felt a pang of sadness.

Taking another small step towards Michael, lessening the distance between them, Alex shook his head, the sting of tears behind his eyes.

"This,” Alex lifted his scarred hand into the space between them, “wasn’t your fault. My dad is a homophobic monster. It was his fault. Only his fault," Alex's voice rose slightly, hoping Michael would understand...hoping Michael would know that he didn't blame him for what Jesse had done that day.

Michael nodded, but he looked unconvinced and that broke Alex's heart. It wasn’t fair, the amount of damage and destruction his dad had caused the last few months. It made Alex seethe with anger, and also regret.

Alex had spent weeks blaming himself after Michael left Roswell. He was convinced he was the reason –even after everything they went through after the day Jesse had found them – that Michael was just too traumatized to even look at Alex let alone be in the same town and so he bailed. It took Alex a long time, and the support of friends, to get over what his dad had done to him. Even if those friends still didn’t know who it was that had been with Alex the day Jesse barged in on them…

When Michael had left Roswell it had been sudden and unexpected, at least for Alex. After Jesse had attacked them in the shed, shattering Alex's hand with the hammer, they'd not seen each other for nearly a week. Alex had literally been in lock-down (recovering from surgery and downing painkillers). Even when he was finally lucid enough to go anywhere he wasn’t allowed out of the house. Jesse wouldn't let him leave and expressed to him, more than once, using all sorts of colorful and cruel slurs, that Alex was to keep his '%*#^ mouth shut' about what had happened. Not that anyone would believe it if Alex told. Jesse Manes was a pillar in the community. A respected military man who was third generation Roswell-ian.  

Alex knew the implied threat was real; the tone in his father’s voice more than enough to deter him from attempting to sneak out. Even when his father would pass out from drinking too much, Alex didn’t dare try to leave. His father had never hurt him so badly before, the majority of the violence at home prior to that day mostly verbal, with the occasional hard shove against a wall, or a direct punch to the gut; bruises that were easily hidden by clothes and always assumed to be the result of the occasional bullying he experienced at school. Alex had seen his dad mad before, but never as full of blinding rage as when he’d bust through the tool shed door. Alex attributed the excessive drinking, which was also new, to the violence of that day. He found himself hoping, as messed up as he knew it was, that his dad felt guilty for what he’d done.

Alex knew he’d never really know. Their relationship was too fractured; there was too great a power imbalance and too much disappointment directed towards Alex. His father would never deign to lower himself to admit any regret or shameful feelings regarding his behavior, and the fact Alex even wanted him too was his own burden to bear.

Then, about a week later and after one too many glasses of whisky at the Wild Pony, Jesse chose to drive the handful of miles home from the bar, causing an accident that killed three teenage girls, one of which was Rosa Ortecho.

Alex was finally free.

Alex left the house for the first time in a week on a mission to seek Michael out, and he found him at Sanders Auto. He’d just started working there right before the tool shed incident. Michael’s face, upon seeing Alex, was full of concern and relief and sadness and joy. Alex could read it all, because he felt all the same things. They’d embraced, holding each other for a long time. The news about Jesse was all over town, Alex didn’t doubt Michael knew. They didn’t talk much that day, which suited Alex fine. He wasn’t ready to face what had happened in the tool shed, or what his father had just been responsible for; he was fine with ignoring all of it for one blissful moment.

Things progressed rather quickly after that. Jesse was charged with three counts of vehicular homicide, pleading guilty (he had no other choice – there were multiple witnesses to his presence at the bar and Mimi DeLuca expressing gleefully all over town, to anyone who’d listen, how she’d happily testify to how many drinks Jesse consumed that night; not to mention, his blood alcohol level was well over the legal limit). The judge sentenced him three days after the accident; twenty years with an opportunity for parole after ten.

It was outrageous, the sentence he’d been handed down. He’d cost three young women their lives, and it seemed that wasn’t worth more than a guarantee of ten years prison time. Alex had gladly joined Liz and Arturo and the families of the other girls in protesting the sentence. But their protests didn't matter. The judge’s decision was final as he stated he’d taken into account the 'upstanding nature' of Jesse's life in Roswell (up to that point), as well as his 'outstanding service to this country' (even though he was shortly thereafter dishonorably discharged).

After the sentencing Alex had felt a deep pang of guilt for having never reported his abuse. His father might have been sent away for much longer if there’d been record of his cruelty; if everyone knew how disturbed and violent and homophobic he really was.

Alex also avoided the Crashdown after that, ashamed of his connection to the man who’d killed Liz’s sister. Even after he learned Liz had left town, deciding to skip graduation, he couldn’t bring himself to face Arturo. At least not yet.

Alex was 18 when his father was sent to prison - an adult by legal definition - so he was allowed to continue to live in the house where he'd grown up. His first night there without Jesse, he'd packed up all the photos and awards and ribbons and medals; everything military or Air Force related went into boxes and into the tool shed. Alex wouldn’t be returning there for escape; the tool shed was tainted with the violence of that day, and Alex’s reason for needing a place to escape was locked away. It was freeing, erasing his father from the house.

It was only a few days later, after Jesse's sentencing, that Alex asked Michael if he wanted to stay at the house, too. He didn't use the words 'move in', he just mentioned that there were a lot of empty bedrooms. Plenty of room for him to stay if he didn’t want to sleep in the back of his truck anymore.

Michael accepted Alex’s invitation, though hesitantly, making it very clear to Alex he was just crashing, and might decide to leave at any moment. That was fine for Alex; all he wanted was to know Michael was safe and had a place to go that wasn't the back of his truck.

They didn't kiss, or embrace, or even touch each other in any way for almost a month. In fact they didn’t even see each other all that much. Michael worked early shifts at Sanders, and Alex worked late shifts at the museum. When they did see each other it was usually just to sit in a comfortable silence, sometimes filled with idle chit chat, sometimes more meaningful words exchanged – though that was far more rare. Sometimes Alex would find Michael staring at his cast with a pained look on his face. Alex wanted to say something in those moments to alleviate what he assumed was Michael’s guilt, but Michael would quickly look away when he noticed Alex watching him, and Alex never could quite figure out the right words to say, anyway.

Some nights Michael wouldn’t come back to Alex’s at all. The first time Michael didn’t come back, Alex felt in a panic, imagining some Air Force pal of his dad’s having done something to him – even though Alex had no reason to think that. All the airmen that knew Jesse had been nothing but supportive of Alex, a few of their wives even bringing him some frozen meals.

As it turned out, Michael had gone to the Evans’ and so from that night forward, if Michael ever didn’t come back to the house, Alex had to assume he was with Max and Isobel.

It was hard, though. Being so near Michael but not touching him or kissing him. Even after the traumatic end to their first time, Alex wanted nothing more than to rekindle some of the innocent joy they’d had in their connection. Alex had never felt anything more powerful or more right than that day with Michael. It was a feeling Alex supposed he might end up chasing forever and he could only hope he would find it again, or more specifically, that he would find it again with Michael.

But Michael kept his distance, and Alex didn't push, even though it was all he thought about. Even though late at night, alone in his bedroom, he would touch himself, letting his good hand wander all over his body while the memory of he and Michael played over and over in his head. Knowing Michael was on the other side of his bedroom wall made the want all the more powerful.

It was the Fourth of July holiday when things changed, when they finally came back together. They'd spent the day at the Evans'; Max and Isobel had hosted a barbeque and most of their graduating class was there. Alex hung out with Maria and they talked about the postcards they'd each received from Liz as she’d road tripped across the country (Liz also sending Alex a very nice letter telling him she didn’t blame him for his father’s actions, and saying she hoped they would see each other more when she returned. Alex felt somewhat healed after that letter). Michael, Alex quietly noted, spent most of the day huddled with a depressed looking Max.

When it had come out, after the accident, that Rosa had been Jim Valenti's daughter and not Arturo's, Liz had rescinded her invitation for Max to road trip with her and instead she'd taken Kyle. It’d seemed odd to everyone, but she'd insisted to Maria that it wasn't romantic, that she didn't think she could ever be with Kyle like that again, not after finding out the truth about Rosa. But Liz didn't talk about Kyle in her postcards, which made Alex doubt her resolve with regards to Kyle had held out. Maria had more faith in her, and teasingly chastised Alex for not thinking better of their friend. In any case, Max was a depressed mess over it all, and Michael was seemingly his emotional crutch.

It warmed Alex's heart to see Michael be there for his friend. Michael had a big heart and a caring nature and it was one of the things Alex liked best (loved) about him. Even if he wished Michael were at his side instead of Max’s. But no one knew about them (and they weren’t even officially a ‘them’; they’d just had one magical, momentous night. It wasn’t Michael’s fault that it was all Alex could think about). It never seemed to be the right time to talk about it or confess it, either. So Alex held it in, trying not to stare too much or too long. Trying not to attract the attention of Maria, or Max, or Isobel. Trying not to let on he had fallen hard for Michael Guerin.

Alex sometimes thought Maria knew, just by the way she'd look at him, but she never asked. So 'museum guy' remained a mystery to her, and Alex continued to keep the more intimate details of that day to himself.

Things were noticeably different with Michael when they'd returned from the barbeque. Rather than retreat to the room he’d been sleeping in as he usually did, Michael followed Alex to his bedroom. Alex let him, curious and hopeful about what it meant, and when he turned to ask what was going on, Michael was on him, hands grabbing and pulling, lips hot and wet and hard and desperate and Alex let his question die on his lips as he eagerly accepted Michael's advances, his own hands grabbing and pulling until he had Michael held so close he could feel his pounding heartbeat against his own chest.

The clothes quickly come off, both Michael and Alex pulling and tugging and kissing every newly revealed patch of bare skin until they were both naked and hard and rubbing against each other and when Michael pulled back slightly to grip both he and Alex in his fist, pumping them together as he pressed heated kisses to Alex's neck and collarbone. Alex gasped, sparks of white spotting his vision.

Somehow they made it to the bed, Michael on top of Alex, his hips pressing and grinding and Alex felt like he might pass out because of how good it felt. It was good. So, so good. His memory of being with Michael nowhere near this level of intensity. His skin was on fire, his senses heightened so that every brush of lips on skin left a blazing trail of white hot nerves that sung out with pleasure. Alex let Michael take control of it all, happy and willing to be an instrument in his hands.

Alex hummed with pleasure as Michael’s touch traveled his body; he felt like he was floating in the clouds while simultaneously drowning in a vast sea of pleasure. When Michael stopped and pulled back, his face slick with a sheen of sweat and his pupil’s exploded wide with desire. Alex swore he could see straight into Michael’s soul. Alex felt himself lose his breath. The man was a vision and Alex wanted him always and forever.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked, his voice husky and thick.

"Don't stop," Alex nodded as he reached his good hand to cradle the back of Michael's head, threading his fingers into the thick mass of curls and pulling him down into a deep kiss. His injured hand was mostly forgotten, Michael's touch more of an effective painkiller than any pill could be.

When asked, Alex directed Michael to the bedside table for condoms and lube.

Michael moved to put the condom on Alex, a reversal from their first time. Alex grabbed his wrist to stop him, silently questioning if he was sure. Michael just grinned and winked, gently pulling his wrist from Alex’s grip and sliding the condom on before moving a loosely held fist up and down him a few times to tighten the condom. Alex closed his eyes while a soft moan escaped his lips; the sudden shock of cold startled him and when he opened his eyes he saw Michael squeezing ample amounts of lube on him, spreading it up and down his shaft before putting more on his fingers and applying it to himself. Alex wanted to ask him again if he was sure, if he was ready, but Michael moved too quickly, straddling Alex’s hips and lowering himself onto and then all unspoken words faded from Alex’s lips as he succumbed to the ecstasy of the feel of Michael all around him. Alex elicited a long, deep moan; Michael was so tight and felt so good.

When Michael’s weight had settled Alex opened his eyes and the expression he saw on Michael's face, the way his damp curls framed his face and stuck to his forehead almost brought Alex to tears. He was so beautiful, so open, so giving. His expression one of....love? Dare Alex even think it possible? They barely knew each other, could they even be in love already?

Michael’s features, soft and relaxed, tightened slightly when Alex shifted beneath him. But then Michael was the one moving, his hips rolling and his hands splayed out on Alex’s abdomen as they both moved with soft, breathy moans escaping both their mouths.

Alex felt it all, every slight shift and move. When Michael tightened around him he gasped loudly before sitting up and with his good hand he gently but urgently pushed Michael to the side, flipping him to his back so Alex was now on top.

They settled and Alex pulled back slightly before pressing in again. The soft moan that came out of Michael's mouth nearly sending Alex over the edge. He was so close already, he knew he had to go slower or he'd come before he’d even given Michael the chance to get there.

Alex laid down fully on top of Michael, pressing their bodies together as he let his good hand thread into Michael's hair. He rolled his hips, slowly moving in and out, pressing in as deep as he could, bolstered by the guttural pant of breath that came from Michael each time he did.

The very definition of heaven was how Alex felt at that precise moment.

Michael's legs shifted and he wrapped them around Alex, Michael’s hands lighting at Alex’s waist, then his ass, massaging and gripping and pulling Alex even closer - as if it were possible for them to be any closer.

"Harder," Michael groaned breathlessly, and Alex buried his head into the crook of Michael's neck with a grin, moving harder and faster.

Last time, their first time, had been sweet if not a little bit awkward and a little bit clumsy. That was okay, though. Neither of them had known exactly what they were doing and it took a little time for them to really figure out each other’s bodies.

But this time was NOT like last time. This time was pure desire unleashed; no awkwardness, no hesitation, no clumsiness. Michael knew all the right places to touch, and his boldness led Alex to respond in kind. But there was something more to it, too, and Alex could feel it. Michael was holding nothing back, and not just his sexual desires but his emotional desires, too. That was what made the look on his face so scary and exhilarating; in that moment Alex saw what he meant to him. He could read it in Michael’s eyes, in his smile, in his touch. Michael loved him - there was no doubt of it.

Alex's pace quickened, fueled by a young love that still contained all possibilities. An unwritten future stretched out in front of them.

Alex bit softly at Michael’s neck, his jaw, before capturing his mouth with a kiss he hoped conveyed the intensity of his emotions. He was so close, and even though he wanted to slow down to make sure Michael was with him, he couldn't. He needed to get there and the fact that Michael's voice was murmuring in his ear, encouraging him with soft punctuated groans to go harder, go faster, wasn’t helping.

Panting and moaning together, Alex thought maybe they could actually come together but then he felt it building, cresting, he so moved to pull out but Michael held on to him, wrapping his legs tighter and gripping his ass harder. Alex had no time beyond that because then he was coming, groaning Michael's name and biting his neck and pumping his hips while the waves of orgasm washed over him. It was nearly more than he could take and he wondered if he'd pass out it felt so good...

It was over quickly, yet also seemed to go on endlessly. Slowly regaining his senses, he felt Michael, still hard, between them and even though he never wanted to separate their bodies again, even though he never wanted to remove himself from Michael’s embrace, he slowly pulled back, watching Michael's face and feeling oddly happy as Michael's expression clouded when Alex pulled out of him.

Pulling off the condom, Alex tied it off and tossed it to the floor before sitting back on his heels. He was still between his legs, Michael’s knees wide apart to accommodate Alex. Michael was hard, so hard, and Alex stared happily at the naked, open visage of Michael for a long moment before reaching out and griping him tight. Michael's reaction was instant as he sucked in a breath, his hips thrusting up and down and then he was fucking Alex's hand. Alex let him thrust, varying the pressure of his hand ever so slightly as Michael chewed on his lip and elicited soft, breathy moans.

They watched each other, eyes locked, Michael lifting his hips to push in and out of Alex's fist. It was almost more intimate than what just happened. When Alex relaxed his hand, releasing him, Michael stilled. Not speaking, they just stare.

Leaning down slowly, Alex pressed a kiss to the head of Michael’s cock and Michael sucked in sharply. Smiling, Alex took all of Michael into his mouth.

"Oh, fu-," Michael gasped, his hands flying to thread into Alex's hair and he was gripping and pressing and Alex was letting him fuck his mouth.

Alex worked his mouth on Michael, responding to the gasps and moans and the tightening grip of his hair. It didn’t take long before Michael loudly groaned, pushing Alex off him and coming, his chest now slick with more than sweat.

Michael’s eyelids were heavy as he slowly blinked; Alex watched him flutter them a few times before his eyes shifted and he peered up at Alex through his eyelashes. They looked at each other, their breathing slowing and evening out, matching. It wasn’t awkward, or embarrassing. It was comfortable, and felt…well, to Alex it felt like home.  

After a few minutes, Alex moved to get up, his shifting weight causing Michael to sit up and grab his arm.

"Don't go.”

"I'll be right back," Alex smiled, pulling away and heading to the bathroom, returning with a hot, wet washcloth.

Michael was lying back, but he sat up when Alex walked back into the room. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Alex gently pressed Michael back down onto his back before proceeding to wipe him clean with the cloth. Michael's hand was on Alex’s arm the whole time, feeling up and down and around, massaging his muscles, working around his shoulder and upper back. His hand wandered as far as it could reach, all while Alex gently cleaned him up.

It was a level of intimacy Alex didn’t think he'd ever get to experience, and certainly not with Michael. Their first time had been special, up to the end anyway, but for Alex their second time would be the one against which all other times would be measured. Alex knew that without a doubt. And he wondered if it would always feel so magical (Ethereal? Cosmic?) when he and Michael were together. He hoped so...

"Thank you," Michael said, after Alex had cleaned him up.

They were lying together in bed, still naked, legs intertwined. Alex's head was resting on Michael’s chest, his left arm draped across Michael’s body. The weight of the cast on his hand pulling slightly and sending a dull ache up his arm, but it was nowhere near uncomfortable enough for Alex to relinquish the moment. He could live like this forever, safe in Michael’s embrace.

"It's no big deal," Alex responded sleepily, with a quiet yawn that elicited a soft, light laugh from Michael.

"I didn't mean about just now," Michael said softly after a stretch of silence, and from his position Alex could hear his heart rate quicken.

Alex nodded, squeezing Michael with his left arm and with a small smile he pressed a series of soft kisses to his chest.

"I'll treasure this night," Michael added, his hold in Alex tightening as a he pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

"Me too," Alex replied, closing his eyes against Michael’s soft touch, his hand lightly tracing lines up and down Alex's back and he can’t remember, when he falls asleep, if he said the words out loud or just thought them; ‘this was the best night of my lift’.

There's bright morning sunlight streaming through the window when Alex wakes.

He feels satiated. Satisfied. A little sore in his legs. Stretching, he reaches out but finds the bed beside him cold and empty. Sitting up he listens but hears nothing other than the creaky quiet of the house around him. His bedroom door is ajar, and looking around his room Alex can’t see any of Michael's clothes. Alex climbed out of bed, pulling on a pair of shorts and hurrying to the room where Michael had been sleeping only to find all his things are gone.

Alex was confused. Hurt. Did he do something wrong? Walking back through the house, he found no trace that Michael had ever even been there. Returning to his bedroom he stood in the doorway looking around his room. That was when he finally noticed the note; the white paper blending in with the white pillowcase.

Walking slowly towards the bed, Alex felt apprehension start to creep in, unsure if he wanted to know what the note said or not.

He was scared to know.

But he has to know.

Alex,

I meant what I said last night. I'll treasure our night together. But I have to go. I'm enlisting in the Air Force and ship out to boot camp today. I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd try to talk me out of it and I really don’t think I could ever say no to you. Please take care of yourself. I will see you again.

Michael

And that was the end of it. Until now.

They were standing roughly an arm’s length from each other, their positions reminiscent of their first kiss. Alex was having a hard time separating the memory of that day six months ago from the present. He felt like he should be saying to Michael ‘Okay, talk’.

"Why'd you do it? Why'd you enlist?" Alex asked instead, not bothering to try and hide his hurt and confusion.

Michael's expression shifted, and he cast his eyes down. Alex hoped he felt guilty, at least a little.

Alex had spent days after Michael had left feeling angry. He felt lied to, and used. And he didn’t even have anyone he could talk to. He didn’t know what Max or Isobel knew; Liz was gone, but he couldn’t talk to her, or Maria, anyway because he’d never told them about Michael to begin with. He wouldn’t out Michael just because he’d been left feeling like a jilted lover. They weren’t boyfriends, they’d made no promises…but none of that was of any comfort to Alex, who still felt abandoned.

It had taken Alex a bit of time to move on; knowing Michael would be back, knowing without a doubt he’d see him again and have the chance to confront him about the way he left; that was what gave him the strength to move past the hurt. Or at least he’d thought he’d moved past it.

"I joined up to protect myself," Michael responded, looking up again and Alex could see pleading in his expression, he could see a yearning from Michael for him to understand.

But Alex didn't understand; this was all seemingly out of the blue. Michael had never spoken positively of the military, in fact he'd outwardly criticized it many, many times.

"To protect yourself from what?" Alex asked, apprehensively.

"I found something, when I was staying at your house," Michael paused, "In the tool shed. In your dad's stuff. A folder of old photographs from 1947. From the crash. The UFO crash. Photos of your grandfather."

"What?” Alex leveled an incredulous look, a smile playing on his lips because...this was a joke, right?

But Michael’s expression never wavered, and Alex felt the absurdity he felt about what Michael was saying fade. He was being serious, and Alex didn’t know what to make of that.

“Michael-," Alex arched his brow and sighed before looking down and shaking his head. Why would Michael go back to that shed? And why search through his dad’s stuff? And…UFO’s?

Alex felt a seed of anger start to blossom in his gut. If Michael couldn't even be honest with him...

"Alex," Michael took another step closer, his hand lifting Alex's chin so they were looking each other in the eye, "I'm serious."

And for whatever reason, Alex’s doubt began to fade and he started to believe him. He wasn't sure he believed the UFO part (though his granddad had been stationed in Roswell in the late 40s…), but he believed Michael's motivation; he believed Michael believed it and for the moment that was enough.

“Fine,” Alex sighed and Michael dropped his hand, “So? What does a UFO crash have to do with you, or joining the military? Do you actually believe in that stuff?”

Alex sensed he’d said the wrong thing as soon as the words were out of his mouth. There was a shift in Michael’s expression, microscopic though it was, and Alex saw it. His guard went up; not completely, but it was there. Alex could see hesitation in Michael’s expression.

“Sorry, I-,” Alex started but was cut off.

"I'm an alien, Alex. And if your dad ever gets out of prison, I'll be in a position to protect of us from him and anyone else who might want to hurt us."

“You’re…what? Us? Who is us?" Alex stumbled, choosing to ignore for the moment the giant bombshell Michael just dropped on him.

"Me. Max. Isobel," Michael said, slowly, and Alex stared, the realization all this was really happening starting to sink in, things beginning to make sense to him.

“We found out your dad was part of a secret military project studying the crash and when he got sent to prison it was the perfect opportunity to try and find out more,” Michael said, slowly, and Alex felt his heart sink.

Not because of the alien stuff – which to be honest was still too absurd to even wrap his head around – no, it was because that meant…

“Did you only stay with me so you could snoop through my dad’s stuff?” Alex took a step back, his resolve crumbling as his heart started to crack. He’d been invested, he’d had real, true feelings for Michael and if it turned out they weren’t really reciprocated…well Alex wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“No. No!” Michael started to shuffle closer, but stopped when Alex held up his hands.

“No. I didn’t,” Michael clenched his jaw.

“Okay, maybe at first that was the plan, but I stayed because I wanted to. I found that stuff the first night I was there. I could have left right then, but I stayed. I stayed. For you.”

Alex crossed his arms and leveled a hard stare at Michael, trying to make sense of the changes in him. The Michael standing before him had gone through basic training; had been brainwashed by the US military complex. Alex might not be in, but he knew how it went. His dad was in (or had been), his brothers were all in. He’d seen firsthand how they’d each been changed after going through basic.

But Michael…the longer Alex stared the more he saw the same Michael he knew four months ago; the one he’d always known. The one he’d had the greatest night of his life with.

"I’ll always stay for you. And come back for you. And protect you," Michael added, "I'll always be here to protect you from him or anyone else. I refuse to ever let anything like that,” Michael indicated to Alex’s hand, “happen again."

"Alien?" Alex questioned, trying to hide the ridiculousness he felt in saying the word; seeing Michael stiffen slightly before he nodded, never breaking eye contact with Alex.

"I’ll tell you everything I know," Michael said softly, arm reaching out to gently grip Alex's bicep, and when Alex didn’t pull away he smiled.

Aliens. An alien. Michael.

Alex softened, relaxing his posture and arching his brow slightly.

The one thing Alex knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was he didn't want Michael to leave again. He didn't want Michael to walk away, or look away, or stop touching him. Alien or not, it was Michael, and that trumped everything else.

Michael let go of Alex's arm and Alex immediately reached out to grasp Michael's hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin on the back of his hand. Alex looked at their hands, Alex’s showing the visible scars of the physical damage from their first time together, Michael’s showing the undetectable scars of a possible coming war, the potential scars of the unknown future that lay ahead of them.

"Okay," Alex breathed, looking up to meet Michael's gaze again.

Alex was nervous, and curious. He was scared. Not of Michael (or the others) but of the unspoken intention behind Michael being in the Air Force and what that might mean. Alex was scared for Michael. And he hoped he was making the right decision; he hoped they both were making the right decision.

And even if they still barely knew each other, Alex knew enough (Michael was an alien! That was huge!). Alex knew he was safe with Michael and that Michael would never hurt him or allow him to be hurt; Alex knew Michael was safe with him, and apparently Michael knew that too. It made Alex feel so incredibly happy to know Michael trusted him enough to reveal such a big secret to him.

"Okay?"

Alex nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched Michael's eyes move down to his mouth then back again.

"I love you, Alex," Michael murmured softly, invading Alex's personal space as he wrapped his arms around him and kissed him softly, tenderly.

Alex wanted to say it back, but thought he'd just enjoy the kiss first. There'd be time to say it back after.

AO3 link

[buckybleeds]

Supplementary Reading Materials for Chapter 2 of Nothing Fades Like The Light.

The first page is the one-page history of the US that Nick Fury gives to Steve the day after he wakes up.

The next two pages are from the 10th grade history book Steve is given to read.

All of these pages are technically-factually-true (except the last paragraph of “the cost of freedom” section of the history textbook where mutants and asgardians are discussed) but have a strong bias in their presentation.

Fury’s presentation of US history is VERY US-positive; the textbook is slightly less US positive but still much, much, much more biased than, say, Wikipedia.

Anyway, here’s the text of these pages:

This is the one-page history provided to Steve by Fury. Please note that it is technically factual but VERY biased in its presentation of American Contemporary History.

For release to Cpt. Steven G. Rogers

Per Director Nicholas J. Fury

4/25/2011

        Vital points in US History from 3/5/1945 to Present

- April 12th 1945 Pres. Franklin D. Roosevelt dies of stroke, succeeded in office by VP Harry S. Truman.

- April 30th 1945 Adolph Hitler commits suicide, Germany surrenders 5/7/1945 Victory is declared in Europe.

- September 2nd 1945 Japan signs terms of surrender after Americans halted a possible invasion through the use of nuclear weapons in Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

- June 24th 1948 Soviet Union blockades communist-controlled East Berlin, prompting American airdrops of food and fuel.

- June 27th 1950 American troops are sent to support South Korea against invading North Korean communists.

- September 24th 1957 Black/White school segregation is ended by presidential order

- August 2nd 1964 Vietnamese torpedo boats attack American Sailors

- November 22nd 1963 US President John F. Kennedy is assassinated in Dallas,Tx.

- January-February 1968 North Vietnamese launch a coordinated offensive against American soldiers stationed in South Vietnam

- August 6th 1965 President Lyndon B. Johnson signs the Voting Rights Act, to prevent racial discrimination from hindering democracy.

- July 20th 1969 American Astronauts become the first men to walk on the moon.

- May 3re 1970 US troops launch offensive in Cambodia to counter Vietnamese troops hiding past the Cambodian border.

- January 27th 1973 The US brokers a cease-fire with Vietnam and signs the cease-fire agreement in Paris.

- August 9th 1974 President Richard Nixon resigns and is succeeded and pardoned by VP Gerald Ford.

- April 25th 1980 American Servicemen are killed attempting to free US hostages in Iran

- January 20th 1981 President Ronald Regan is inaugurated and Iranian hostages freed.

- March 30th 1981 Failed assassination attempt on President Ronald Regan

- June 12th 1987 President Regan demands the Soviet Union tear down the Berlin Wall.

- November 9th 1989 Berlin Wall demolished.

- February 1st 1992 US President George Bush and Russian President Boris Yeltsin meet to sign an agreement declaring an end to the Cold War.

- June 26th 1993 President Bill Clinton launches an attack against Iraq after failed assassination of former President George Bush.

- September 11th 2001 Terrorists destroy the World Trade Center in New York by flying hijacked planes into the towers, killing over 3000 people

- January 29th 2002 President George W. Bush declares war on Afghanistan in response to the 9/11 terror attacks.

- June 28th 2004 the US returns sovereignty to the Iraqi interim government

- September 10th 2007 The US remains committed to training operations, counter-insurgency measures, and fighting terrorists in Iraq.

[Here’s the text of the Vietnam War page from the 10th-grade textbook given to Steve]

Perspective Shift – Photography

[included image of a US soldier burning a home during the My Lai Massacre]

In March of 1968 American Soldiers killed over 300 Vietnamese noncombatant civilians, including many women and children, in what became known as the My Lai massacre.

Testimony given by Warrant Officer Hugh Thompson Jr. described ditches full of bodies, homes being burnt, and unarmed civilians being executed by American soldiers.

While there were eyewhitnesses and many credible reports of unsanctioned American violence it is largely due to the greater portability and durability

of cameras that the American public gave up support for the Vietnam War.

Famous photos of Nguyễn Văn Lém (“Saigon Execution” 1968), Phan Thị Kim Phúc (“Napalm Girl” 1972), and even the deaths of American students protesting the

bombing of Cambodia at Kent State University in Ohio (“Kent State University Massacre” 1970) made the reality of war more obvious to people reading newspapers at home and watching reports on television.

While mass media has always been a part of modern warfare there had never before been such a stream of violent, full-color images making their way off of the battlefield and into people’s living rooms.

Previous wars had sent newsreels showing successful battles and strong soldiers back to the home front, frequently as a tactic for promoting the sale of war bonds or increasing recruitment, but the visibility of the cost of war has become more and more apparent as it became easier to show what was happening on the ground.

DISCUSSION QUESTION: How does the internet and social media shift the way that American civilians experience war today? What do you think would be different about war today without cellphone videos or livestreaming?

 US commanders were more grounded in offensive and aggressive warefare than defensive positions or missions. This, combined with the heretofore unusual challenge of fighting opponents who utilized guerilla techniques and could easily blend in with (or actually be) the civilian population made a unique challenge in terms of tactics and planning.

Additionally, after the initial surge US recruits were typically drafted and only recently trained and stationed overseas. They were unfamiliar with the local culture and languages, unfamiliar with the terrain and wildlife – even unfamiliar with the food. A recruit from Indianapolis would find himself in a very strange place standing on the bank of the Mekong river.

This led to engagements unlike any ever seen in American military campaigns – search and destroy operations were stymied on the ground by impenetrable jungles and the ability of the Viet Cong to disappear into the local population but bases were left poorly defended – the Viet Cong took advantage of these strategic inconsistencies and carefully provoked US offensive actions into Hill Fights in the Central Highlands as a diversonary tactic before launching the Tet Offensive.

The Tet Offensive (1/30/1968) was a major strategy launched at more than 100 cities, with focused attacks on government buildings, military installations, and the US Embassy in Saigon. During the first month of the offensive over 1,100 Americans and 14,000 Vietnamese civilians were killed.

The Tet Offensive marked the beginning of a collapse of morale among US soldiers and marked an end to majority support at home. Infantry units began to falsify or simply disobey orders or even turn around to attack their commanding officers, sometimes going so far as to kill those giving orders.

DEFINITION – FRAGGING

Fragging is the act of killing one’s own officer or teammates in war, named for fragmentation grenades because officers killed in grenade incidents were noted as accidental deaths. There were over 900 fragging incidents investigated in the later years of the war.

Questions were also being continually raised about the ethics and efficacy of US tactics. The use of Napalm was uncontroversial at the beginning of the campaign and justified as a way to protect US troops and eradicate cover for the Viet Cong, but after tens of thousands of civilians, many of them children, were killed or burned in napalm drops support for the war continued to drop as it became impossible to ignore that the American use of incendiaries on civilians was only causing increased support for the North Vietnamese forces.

Pathways Through American History: Chapter 21 – The Vietnam War

Hugh Thompson Junior, who is mentioned in the “perspective shift: photography” section of the history book Steve reads, is maybe the truest definition of an American hero - he was responsible for reporting and attempting to end the My Lai massacre, landing his helicopter between American soldiers and the Vietnamese civilians they were attempting to kill and evacuating survivors of the massacre. He faced tremendous criticism for his actions and was ostracized for testifying against American soldiers. He was eventually awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for extraordinary bravery in flight. He threw it away.

You can read more about him being just the biggest swinging dick in the northern hemisphere here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugh_Thompson_Jr.

Additionally there was an opera written about his actions and dedicated to his bravery and to the survivors of the My Lai massacre, which includes music played on instruments made from artillery left in Vietnam after the war. You can see excerpts from that opera here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RQu9lxaDsI8

[Here’s the text of a page from Steve’s history book - this one is about the Patriot Act]

Take Note

[includes image of a sign that says “The FBI has not been here – watch this sign carefully to see if that changes”]

Librarians strenuously objected to the USA PATRIOT act, specifically Section 215, which allows the FBI to request books, records, papers, and other documents that a suspected terrorist might have accessed, including what books had been checked out from a library. The American Library Association stated that library records are fundamentally different from ordinary business records and that the provision granting access to library records would have a chilling effect on free speech but discouraging the use of libraries or the free exploration of information therein.

The sign pictured in this section was posted in a library in 2005; while libraries were not permitted to announce that the FBI had requested records because of the gag order attached to the provision they were allowed to post a sign saying there had been no requests for information and then surreptitiously remove the signs if that changed.

DISCUSSION QUESTION: Is checking a book out from a library free speech? Do you think you would search different websites if you knew your parents or school were monitoring where you went? Do you think it’s worth it to be careful about what you search if it means someone else doesn’t get bullied or hurt because of search filtering?

 The Cost of Freedom

after 9/11 it became clear that our democracy was not prepared for the spectre of terrorism that had invaded our shores - but some of the responses have been criticized as worse than the cause.

The USA PATRIOT act continues to be controversial for many reasons, but most frequently cited are the normalization of mass state surveillance and erosion of personal privacy and the elimination of constitutional protections for certain classes of terrorist suspects.

Reauthorizations of the USA PATRIOT act have continually approved unwarranted wiretapping and gag orders on people (like librarians and internet service providers) who might otherwise warn people about data collection in the public interest. Some provisions have become more controversial as time has passed – for instance the “Lone Wolf” provision that allowed for the warrantless wire-tapping of individuals not connected to known terrorist groups has come under additional scrutiny as groups like the ACLU point out that the FBI’s definitions of “terrorist” are both expansive and opaque. Other sections are more and more accepted – nationwide service of search warrants for electronic evidence is wholly accepted now whereas the question of widening jurisdictions was seen as a threat to individual liberty when the act was signed into law in 2001.

Of greater concern are the changes made to criminal law in broadening the definitions of terrorism; it is now possible to be considered a terrorist for causing mass destruction as well as causing injury or death, and the definitions of “cyber terrorism” set down in 2001 might certainly give computer-users in 2008 some pause; accessing a ‘protected computer’ is a terrorist action, after all – or at least it can be.

The indefinite detention of non-US citizens is also of serious concern internationally, though American citizens are not subject to the indefinite holds that are possible for non-citizens. Constitutional scholars, civil liberties groups, and many activists contend that constitutional freedoms are guaranteed to all people on American soil, but that is a more and more difficult question to tackle when ‘aliens’ discussed in the law become literal Aliens, as the revealed Asgardians and their advanced technology prove. The protections that might be necessary for an accused immigrant don’t need to be enshrined the same way for beings we have no better description for than ‘demigod.’

Mutant activist groups have recently hopped into the fray in this conversation, as the USA PATRIOT act can also classify their genetic powers as terrorist weapons and the damage that is caused when an adolescent mutant matures into their talent has more than once been labeled a terrorist action.

 A Different Perspective

President George W. Bush, who signed the USA PATRIOT Act into law, has stood by his decision all this time and continues to insist that it is in the best interest of the American people.

The Department of Homeland Security, a new branch of the Department of Defense, was also formed under President Bush and has seen similar ups-and-downs. The most well-known face of the DHS is the Transportation Security Administration, or TSA, who most of us know from long lines at the airport and taking off your shoes to get on a plane.

It’s true that these things are inconvenient, but security usually isn’t convenient - there have been no attempted shoe or liquid bombings on planes since the TSA changed their carry-on policies, so maybe the trade-off is worth the inconvenience.

 Pathways Through American History: Chapter 28 – The War on Terror

[bnha-heroofheadcanons]

If not allowed, please delete and ignore. I want to send in a request for reader x all might. Reader has been dating an abusive guy who ends up doing some pretty bad things to her. All Might saves her and helps her deal with everything after he defeats the boyfriend and sends him to jail. He ends up being her new boyfriend and comforts her when shes triggered and memories hit her. He uses his quirk at night lets her sleep in his arms cause it helps her. Is that acceptable? The rules won't load.

Oooh. Let’s see what we’ve got anon. This one may end up a touch angsty you’ve been warned.

~~~

You are an absolutely beautiful person in all ways, as a result of that however you can easily be tricked. Air headed but pudding sweet is a great way to describe you. So when you meet your boyfriend, he finds it laughably easy to hide how he really is from you for months. It isn’t until you’ve been convinced you love him that the manipulation and gaslighting starts. ‘If you loved him you’d do this’ or let him do that, when you try and talk to him about how you’re feeling he blows you off and starts saying things like “What about me? You’re a crazy bitch.” It doesn’t escalate to physical harm until you’re on the verge of leaving despite your fear. He beats you so badly that you’re hospitalized, you’ve even got a bit of brain damage that makes it hard for you to keep new memories, sometimes you’ll wake up the next day with blanks of time. You’re forced to pretend to be functional though while this man hurts you in so many ways it’s not even funny, doing unspeakable things that you wish you could forget.

It’s one of the few times you’re allowed outside the apartment that someone finally saves you. The symbol of peace finds you two in a dark alley where you’re screaming for your ‘boyfriend’ to stop what he’s doing. He doesn’t however and because of that All Might smashes the man out of the alley, when All Might reports the crime to police your state of dress and the scars, bruises and other wounds he had left on you are all proof enough of his sin that he’s taken to trial for it. You’re made to testify and screaming and crying you don’t want to, it’s only thanks to All Might’s support that you’re even able to testify.

During the court stuff you won’t talk to anyone but All Might, you can’t handle being around men at all other than him, you barely tolerate women. It’s just all around horrible. The case settled though with him being convicted guilty and sent to jail for a very very long time. You have to do rehabilitation and take meds to be able to become a somewhat functioning human in society. Maybe…if you’d had a quirk you could have saved yourself or stopped him. You often tell yourself that. The court wasn’t all bad though, because of all the support All Might had given you, and all the effort he had put in you felt safe finally, for the first time in a very long time.

The relationship develops naturally, no sudden big confessions or anything like that, just you and Toshinori spending time together while you heal. After nearly two years Toshinori offers you a key to his house. “Come live with me! We’re always together at night anymore so…we should move in together don’t you think?” Taking that key would make it official that you and he were an item, but you did it anyway, you felt safe with him after all and while you loved him both when he was slim and when he was all muscle falling asleep in his arms when he was in his muscle form was easiest for you. You felt safe and protected. You didn’t ask for it often knowing it was hard on him, you only ever asked for that when you had one of your extreme night terrors.

He’s so patient with you, no matter what you do or how things happen during your terrors or nightmares he will pull you into his chest and desperately shh at you softly and pet your hair until you stop screaming. He more than understands why since he knows the full story of the horrible things the ex-boyfriend had done to you. “Hush baby…it’s all right I am here to protect you, always.” It may seem silly and small but those three words, his catchphrase and something that scares villains, soothes something deep in your chest.

“You’re always such a hero…” You whisper to him through sniffling and crying, you really do feel safest with him and he always wraps you up in all the blankets and just hugs your little burrito body in his muscle form close to his chest, he’s already figured out the best ways for you to wake up feeling somewhat okay after nights like that since he can only maintain his muscle form for a certain period of time. As he strokes your head you start to fall back into a peaceful slumber.

Toshinori doesn’t fall asleep for awhile though, he fights to keep his muscle form until her knows for certain you’re asleep, sometimes pushing himself too far, but he doesn’t mind. “Anything for you. Nobody will ever hurt you again because you are mine.” You barely hear him say it, but it sounds like his catchphrase, that utter conviction giving you the peace you need.

(Bonus) — Several months later Toshinori tells you about a kid he had met who admired him so much he wants to become the next symbol of peace! Toshinori is excited as he talks to you saying he’s found his successor and he’ll be amazing and great one day! It’s adorable how excited he is and he wraps you in a tight hug squeezing you tightly. “He’ll become that symbol and I hope, when my time comes to die…that you’ll feel safe because of his rise as the next symbol of peace.” It was something you already knew about but still the reminder was a small blow, but you weren’t about to let that depress you or shake you.

You’re terrified but decide this is the time to tell him what you need to. You pull him away from you and stare him dead in the eyes taking a deep breath, “It…I…no we will be okay when you have to go. I love you above all things, honestly I think we should get married finally. After all…” You place a warm hand on your stomach, you’d found out several days ago at the doctors but asked the doctor to keep quiet to your boyfriend, you wanted to break the news yourself, “We’ve got a baby coming.”

His jaw drops and he just…stares at you for a solid three minutes, “Baby?” You nod biting your lip nervously but smiling, “As in…mine?” You yell of course at him and in an instant he goes from lanky Toshinori; whom you adored with all your heart, to All Might, the great symbol of peace and your savior, the other half of the whole package that was your beloved, and he picks you up spinning around and laughing full and hearty, “A baby! Our own kid! Oh he’ll be picked on though, we’re both quirkless, they’re highly likely to be born quirkless too. But they’ll be my son or daughter. We have to discuss name options!” He continues to laugh and panic and worry but you just giggle, shake your head at him and cup his face smiling down at him with that damned sugar sweet smile and tell him to take it a step at a time, there’s plenty of time to do everything you’ve got to do. “Yes…sorry I’m just so excited. They’ll be loved though, no matter what else happens. I love you, you’ve made me the happiest man alive, thank you for coming into my life.” You kiss him softly and speak softly.

“No…thank you for saving me, for your patience and your love and for just being here for me. Let’s go home.” Toshinori in his muscle form pampers you and carries you home not paying attention to the looks either of you keep getting.

~~~

Well…My brain decided it wanted to go into overdrive and finish this up in a super sappy way. (You people and your ability to make me get so sappy! XD I love it) Well anon I hope you liked it.

[jjkfire]

Escape; pt.10 (epilogue)

Reader x Jungkook // (???)!AU // 14k words

Summary: Everyone has a number over their heads that says how useful they are to society from 0-100. You have a number ‘4’. You leave the city for some peace but you meet your cocky neighbor who seems to get on your nerves.

Genre: Fluff

Y/LN refers to your last name/family name

A/N:  Hi wow hello. Look here! It’s the epilogue to Escape! This is for all of you who have been extremely encouraging throughout the series and have shown me love and support throughout it all. I love you all so much because truly this series is my baby! It was my first attempt at a long chaptered fic! So basically anyway this is for my ogs who’ve sent me such sweet things about escape @thekookiecrush @hxsungwoon @katthecaptain @wide-awaker @revolutionbreez @orixiro @parkheehi @misxing-you @megjin @antaedepressant @marrauderr @minsuxga (the pregnancy ask… im suing you!) AND OF COURSE NOT FORGETTING MY BB @wicdrop and also all you anons out there! i remember all of you!!!!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5  // Part 6 // Part 6.5 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9

Previously…

Here’s a recap because it’s been too long!  Jimin’s in jail after being caught trying to steal floor plans from Y/L/N Logistics (He was blackmailed by Jeon Logistics). Hoseok played a part in that and he was the one who falsified the audio clip that made you think Jungkook was in a relationship with you to decipher DIADEM. Jungkook didn’t tell you it was Hoseok because it’ll break you. You hear the original clip that Jimin had recorded of that night, proving Jungkook’s innocence and after hours of searching, Jungkook finds you in the local park, holds you close as you cry, begging for his forgiveness and he forgives you, of course he does because none of this is your fault. –> or skim through part 9 bc I feel like this was a horrible recap

Jungkook hates Hoseok with a passion and every time he sees his face, he just wants to put in a solid punch for your sake but you’ve warned him against doing so many times before and he wonders how you do it, how you always take the high road so easily. You seem to forgive people left and right, no matter what it is they’ve done to you and he truly finds it unfathomable that you don’t hate his family with a burning passion because he does. Blood is thicker than water you murmur to him, telling him to reconcile with his family but he simply shakes his head, unable to find it in him to do so, to forgive both his and even your own family like you’ve done.

Jungkook dislikes your family, he’s made it very clear but you convince him that despite their flaws, you still love them very much, so he holds back the insults, clenching his jaw to stop the words from spilling out whenever he sees them. He never wants to be associated with either Hoseok or your family because they both only bring you pain and yet here he is, sitting in your father’s cozy office, sandwiched between your father and brother while Hoseok sits on the sofa chair on the opposite side, a smug look on his face.

This is Jungkook’s last resort. He’d never be caught dead with these people but for your sake, he pushes away the anger, putting on a calm expression because hell if this doesn’t work out, he’s completely run out of options.

The meeting you had with Jimin’s lawyer had not gone the way you had expected. You had barged into her office with a million-watt smile on your face, the pen drive with the recordings in hand, the key to Jimin’s release, but she destroys all your hope with a single sentence.

“Were these recordings obtained legally?” She asks and the look on your face is enough to give her the answer she seeks.

“Then I’m afraid this would be inadmissible in court.”

“B-but you need to listen to them! They blackmailed him into doing it!”

“It doesn’t matter what’s on there because we can’t use it in court.”

Just like that, you leave her office feeling dejected, broken even because you were at a total loss of what to do. There wasn’t a single thing you could think of that could help the man that was quite possibly the only person that kept you going, that cheered you on in your adolescent years. He was the closest thing you had to family and you felt utterly useless because he was there for you all the time, every damn time but now, when he finally requests a favour, you can’t seem to step up and provide.

“Y/N, you win some and you lose some,” Jimin shrugs and you can’t help the tears that start to roll down your cheeks. All you can think about is how the world is so unfair. That in a perfect world, a man with so much love, so much kindness would never be sitting across from you in an orange jumpsuit, a 5 year sentence hanging above his head.

“Don’t cry,” He frowns placing his hand on the thick glass screen that separates the two of you.

“I’ll get you out of here somehow, I promise,” You mumble into the handset. “I’m not giving up.”

“Y/N, it’s honestly fine. They’ll probably let me out earlier for good behaviour and all that jazz,” He smiles.

“That’s still years, Jimin,” You sob. “You were coerced, blackmailed, and that’s a crime too.”

He let’s out a low hum, completely at a loss of what to say because you were right.

“I begged them you know? Dad and my brother…” You sigh. “I told them to drop the charges, showed them recordings, everything! But they said it’ll only put the company in a weaker position and the Jeons would’ve gotten what they wanted all along.”

“That’s true,” Jimin exhales. “It’s a smart decision on their part.”

“Smart decision? Jimin, they chose the company over you!” You shout. “You’ve worked for us for years now, you’re like family to us and they still chose the goddamn company over you.”

Jimin can only offer you a sad lopsided smile because such is the way of the world. Not everyone had a heart like yours, not everyone was willing to put a billion-dollar company on the line for the sake of their secretary.

“Don’t worry,” You murmur. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Y/N, it’s okay,” He sighs. “There’s nothing more you can do now.”

“There has to be something.”

He shakes his head at you because you’ve always been mightily stubborn.

“Don’t waste anymore of your time,” He mumbles. “Just move on, be happy and I’ll be out before you know it.”

“How can you expect me to just do that?” You frown. “If the roles were reversed, I know you wouldn’t stop too.”

A light laugh escapes Jimin because it’s true, he wouldn’t. He’d do everything, work himself down to the core until he could find a way to guarantee your freedom.

Wrap it up! You hear the guard shout at you and just like the numerous times you’ve visited him before, a sudden pang of sadness runs through your body.

“Not again,” Jimin groans playfully. “You cry every time.”

“Shut up,” You manage to say between sobs and Jimin wishes more than ever that the barrier between the both of you could just dissolve so he could pull you into a tight hug.

“I’ll see you soon okay?”

“Well, you know where to find me,” He laughs, eyes twinkling and you scowl at him.

He waves you a quick goodbye and though you try to stop them, the tears just continue to stream down your face.

Jimin’s okay, he really is but you never seem to acknowledge that concept, your puppy dog pity eyes always staring at him as the guard leads him out of the room and he always looks back just in time to see the guard on the other side giving you a consoling pat on the back.

Did Jimin want to be in jail? Of course not. Did he in some way deserve jail time? Sure… and it’s his mistake, he admits, that he found himself in this position anyway and yet his biggest regret of all was causing the people that cared for him to hurt the way you do. He absolutely feels like breaking down whenever his parents come in to talk to him but he puts up a front, smiling, hoping that they would spend less time worrying about him. But god, you. Nothing hurts more than seeing you cry, nothing hurts more than seeing you beat yourself up every time your plan doesn’t work out. He hated that he put you in this position because he was supposed to be a brother to you, he was supposed to take care of you but here he is, with the roles reversed in the worst way possible. He never tells you but every time he returns to his cell, he lets his measly thin mattress, if he could call it that, soak up all his tears.

“Pleasure to see you again, Jungkook,” Hoseok smirks. “What? Not going to grab me by my collar this time?”

It takes every ounce of willpower within Jungkook to stop himself from cussing the life out of Hoseok and he manages to calm himself down but Hoseok doesn’t miss the way Jungkook has his fists clenched by his side.

“Let’s just try to keep the conversation civil, shall we?” Your father grumbles.

“I understand you have a favour to ask?” Hoseok purrs and his sickly tone makes Jungkook feel like gagging.

“A favour is a nice way to put it but I’d rather classify it as a threat,” Your brother grins.

Hoseok straightens up in his chair, suddenly unsure of what exactly he had walked into.

“Jung Hoseok,” Your brother begins. “Let’s just get straight to the point. We need you to testify.”

“Testify?”

“In court, against the Jeons.”

“Are you crazy? They’ll kill me if I ever did that,” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“Right, that’s what we thought you would say,” Your brother sighs. “You know, we heard you’ve been talking to Y/N again,” Your brother begins, smirking.

“Yeah, exes can be friends,” He shrugs. “What does this have to do—"

“But I’m not so sure if she’d consider you a friend once she finds out you’ve been on a 5 year long mission to figure out diadem. That you had a hand in putting someone she cares for in jail. That everything between the both of you is a lie.”

“What are you trying to say?” Hoseok taps his foot nervously, hands fidgeting in his lap.

“Well for starters, I’m trying to say that in one phone call, I can have her here and you can watch as I show her this,” Your brother throws out a bunch of papers back from 4 years ago when Hoseok was still dating you, transcripts of him talking to Mr. Jeon on what he’s found out about the company. “And this, or this, or this,” He continues, throwing out paper after paper of all of Hoseok’s misdeeds, even the shoplifting record that Jimin had previously threatened him with. “But most importantly, this,” He smiles, playing the play button on his phone.

“Did you get all of that?” Mr. Jeon asks.

“Yes, sir. I heard it all loud and clear. I have the code written down too.” Hoseok responds.

“Alright then, let’s call Jimin and end all of this tonight.”

Hoseok sits in his chair stunned. He had been caught off guard because he thought he was called here for an offer, perhaps some money for some information but it looks like he had read the situation all wrong because how did they get the original voice clip for that night?

Hoseok wants to scream out aloud in the room, his heart pounding, his head beginning to ache because everything between you and him isn’t a lie. Maybe parts of it are but what he felt for you then and what he feels for you even now isn’t a lie. You are the one that got away, you are who he has always pictured growing old together with… and maybe everyone else thinks it’s ridiculous but truly he just knows, that it’s you… that you’re the one and you always will be.

He sounds crazy, he knows but if only the two of you had met in a different lifetime, maybe things would be different because nobody sees the years of history the two of you have together. They don’t see the hushed words that were shared between the both of you on an overcast day, you with your head on his stomach, him sprawled out on the grass as both of you talked about how unfair the world was, about your hopes and dreams that may never come true. They don’t see how the two of you had planned it all, the perfect getaway once both of you had collected enough money to get out of this city, to perhaps settle down in a modest house by the beach with no one to judge either of you for the less than magnificent numbers glowing above both of your heads. It’s the fact that he knows you’d be happy as long as you had your carving tools and him happy as long as he had you.

Everyone in this room only sees him as a villain but couldn’t they see that he was a victim in all of this too? That if only you and him were blessed with numbers as high as any of theirs, none of this would be happening. He loves you, more than you can ever know or anyone for that matter. He knows, he’s ‘deluded’ or whatever but you’re the only person he’s ever met that didn’t look at him like he’s just a 65 that was born to help the high nineties to achieve their dreams and neither did you look at him like he was just someone who should be angry and bitter, forever cursing the system. You looked at him like he had dreams to pursue, like he could have the world in the palm of his hand if he just did what his heart desires. He remembers your words ringing clearly in his head, no matter how many years have passed, clinging onto it like it’s his lifeline because it’s the only time he’s ever felt anyone believe in him.

“Well, what do you think?” He asks, turning to you, chest heaving from the hip hop number he had just performed.

“That was amazing, Hoseok!” Your eyes still wide as you try to process the fact that it was really him that had danced so fluidly as if the bones in his body didn’t exist. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you could dance like that?

“It’s just… I’m not that good,” He mumbles. “I’m still working on—”

“Are you kidding? You’re straight up the best dancer I’ve ever seen.”

“Well I don’t think you’ve really seen a good dancer because… I’m just not on par, you know?”

“You are,” You answer, your eyebrows furrowed. “You should do something with that talent. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Nah… It’ll be a waste of time. I’m a 65, Y/N. People like me don’t get anywhere.”

“You can deny it all you want but you’re a great dancer and nothing you say can convince me otherwise. I’d kill to be able to dance like you,” You smile at him. “You’re gonna be so good they can’t ignore you. It won’t matter what your number is, you hear me?”

Loud and clear. He had heard you loud and clear.

Ah, he sighs. How he wishes you were right but you’ve always had your head up in the clouds, always over optimistic. But, it was always nice to hear words like that every once in a while… It almost had him believing in it himself.

“So, are you willing to testify? Or do you want to break Y/N’s heart all over again and perhaps face some jail time too?”

“W-what—,” A deep breath, one filled with defeat. “What do you need me to do?”

And for the first time since he’s entered this office, Jungkook smiles.

As promised, Hoseok takes the stand, revealing intricacies of the entire plan, from private emails to recordings, the court sees it all from start to end. The Jeons are trapped in a corner, having no way to refute the edited evidence provided, one that Hoseok had altered to leave himself out from being implicated. How were they supposed to know the man they entrusted with destroying all the evidence would turn on them like this? What could the Y/L/N’s probably have on him that would make him switch his allegiance?

The slam of the hammer comes soon after the jury’s verdict, Jimin nearly in tears as they unlock the handcuffs around his wrists, finally a free man. Hoseok sees the undeniable smile on your face, one he takes credit for and you turn to him from the floor, mouthing out the words thank you with tears in your eyes. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wishes he could tell you but he’s dug a grave far too deep for himself and he admits that he’s lost his chance with you.

If he was being truthful, he had lost you all those years ago but that doesn’t mean he still wishes that somehow the circumstances were different, that there weren’t so many secrets between the both of you. He wishes more than anything to turn back the clock a few years, both you and him carefree, being delinquents and loving life despite the crappy hand life had dealt the both of you. Alas, wishes are only that, just wishes and he knows now that he’s somehow made up for breaking your heart all those years ago and maybe with this, you would forgive him for the horrible mistakes he’s made, ones you’re not aware of. His heart breaks when he sees you in Jungkook’s arms but at least he knows you’re happy and that’s the best gift you could give someone you love. Happiness.

Your texts to Hoseok goes unread and your subsequent calls go unanswered. You think maybe he’s just nervous, afraid that you were going to lash out at him now that you found out that he had previously worked for Jeon Logistics. You wonder when exactly he got that job and why he had never mentioned the fact to you over your recent conversations with him. You’re left confused and in the dark because he had been eager to reconcile over the lost years just days ago but somehow it was like he had vanished into thin air. Perhaps he had decided to take off like he had the last time around when he broke your heart and it makes you frown because for whatever it was worth, he had brought joy to your life when you were just about at your lowest and for that you would always be grateful, even if he had left a deep emotional scar, one you had just recently been able to rid yourself off with Jungkook’s help.

You wanted him to know that you had forgiven him years ago, something Jungkook says he doesn’t understand but you try to explain to him that it wasn’t worth it, holding onto so much hate within yourself. Wherever he is, you hope he’s happy because even when you were with him and even through the recent texts he had been sending you, you could still sense the same old Hoseok, the one that was bitter and skeptical about life. You had tried many times over the course of your relationship with him to get him to see life in a better light, to show him that despite the circumstances, both you and him deserved to be happy and so wherever he is, that’s all you wish for him, that he’s finally happy.

And that he is. He’s happy because you are and though he may have given up his identity and taken on a new one, a deal he struck up with your father to protect him from the wrath of the Jeons when they’ve done their time, he’s trying his best to live his life the way he knows you wanted him to. Do what you love, you would always say and here, halfway around the world, he is. He joins a dance studio, a small one, teaching kids hip-hop during the day and choreographing intricate pieces when the sun has set and you were right, you always were, he laughs. Hoseok’s the happiest he’s been in years and you’ll never know but it’s all because of you. Maybe in a year or two, you’ll forget about him but he knows he’ll never forget you, not in this lifetime, not ever and he doesn’t believe in reincarnation but for the sake of you, he sometimes wishes he does because oh, what a love the both of you would’ve shared.

It’s been perhaps three months since you were bawling out of happiness in the living room of the Park household now that Jimin was finally reunited with his parents and his mother insisted that both you and Jungkook stay for dinner, a true family dinner she announced, and you had cried even harder upon hearing her say those words.

It’s a lot calmer now than it was months ago, the press finally leaving both you and Jungkook alone, off to pursue more pressing issues, or rather not-so pressing issues but either way, you’re glad you’re able to finally take Buster on a walk without being bombarded by flashing lights and mics shoved into your face. The small town you live in, hidden in the hills returns to normalcy, serene and quiet like it should be. Your days go on like normal, Buster barking at squirrels outside as you head to your old cabin to get some wood carving done. While Jungkook is busy at work, you busy yourself with your trade, packing your wood pieces up to be sold at the bazaar you often go to sell your works at. There are a lot more people than you remember, many customers coming around your store trying to drop hints to get you to talk about what really happened in the aftermath of the arrest of the Jeons but you send them away with a tight-lipped smile. Why doesn’t everyone understand that it’s something you just want to put behind you?

After months of job searching, Jimin finds himself empty handed, his criminal record the first thing employers see when they search up his name and Jimin sighs, returning home empty-handed again after yet another interview. It’s after much pestering from both you and Jungkook that Jimin accepts the position of being Jungkook’s private secretary and though he’s apprehensive at first, Jimin takes the job anyway because as far as he knew, he probably never wanted to touch the logistics industry ever again. 

The learning curve is steep and he struggles with all the complicated terms Jungkook throws his way but he remains determined, trying his best to keep up as Jungkook leads him through the tech industry. As always, Jimin proves himself to be highly adaptable, surprising even Jungkook with how much he has learnt in the span of just a few months. In no time, Jimin sheds the secretary title, becoming almost some sort of a partner in crime to Jungkook. Together, they comb through the start-up industry, pouring money into apps they believe in, the money they get in return when the apps hit the market is beyond Jimin’s wildest dreams. It’s an arrangement Jungkook loves wholly because it means he gets to spend more time with you now that he didn’t have so much on his plate.

From the first I love you to the 100th, Jungkook thinks it’s a 3 letter sentence he’ll never get tired of hearing or saying. The first few times you say it to him, your voice is barely a whisper, almost like you don’t want him to hear it but whether you shout it out or mumble it to him, it still fills his chest with an unbelievable warmth, a feeling only you can invoke out of him.

Love.

It’s a strong word but it’s the only emotion that can describe how he feels about you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

He loves you when he wakes up just minutes before you, dried up drool on your face and your hair a mess but your features are so calm, so serene that he can’t help but feel like he’s the luckiest man on the entire earth for having the privilege of waking up next to you.

He loves you when you’re chasing Buster around the house as he refuses to get toweled down after his shower and you collapse onto the couch, your shirt slightly drenched in soap water, telling him that Buster is only this stubborn because he had spoiled the dog rotten, which was true to some extent but he couldn’t help it, Buster is simply too adorable.

He loves you when you notice that he’s been having a hard week at work and you do everything in your power to make his day better and that could be watching his favourite movie for the umpteenth time or baking those goddamn fudge brownies that he could never seem to have enough of but most of the time, all he needs is to snuggle up next to you, your comforting touch almost healing to him.

Sometimes he feels he’s only half as good of a partner as you are to him and he feels horrible because he wishes he could make you feel even a quarter of what you make him feel. Funnily enough, you feel the exact same way because you feel like nothing you do could ever live up to what he’s done for you. It was as if he was looking into one of those too good to be true romantic comedies that he watches too much, Jimin often says about the pair of you. Both you and Jungkook seemed to live in perpetual confusion, always thinking that one didn’t deserve the other and you both even had a cute dog to boot, the final piece to a happy family. He couldn’t think of a better pair who deserved to live out an actual romantic comedy other than the two of you.

The ladies in town often question you when you think Jungkook would pop the question and you dread it, especially when they ask you when he’s sitting right next to you. The two of you always blush beet red before you retort, maybe I’ll be the one to get down on one knee! Which always seems to shut them up.

You were happy with the relationship you had with Jungkook and so was he. You didn’t see the rush in getting engaged because what you and he have for now, is perfect and if anything, you didn’t want him to feel pressured, like he had to give you some stupid, expensive ring, as if without it, what the two of you have was anything less special.

Perhaps all the pestering makes Jungkook reach his breaking point because he comes home later and later sometimes, so late that you fall asleep with your phone in hand, waiting for his text to tell you that he was on his way. As usual, the ladies in town plant seeds of doubt in your mind, asking you if you smell perfume on his shirt when he comes home, a clear sign of infidelity, they murmur. You don’t want to doubt Jungkook because you trust him with your heart, with your life but you do admit that you catch a whiff of a sweet-smelling perfume, one that isn’t yours. It’s probably one of his client’s perfume you reason but he’s been working late almost every day of the week for close to a month now and you hate what you’ve become, you hate how you’re sniffing the shirts he throws into the laundry basket to see if you could smell that now familiar scent. Curse the ladies in town for making you feel this way.

Maybe he’s finally gotten tired of you, you sigh. Maybe the glaring number 4 he sees above your head everyday makes him resent you because perhaps he’s thinking, he can definitely do better. You shrink into your older self, the one that’s unconfident and scared. Jungkook can sense that something is off, you know he can because he takes a day off work just to spend time with you but you can’t help but feel this niggling sensation that he’s doing this as a parting gift, one last week before he says he thinks he’s done with you for good.

“Babe, i-is something wrong?”

“Hmm?” You hum in question, trying your best to hide your emotions.

“Did I do something wrong? You’ve been… distant lately.”

“I-I don’t really know what you mean.”

“Maybe it’s just me,” He sighs. “Work’s been killing me and I know I haven’t been home much… but I hope you know I’d spend every single second with you if I could,” He murmurs, stepping up to you, pulling you in close. He giggles lightly when he sees you blush. It’s amazing how you still shy away whenever he says anything remotely cheesy.

It’s hard for you to decipher what exactly is going on but you can tell he’s being sincere and everything doesn’t seem to add up. You hate that you’re doubting him like this when there hasn’t actually been solid evidence to say that he’s cheating on you.

“I know,” You smile meekly and he takes the chance to kiss you on the lips, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek.

“What do you want to do today? I’m all yours today, I promise,” He smiles, switching off his phone just to prove that nothing was going to come in between the both of you for the day.

“Honestly… Can we just have a lazy day?” You mumble, laughing and he shakes his head as he laughs in return. He would’ve been surprised if you had suggested anything else.

Jungkook manages to convince you to spend the day lounging by the lake that the house looked out to, Buster lighting up at the words swim! Already speeding out of the house when you open the door. Both you and Jungkook spend hours simply laying side by side, laughing at each other as Buster enjoys his swim. You’re maybe into your second bottle of beer, soaking up the warm rays of the sun when he suddenly rises to pick you up, running down the length of the dock and jumping in with you in hand. You wrestle with him in the water, Jungkook laughing wildly at how furious you were but your grumbling soon turns to laughter too and you cling onto Jungkook like a koala, too lazy to swim yourself. It’s when he shrugs you off his back, turning around so he can hold you to his chest that you feel warmth bloom in your own because his smile lights up your world and you love him so much, you really do.

“I love you,” You smile, pulling him in closer for a kiss and he mumbles the same words back to you over and over again in between the kisses he plants on your lips. Screw those nosy ladies that make you doubt the man before you, screw the perfume you smell on his shirt because in this very moment, all you know is, a love like this cannot be fabricated and maybe it’s because you want to believe it but the way he says those 3 words to you, you don’t think he’s off spending his nights saying them to someone else.

As Jungkook waits for you at the shore of the lake, he can’t help but laugh at how similar this looked to when he had first spotted you here, Buster beside you, yourself in that adorable bathing suit of yours and good god, how much has changed since then and now. You skip down the length of the dock, linking arms with him when you finally reach him, and he thinks that he has to move the timeline up because he can’t wait any longer. But no, he has everything planned out, every single detail and it’s going to be absolutely perfect.

Jungkook hates, hates, hates it when he’s having a lovely Sunday brunch with you at the diner, completely lost in your eyes, loving the fact that he gets to spend every second of the day with you, only to be rudely interrupted by the extremely loving and yet, overbearing old ladies that would pop in for a meal at just about the same time.

“So, when are you going to buy her a big diamond ring? You wait long enough, someone else might swoop her up, you know?”

Jungkook blushes every damn time because of course he knows, you’re a gem, one in a million and he’s so lucky to be able to call you his girlfriend but it’s been two years now since he’s met you (again) and everyone and their mother knows that the both of you are so in love, that sometimes they forget that the both of you aren’t married, not even engaged.

Truth is, Jungkook has had the ring for close to 6 months now. It’s buried deep at the back of his sock drawer, a sizeable 15-karat diamond, surrounded by many fewer, smaller diamonds. It’s beautiful, grand and very, very expensive but it’s the only ring he believes can show you just how much he cares. He had spent hours in the store talking to the jeweler, viewing ring after ring just to make sure he could get you the perfect one. He’s been waiting and waiting, wondering when exactly would be the right moment to ask you or if he should put it off for another year because he didn’t want to scare you. He knows giving you the ring has a finality to it, that it means commitment, which is something you fear deeply.

“Diamond rings are overrated, and the diamond industry is horrible,” You groan at the ladies who’ve made themselves at home in the booth you and Jungkook were sitting at. “Child labour, slave labour and all for what? A shiny rock?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t need a diamond ring, I don’t want one,” You huff, crossing your arms.

Jungkook feels a pang of fear strike him in his chest, worrying at the thought of you screaming in horror if you had found the ring or worse! If he had dropped down on one knee, the ring in hand… he can only imagine the look of disgust on your face. For the first time ever, Jungkook is grateful that the women had stopped by to pester the two of you today because he knows he’s getting rid of that ring first thing tomorrow morning.

Months later…

It’s the anniversary of the day he had first met you, yes, that would be the day he saw you at the gala when you were 8. You probably don’t remember the date, but Jungkook does, his diary entry from years ago telling him about the fateful day he met a girl that made the stinkin’ dinner that much bearable.

He’s been planning this for months now and as he stares down at the weather app on his phone, he frowns for there is a 50% chance of rain. Luck never really was on his side, the universe forever conspiring against him, he believes. The thumping sound in his chest and the way his palms seem to sweat no matter how many times he’s wiped them on his pants tells him that the day is finally here, that after months’ worth of hard work, he’s finally ready.

Jungkook had given both himself and Jimin the day off and begged him to take you to town, or anywhere really, just far from the home you shared with him. The moment you leave the house, waving him goodbye as you jumped into Jimin’s car, he goes into overdrive mode, pulling up his phone to dial the florist as he headed to the basement to pull out everything he needed to make tonight perfect.

It’s a little past 8 when Jungkook gets a text, one that informs him that both you and Jimin were going to be back soon and he lets out a deep breath, looking into the mirror one last time before standing in front of the door to wait for you, bouquet in hand.

“I’m ho— Oh?” You stumble backwards when you’re met with Jungkook standing right in front of you, shoving the flowers in your face.

“I uhh, picked these up on the way home from work,” He lies, a nervous smile on his lips. “Thought of you when I passed by them… so yeah.”

“Thank you, babe,” You grin, pecking him on the cheek before you take the bouquet from him.

“You’re dressed fancy,” You murmur, placing the bouquet on the counter. “Are you… going somewhere?” You question, unsure if he had told you he had some dinner to attend. Was that this week or next week?

“N-no, I just wanted to look nice for you,” He smiles and you laugh, quirking your eyebrow at him.

“Do you know what day today is?” He questions, grabbing your hand, leading you up the stairs.

“A Tuesday?” You answer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you shuffle behind him. “Kook, what’s going on?”

“It’s the anniversary of the day we first met… when we were 8,” He grins, hand still intertwined with yours as he walks you all the way up to the final floor of the house, the rooftop patio.

“How do you remember that?” You question, laughing. “You should’ve told me over the weekend! I would’ve gotten you someth—“

Your sentence is cut short as you take in the way the patio has been so beautifully lit up, fairy lights hanging over a make shift blanket fort that Jungkook has created. It looked like something off Pinterest and maybe that’s why you had caught him on the website weeks ago, looking through some pictures that looked very similar to what was in front of you.

“Kook, what is all of this?”

“I know I haven’t been home lately,” He frowns, shuffling in his spot. “And, we’ve missed so many movie nights so, I thought I could make it up to you with this,” He beams, tugging you along to take a seat with him amongst the numerous amount of pillows laid out atop the mattress.

��H-how did you get this mattress up here? And where did you find all these pillows? And that projector thing— Did we always have one?” You question referring to the huge screen that was set up in front of you.

The pure shock on your face is enough to send Jungkook into a laughing fit and he can’t help but place a kiss on your lips. God, you’re adorable.

“We’ll talk about that later,” He laughs, busying himself with the movie system he had set up for the night. He puts on the movie the both of you had meant to watch in the cinema 2 weeks ago but a last-minute meeting meant that the two of you had to miss it. Jungkook had pulled every single string he could just to get this movie for his own personal viewing before it’s available to the masses ala pay per view or DVD and he now owes a few too many people a favour or two but it’s all worth it if it’s for you.

“Are you… some kind of miracle worker?” You gasp. “Jungkook seriously… how did you get this movie? Isn’t it still showing in the theatres? How did you do all of this?”

“Through the power of my love for you,” He beams and 3, 2, 1, there it is, the signature scrunch of your nose. He laughs as you scowl at him, mumbling under your breath and he snuggles up closer to you even as you attempt to shove him away. It’s a hobby of Jungkook’s to throw cheesy lines your way because he knows you hate them and by hate them he means he knows you secretly love them.

It’s maybe 15 minutes into the movie when he feels a light drop of water on his cheek. No, no, no. Please no. He thinks maybe if he ignores it, the rain will simply go away. You look up to the sky, putting your palm out to check if that had been rain or you were just imagining it. You don’t stand there thinking for long because the drizzle soon becomes light rain and the two of you are quickly getting up to set away the snacks that Jungkook had laid out. Within seconds, the rain comes pouring down and you’re laughing as you try to wrap everything up into a blanket, quickly rushing into the house as he unplugs the wires, trying to lug both the speakers and the projector indoors.

By the time the two of you are able to get mostly everything into the house, the both of you are absolutely drenched. Though you’ve taken the situation very lightly, laughing as you tried to dry your hair with a towel, Jungkook has decided to sulk in a corner instead.

“Babe, aw come on, lighten up! The night’s not over yet. The movie just started,” You smile as you bring the towel up to wipe away the rainwater on his face.

You set up the movie in the living room as Jungkook dug his hand into the bowl of soggy popcorn, still frowning as he takes his seat next to you, watching the movie with you silently, only daring to speak when the credits begin to roll.

“I had everything planned out,” He sighs. “This has been months in the making,” He sulks.

“And I appreciate it,” You smile. “It was perfect,” You kiss him on the cheek, bringing your thumb up to stroke the apple of his cheek.

“No… I just… this all went down a little differently in my head.”

“Jungkook, I loved every second of tonight. Stop beating yourself up over something you couldn’t control. It was just a little rain.”

“I know but—”

“It was perfect, really. Tonight has been one of the best nights of the year. I had so much fun,” You smile cupping his face with both hands and he still has a small pout on his lips. “I love you so much, you know that? I know I don’t say it as often as most usually do but I really, really love you.”

“But it’s just… Y/N,” He breathes in deeply, his hands removing yours from his face as he sinks to one knee. “I had a whole speech planned out, one that would coincide with the ending of the movie but I’m so nervous, I’ve forgotten everything.”

You see Jungkook on a singular knee his hand holding onto yours softly and your chest tightens.

“You’re everything to me, you really are, and I can’t imagine a day without you. I always look forward to the end of the day because it means I get to come home to you and that’s all I ever want,” He smiles. “Forever.”

You’re staring at him, your eyes almost popping out of your sockets and Jungkook allows himself a few seconds before he asks the question that’s been on his mind for close to a year now.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… Will you marry me?”

“Jungkook…” Your voice barely audible as you look at the man before you, all teary eyed. “Yes, I— Yes!”

There’s an audible sigh of relief just before you pull him up for a kiss. The smile he has on is unbeatable and he kisses you again and again, almost like he doesn’t believe that you said yes. With shaky hands, he slides the ring onto your finger, letting out a deep breath when he finds that it fits just right.

“Don’t worry, it’s white sapphire, not diamond!” He exclaims as he watches you examine the ring. “Y-you said you hated diamonds so I, uhh got rid of the diamond one I originally bought.”

“What?”

“You told the ladies… you hated diamonds because… you know, slave labour and child labour and—”

“Jungkook, that was… that was just to get them to shut up, I didn’t really mean it… I mean I did but— You bought two rings?”

“Well I bought one, the diamond one… but I made this one,” He murmurs, blushing. “Yeah you can tell can’t you… I know, I should’ve just got it professionally made but I uhh thought it’d make it more special… if I made it but if it’s a little wonky and doesn’t fit well then you know why.”

Jungkook shrinks away, a little embarrassed because he hadn’t really thought about what your reaction would be when he tells you that he had made the ring. In his mind, it was the perfect gift, considering that you were an artist yourself… He thought what way to tell you better that he loves you and appreciates you by giving you something that couldn’t be bought with money, that was one of a kind, not 100% perfect but is filled with love and hard work, something like you.

“You made it? Like physically?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’ve been home late… One of my clients owns a jewelry workshop on the side and when I told her my plan, she offered to help me out.”

You’re crying and Jungkook’s scared because oh god, now you think he’s some cheap asshole who didn’t get you a diamond ring but then he hears you laugh as you wipe away your tears, your hands pulling him in for a hug.

“Y-you don’t like it do you? I’m sorry I—” Jungkook’s stammering, trying hard to salvage the situation and you pull away from him to plant a lingering kiss on his lips just to shut him up, just to tell him you absolutely love it.

There’s a moment of comfortable silence as he watches you examine the ring and he’s biting his lip nervously, hoping you can’t see the flaws as clearly as he does. He doesn’t know but you can’t see the flaws, not even a single one because you’re too busy admiring the fact that Jungkook had (with minimal help) crafted a ring! He had modeled it after the diamond ring he originally bought but… you didn’t need to know that. You murmur words of wonder and amazement beneath your breath and in that second Jungkook thinks it’s worth it. All those late nights, all the moments of pure frustration as he tries to twist the metal in just the right way or moments of pure nervousness as he tries to hide the tiny pricks and cuts on the pads of his fingers from you, it’s all worth it just to see the delight on your face.

“It’s funny,” You smile, as if embarrassed. “The ladies tried to convince me that you were cheating on me and I… I kind of well, was semi-convinced because of the late nights and perfume on your—"

“Cheat? God, Y/N, no, never.”

“I know, I know but it was just…” You murmur looking down at the ring nervously, and he waits for you to continue your sentence or say anything really but Jungkook can see how the main piece of white sapphire seemed to be slightly crooked.

“Listen, i-if you don’t like the ring I can always get you a diamond one again.”

“Jungkook, no,” You laugh, cupping his cheeks. “This is perfect. I love it,” You smile.

The shy smile he gives you makes your heart feel like leaping out of your chest and also melting into a puddle at the same time. For the longest time he only gazes at you, his eyes looking at you as if you are the entire Universe and to him, you are.

“I love you,” He sighs sweetly, turning his head so he could leave a soft kiss on the inside of your palm.

You don’t have to say it back to him, he already knows you do too, but he loves hearing it anyway and when you finally say I love you too between the kisses you pepper him with, he thinks he can’t possibly have a day better than this one in his entire life.

Fortunately, that’s a lie. With you, there came many more days he considers the best day of his life but really with you he couldn’t pick. Okay, no, that’s also a lie. There’s a handful of days he can pick out and he’s really trying to keep himself to a limit here so, he settles on 5 special days, of course, not including the day he got engaged to you.

one

It’s the day or really days right after the two of you get your marriage registered, having called Jimin and his family down to the office with only a few hours’ notice to be witnesses to your marriage. It’s spontaneous, ridiculous, much like your relationship with Jungkook but when he proposed the idea of it the other day, it didn’t take more than a second for you to shrug and say, why not? You should’ve known Jungkook and his spontaneous ideas were never really that spontaneous because he’s standing in front of you, presenting you with an itinerary of just what the two of you were going to do at Ko Lipe, a post-marriage gift, he says. You had on the most adorable expression, one mixed between shock and pure joy before it all fades and you furrow your eyebrows.

“What about work? Don’t you have a lot going on right now?”

“Ahh, I closed all my open-ended deals in the last month just for this… Just for you.”

Ugh, even he cringes at how goddamn cheesy he is when he’s talking to you but it’s almost as if his mouth had a mind of its own sometimes. You hum at that, pursing your lips so your smile wouldn’t show. He must’ve planned this months in advance. Spur of the moment thing my ass, you scoff mentally, but it’s more of a you’re-such-a-thoughtful-dork-and-I-love-you kind of scoff rather than a mean-spirited one. How does he always seem to know that your answer to any of his ‘spontaneous’ decisions will always be yes?

“So, you’re saying we’re going to have a week’s worth of privacy? No phone calls to interrupt us? Just you and me?”

“Just you and me,” He nods. “I’m leaving my work phone at home, see!” He pulls the drawer of the side table to show you the handphone that’s usually glued to his ear.

“No! I mean don’t do that… What if something goes wrong at work?”

“Then Jimin can deal with it,” He smiles.

You stand there thinking if it really is a good idea to just up and leave the country when you had found both you and him plastered across the gossip section of every major news outlet and magazine this morning, the mere mention of the two of you getting married enough to cause an online frenzy. It’s the story everyone’s ever wanted, the Jeon and Y/L/N rivalry finally put to an end by love. Except, both you and Jungkook know the truth, both your fathers and perhaps even brothers will forever be at loggerheads, even more so now that the Jeons were behind bars.

“Come on babe,” He whines. “It’ll be our very own island adventure!” He exclaims, placing a pair of sunglasses on for you and a straw sun hat on himself. 

“You’ll get me to go even if I do say no, won’t you?” You laugh and he winks at you because it’s the truth. He already had your bags packed… which would explain why you couldn’t find your favourite pair of shorts this morning.

Just like that, you’re whisked off to Ko Lipe, in a private jet he had borrowed from one of his clients. The press back home is having a field day, everyone wondering just where the two people the public want to see the most have disappeared to. You look down to your phone to see multiple missed calls from your parents and your siblings as reporter after reporter show up at your family’s residence, badgering them for comments. They didn’t know what to tell the press because well, they weren’t informed of the whole marriage registration debacle themselves!

All of that is the last thing that’s on your mind as you bury your toes in the sand, gazing out into the vast ocean blue. You aren’t given much thinking time anyway as Jungkook drags you out to do any form of extreme water sports that the private resort offers. Be it parasailing or going for one of those jet ski tours to the remote neighbouring islands and caves, it’s like you don’t even have time to catch your breath before he’s pulling you to the sign-up booth, looking for something else to do.

I, Island, Ko Lipe. The answer to the I of DIADEM, the family code that comes to you naturally no matter how long it’s been since you’ve been forced to recite it. It’s a thought that comes to you in passing as you’re laid out on a deck chair, finally being able to rest after Jungkook’s daily dose of adrenaline inducing adventures. This place, this island means so much to you and it means so much to Jungkook too. It’s been years since you’ve been back here, perhaps even longer for Jungkook and every single day spent here has been like a dream. You remember this island to be a place where you finally felt like you belonged in your family and you’re glad that now that you’re here again you don’t just ‘feel’ like you belong to a family, you know you’re part of a family, because right next to you is the man you’re going to marry, technically you already have. He smiles at you when he catches you staring at him, blowing you an obnoxious kiss just so he can see you scowl at him. 

You hope he feels the same way you do, hope that he knows you can’t ever replace the love his mother has for him, can’t replace the memories he has of this island when he was much younger, exploring the island as his mother chased after him but you hope he allows this trip, the numerous moments you’ve had with him to add on to the fact that this island will always be special to him. If only you knew you didn’t have to hope. Jungkook’s already committed to documenting every single moment of this trip, having had taken an unreal number of photos along with hours upon hours of footage just so he could look back on it all whenever he wanted to because he feels this whole week has been the best damn week of his life.

two

The two of you return home after a rather exhausting yet refreshing week at Ko Lipe. The press has seemingly forgotten about the two of you or have simply given up on trying to locate either of you. Jungkook spends most of the week working from home and you decide against leaving the mountains at all, neither of you wanting to deal with a publicity shitstorm. It’s perhaps months after, when the two of you know that you’re definitely in the clear that you decide to send out invitations to your wedding, a relatively small one with no less than 50 people that’s slated to happen in the backyard, next to the lake. To be fair, most of the attendees were going to be the people from town, the only outsiders would be your family and Jimin and his family. Jungkook adamant as he is, refuses to extend an invitation to his step-mother, unwilling to forgive the fact that she had allowed his father and brother to go to the lengths they did in order to try and be level with Y/L/N Logistics. You don’t argue with him, respecting that it was his decision to make and honestly, regarding your own family, you aren’t quite sure if they are actually going to show up considering the fact that you hadn’t personally called them back after the whole out of the blue marriage registration fiasco, only sending them a text to confirm that yes, you had indeed decided to marry Jungkook.

The wedding day comes faster than Jungkook could have imagined and suddenly he’s sweating nervously as he stands at the end of the aisle, the guests rising from their seats as the wedding march begins to play. The ceremony is simple yet elegant, only a small flower arch at the end of the aisle and 50 white chairs at either side of the white carpet. Every single seat is occupied, all except one because it’s Jimin who stands beside you, arm linked with yours as you walk down the aisle. Your breath almost gets caught in your throat when you spot your family amidst the crowd. The blank faces on you father, mother and brother tells you that it must’ve been your sister that had dragged all 3 of them here. You send her an appreciative smile because though growing up in that house with your family hadn’t been great, you still do in fact share the same blood and you still do love them, despite their flaws. 

You look forward when you hear Jimin let out a light laugh, and this time it’s like your breath is taken away when you finally lay eyes on your soon to be husband. He stands tall in a classic suit, looking dapper and handsome as always. You can see the way Jungkook has already started to tear up and you guess that’s why Jimin had been laughing but truth be told, you were on the verge of tears yourself. Jungkook feels almost light headed when he sees you standing next to him because you look unreal, absolutely gorgeous in all white. Your dress isn’t the princess type with a long train but it’s a rather modest one, a simple number that seemed to drape over your body perfectly, hugging you in just the right places but more than that, it’s your face, like you’re almost glowing and Jungkook’s heart picks up it’s pace because the day he has been dreaming of is finally here and he keeps thinking that he must be the luckiest man alive to finally (almost) officially be able to spend the rest of his life with you.

The crowd coos as Buster makes his way down the aisle, the small box containing the rings attached to his collar. He’s clearly enjoying the attention because he stops to pose for photos, almost stealing the show! But, he makes it to the end in timely fashion, stopping next to Jimin so he could detach the box from the collar. Nervously, both you and Jungkook take the rings from the box.

Jungkook starts with his vows first and his voice cracks when he starts, almost unable to hold back the impending tears. He clears his throat with a laugh before he looks up to gaze at you, telling you that he hopes you know that by marrying him you’re going to have to live with the fact that he always seems to fart up a storm every morning and that although he apologizes for it, it’s something he can’t control, and he hopes it’s something you won’t leave him for once he’s old and gray, and out of money.

Jungkook doesn’t even have to look at the paper he has in his hand because he already knows what he wants to tell you by heart. Aside from his mother, you are the only person that sees him for who he is, for who he can be and who he wanted to be. You bring out the best in him and with you by his side, he truly thinks he’d be able to do anything. He promises you a life full of adventure, happiness and genuine love because you deserved the world and he was going to give you everything he could. 

You regret choosing to go second because now you’re forced to wipe away your tears while you read out your vows, because really, how could you listen to Jungkook speak like that and not cry. When you begin, you’re stammering and Jungkook offers you a soft smile before reaching out to gently wipe away a stray tear or two. You let out a deep exhale, abandoning the piece of paper that you had worked day and night on because the words on there just weren’t good enough to explain how grateful you are for the man before you. All you really want to say is that you’re so glad that Jungkook loves you wholeheartedly for who you are, and you promise to love him the same. The world has always told the both of you that the pair of you just aren’t destined to be but to hell with that. You believed in creating your own fate, your own destiny and you’ll be damned if Jungkook wasn’t a part of that. If soulmates exist, you are quite sure that he is yours. He knows you inside and out, perhaps even better than yourself and you know you’d never want to spend your life in the arms of another for he truly is your escape. You tell him that you only hope to be his too and he laughs shaking his head and utters 7 words that has your heart flip-flopping in your chest.

“You’re not my escape,” He smiles. “You’re my home.”

When the two of you finally slide on the ring on each other’s finger, there’s cheers that ring around the backyard, Buster barking excitedly as the two of you share the first kiss of your official ceremonially confirmed marriage. There isn’t a person in attendance that feels bitter about the marriage, not even your family despite the unreadable expression on their faces. Truth be told, they’re happy for you. You deserved better, more than they’ve ever given you, they were human enough to admit that and they’re glad that you finally have someone that can give you everything they never did.

When the ceremony is all over and done with, it’s just an hour before sun down, enough time for the two of you to change out of your respective outfits for something more comfortable. A short drive later, you find yourself with your hand intertwined with Jungkook’s as the two of you sat by the grave of his mother, listening as he tells her about the day, tells her he wishes she was here. You let your other hand rest on top of his and you tell her thank you, thank you for giving birth to the man that you love so much and that you intend to care for him, like she had, until the end of time.

three

The story of special day number three starts perhaps almost two years into the marriage, almost 6 months before said day. You’re sat at the table with Jungkook, friendly conversation going around between the other people seated at the table. It’s the anniversary of the founding of the town and every single resident has found themselves at the local square to celebrate, eat and drink the day away. You’re looking further off in the distance, having zoned out of the lovely little discussion that was going on around you to look at the children running circles around each other, giggling and talking amongst each other, your gaze ever so warm and fond.

“Do you think you’ll ever want any of your own?” The lady beside you asks and Jungkook perks up to listen to your reply, knowing the answer to this question full well because he’s asked you once or twice before when you’re cuddled up next to him in bed.

“No, they’re too much work,” You laugh and the lady laughs along with you agreeing to your statement. Everyone thinks it’s true, that you don’t want children of your own because they’re messy and loud but Jungkook knows better, knows the look in your eyes whenever you look at them from afar, it’s one that people have when they’re looking at something they can’t have. Jungkook thinks that it has to do with your childhood, that your parents, no matter how much you refuse to admit it have scarred you so deeply that you can’t possibly fathom having a child on the off chance that in a moment of anger, you would say something to your child that was remotely similar to what your parents had said to you over and over again over the course of your childhood. People often say that children will take after their parents when they’re older and if anything, that is your worst nightmare, to become the people who had caused you so much hurt.

Jungkook joins in the conversation, nodding that the two of you simply wouldn’t have time for a child, which is a lie because Jungkook would do anything to make sure he has time for his child, if he had one that is. But he lies, lies for you because he knows what will follow after if he doesn’t say anything. They’ll badger you with questions like: But who will look after you when you’re old if you have no children? Do you hate children? Are you sure you’ll never want them? He prefers to take the brunt of it, letting them know that he wouldn’t know the first thing about being a father but of course that’s a lie too. Jungkook knows just what kind of father he would be. He would be everything his father wasn’t.

It’s exactly 5 months and 3 weeks since that dinner, since you had that conversation that made your stomach churn, which actually is quite funny since your stomach has been doing a lot of that lately even without having been asked the classic question of why you haven’t thought about having children yet.

You refuse to think about it, refuse to admit that certain smells, one that are completely normal, like the fudge brownies that you usually bake suddenly makes you feel like throwing up or the fact that you had literally forced Jungkook to drive you to the city in the middle of the night because your fried chicken craving was driving you insane.

Something at the back of your mind tells you that these are classic signs of… of… you don’t even want to say it because maybe if you didn’t, it wouldn’t be true. You think back to the past two weeks or so, acknowledging that yes, maybe you had allowed Jungkook to forgo the condom but that’s because you had been on the pill, right?! Not like you had missed a day or two in the past week, right?! Not like your period isn’t on time this month, right?! You wondered how many more lies you could tell yourself until you would have to drive down to the pharmacy in the city to pick up, you know, that special stick? The answer is not many because in just a few hours you’re in your bathroom with the stick in hand, wondering if you were supposed to pee on it sitting down? Standing up? Did it matter? You let out an annoyed groan before reaching into the box to pull out the instructions.

Two blue lines stare back at you and you let out a small scream. You pee on another stick… or maybe 5… just to be sure, you know? And now you’re looking down at 6 sticks that tell you the same thing… that you’re, that you’re… you can’t even bring yourself to say it.

You stuff everything into the plastic bag from the pharmacy, keeping at least one stick because… you had to tell Jungkook right? You keep the test somewhere in the back of your closet, beneath a pile of clothes, trying to form sentences in your head, wondering how the news would sit with him but first, you needed to accept reality and somehow you just refuse to.

You’re skittish around Jungkook for the next few days and though he notices it, he doesn’t bring it up because usually when he gives you time, you’ll let him know whatever it is that’s on your mind. He thinks you’re upset with him, waiting for him to figure out whatever it is without telling him and he’s trying so hard, running through every single thing he had done over the past week just to see if he could find whatever it is that he had done wrong. Was it because he forgot to flush the toilet that one day? It is isn’t it?

It’s the day, D-day, you proclaim. It has been a full week since you’ve taken the test and you’ve had exactly 7 days to think of what to say. You think a short speech would suffice… butter him up first and then apologize for missing the pill or something… but it’s not that part you’re really worried about, you sigh. It’s the fact that you’re going to have to raise a human being and you know Jungkook won’t say no to the idea, in fact you know he’ll be ecstatic, but he hasn’t thought it over like you. You’re not worried about the finances, or the fact that you’ll be incapable of loving the child, because you’ll do nothing but love your child, cherish them, but you’re worried your child won’t love you back or that Jungkook wouldn’t either because… you’re you and you’re flawed in the worst possible way, in a way that you couldn’t change even if you tried.

You’re so busy thinking that you hadn’t heard Jungkook come through the front door and you quickly stuff the pregnancy test behind you, between the pillows on the couch you were sitting on.

“Y/N, babe, listen,” Jungkook smiles nervously as he takes a seat beside you on the couch, loosening the tie around his neck. “I know you’re upset with me but I swear I thought I flushed the toilet—”

“I’m pregnant,” You blurt out and you immediately shut your eyes because fuck you were supposed to shower him with compliments first! Tell him that it had been an honest mistake, that you had forgotten that you had missed a pill that week when you told him he didn’t need the condom.

“You’re pregnant,” He murmurs, and you let out a sigh, an apology on the tip of your tongue when you look at him, his eyebrows furrowed together as if he had never heard the word before. “You’re pregnant!” He repeats, his face somewhere between shock and joy as it finally dawns on him why you’ve been acting so weird lately. A large smile finds it way onto Jungkook’s face and he’s about to engulf you in a hug, pick you up and swing you around in his arms but then he sees the way your bottom lip wobbles and suddenly there’s a stream of tears rolling down your cheeks. He’s stunned for a second because wait, was that not the reaction you had wanted from him?

“Babe… Hey, Y/N… What’s wrong?” He quickly asks, scooting closer towards you so he can hold you close, wipe away your tears. You’re only shaking your head, sobbing so hard that it makes Jungkook’s heart break into two. He lets you take your time, simply gripping your hand when you produce the pregnancy test from behind the pillows, the two lines showing that you are indeed, pregnant.

“What if… what if,” You hiccup, sobs chopping up your sentence. “What if our baby’s a 4?”

Oh, ohhh, Jungkook understands now, realizes just why you’re crying.

“You’re going to end up hating me and our baby will too,” You mumble, picturing just what it’ll be like, complete silence in your house, absolute distaste burning behind Jungkook’s eyes when the number begins to glow above your child’s head.

“I…,” Jungkook’s at a complete loss of words, unable to comprehend just why you’d think that. “I’d never hate you,” He says rather sternly, as if he’s upset that you’d ever think that.

He catches it, the look on your face, one that says you didn’t believe him at all. It’s because he doesn’t know, you sigh, doesn’t understand what it’s like and you’ve experienced it one too many times, how people accept you at first despite your number but one by one, they all seem to leave you in the dust.

“Nothing will ever stop me from loving you… nothing,” He breathes, bringing up his hand to stroke your cheek, imploring for you to look at him. “Do you understand that?”

You neither nod or shake your head, your eyes simply downcast as you fiddle nervously with the pregnancy test in your hand.

“Whatever our baby’s number is, even if it’s a damn zero, I’m gonna love our baby all the same,” He smiles, prying the pregnancy test out of your hand so he can hold yours. “And I will always, always love you. That will never change.”

This time, you give him a little nod which makes him smile and he uses his thumb to rub comforting circles to the back of your palm.

“What if.. what if our baby hates me?” You frown. “I don’t want our baby to go through what I did, Kook,” You sigh, your shoulders drooping down as you refer to your painful childhood, the fact that you were viewed as if you were like scum simply because you had a single digit number. You don’t want to bring another human being into the world just for them to feel nothing but pain.

“Our baby won’t,” He reassures you, his tone strong and sure as if he was promising you that, but you know he can’t change what others would think of your child. “You and I are going to love our child so much that the sun is going to shine out of their ass because all they’ll ever know is love,” He smiles. “And, I’ll fight everyone and anyone who tries to hurt them or you, you hear me?”

You let out a light laugh, appreciating how Jungkook could make you feel better no matter the pain you feel in your chest and you smile at him affectionately. He takes the chance to press a light kiss to your cheek as if to let you know that he understands how hard this must be for you, that you must’ve been going over these thoughts again and again for some time now. The smile you have fades as quickly as it came though and he sees you lick the corner of your lips, tears threatening to reappear again.

“I… I won’t force you to… you know have a child,” He whispers, his hand giving yours a short squeeze. “It’s up to you love.”

“No, I want to keep it,” You answer almost instantaneously.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook tries to hide his excitement but he does a horrible job of it because he’s quite literally bouncing in his seat.

“I’m so happy, I really am,” He smiles before he calms down considerably, letting out a deep exhale as he placed his hand on your cheek to get your attention. “Listen I… I want this but only if you do. Don’t just say yes because you think that’s what I want you to say.”

“No, no,” You laugh. “I want this, I do.”

You really did, and maybe you just needed to hear that Jungkook was going to be with you every step of the way, that your child, no matter what, won’t have a childhood that’s anywhere close to yours.

“We’re having a baby,” He murmurs, almost as if he was talking to himself, then he turns to you. “You and me, our own little human!”

He’s so endearing it makes your heart hurt. He presses a kiss to your lips, something he had been wanting to do since you had uttered the two words that has made this day one of the best days in his life. He tells you again and again that he loves you and you tell him the same, thinking you’ll never grow tired of him, of his love. It’s a thought that begins to falter later on during the pregnancy because it’s as if your child is having a fucking karate lesson in your belly, kicking non-stop, especially when you wanted to sleep. Sometimes you almost feel like strangling Jungkook, wanting to scream at him because it’s his fault! He did this to you! He was the reason there’s a baby in your stomach but he pacifies you with fried chicken, even if it’s 3 am in the morning so, you let him live to fight another day. To be honest, this whole pregnancy thing scares Jungkook a little because sometimes you were moody, downright scary but he can only try his best to make the whole carrying a child in your belly thing less stressful by massaging your feet. For the most part, watching your stomach grow with size has been entertaining and he makes sure to take a picture each week just because and usually it’s a relatively ordinary process but one time you beckon him over, making him lie next to you.

“Watch this,” You smile as you lay on the bed.

He’s staring at your belly curiously, unsure what he’s supposed to be looking for because he sees it every day, leaves a light kiss on it all the time. Then he sees it, your belly moving as if there’s something growing inside and he lets out a light yelp. You laugh uncontrollably as Jungkook stares with his mouth agape. Of course, he knew you were pregnant, that you had a baby growing inside of you but yet he hadn’t really comprehended that until now. He whips out his phone just to record it because do people know babies do that? He didn’t. He wonders what Jimin would think of it.

“Okay, now go get me some fried chicken,” You command after having had enough of Jungkook rubbing his palm over your belly, just to be sure that it was your belly that was moving and not just him imagining it.

“Yes ma’am,” He answers with a salute.

four

Jungkook wishes he has more to say about this day but to be fair, he felt like he wasn’t even fully present on the day himself because he was genuinely about to shit himself when you told him your water had broke. He rushed you to the hospital, not forgetting to grab the bag that the two of you had already packed in advance, knowing that this day was approaching.

As you go through labour pains, you grip his hand, hard and Jungkook swears he might have a hairline fracture on a finger or two because boy did you have a grip but he understands and it’s a small price he’s willing to pay considering it isn’t him that is pushing out a human out of his damn body.

When he hears the first cry, his heart almost stops beating and then starts beating at twice it’s normal speed when the doctor turns to him to speak.

“Would you like to carry her?”

Her! A baby girl! Which he already knows from the ultrasounds early on in the pregnancy but still! Anyway, back to the question, would he like to carry her? Yes. No. Yes. No. What if he drops her?

“I’m uhh, not sure how to carry—”

The doctor laughs softly before he gives instructions to Jungkook like he has to many new fathers. Jungkook sways his crying child in his arms cooing at her as you look up at him with tired eyes. Even in your exhaustion, you manage a few tears, a lot less compared to Jungkook who’s kind of almost sobbing in the operation theatre.

_________, He murmurs the name the two of you had decided weeks ago. It fit her perfectly, he thinks, even if at this point, all babies look the same to him.

It’s the best day of his life… or at least one of, he smiles. He cradles his little baby in his arms for a few more seconds before he steps closer to you, letting you hold your child for the first time. A family, he sighs. A real one. And he was going to make it the best damn one.

five

Jungkook is cautious with his daughter at first because she’s tiny, fragile and he’s afraid he might break her by just touching her but his heart becomes goo in his chest whenever he sees her fidget in the crib, kick out her tiny little feet or you know just… breathe in general. He’s absolutely whipped for his child and why shouldn’t he be? He loves her and thinks she’s the cutest baby to ever exist and he doesn’t care if the lady in town says all parents think that their child is the cutest because she’s wrong, his child is the cutest, ever, no question about it… even if she’s the reason he gets exactly 0.2 hours of sleep every night. He won’t lie, parenting is extremely exhausting and he’s fought with you over these past months more than ever but in the end it’s all worth it when she’s asleep in the crib and he drags himself back to bed to cuddle with you.

Watching _________ grow up is magical to him. From the day she manages to sit up, to the day she manages to murmur things, to the day she takes her first steps with absolutely no help at all (which he managed to record!), every single milestone makes Jungkook smile until his cheeks begin to ache. He simply can’t believe that he has a child, often pointing down to her in the crib before looking at you to say, we made that! To which your reply is often, yeah, and I did most of the work, which he admits is true but still, the child is half him, he often reminds you.

He loves his daughter with everything he has and would completely spoil her if it wasn’t for you who was there to keep him in check and he thinks he’s done absolutely everything he could to make sure she knows that he loves her and yet, she still hasn’t said the thing he wishes to hear the most. She’s a 98, just like him which honestly, came as a surprise to both you and him but despite the matching number, she doesn’t do what he expects of her, doesn’t say what he’s been hoping to hear for a while now.

It’s frustrating for Jungkook but in all of her 7-ish months of life, she’s said a grand total of 3 words, that being,

Doggy, because Buster, he’s just a charmer. From babies to old ladies, he had ‘em all in the palm of his… paws.

Yum, often repeated twice, was codeword for I’m hungry and you better feed me before I start screaming.

And the one he was the least happy about,

Mama

You could see the pure disappointment on his face when his daughter uttered it not once, not twice but three times in a row as she stretched her hands outwards, wanting to be carried.

“I’ll carry you!” Jungkook exclaims. “You just have to say it! Say dad!” He instructs her but she simply turns away, looking at you as you swoop her up into your hands.

He repeats the word ‘Dad’ to her like a goddamn parrot, day in, day out, hoping that one day she would repeat after him, but she doesn’t. Jungkook’s given up hope, stops trying after weeks of saying the same word over and over, silently waiting for the day his daughter acknowledges him.

Luckily for him, the day comes not too long after when it’s a summer day where Jungkook is lazing around on the carpet, his daughter laying atop his chest, taking a nap. He has his hands beneath his head, eyes slowly fluttering as he feels himself drifting off to sleep but he’s startled awake when he feels his daughter move groggily on his chest letting out a few whines.

“_______, are ya awake?”

More whines before she’s rubbing at her eyes sleepily.

He places his hands on her, gently stroking her back as her eyes finally flutter open and a light smile finds it’s way onto Jungkook’s lips. It’s a miracle she isn’t crying like she usually does when she wakes up from her nap. She stares curiously at him as if there were a thousand thoughts going through her adorably tiny head.

“Dada.”

Jungkook stops breathing for a second and his mouth hangs open, in shock.

“Dada,” She repeats.

“Y/N!!!!” He screams, picking off _______ from his chest. “Get your phone!”

“What?” You call from the kitchen, your tone almost nonchalant as if Jungkook wasn’t witnessing the most important moment of his life right now.

“Your phone! Now!” He shouts as he scrambles to his feet, cradling _______ against him.

He makes his way to the kitchen to find you still busy, looking through the fridge, having absolutely no urgency to comply to Jungkook’s request. He stops right in front of you and you look up at him confused.

“Say it,” He coos, looking at _______.

She only gazes at him curiously, not understanding what he’s saying because of course, she’s a toddler.

“Doggy,” She replies, pointing to Buster who had just walked into the kitchen and you laugh boisterously when Jungkook’s face crumples in hurt.

“Jungkook,” You snort. “Leave her alone, won’t you? She’ll say dad someday… Just be patient.”

“She said it! I swear she did!” He exclaims. “Twice!”

“Yeah, sure she did,” You scoff.

“Did too!” He grumbles before turning to _______ . “Dad. Say it, say dad,” He coos, and you bring a palm to your face because here he goes agai—

“Dada.”

“Ha! Won’t you look at that!!!” He’s practically jumping and if he wasn’t carrying her, he would’ve probably done a summersault, a cartwheel, maybe even a damn split.

“Who’s your favourite parent? It’s me isn’t it?” He smiles down at _______.

“Please,” You laugh. “She’s only said it onc—”

“Dada!”

“Yeah, you’re right! That’s me! I’m dada! And you love me more than mama don’t you?”

“Dada,” Is her reply and Jungkook’s screaming internally because wow, what a day today is. The best day of his life. It’s the best damn day.

You want to be mad at Jungkook for being so annoying but again, it’s like he’s a huge man child and he’s so stupidly endearing that you can’t do anything but laugh.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Don’t be upset,” He smiles. “You’ve held the title of favourite parent for far too long okay? It’s time I had my chance.”

You only nod at him, giving him his moment of glory, pecking him on the cheek because how can you resist a man who argues with you about whether your daughter loves you or him more when your parents barely acknowledged your existence.

It’s been a simple day, a relatively normal day, at least for you… Jungkook would have something else to say about today but just like him, you concur that it’s one of the best days of your life because life isn’t really about the grand, great things to you, it’s about the simple things. It’s about how right now, you have a husband that loves you unconditionally and a daughter that you love unconditionally and really, that’s more than you could ever ask for. You no longer live each day, wishing the misery would end rather you live each day, embracing the love and happiness that you find around you. That isn’t to say every single day is just sunshine and rainbows, of course there are bad ones, many in fact, because life isn’t perfect but the good outweighs the bad and that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Maybe life hasn’t played out the way you’ve always wanted it to, the family residence you called your home for so many years was still cold and unloving but life is about growing, about changing and if you had done neither maybe you wouldn’t have felt a world of hurt when everything seemed to have crumbled around you years ago but neither would you be feeling an unrivaled amount of happiness today, having Jungkook tease you over the fact that your daughter had switched allegiances, that he is in fact, the favourite parent to her. He’s insufferable, he truly is but maybe Jungkook was right when he gazed upon you as you finished saying your vows to him, the 7 word sentence he uttered at the altar still one of your favourite things he has ever said to you because it’s true, he isn’t your escape, he is your home.

p.s: wew it’s the end! this time for real! thank you all for reading!!! it’s been such a journey (’:

p.p.s: the explanation for why the daughter has a 98 is that technically the oc’s number is really high too because she’s a twin remember? (like flashback to chapter 7). Twins are special and it’s kinda known that they in general have really high numbers… just that in the mc’s case, it was unfortunate that the sister did not survive and hence the number couldn’t be re-balanced. also, about oc finding out about her twin… well, maybe in the distant future when one of her parents passes away…

I hope this epilogue answers all your questions but if you have any other questions, I’d be happy to answer!!! (like honestly really happy so ask away!) Thank you all so much for reading escape (‘:

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5  // Part 6 // Part 6.5 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

Street Saints #2: The Unknown Cab Driver

     This post marks the sophomore edition of Street Saints, an ongoing series in which the Serious Journalists™️ here at Better Days Are A Toenail Away celebrate the small people of this world who commit heroic acts that would have otherwise gone unacknowledged.     (We say this with tongue firmly in cheek. Being acknowledged by a blog nobody reads is pretty much the same thing as being unacknowledged. An old David Letterman barb comes to mind, that time he made fun of Carson Daly: “Having a show on at 1:30 in the morning is the exact same as not having a show.”)      The last edition of Street Saints featured an unknown paramedic. Today’s features an unknown taxi driver. But first please allow us set the mood.      In an interview with Michael Azerrad (Our Band Could Be Your Life), Dylan Carlson, perhaps best known as the leader of noise rock veterans Earth, summed up his pal Kurt Cobain’s thematic concerns as a painter thusly: “innocence and authentic vision beset upon by a cruel and uncaring universe.”     That’s an apt analysis. Like...take a look at the front cover of Nirvana’s Incesticide, which Cobain painted. If that’s not “innocence...beset upon by a cruel and uncaring universe,” I don’t know what is. 

     Carlson’s analysis also fits the tales told by that stately and venerable periodical known as Better Days Are A Toenail Away. Most of our stories also involve the poppy, because we’re heroin addicts, duh. But so was Cobain. And Carlson. So there.           ANYWAY today’s leading loner is a man we’ll call Trevor. Trevor and I struck up a friendship while waiting on a street corner for our heroin dealer John. John had been up for three days smoking crack and shooting heroin and kept falling asleep instead of leaving his motel room to sell us drugs and we ended up waiting for forty-five minutes. I was dopesick and covered in cold sweat but I’m actually glad John took so long because I got to hear the story I’m about to relate.      Trevor is the same age as me and we’ve followed similar trajectories. Like me, Trevor was drunk for most of his twenties before switching to opiates in his thirties. Unlike me, Trevor very nearly didn’t make it to his thirties because of his drunken twenties.      One night more than a decade ago he was walking home northbound on Barrington Avenue when a gaggle of drunken frat boys hurled some insults at him from a front porch. Drunk and indignant, Trevor shouted a few choice words back. Seconds later, without warning, one of the porch boys snuck up behind Trevor and stabbed him in the neck. The blade entered a few inches below his left ear but, unfortunately, Trevor spun away from his assailant, causing the knife to rip across the front of his neck, all the way over to his Adam’s apple. He immediately crumpled to the sidewalk, the knife handle protruding ghoulishly from his neck like a shiny, synthetic goiter. Not knowing it was better to leave it in, Trevor yanked the knife out of his neck. The worst part wasn’t the pain, he told me, it was the awful sound the knife made as it relinquished its grip on his flesh.      He almost certainly would have died in the next few minutes if not for two extremely surreptitious events. One, an acquaintance of Trevor’s we’ll call Barry, who’d been walking southbound on the opposite side of Barrington, witnessed the attack and came running over, which caused Trevor’s attacker to flee. Two, a taxi cab was approaching southbound on Barrington. Barry frantically hailed the driver and informed him of the situation. The cab driver immediately kicked out his fare, a young couple who obediently exited the back seat as Barry tossed Trevor in and screamed “step on it!”      Somehow Trevor was still conscious. Barry pinched the wound shut as hard as he could, but even with the pressure Trevor was literally emptying in front of him. Blood was gushing all over the back seat of the cab.      The driver floored the accelerator and ran red lights en route to East General Hospital. He drove on sidewalks and shot down the wrong side of the road in his haste to get there faster. Halfway to the hospital a cop car pulled alongside the cab, but somehow the driver was able to communicate the emergency, after which the cop turned his cherry lights on, blared his siren, and pulled in front of the speeding cab to provide an escort. Without this escort Trevor probably would have been dead on arrival.       At East General Hospital, Barry and the cab driver carried an extremely pale Trevor inside where the doctors where waiting for him, because the police officer had notified the hospital beforehand. Trevor was still awake and terrified. Just before losing consciousness, he pleaded with a nurse to tell him the truth. “Be honest with me,” he pleaded, his voice sounding strange and unfamiliar because the blade had pierced his vocal cords. “How does it look?”      “Not good,” the nurse replied brusquely.      And then everything went dark.      Trevor woke up thirty-six hours later, alive and thrashing against the wires and IV hookups that seemed to cover his entire body. “Like waking up with a thin slippery octopus on top of you,” he said. The pain was excruciating. The doctors had shoved a tube all the way down his throat, whether to pump blood out or to feed him I’m not sure, but his throat was as dry and cracked as baked earth. The mere act of swallowing shot lightning bolts of pain up and down his torso.      But he was alive.      The hospital sent him home a few days later with a prescription for Dilaudid that sent him on his way to heroin addiction, which is how 99% of heroin addicts start out...including myself. After a few days of opiated oblivion and late night TV, there was a knock at Trevor’s door. It was the cab driver, checking to see how Trevor was doing and to ask if maybe Trevor could cover the cleaning costs. He was sorry to ask, said the cab driver, but the back of his cab looked and smelled like an abattoir.      Trevor gave the man $500 and had no qualms about doing so. The man had saved his life.     Unbelievably, the driver returned a few hours later with $300 in change and insisted Trevor take it. He wouldn’t even take compensation for the fare he’d lost when he kicked the couple out of his cab. According to Barry, they’d been totally gracious about it. I was happy to hear that. When Trevor first told me the story I imagined them disgruntled, having once witnessed a car accident between an Uber driver and a work van at Dundas and Manning. The Uber passenger, a total douchebag with Buddy Holly glasses and a $500 haircut, instantly kicked open the back door and marched out without checking if his driver was okay. He was on the phone and as he stalked off, retreating back into his judgemental life, I could hear him saying “yeah so my idiot driver just got in an accident…I know, right?”      So at least the young kids were cool about losing their ride. That doesn’t make them heroes or saints, of course; it just makes them decent humans. Barry performed some heroics himself, actions that probably should have upgraded his status from “acquaintance” to “friend,” now that I think about it. But that’s Trevor’s business, not mine.      The real hero of this story though, is the cab driver. Like our first Street Saint, he saved a life and eschewed financial reward. In fact, the cab driver’s actions are even more heroic than the paramedic’s, inasmuch as they were actions. Our unknown paramedic merely refrained from stealing. The unknown taxi driver saved a total stranger’s life at great personal and professional risk. He could have wrapped himself around a tree whilst speeding toward East General. His boss could have reprimanded or fired him for kicking out a fare (he had no way of knowing how the young couple would react. They easily could have been petulant, “I want to speak to the manager” types). This unknown cab driver risked almost everything to save the life of a total stranger.      Now that is saintlike behavior.      When I hear stories like this I realize that this world isn’t as cold and uncaring as it sometimes seems when I’m dopesick or sad or suicidal or all three. THe human condition doesn’t have to resemble the front cover of Incesticide.             PS: In case you’re wondering, the guy who stabbed Trevor was arrested that same night (I doubt it was hard to find him, he would have been covered in blood) but Trevor refused to testify against him. It’s the dirtbag Omerta, which I subscribe to as well...even if they can help us, we don’t talk to cops. But the dude got put away for some other crime, served three years, and left Toronto. Hopefully he hasn’t stabbed anyone in the ensuing years.      PPS: Also, in case you’re wondering if “Trevor” was exaggerating, he showed me the article from the Toronto Star corroborating the details he gave me. I won’t link to it because it gives his real name. As for the details the article didn’t corroborate, I’ll just say this: I believe Trevor. Dope addicts try to lie as little as possible, because they have to lie so much to maintain their addictions. The secret to lying is to not lie any more than you have to. Trevor had no reason to lie to me, therefore I do not believe he was lying. If the dramatic arc of his story was contingent on getting dope, I would be more skeptical. But it wasn’t. I totally believe that this cab driver refused the money. I totally believe that there are people in this world who are that selfless, that heroic, that saintly.       Keep your head up and don’t get stabbed.     

[worldbuildingworkshop]

Worldbuilding Tutorial #9: Example World A

Intro This is the first example for the tutorial on government. This example has the advantage of including several non-human groups, particularly ones who operate in a very different way that humans physically and mentally both. So if you are dealing with such a species, this is a good example to take a look at. 

For this one in particular, it’s important to remember the role that fate has in this world. Many of these styles of governing rely and derive from the fact that there is an external force imposing order on all of these groups, cultures, and people, and are much looser systems than would work in the real world. 

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Region #1: Unseelie Fey As stated in previous tutorials, fey are very individual in this world - especially so in this region. It’s a very every fey for themselves, fey eat fey sort of place, and cooperation does not come easily or often. That being the case, there is no structured government to speak of. That is not to say, however, that it is anarchy here either, though it may look like it at times. In this world, even for fey, there are rules; and this is a world governed by fate, which is law in its own way and law that even fey cannot escape. In this case, however, it’s less “government” and more like “your free will doesn’t count anymore” - and fey will find themselves doing things they’re actively trying to avoid, because they don’t have a choice in it anymore.

The singular “rule” in Unseelie society is essentially “There are no rules”. The enforcement of this rule mostly comes in the form of mob justice: fey will tend to group together to destroy an individual who tries to impose rules or order of any kind on others, and may seek out and torment individual fey who maintain any kind of rules for themselves for being deviant. Decisions are made on an individual basis through individual negotiation, and precedent has no power over further decisions. If an individual doesn’t get what they want out of an agreement, they simply refuse to engage with it.

This kind of “government” would not work for humans or human-like creatures, for many reasons. It serves mostly as an example of how governing can be very different for non-humanlike species and in a context unlike earth (i.e. where there is an external force that can exert order when necessary).

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Region #2: Seelie Fey Like with the Unseelie Fey, this region of Seelie Fey does not have any kind of established rules or codes, nor official “government” to speak of. Individuals do as they will, and other individuals can choose to attempt to punish them or not. Fate is, of course, an ever-present force, and like with the Unseelie it is less a matter of choice and more a matter of inability to do otherwise - but the Seelie are usually somewhat more willing, and thus (usually) suffer less for it.

Unlike the Unseelie, Seelie society tends towards cooperation much more often. This means that it is not uncommon to have groups of fey called to the same place, or who choose to go to the same place, and debate as a group the correct course of action. In situations such as these, it is the voices of the majority and the most powerful who make the decision, and those who disagree will often go along with it anyway. There is no rule about this - a seelie fey could choose to walk out if they liked - but it is the way the culture tends. Precedent only matters in that some fey may have memories of previous situations and have some memory of how they turned out before - if not concrete memories, then merely feelings. But it doesn’t factor in in any strict legal sense. 

Like the previous “government” style, this would not work for humanlike creatures or in an earthlike world. It is again an example of how governments might function with very different parameters. Furthermore, it’s an example of how essentially the same situation and kind of being involved can result in two different forms of “governance” because of differences in culture. Aside from culture, seelie and unseelie fey are essentially the same; but their approach to their organization is very different, and different enough that they cause each other grief over it frequently.

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Region #3: Humans As stated previously, there is no overarching government in this region; instead, each village is its own individual place, and follows its own rules. Generally - and there can be deviations - the structure is that if there is a man that most of the village likes and trusts to be a good leader, he is the head of the village. There is no official vote taken, nor official position granted; what this means is that people in the village will start coming to this person with disagreements, proposals, and questions, and this person will have the responsibility of answering them. If this person doesn’t want the job, he simply refuses to answer the things people come to him with, and they will bring their thoughts to someone else.

If the village is in agreement, this man will generally be called the head of the village. If it is not, and there are instead two or three different men that different groups within the village favor, then the title won’t be used until one of them emerges as a lead to the other two. Situations like this usually sort themselves out over time; oftentimes there is intricate social politicking that goes on with each trying to overshadow or undercut the others. Sometimes there is outright bloodshed in an attempt to eliminate one side or another. Sometimes (and probably least frequently), these “leaders” will come together and sort out an order or hierarchy amongst themselves and either all but one will step down or they will consult with one another for difficult decisions. 

No one has to bring their problems to the village head, of course; people are free to make their own decisions. However, someone may - if they feel that some kind of retribution is necessary - lodge a complaint with the village head, who will have to drum up public support in order to do anything about it if something significant must be done. The head is not the sole decider of justice in cases where there is a crime, and those who decide on their own often quickly lose their position. Rather, they function more as mediators and advisors to the village than an official. There are norms that exist rather than any codified rules - things like “it’s not polite to kill people” and “if you take someone’s things then it’s your own damn fault if you get hurt when they try to take it back”. These rules change over time as the culture of the individual villages changes. 

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Region #4: Humans Like with the above region and as stated before, this region is also a series of unaffiliated villages who each conduct their own affairs. Unlike the previous region, the government structure is more official: there is a council of all of the elder men of the village who mediate and make decisions that will affect the entire village or that cannot be solved by the parties involved. The council will choose to “bring in” a man when they feel he is of a proper age; and all men are eventually included in this, even heavily disliked ones. There is no rule requiring this, but it just “isn’t done”. 

Usual procedure in these villages has become that the council will hear a series of problems in the first part of the day, then debate them privately throughout the day. No decisions are made that day; instead they are made the following one, in order to allow time for reflection. The other unspoken purpose of this is to get input from other members of the village; the elder men will often discuss issues just as anyone else might discuss their day, and other members - particularly the elder women - will have a chance to give their input this way. During debates, if there is something that concerns a particular subsection of society - the herders, for example - sometimes the council will ask members of that group to essentially “testify”; they will ask them questions relevant to the matter, usually without telling them what exactly is being debated, and then sent away once there are no more questions to ask.

As with everything else in this world so far, for the most part there are simply norm of “it’s not done” rather than rules. However, this region is the most likely to actually have any kind of codified law; it will generally be passed down orally rather than written, and decided to be made a rule by the council and then announced to the village. 

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Region #5: The Feywood This region is very unlike the previous two fey regions because it actually has a structured government. The Feywood has a version of the classic “Fey Court” that is sometimes used in literature and folklore in the real world. There is a King and a Queen and a court - though these are not bound by gender roles. Amongst the fey, these roles have little meaning; they are respected, and a fey may be more inclined to follow the will of their rulers because of this respect (almost more like a Pope IRL); but they are also welcome to tell their King or Queen to stick it up theirs. Rather, these roles mostly have to do with mortals and how the fey deal with them.

The role of the King is to essentially allow or deny access to the wood by mortals. If a mortal is found wandering in the woods where they shouldn’t be, often they will be captured and brought to the King, who will decide what should be done with them. If a mortal wishes to bring a petition to the fey or ask a favor, they would seek out the King as well. The role of the Queen is somewhat more nebulous; the Queen’s role could essentially be defined as PR. A Queen will go out and show mercy, provide help, and reign in fey who are causing problems. They can also veto the decision of the King if they wish to take a particular mortal under their protection instead. As for the Court - the fey court is made of members who come and go, but is usually made up of powerful fey who are interested in partying with the King and Queen for a while. These fey share their wisdom and knowledge and help inform what the King or Queen does next - if there are rumors of something ill afoot in the north woods, the rulers and court may find their paths straying there next. 

The King and Queen are also unique in that they are one of the few fey that are able to choose agains the current of Fate if they so choose. All other fey are intimately bound to this; but a King or Queen of the wood can understand that a thing is Fated and decide not to follow it. There is a price for this ability, however: Kings and Queens are also one of the few fey that die of old age. They may live hundreds of years, but near the end of their “time”, they will start to age and wither away very quickly, and then die. Successors are not chosen by the current Queen or King; usually they are not “chosen” at all. Rather, a fey will hear a call (usually sourced from fate), and if it follows it, will find itself the new ruler. It could theoretically happen to any fey - there is no difference in species. It is the title which bestows the differences upon a fey, not their birthright which determines their ability to hold the title.

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Region #6: Elves Elves have one of the most hierarchical societies of any other region in this area. There is a ruler, who can be either sex; this person is chosen by methods to be described shortly, and both resolves issues that are facing the region at large and may also pursue their own agenda. There is a capital city that they rule from. The ruler may also have a number of consorts, who are often also advisors and can make decisions in the ruler’s place if they are away or indisposed. Beneath the consorts there are a number of what are essentially “nobles”; these nobles are usually figures of great renown or with great feats under their belts, and who are extremely skilled in their area of study. Nobles hold no official position in the court, but use their influence to enact various pressures on the ruler either on their own or by getting support from others. None of these positions is determined by blood; rulers are chosen by their people and nobles, consorts are chosen by the rulers, and nobles come and go as individuals rise to fame and fall from it.

When a ruler dies, often what happens is a number of nobles will nominate themselves to be the next ruler. There are series of tests and tasks performed, through which nobles will attempt to prove their worth; many will go on great quests to prove their fitness as well. As nobles begin to fail or fall out of favor, they will often put their support behind one of the other nobles instead. Throughout all of this, the common people watch and may choose to throw their support behind rulers as well. Eventually it usually comes down to a duel of some sort between the last few contenders - which may be combative, or may be a debate or other feat. These are highly public and a great spectacle for everyone else. The winner becomes the next ruler, and the remaining nobles pledge fealty and surrender some of their resources in order to ensure that they are in no position to usurp the ruler.

Within a village, usually the eldest member is in charge of making decisions - much like the ruler is on a larger scale. Sometimes a village member will become very skilled and renown for that skill; oftentimes, if they achieve status of a noble through this, they will leave the village and head to the capital to pursue position there (if they have a mind for politics, anyway - not all of them do, but many people will treat them like a noble anyway). Nobles are often de-facto advocates for their village and their village’s interest, so it is within the interest of a village to try to raise as many highly-skilled individuals as possible. Other people outside of a village, especially from those villages who do not have a noble, may flock to another’s noble instead and put their support behind them instead. 

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As you can see, the government structures in this world are highly influenced by its metaphysics: they are very focused on individual choice and agency, and are in some cases about as far away from collectivist as you can get and still have a society. They don’t depend on rules, but instead on cultural norms, and as such are more moldable than most governments are. This means that enforcement of these rules comes from consequences from the societies themselves rather than an executive force - a dangerous situation in the real world, but which is able to function in this one because of the underlying metaphysics with fate and magic. Age, memory, and skill are also major themes in determining status that thread through all governments in this world - you can see those themes repeated over and over again. 

World B, because it lacks these underlying mechanics, will be very different - and also much more familiar. They’ll be up next.

[theworthofsouls]

My heart is so full right now. A few things and an explanation:

First, I will always be a firm believer that Saturday sessions of General Conference are the best.

Second, my mission president, Taniela Wakolo, was called to be a Seventy, and I can’t wait for the rest of the world to get to know him.

Third, never in the history of ever have I cried during general conference, but I was a leaky mess today.

Fourth, my identity as a child of God has never been so clear to me as it has today.

Fifth, I know and can feel my Savior’s love for me stronger than I have in years.

Now for some context.

The reason I haven’t been on here very often is because since January I have been actively addressing the fact that I have social anxiety which leads to bouts of depression. Labeling this as such was in and of itself a feat for me, as it seems the leading goal I constantly have is to not be a burden to others, and that label always seemed to me a sign of defeat that I could not conquer my issues on my own.

I have since learned that asking others for help is not a bad thing. I have been attending a social anxiety group, seeing an individual therapist, and working through an online program. I decided to take this initiative to be mentally healthy after a 2 & ½ week slump back in January. Since then I’ve been invited to do a lot of things that are outside of my comfort zone, and learning different principles has been helpful.

About two or three weeks ago I hit another slump. This came after I had tried to apply a technique for noticing anxiety and it backfired into a full out panic attack over something really small. After that, I noticed I was getting more and more discouraged that I was doing this all wrong. Seeking this help was supposed to be the last resort I had after my own personal efforts. I thought that I had gotten really far the past few years, and these past few months seemed to have been unraveling all the work I had done.

Lately my thoughts have been centered around the fact that I am lonely. I have a lot of friends, but it seems like my relationships are pretty superficial many times. I had hit my year mark of being back home in January, and was discouraged that not only had I been unsuccessful at finding a significant other, but the fact that I didn’t even have anyone in mind to call my “best friend” was even more discouraging.

This is still the case, and it still bothers me a lot. I’m still in this slump. But I have good moments, like this one.

Lately I’ve had many opportunities to put my trust in the Lord. the most recent happened yesterday when a friend invited me to the temple, and expecting to have plenty of time before a meeting at work, I agreed to go. A half hour delay in her schedule, an influx of people at the temple, and my ability to always manage to use a locker in the one stall that has a line of people waiting, ended in me being a little on edge the whole time. I felt bad for being impatient, but I tried to remind myself that I just needed to trust in the Lord and things would work out.

When we eventually made it out, it was an hour after this meeting was supposed to start. I didn’t blame God, but I did feel sheepish for not having planned better on my end. I walked into work without even changing out of my skirt, and upon my arrival had the news that the meeting was rescheduled for the following week.

Even when we are 120% sure things have failed after we put our trust in God, we need to remember that when we put our trust in God we never fail. This had temporal blessings which I was able to readily see, but many times we will have to wait until heaven to see what went right.

The morning session of talks seemed to be in a bunch that all seemed to address my concerns. What I walked away from that meeting was the importance of my divine nature as a child of God, and that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are always there with us.

In the moments when I had felt most forsaken by the ones I loved and even by God, I was able to be humbled enough to recognize His hand in the following days, with little signs of His love and awareness of me.

The second session started, and I was excited to hear the name of my mission president. One of the things I love most about him was something my last companion pointed out--he didn’t give up easily on the missionaries. There were so many missionaries that were hurting or disobedient or some other circumstances where other missionaries suggested they be sent home, but as long as the missionary was willing to stay, President Wakolo was working hard to help. He could have sent home dozens of missionaries so that he wouldn’t have to deal with them, but he wanted to deal with them. This made all the difference to these individuals. Of course there were some he sent home, but not after many heartfelt and sincere efforts to help the missionary to change.

I mention this because he shows love in the way I imagine the Savior does. The Savior doesn’t want to get rid of us so He doesn’t have to deal with us anymore, He cares so deeply that He has put everything on the line to help us, if only we will return to Him. I cannot wait for you to hear Elder Wakolo speak, because his love is sincere, both for us and for his Savior.

When I heard the announcement of the choir singing a medley containing I Am a Child of God, I started to tear up. I have never felt strongly about this song because it is so often used, but today I felt it, and I cried as the children started to sing. I composed myself, and continued to receive inspired revelation from the talks. Then Elder Holland spoke. I know it’s so cliche to say that he is the best speaker, but the moment he said the line “Jesus listening can hear the songs I cannot sing”, the waterworks really started, and continued throughout. I had read his talk “Like a Broken Vessel” earlier this morning as I found it difficult to get out of bed, and cried again at the quote from President Monson (again, one I’ve heard a million times but not really felt until today):

“That love never changes. … It is there for you when you are sad or happy, discouraged or hopeful. God’s love is there for you whether or not you feel you deserve [it]. It is simply always there.”

The past few weeks I did not feel like I deserved it, but I received it anyway.

The scripture John 14:27 came to mind: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

I am still in a lot of emotional and mental anguish. I still feel considerably awful and lonely. But I can testify that in these past weeks I have developed a stronger trust in my Savior through consistent temple attendance and sincere (though not very long) prayers. I have felt like my offering at times was so meager, but I was giving everything I could within my means of energy. And a peace has come to me. I understand that scripture more than ever, and I cannot explain it. The peace I expected was not given to me, the lifting of this weight that leaves me useless for days on end was not given. The terror that comes from small social encounters was not erased. My term papers have not been magically written for me. But I have peace.

The next few weeks are going to be difficult in terms of the end of the semester, and I can’t say when I’ll get out of this slump I’m in. But I have a confidence that the Lord is nearer than I sometimes think, I am doing better than I sometimes believe, and everything will, eventually, work out.

Are you ready for part 2 of General Conference? I know I am.

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Testimony|Jomrie

[TRIGGER WARNING: KNIVES AND BLOOD]

The whole room felt like a bath house. Not one of those indoor locker room showers either. No, this felt hot and stuffy and full of steam, just like the ones you read about in greek mythology. The way I see it, they got rid of those things for a reason. Of course, I had never been in one, but I imagine it felt like this. Felt cramped and crowded like there weren't enough metal seats in the county to hold everyone.

There weren't. People lined the back of the walls and kept their hands behind them, almost taking most of the pressure off their feet by pushing their fingertips so close to the paneling that it would burn. I wouldn't be able to stay standing during this whole ordeal. My knees would have buckled and stopped the blood flow to my brain faster than it could be over.

I couldn't keep my eyes on one thing, or my mind for that matter. This was all a little too much for me. The Alabama heat the plagued the summer, little beads of sweat that dripped off the tip of my nose, the judge who looked uncomfortable in the robes he dawned... hell even the lawyer who I had talked to on more than one occasion sent chills down my spine.

He watched me with eyes that were almost as black as coal in this light. I trusted him though, trusted his look and the way I talked to him about what exactly I was supposed to say on the stand in order to make this trial go as smoothly as possible. He looked like an older Atticus Finch. The one from the movie, not the one printed into thousands of books every year.

I could feel sweat drip down my arms. I wasn't sure where it was coming from, but it dripped easily off of my fingertips and pressed against the wooden stand. I hadn't spoken yet, I hadn't even been sworn in. I was just being stared at. Not just by the lawyer, or by the woman in the orange jumpsuit next to him.

"Miss Hart," the judge spoke with a certain heat to his voice. It was one that made the room feel even dryer. He sounded louder now that I was next to him instead of across the room. "You are to be sworn in by a offical. You answer questions that both parties ask you to the best of your ability are we clear?"

"Yes sir," I stumbled out, giving a small nod. My shirt was pressing against my back uncomfortably. The so called official he named stepped forward, his non-slip shoes making an odd noise against the linoleum. He held up a bible, the pages browned and the spine falling apart. It was probably as old as the courthouse if not older.

"Dr. Mamrie Hart," He spoke in a softer tone than the judge. He asked me to rise to right hand, which I did compliantly, feeling the sweat move towards my elbow "Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the whole truth to this courtroom in question."

My eyes met the girl who sat slumped in her chair, not a care in the world. It wasn't my job to convict her. That was the furthest thing from my mind. My soul purpose in this case is to prove how she did it. How this blonde woman with a bit of a crazed look in her eyes was capable of murder. That was my job, and I intended to do it.

"I do."

The air that pooled in my lungs was cold. Not like that day, not like that fifteen minute moment in time that I spent in that damned courtroom. I was back in my room, away from that nightmare, away from that day.

There wasn't much light where I was, my balcony windows opened to a treeless backyard. A cold wind pushed through the doors, letting out little howls every now and then. There was a fine layer of sweat that coated my almost bare chest, my tank top nearly see through at this point. These nightmares needed to stop soon.

I could tell by how light the sky was becoming that I didn't have much time left before I had to get up. There would be no use in closing my eyes again. Not now. Every Time I did I felt like I was looking into Grace's eyes again. Into the eyes of a killer.

She was behind bars, that's not what I was worried about. Hell, I had helped put her there myself. It wasn't a hard task. The evidence built up against her faster than I would care to admit. If I hadn't seen it first hand I would have called it a set up. I would have felt the guilt of sending an innocent woman to jail- but that wasn't the case.

I shook my head clear as I started to go through my morning routine mindlessly. There was no over thinking, not now. I refused myself to go back there, even if the nightmare had felt as real as ever. I kept the water cold as I showered, kept the pot small as I brewed coffee, and my hand steady as I applied pitch eye liner. Just like normal. Everything was normal.

I was already running late to work, despite being early to wake up. My bag was over my shoulder, my eyes searching for my keys in the nearly dark hallway until I glanced up at a small and loud creak like a haunted house door. There was light spilling into the foyer from my front door. It was ajar.

My whole body immediately tensed up as I took a careful step back, praying silently that my foot wouldn't hit the one loose board that would alert someone of any type of movement that I decided to carry with me.

I felt along the granite countertop blindly, grasping onto the closet knife that I could find. One that wasn't too sharp, but was serrated against my palm. My breath seemed to catch in my throat as I stayed as quiet as possible.

The arm wrapped around my neck faster than I had a chance to react, a rough heat moving through my throat as I tried to get out a scream. I made no noise though, my one hand clawing at the arm that pressed my back into the attacker's chest while the other kept the kitchen knife at my side until I slammed back roughly, hearing a loud crunch as a scream sounded off in my ear, making it hot as air rushed passed it.

I was shaking, not bothering to look back as they released me for a split second to sprint toward the door. It was fifteen feet away, if even. Despite how much effort I had taken to slamming the sharp end of a blade into this-this person's leg they got there faster, pressing a black gloved hand against the door hard enough to leave us in almost a pitch scenario. The only light I had was gone, my chest heaving up and down as I pressed my cheek against the cold door.

My fingertips had made a bloodied streak against the white paint where I allowed my touch to wonder. It wasn't my blood, but it affected me all the same.

"That wasn't very nice." the voice spoke with conviction. It was female, female and gruff. Something I hadn't expected. It didn't sound like her though. Not like I thought it was Grace for more than a split second. She wouldn't be naive enough for me to stab her.

"How did you find me?" I said between breathes, turning around slowly. My back felt cool against the white wood. She kept her hand to the right of my head. She was about the same height as me, almost shorter. Her hair was cropped short, probably made it easier to do whatever she needed to do.

I recognized her from the courtroom, but couldn't recall a name. I didn't need to recall one. Not in the position I was in back then. She saw me studying her, but didn't give it a second thought "You're not a very hard woman to track down, Mamrie."

My mouth was dry, but I tried to swallow anyway, it had no avale. My throat was scratchy and ached from where she had so rudely tried to end me. "I figured she was behind all of this. Th-the missing jury members, the judge that wound up dead in his fucking car."

"That was a nice touch, don't you think?" She scoffed, her breath was minty against my lungs, it mixed with the heavy scent of charcoal and metallic blood. "Grace is a little bitch who took a guilty conviction as time to repent for her sins."

"Smart woman."

"A dead one for all I care." She hissed, her voice rising. I couldn't help but wonder why this girl was talking to me. Why she was standing there like I hadn't just seriously wounded her. "You know, this whole thing started off as a way to avenge my best friend but this?"

I grimaced away as I felt the cold tip of the very knife I had shoved into her leg press softly right under my chin. It beat roughly against my pulse, each time my heart decided to push against my rib cage I felt the tip of a knife close in against my artery.

"This is a lot more fun."

"Joslyn." I whispered, not acknowledging the warmth the rushed down my neck and pooled at my collarbone. That small prick of a blade was her warning. Something I took very lightly. "Grace's friend, I-"

"You got her thrown behind bars." She said, her voice a low growl, "Got her fired, got me fired. I... You ruined both of our lives with your testimony."

"You're wrong." I swallowed roughly "My testimony, it would've of changed anything." She watched me with close eyes, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "If not me, they would find another doctor. Someone else would have done the autopsy and she'd still be where she is today."

"Shut up!" She screamed, my ears ringing at the sharp noise as I let out a shaky breath "Someone else didn't make the statement, Dr.Hart. You did. You were number one on my list for awhile. It was like you had no damn remorse of sending a teenager to prison."

"Do you?" I whispered "Have remorse I mean. For her? For yourself? Joslyn, what the hell are you doing?"

She didn't say a word, her grip tightening around the edge of the knife. It didn't matter to me either way. I wasn't interested in talking her down. I had known for awhile that I'd end up dead. The nightmares were a constant reminder. I had lived in fear up until this point because I was done waiting. Done with my fatal mistake of testifying on a trial that could have called anyone else to the stand. Anyone with a medical degree could have done what I did.

"You're what? 25? You have a knife to a woman's throat and think this is the answer?"

"It's the only one I can think of."

"Then you're not thinking hard enough." I clenched my jaw, staring into her coffee eyes "You've killed more people than Grace went to jail for and she's stuck with a life in prison. She's stuck with something that you're obviously trying hard to avenge. Look.. I-I'm sorry about your job, and Grace. But I can't change that and neither can you."

"You're right." She cocked her head to the side "Killing you wouldn't change that. But I'm not really one for change, Dr.Hart."

[readingraebow]

The Firm Section Four

Chapters 24-32

1. What are the terms for Mitch's involvement that Tarrance finally agrees to? Mitch wants two million dollars. He wants the first when he hands over the files he's collected which he says will take about a week. Then he wants half of the other when they decide he's given them enough to indict and the other half after he's testified for the last time. Tarrance finally agrees that this is very reasonable and that's what Mitch will get. But then he throws in that he also wants his brother out of prison and in protective custody with them. Tarrance blanches at this and says that they can't get a state prisoner out. But Mitch assures them that they can and that he won't do anything unless his brother gets to go with him. If he's going to be on the run from the Mafia, his brother will be the first one they come after and he doesn't want that to happen. So he says that his brother is part of the package deal and he won't do anything without him. So Tarrance says he'll see what he can do.

2. What are the three reasons Tarrance gives for the FBI following Mitch to Grand Cayman? Number one, they wanted to talk to him and nail down their deal. The money part they agree with. It's just his brother that they say they can't promise. Apparently all of their legal means have failed so they're going to try to just break him out??? Or something like that. But that part Mitch assures them is non-negotiable and they'd better get right on that. Number two, they wanted to watch Mitch to determine how many goons are following him. They plan to spend the week trying to identify everyone following the McDeeres. They reason that since the island is so small, they'll be easier to spot and they can easily identify the tails which will be helpful for later. And number three, they're there for Mitch's protection. Tarrance says that the last time he sat at that very table he was sitting across from Hodge and Kozinski. They died the next day. And when Mitch asks if he's about to be killed, Tarrance says not yet. But it's nice to be there just in case.

3. What happens to Avery in Grand Cayman? What does this have to do with Abby's visit to Mitch's office? He meets Tammy who is using her sister's name, Libby. She goes home with him and drugs him. Then, per Mitch's instructions, steals his keys and his briefcases. In Unit A, there's a locked door marked storage. Mitch reasons that A is used for partners and really trusted guests and is not wired. He thinks the storage door is also where the shady files are kept. He's correct and Tammy finds a bunch of filing cabinets there. She takes his brief cases and these files back to Abby who is waiting in a hotel room with a copy machine. Abby had visited Mitch earlier to tell him that her father is sick and she's going home and needs some time. This sends the surveillance people into a tizzy because it sounds like she's leaving him. But really this is just a cover so she can help Tammy copy those files. And it works except for a hick up when Avery wakes up. And Tammy's phone call to Abby when Avery gets in the shower is recovered. So. That will probably be a problem later.

4. The night Avery flies out to visit Capps, what does Mitch do? Using the set of Avery's keys that Tammy copied in Grand Cayman, Mitch slips into Avery's office and opens the three filing cabinets that no one ever uses. In it, he finds a lot of the dirty files, particularly ones relating back to the files they copied in Grand Cayman. He copies all of these on the firm copy machines. But, they have a new system in place where you put in the account number and it charges the copies to the account. So Mitch uses the account numbers of a bunch of files that are currently sitting in his office. So it looks like he's doing the work he's supposed to be doing but, actually, he already finished all of that work and just saved the files so he could make these copies and charge them to those accounts.

5. How has the Morolto gang been smuggling money out of the country? So I actually included this question because it reminded me of that part in the Wolf of Wall Street when they were taping money to people to smuggle out of the country. So I thought that was cool. Anyway, they obviously use the Leer but they also have an army of mules which are people they trust who smuggle it out in their pockets and wrapped up in newspaper. It doesn't have to be declared if it's an amount under ten thousand so they give them ninety eight hundred and buy them a ticket. And they take it to their banks down there, deposit it and then get a free vacation. It doesn't sound like much individually but when you have three hundred people making twenty trips a year, that adds up. And it moves a lot of dirty money out of the country which they can bring back in clean. So it really does keep their operation going.

6. What does DeVasher speculate about Mitch when he meets with Locke and Lambert? What is decided at this meeting? DeVasher presents the pieces that he has collected. He tells them about Mitch's 3 am copying and that he had no business being on the 4th floor unless he was in Avery's office probably copying the dirty files. He says that Avery looked through these files but couldn't tell if they'd been touched so he had them sent out for fingerprinting. He also says that Abby's leaving is suspicious. He checked around for her mother's hospital stay and couldn't find any record of her anywhere. Though Lambert doesn't find this particularly suspicious. But they do agree that maybe this was a ruse to get Abby away from the firm and keep her out of harm's way. And then there's the matter of how Mitch could've gotten into Avery's locked office and locked filing cabinets. They think it's possible that he copied the keys but they have no idea how. So then DeVasher presents the tape of Abby and Tammy. They don't recognize either voice and think that Tammy was just a pickpocket. But they also have no idea what they were up to and how this connects to Mitch. So that, it seems, is good news. But, they've also made plans to eliminate Mitch. They're going to explode the Leer with him in it. They're just waiting to hear back from the guy inside the FBI to make sure Mitch is really working with them. They're also putting Avery on a leave of absence to clean up his act and they're assigning Mitch to someone else. So basically Mitch needs to hurry up and finish copying files if he's going to make it out of there alive.

7. What does Mitch tell Tarrance he thinks happens in the basement at Front Street? What does Tarrance want from this and what does Mitch tell him? He says the basement is locked up tighter than anywhere else in the building so he thinks this is where the money laundering happens. He says there are phone numbers taped to the walls of banks in the Caymans they know the Moroltos are using for their dirty money. He says this is also where the rest of the dirty files are (besides the filing cabinets in every partner's office, which Mitch wouldn't have access to) and that he'd never have access to them. He has no reason to go down there. He's never seen anyone who works down there. And there's a locked room in the basement which presumably has all the files and there's no way to get in there and get the files out without alerting suspicion. He says the only way to get in that room is with a search warrant. And, well, Tarrance doesn't like this answer aT ALL. He wants all of those files. But Mitch assures him that he can't do that and the files he does have are more than enough to get that warrant for Tarrance and indict half of the firm. Mitch says there's nothing else that he can do now because he thinks they're suspicious. So if all goes according to plan and they get his brother out of prison, he'll turn the files over to Tarrance and disappear while they take down the firm.

8. Now that we're moving into the last section and everyone is suspicious of everyone, how do you think this will all play out? Do you think Mitch will make it out of this alive or do you think he'll be caught? I think Mitch will make it out alive. Grisham threw in some foreshadowing there in the last few chapters, talking about Mitch preparing for the trial. So I think Mitch does help bring down the firm. But I don't think everything will go according to plan? We have a little too much book left for it to be smooth sailing from here. I think there will be some kind of hick up, I just don't know what yet. My gut tells me it will probably involve Ray since he seems to be the one kink. The feds don't really want to get him out of prison and I don't think that will go smoothly? And I don't think the firm will go down very neatly. I don't think they'll all end up sitting in a courtroom across from Mitch. I think some of them will escape or maybe die? I just really can't picture Locke going down for this. A lot of the others, sure. But I think something, somewhere will go wrong.

  Section Four Reading Journal

Wooooow. So much happened in this section??? Or basically the same conversation happened twenty times (”I want two million dollars and my brother.” “That’s too hard.”) and then fiNALLY they reached a conclusion and started moving files and oh man. Love that the firm has already planned how they want to kill Mitch??? Lambert and Locke weren’t even suspicious of him. And even after hearing DeVasher’s theories, they still didn’t even sound convinced??? So it literally sounds like they’re going to kill him just to kill him. #bestjobever #greatfirm *rolls eyes*

Anyway, I absolutely love that Tammy is helping Mitch and so is Abby. I love that Mitch honestly isn’t in this alone and he does have a lot of help and even though it is dangerous, I think that’s why he’ll succeed where the other two failed. Because the other two were both inside the firm, trying to bring it down. But with Mitch, he has two people not inside the firm who aren’t being followed and can disappear easier. So I think that’s what is setting him up for success?? But I honestly love Tammy and her role in this entire thing is fantastic. I hope she also gets something out of this after it’s all over.

So, yeah. I have absolutely loved reading this book and I cannot wait to finish it!