#I haven’t actually written any of them so far but it works so WELL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghostbeam · 22 days

Text

Oblivi_n.exe | Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Touya Todoroki, known as ‘Dabi’ to the league, quirk class: cremation, mech title: Blue. You’re his new handler.

As Dabi’s new handler, you’re well aware of his history, how frequently he goes through handlers assigned to him. Not that he ever uses them—it’s more complete resistance. You’re not particularly good at your job. Transferred from the PLF for lack of success in handling any of their pilots, you’ve always been far too gentle. You lack authority. Your pilots never respected you. You don’t think Dabi will be any different. You give it a week.

Notes: okay wow hiiiii it’s been a long time since I’ve posted an actual fic (nearing almost a year now😬) this is something I’ve been working on for a bit. I have mech brain rot curtesy of @streimiv and @hawnks (both of whom this is dedicated to bc there’s no way I could have written this without yapping to them abt it and also mint helped me come up w the acronym for HERO’s) and we’ve all got our own mech fics in the works atm but anywayssssss this is kind of my baby atm but I hope it makes sense it’s very inspired first and foremost by pacific rim and then also NGE (mostly through consumption of YouTube vids bc I haven’t actually watched it pls don’t hate me) it’s a whole mess of things and Dabi is kind of a bitch and reader is slowly coming into herself and at the end of the day they both wanna be metal fused to one another forever (no matter how hard he denies it) also I’m not a huge computer person idk if this title makes sense so don’t make fun of me pls ok anyways I hope u like it!!!!

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, pilot!Dabi x handler!reader, there’s no explicit sexual content in this part, not even a kiss sorry guys, mentions of robot gore (exposed wires, insides described as guts), brief descriptions of being trapped inside a small space, descriptions of burning while inside said space, mention of surgery to fashion a metal jaw onto someone, mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic just allusions to the todoroki family and touya’s past), angst, many run on sentences, a small cliff hanger

Words: 7.9k

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 (coming soon)

You are nothing without your machine.

It’s the first rule, the first thing beaten into his brain by his father. You carry the burden of the mech alone, or you’re weak. You don’t exist.

U.A. raises the best and brightest pilots, navigators, mechanics, and handlers, each one carefully trained to ensure the most important outcome: winning. It should be protection. It should be defense. But if Touya has learned anything at all, it’s that winning means glory. It means worship. It means HERO’s (Human Engineered Robotic Objects) are saints, and pilots are gods.

Touya used to be one of those best and brightest before his accident.

First son to Enji Todoroki, Touya was supposed to be the golden child, the first Todoroki to pilot without a handler. He was supposed to carry the burden alone, something his father couldn’t do, something only one man has ever actually been capable of.

But Touya is born weak, bad bones, a brain unable to handle all that the mech needs to unload onto it. One too many accidents results in him being expelled from the pilot program, his HERO discarded and collecting dust in its pod, and Touya is promptly transferred to mechanics.

It should have been a smooth transition. If one kid can’t handle it, the next will. Because they have to.

He doesn’t take the news well. It’s a fit of tears, a persistent fight, unable to accept the loss of his machine—of his body. Because Touya loves it. What he lacks in strength, he makes up for in pure passion, and despite being unable to handle the burden, there’s no denying that he’s good. He’s almost perfect.

But almost is not enough for Enji Todoroki, and no matter how hard Touya tries, he’s made up his mind.

After months of mechanics, Touya makes a decision. When the next fleet of HERO’s is deployed for the next kaiju battle, Touya sneaks in among the chaos, tucked neatly inside the chest of his machine where he belongs. It doesn’t take long for things to go south, for Touya to get caught in the crossfire, losing control of his mech and burning from the inside out.

It should be an excruciating death, stuck inside a machine made for war, fire raining from above as a battle continues on outside without him.

But he survives, because what he lacks in strength, he makes up for in resilience, and his mech is programed with solutions to every situation. He’s stuck inside for months before he’s found.

Tomura Shigaraki rescues him, pries open the chest of his mech and pulls him from inside. His group feeds him, takes him in, fashions a new jaw for him made from the metal of his mech, and allows him the decision to join their cause or go back home.

And since there’s no home to go back to, Touya finds his footing with the league and becomes one of their top pilots. One who vehemently resists any and all handlers.

…

Touya Todoroki, known as ‘Dabi’ to the league, quirk class: cremation, mech title: Blue. You’re his new handler.

Following closely behind Tenko, formerly Tomura, he quickly explains to you the in’s and out’s of the pilot/handler relationship, along with a warning about Dabi’s resentment toward the whole idea. You try to keep up, but he talks quickly and uses his hands a lot. Even so, you can tell he’s a natural leader, something he had to grow into after overthrowing the man who raised him. His story is a tragic one, and it resonates with you because Tenko came out the other side stronger. Now, the league is a community with a cause, one you really believe in. Even if you and Dabi aren’t the right fit, you still have a place here.

You follow Tenko into what he calls the garage, a large floor of the abandoned academy that serves as the league’s base, this part of it full of HERO’s and mechanics all focused on the machines in front of them. It’s completely different from how HERO’s were worked on at UA, where you grew up, and even the PLF didn’t have one dedicated floor to this sort of work. You can feel the energy of the room buzzing on your skin, music blasting from old radios and mechanics tossing tools towards one another in a familiar routine. Tomura leads you to Dabi and his HERO, Blue, though you’re instructed not to call it a HERO around him. With goggles over his eyes and gloved hands, he brings two wires from Blue’s ankle together, sighing at the way they spark each time they connect.

“Dabi.” Tomura calls over the music coming from the radio hanging off of Dabi’s waist. He drops the wires and his gaze flickers toward the two of you. Pushing his goggles up to his forehead, he gives you a once over. His eyes are the brightest you’ve ever seen—kaiju blood blue—and burn scars litter his body. He’s striking in a way you’ve never seen, almost too beautiful to be human. Giving Dabi your name, Tomura explains that you’re taking over as his handler, seeing as he couldn’t keep the last one for more than a couple of days. “She’s your last handler. If you can’t keep this one, then go ahead and fry your brain. See if I care.”

“You say that every time.” Dabi calls from around sucker as Tomura walks away, leaving you alone with your new pilot.

You just your hand out in a greeting, “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Eyeing your hand, Dabi shakes his head and turns his back to you, picking the two wires back up and connecting them again, despite the same spark from before igniting between the two. He looks back up at Blue, touching his fingers to the slim lines starting at the back of her ankle and running all the way up her leg. You peak over his shoulder at the wiring, noticing that he’s connecting two of the wrong ones.

“It’s the wrong wire.” You tell him, and he spins around to look at you, tearing his goggles from his face as he scoffs.

“Here we go.” He sighs with a roll of his eyes, pulling the candy from his lips and tossing it onto the tool cart without a care. “Handler know-it-all bullshit. This is my mech.”

You push passed him and grab the similarly colored wire from beside a red wire and connect it with the one in Dabi’s right hand. Blue lights up cyan through the thin lines that run along each of its limbs and torso, connecting with the two cameras within its head, which seem to blink before the light reaches them.

In an instant, you’re being pushed up against the hard metal, a strong arm over your chest—pinning you up against the HERO. Dabi, now having discarded his goggles, looks at you full of white, hot rage.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” He growls. You’re suddenly aware of the close proximity, eyes flickering between the snarl across his lips and his angry gaze. For a beat, you both freeze, the air suddenly charged like you’re waiting for one another to strike. Snapping yourself out of his hypnotic stare, you push against his chest, forcing him to let you go.

“If I’m going to be you’re handler, you’re going to have to trust me with her.” You remind him. He lets out a harsh laugh, like he can’t believe you would suggest such a ridiculous idea.

“I don’t trust anything but this machine.” He speaks, turning away from you to seal up the machine’s exposed wires. It’s a challenge you’re willing to accept.

“Well, I’m here to change that.” You tell him, before turning on your heel to leave him alone.

He thinks he’ll give you a week.

…

One of the worst parts of being assigned a handler, Touya thinks, is the way that pilot/handler living quarters are set up. He assumes the academy, before it was abandoned and turned into a base for the league, created this sort of set up so that handlers could keep a close eye on their pilots. The handlers Touya has burned through up until now also assumed the same.

The door that connects both the pilot’s and handler’s dorms doesn’t lock, and all of Touya’s past handlers have taken advantage of this fact. He’s been pulled out of bed far too early, pushed around and commanded and barked at. Most handlers behaved as if pilots belonged to them, which was the sentiment drilled into their brains from being thrown into such a fucked up system at a young age.—unless you were a pilot of status like a Todoroki. While he league dedicates a lot of its time to reversing these ideas, most handlers look at Touya like some kind of challenge, this arrogant pilot begging to be tamed. It never takes long for them to realize how easily he’s able to flip the switch on them. You’ll be no different.

But hours pass and you still haven’t entered. You don’t swing the door open and demand he apologize for his behavior earlier. You don’t try and punish him with training regimes, a command of a set of push ups, a schedule you expect him to follow, an extremely detailed meal plan. The entire evening comes and goes without so much as a sound on the other side of the door so he knows you’re even behind it.

He falls asleep unnerved by this, waking up late into the night in a cold sweat, expecting you to barge in, rip the covers from his body and demand to train together. When he wakes up (peacefully) the next morning, there’s no sign of you. He rises from his bed, drinks orange juice straight from the carton and eats a candy bar for breakfast. He fiddles with the navigation screen from his mech that stopped working a couple of days ago, tools spread out on the counter in front of him. Once he’s got the thing working again, your knock sounds from the unlocked door between the two of you. He thinks this might be it, the commands he expects to fall from your lips at the ready as he swings the door open, but you stand there, nervous, hands twitching as your eyes finally meet his.

Greeted by a shirtless Touya, hair mused from sleep, cargo pants hung low on his hips, dog tags swinging against his chest, his scars on display, unashamed and proud. The sight of him knocks the breath out of you, and you clear your throat in embarrassment, hoping your state of dreaming comes off as nerves rather than lust.

“Dabi. Or do you prefer Touya?” You smile. When he doesn’t answer, you continue. “I wanted to see if you wanted to eat breakfast together in the caf. I think we should start over. Yesterday was—”

You’re promptly cut off, “I already ate breakfast.”

With a harsh slam of the door, he leaves you stunned in your room.

You eat alone.

When you started as a pilot, back when you’d entered UA (a few years about Touya’s accident), you went into it believing you could change the world. The exam had placed you into the position of handler, and you were assigned a pilot who had always seemed a little frightened of you despite your obvious lack of authority. Bringing the fact up to your instructors did nothing. They all assured you that this was the ideal dynamic, that the handler always had the upper hand, but you hated that feeling. You weren’t a team like you expected to be; you were urged to control your pilot. You were there to keep them in line, not to be a pillar of support. The bond was never built on trust, and the soul link was always a looming threat. No matter how many pilots you went through, the link was never held as a gift, but a prison, something you would both be stuck with for the betterment of society, a sacrifice to make.

You’d been expelled from the handler program after guiding your pilot to help save another in the wreckage of your first battle together, resulting in the damage of your pilot’s HERO. Your pilot was okay, but the other couldn’t be saved, and you were blamed for the damage of both mech’s.

When you found the league (or when the league found you), you were working with the PLF, but proved to be a weak handler. Every pilot you were assigned to took advantage of your optimistic outlook on the kind of relationship dynamic that pilots had with their handlers. Despite all that you had been through at UA, and with the rest of the pilots you’d been paired with after, you never gave up the hope that handlers and pilots could behave as a team, or, even better, one entity.

Tenko had taken one look at you and demanded you’d be transferred to the league. There hadn’t been much of a choice in the matter, not that you really cared. You were miserable everywhere else. But when you arrived at the abandoned academy and taken a peak behind the kudzu covered walls where each and every area of the building acted as multiple moving parts in collaboration with one another in order to create one massive system, you realized that this was the future you imagined for yourself—and for the world you lived in.

Tenko saw something in you that day, something you aren’t sure you even see in yourself. And so Dabi was your first task, one that’s proving to be very difficult. But he doesn’t treat you like all the other pilots before had. He doesn’t use you. In fact, it seems like he wants nothing to do with you. And while that’s a problem, it’s still one you can work with.

You’re broken from your thoughts by the sound of a voice through an overhead intercom asking for everyone to meet on the first floor of the academy at their earliest convenience. Judging by the quick movements of those around you, you figure you’d better head downstairs as soon as possible.

The meeting on the first floor makes you very aware of just how small the league really is. While it’s definitely not a tiny organization, it’s still much smaller than both UA and the PLF. With everyone piled up like this in one group, you realize it feels more like a community, and the hum of conversation that surrounds you comforts you in a way you’ve never felt within the walls of any other academy before.

There’s discussion about the upcoming mission, one which may be the league’s most ambitious yet; the plan to hijack a mech and kidnap a pilot may be a little unorthodox compared to the league’s past missions, but the jaded pilot they’re targeting has a high chance of joining the cause. Or that’s what they have assumed. As the bodies move and speak around you, it strikes you how different this meeting is from any other meeting you’ve ever been a part of. Tenko is less a dictator and more a wrangler for the disembodied voices of your peers.

You don’t know much about his story, save for the vague details you’ve heard, but Tenko’s status as a lone handler is something you find yourself curious about. If he’s able to work without a pilot, why can’t you? It’s an idea you keep in your back pocket, one you think you can fall back on if things with Touya don’t work out. But you want them to work out. So badly.

You aren’t sure what it is about him, but he’s reignited that spark inside of you. You know he’d rather you give up, and maybe the you from a couple of months ago would have, but something about him—and this place—won’t let you leave.

As you observe the meeting, you take the time to look around the room, taking in your peers and their attentive faces as they listen to Tenko intently. You turn to your right, your eyes meeting a pair of blue ones, impossible to miss. Dabi holds your stare for what feels like ages, and when your colleagues erupt in a fit of many simultaneous discussions, you tear your eyes from his to observe the commotion. When you glance back in his direction, he’s gone.

You don’t seem him again after that. You train with other handlers, get to know your peers a little better. Everyone else seems to be welcoming, and most offer you sympathy when they find out you’re Touya’s new handler. From what you can gather, he’s had his fair share of them, all of which have quit or left in hysterics due to his harsh nature. When you ask around about where he could be, you’re told that he’s most likely in the garage, a place you assume he’s in more often than not.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to the garage. A place so completely different, so against the ideas and beliefs of any other academy you’ve been a part of, the chaos and community within is so foreign to you. You find Touya with Blue, working inside of her chest, where the cockpit is.

“Touya!” You call up to him and watch as he peaks his head over the edge of her metal plating. Annoyance falling across his face, he jumps down from where he stands, landing hard on his feet in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” He questions, his figure so tall and imposing above you. He’s not particularly muscular, not even all that tall compared to Tenko, but he makes you feel small regardless, in more ways than one. Rolling your shoulders back, you stare straight into his eyes, unwilling to back down.

“I figured you wanted your space today.” You explain, as Touya moves around you to get to his rolling cart of tools, forcing you to turn toward him and follow him if you want him to hear you. “I know adjusting to a new handler is rough, and I never want to make you uncomfortable. But I was thinking we could try some of those pilot/handler bonding exercises. It might be good to start training like some of the others do.”

He drops the wrench in his hand onto his cart with a loud thud, turning around toward you with a look of disbelief on his face. “Pilot/handler bonding exercises? They really brainwashed the shit out of you at UA, huh?”

At the mention of your past academy, your eyes widen in surprise. You had no idea he knew about that. Clearing your throat in order to compose yourself, you speak again, “I left UA for a reason. I have no attachment to their methods, but you guys do the same stuff here, so what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that I never asked for a fucking handler in the first place, especially not one as eager as you.” He spits, “Sure, you’re understanding now, all that bullshit about ‘giving me space,’ but the moment you get a lick of power over me, you’ll change. You’re not different.”

“I don’t want power over you. This is an equal exchange. Pilot’s and handlers are meant to be a team—” You try and argue, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“That’s what they told you, right? We’re a team, and as teammates, you make sacrifices. And it doesn’t matter if one of you turns into the other’s braindead dog because that’s your place.” His words hit you hard, the exact thought process you went through when leaving UA, completely disillusioned with their idea of “teamwork.” He’s right, and you know it, but since coming here, you thought that wasn’t how it had to be.

“Look, trust me, I get—” You’re cut off again.

“You went to UA! There’s no trusting you.” He scoffs, “It’s not like you’ll last here, anyway.”

“You are such a hypocrite! You’re from UA!” You retort, throwing your arms up in desperation. “You can hate me all you want. You can resist and resist and fry your brain ‘till there’s nothing left, but I believe in this shit. And you don’t get to tell me that I don’t, or tell me I’ll turn into something I worked so hard to get away from.”

Touya stands there, surprised by your outburst, completely unaware that you were capable of all of that. He doesn’t say anything back, and you roll your eyes. “So fuck you, and, by the way, her angel port is smoking.”

At your words, he turns in a rush, seeing the smoke billowing from Blue’s chest as he climbs his way up her form. Once inside his machine, he extinguishes the port and allows himself to relax. There are two things on his mind in this moment: how you could have possibly known it was the angel port without being inside of Blue’s chest and how, for the first time in a long time, he feels bad for his handler.

But for you, it’s the first time you’ve ever held your own against a pilot before, and that feels good.

…

Something feels weird.

Off, unsettling, strange.

He realizes, much to his dismay, that it’s your absence. Despite only having you around for such a short time, Touya has realized that your lack of presence now feels wrong. He hates it. He hates you.

He can’t find you. You haven’t knocked on his door. You’re not in the caf, not the garage, not the sparring floor, not in your room. And he did check—without knocking.

He’s not even sure how he can feel an absence. You aren’t a regular part of his life, and he never wanted you to be. But he feels all fucked up.

During training, Touya jams Blue’s halo core and she leaks vibrant neon from between her ribs. It takes him half an hour to get her reboot her system and rips one of the cables attached to the back of his suit in the process. He spends the afternoon cleaning HERO fluid off the sparring floor.

During repairs, he shocks himself over and over while trying to fix her core, fingers burning from the sparks each time he arranges the wires inside. The cameras in her eyes won’t work from the reboot, and Blue won’t let him unlock the lens panel to fix it. It’s almost like she’s mad at him too.

He’s a complete mess. It’s your fault. He has no choice but to go looking for you. Again.

He searches every wing of the academy before concluding that you’re in your room. He barges through the joint door, spotting you at the counter in your tiny kitchen. You’re surprised by the intrusion, a frightened gasp falling from your lips as you jump in your seat. You turn toward him, prepared with angry words on your tongue, but Touya speaks first.

“You’re not getting an apology out of me, so don’t expect it.” He begins, moving to stand in front of your swiveling kitchen stool as he looks down at you. “But I’m willing to be civil with you, so we don’t have to do this shit anymore.”

You’re not exactly sure what “this shit” is, but Touya looks a little worse for wear at the moment, so you don’t question it. He places a tray from the caf down in front of you that you hadn’t noticed in his hands upon arrival, says nothing else, and turns to leave the room. After shutting your joint door, you look down at the tray of food, noticing one of his suckers placed onto a vacant compartment of the tray.

You’re greeted the next morning with a knock on your door, Touya dressed in his pilot’s suit on the other side as you swing the door open. “C’mon. You’re gonna watch me train today.”

You watch him turn around to leave, expecting you to follow. You rush to pull on your combat boots and grip your dog tags in your fist as you rush to catch up to him. He doesn’t spare you a glance as you fall into step beside him, taking a look around his dorm before he leads you through the exit door.

“You need to get a feel for my fighting style.” He explains as you walk down the corridor. “I’m not saying I’ll listen to you when it comes down to it, but it’s important for you to know.”

You nod, agreeing that you should definitely observe him inside of his HERO. By understanding his moves, you’ll be able to understand the way he thinks, and you’ll be able to help him in actual combat if needed. He’s already said he won’t listen to you, but it won’t stop you from trying. He stops abruptly, turning to look at you, and you stop with him.

“If we’re gonna do this, it’ll be on my terms. I’m not your dog.” He tells you, seriously. He eye’s you up and down, taking in your expression as you nod at his words. “If anything, you’re mine.”

He begins walking again, leaving you in your spot, irritation filling your chest as you watch him, smug. “Asshole.” You curse under your breath.

“What’d you say?” He barks, turning to look at you abruptly.

“You’re an asshole.” You speak louder. He walks back toward you, making sure to tower over you intimidatingly as he looks down at you in annoyance. His eyes flicker down to the tags around your neck before hooking a finger on the chain and pulling you closer.

“Watch it.” He drops the chain and walks away again.

You follow him to the sparring floor, and he shows you where to go to watch. Stood behind a large window that looks over the sparring area, other members of the base watch the HERO’s engage in combat below. You spot Tenko and he motions for you to stand beside him.

“I knew he’d warm up to you.” He comments. The last of the previous battle finishes and you watch the two enormous machines retreat to the sides of the area, their pilots emerging from their chests with their handlers rushing to the bottom of the mech’s in support.

“He hasn’t. He’s not.” You shake your head. You aren’t sure why you deny it, if it’s some way to keep your expectations low or if there’s some kind of embarrassment aspect to the whole thing. Whatever is happening between you and Touya feels intimate and private, something that the two of you need to figure out for yourselves, not something meant for the eyes of others.

“Hm. Okay.” Tenko shrugs. “Guess not.”

You hadn’t noticed Touya enter his mech at all. You see the swing of one giant mechanic arm, too close to the window you stand behind, and you’ve shifted your full attention to the scene at hand.

The enormity of the room surprises you, despite the fact that you had seen it just moments before. But when you’re truly looking at it, watching these huge machines go at each other, the way the ground shakes, the leaves outside shake, the deep forrest clear in view from the wall that opens out to the greenery (the lack of a wall is likely from the academy’s abandoned state, but it’s a good feature to have on the sparring floor when giant robots are toppled over onto various surfaces).

The way Blue moves is electric, mechanic movements almost feel fluid with the way that Touya pilots her, easily dodging attacks from their opponent and moving around them in the most graceful way a giant machine can. It’s beautiful, unlike any fighting style you’ve ever seen in a HERO before.

“He’s showing off for you.” Tenko observes from beside you. You don’t argue with him, only because you can’t dispute it. This is your first time seeing him in action. It makes your heart beat out of your chest. There’s this ache like you should be inside with him, cables connected to both of you, tucked neatly inside of Blue together.

It doesn’t take him long to get his opponent on their back, the heavy thump against the floor jostling the ant-like figures on the ground below, handlers waiting for their pilots to finish. It goes on like this for a while, his training, using different methods of combat and winning each time. He’s amazing, and you can tell why his reputation is the way it is, second only to Tenko, who you have yet to see in action.

When he finishes his last session, you watch Blue walk to the edge of the room, and Touya emerges from her chest, jumping the long way down her body without any issue. You watch as he looks toward the window you’re behind. He waves at you, an acknowledgment of your presence, and you wave back, though you aren’t sure he can actually see you.

It’s the beginning of everything for the two of you. You think Tenko was right.

He lets you stay with him afterwards while he does maintenance on Blue. He helps you climb up the path to her chest, hauling you over the edge to sit inside with him. He turns around abruptly, holding a hand up before allowing you to walk any further.

“Do not touch anything.” He warns, completely serious, before letting his hand fall and allowing you further into the cockpit. You take in your surroundings, the guts of his machine, analyzing the different control panels and screens that line the interior. You can tell he takes good care of her, and he spends a lot of time in here. It looks lived in, stickers stuck to metal plating and pieces of him all over. He’s made a second home in between the ribs of his mech. You feel a little jealous, though you aren’t sure of what.

The two of you sit against the left side of Blue’s interior, waiting for her updates to finish, the loading screen on each of her monitors display a fire graphic that grows with the increasing percentage on screen. Between you and Touya sits an opened bag of sour gummies, which Touya picks out the lemon flavor and drops the candy in your palm with each new handful he gathers.

“How do you know all this stuff?” He questions around a mouthful of sour cherry, “Like, the real names for things, where stuff goes, how to fix them. That day with the wires…”

“I spent a lot of time around mechanics at UA, and then also at the PLF.” You explain, picking the yellow colored candy from his open palm as you speak. “I couldn’t connect with other handlers. I didn’t like how they thought, or how they viewed the pilot/handler relationship. Mechanics were mostly neutral, and they loved these machines like nothing else. They reminded me of why I joined UA in the first place.”

“Hm.” He nods, thinking about your past. “Well, I guess if you spent so much time around actual professionals…I could maybe use your help sometimes in the garage.”

“Really?” You question excitedly, a spark lighting up your eyes as you swerve your head toward him. He feels something tight in his chest at the sight.

“Yes, but only on the outside. I don’t want you messing with her insides, yet.” He establishes. “And never alone. I have to be there at all times.”

“Of course, yes, oh my god. Touya!” You smile, gripping his shoulder firmly, a gesture of thanks, communication of how much his trust means to you. “I’ll be so careful with her, I promise.”

“Yeah, well, you have no other choice.” He shrugs, throwing another pile of candy in his mouth. “I’ll kill you if anything happens to her.”

You take the threat seriously, but his heart isn’t in it. He’s realized that you’ve wormed your way into his life and he hadn’t even noticed just how entangled you were now.

As the weeks go by, you spend a lot more time together. You work on blue together, and you rest inside of her chest, sometimes allowing yourself to drift off against his shoulder on especially tiring days. He sits beside you in the caf, and while he doesn’t always say much, the feeling of his arm against yours is comforting. You can tell people are starting to notice, and they’re starting to talk. You’re being dubbed someone who’s tamed him, but you know how far from the truth that is.

Despite your differences and the petty arguments that come up when Touya feels like you’re intruding on his independence, you’re growing attached. You wonder if he is, too.

…

Spending time together in the garage becomes the new normal for the two of you. Being in each other’s dorms feels far too intimate, so you always meet in the garage. This way, one of you is always busy doing something with your hands. There’s no room for any strange feelings in the pit of your stomach to seep in.

You sit in the crook of Blue’s neck, watching Touya as he repairs the lenses in her “eyes.” Blue has three pairs of eyes; in her head, her chest, and down near her hips, which all footage is projected onto monitors inside the cockpit so that Touya has a full view of what’s in front of him.

He’s so peaceful while he works, you’ve noticed, almost like he goes somewhere else completely. It’s a part of him you don’t think many people get to see, a piece of him just for you, and you want to be selfish with it.

“Can I ask you something?” You question, leaning your head back against the metal. “But you can’t get mad.”

He looks up at you, still fiddling with a lens, a mocking look on his face. “I’m not making any promises.”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the possible fallout of the question you’re about to ask, “What do you think about the soul link?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’d never do it.”

You nod your head in understanding, “yeah, I get it. It’s weird, right? The idea that someone else would be inside your brain.”

“It’s fucking invasive.” He says.

“You know, at UA it always felt like a threat, you know. Like, it was a way for a handler to control their pilot, not a tool or a bond like it should be.” You begin, thinking back to how you viewed the soul link back then. You didn’t like how the bond was presented as this power that a handler holds over their pilot, a threat to keep their pilot in line. But, you could understand how the link could be used for good. “But since coming here, I can tell it’s not all bad. People trust each other here. I mean, there’s obviously some people who abuse it, but, for the most part, everyone seems to understand what it really means to be a pilot and a handler.”

You’re mostly just thinking out loud, but Touya doesn’t say anything to your ramblings. He continues to work on the lenses, and you can gather that he doesn’t want to talk about the subject anymore. But you can’t let it go, yet. There’s something you’ve been worried about since you met him.

“And what about…your brain? They say when a handler and a pilot don’t complete the soul link, the pilot will eventually fry their brain.” You can’t help it. You think about it all the time, what will happen when he can’t take it anymore. The closer you get to him, the realer it feels. “Are you ever worried about that?”

He looks at you, an expression you can’t quite make out fall across his face as he stares. It’s almost soft, the way he looks at you in this moment. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

The truth is, this is a reality Touya has accepted. He’s not afraid to die, and he never has been. He’ll probably die inside of Blue, and he has no problem with that fact. He doesn’t need to be around for long, just enough to show his dad what he’s capable of.

“C’mon.” You stare. “That’s not fair.”

“Shit. I left some of the screws for this in my dorm.” He curses. He looks where you lounge, tucked into Blue’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on her, okay?”

You watch him jump down, much higher than his usual height at her chest, but he lands anyway. He doesn’t turn to look back at you as he jogs away. You climb up the side of Blue, and look at the lenses in her head. They’re already repaired, and you know Touya used the excuse of missing screw just so he wouldn’t have to talk about the soul link.

But it’s the first time he’s ever left you alone with Blue before.

…

As the mission draws closer, Touya throws himself into training. You’re on the training floor with him most days, standing behind that big glass panel as you watch him spar with his peers. He still doesn’t let you down on the floor with him until he’s full out of Blue and close enough to the edge of the sparring floor to get to you. You’re not allowed in the actual training area, and even though he says he doesn’t want you clinging to him, it’s really because he wants to keep you safe. Seeing your human body near the giant machines that are HERO’s makes him want to grab you and keep you inside of Blue’s chest forever.

You can tell all the training is taking a toll on him. With an excess of headaches and the occasional nosebleed, you continuously get into arguments about him cutting back on training inside of Blue. There are other ways for him to prepare that don’t involve his fragile brain being hooked up to an entity that takes so much. He doesn’t listen.

Later and later into the night, as your fellow pilots and handlers disperse and return to their rooms to sleep, Touya stays inside of Blue, testing her movements and sparring against test dummies and obstacles. Once you and Touya are the only two left on the sparring floor, you speak into the intercom attached to your head.

“Touya, I think you should take a break.” You tell him, “It’s late. Get some rest and then we can pick it back up in the morning.”

There’s a pause, then, “I’m gonna stay for another hour. Get some sleep. I’ll be done soon.”

“No, Touya. You’ve been at it for hours. You barely took a break for dinner. C’mon.”

“You know, you sound awfully like a handler trying to tell their pilot what to do.” He teases, but you can hear the irritation in his voice.

“You are insufferable. I’m worried about you.” You groan.

“I’m fine. Go sleep.” He insists.

“If I find out you aren’t out of here in an hour—” Your line is promptly cut off, leaving behind static in your ear. You sigh and throw your com to the side. You hope he’s telling the truth.

With one last look at Blue, you make your way out of the training floor and find your way back to your dorm.

Touya doesn’t answer the door when you knock the next morning. With a frustrated groan, you leave your dorm and head to the training floor, assuming he woke up early to get some extra hours in. The closer you get the the floor, you notice other members of the base rushing in front of you. Feeling panicked, you pick up the pace, jogging toward the training room to make sure something isn’t wrong. You collide with a body in front of you, nearly falling to the floor as you steady yourself. Toga stands in front of you, her cheeks red and eyes glossy as she explains something your mind can’t catch up to understand. The only thing you recognize is his name, and you’re running toward the training floor in an instant.

You watch as Blue stomps around the area, her arms swinging in all directions, losing her footing as she moves. Knowing you can’t do anything on the floor, you make your way up to the overlook, finding Tenko yelling into your intercom.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” You ask him, pulling the headset off of his head and placing it on yours instead.

“He’s out of fucking control. He won’t answer. I don’t even think he’s conscious in there.” He tells you, running a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots in anxiety. “You’re not linked yet, are you?”

You shake your head, closing your eyes in frustration as you try to think. You know it’s the only way. You have to take some of the burden off of him, make him share it with you. It’s the only way he’ll survive right now. “Do you think you can get into Decay right now and knock him down somehow?”

He hesitates, “I can get inside. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to touch him at all.”

“You have to.” You plead, desperately. “I just need him down for ten seconds, tops. As long as I can get inside of her, I can save him.”

He looks at you like you’re insane, and maybe you are. But you know you can’t live with yourself if you don’t try something. Tenko nods.

“I can do it.” He tells you. You rush passed him, following the stairs down to the training area. You feel Tenk grab your wrist firmly. “You bring him back, okay?”

“I will.” You nod.

He dodges Blue’s movements, weaving between her legs as he finally makes it to Decay. It takes a few moments for him to connect, but he goes straight for Blue. You watch the giant machines fight one another, but it’s clear that Blue’s lack of control hinders much of her ability. She needs Touya just as much as he needs her. It’s tough for Decay to dodge her swinging arms, but Tenko manages to knock her down quickly.

The fall shakes the room, but you waste no time running for Blue. Climbing over the side of her, you manage to touch your thumb to the pad on the outside to open her chest up. She begins to stand up, and you slip down, grabbing onto a bar beneath her ribcage. You let out a frustrated groan as you try to pull yourself up over the edge of the cockpit. Finally making it over, you see Touya sitting there, still connected to his pilot’s chair, eyes glazed over and blood gushing from his nose. You push the button that closes the panel in Blue’s chest, and you’re suddenly alone with him.

Touya’s body is being jerked around by the movement of the mech, and you hang onto the walls of her chest in order to make your way to him. You situate yourself in his lap, taking his head in your hands as you look at him with tears in your eyes.

“You fucking asshole! I told you to take a break.” You sob, resting your head against his as you try and think of what to do next. “Touya, please. Please, baby, I need to you come back. Just fucking come back so I don’t have to do this without your permission, please.”

With no response from him, you wipe your tears, coming to terms with the fact that you have to complete the soul link now, or he’ll die. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Touya. Please forgive me.”

The soul link isn’t exactly an action so much as it is a feeling, an experience. There’s no trigger for it, no way to make it happen. It just begins.

It’s Touya, aged thirteen, wild, chubby-cheeked and happy, in the pilot’s seat of his father’s HERO. It’s his drive, his determination, his anger, his hurt. It’s the day he snuck into battle, the day he couldn’t get out, flesh burning and fusing to the metal walls of his mech, the feeling now deep in your skin. It’s you, aged fifteen, hopeful, alive, shaking hands with your first pilot. It’s your heart, much too big and much too open for your line of work, it’s your passion, your fire, every piece of you that was broken down again and again until there was nothing left. It’s Touya and it’s you, and every single bit of your souls now tied together in one big knot.

There’s nothing but darkness. And then there’s screaming. And then you can hear everything. Every thought running through Touya’s brain right now echoes in your head as you slowly come back to yourself. He can hear the same of yours.

It’s overwhelming at first, to have two sets of thoughts in your head at the same time, but you manage to focus. You can feel an anger inside of you like you’ve never felt. It’s almost like it’s your own. You need to come back. You’ve lost control of Blue.

In an instant, you feel yourself come back to your body, now straddling Touya like before, you feel his arms shoot around you and he tucks his chin over your shoulder to pilot Blue like he’s used to doing. He pays no mind as he presses up against you, but you feel your heart rate increase at the closeness.

He’s so close.

I have to be. You’re in my lap.

Shit. I didn’t think—

Clearly.

I can’t fucking believe you. I told you we weren’t going to do this.

You were dying!

Then you fucking let me!

You’re jostled around in his lap for a moment as he stops Blue from destroying any more of the training floor, and Touya wraps an arm around your waist, holding you steady.

He gains control of her quickly, moving her toward the edge of the room. You tuck your face into his neck, not wanting to distract him and keeping your thoughts at bay so you don’t overwhelm him. He powers Blue down, severing the neural connection between the two of you, and shoves you from his lap and into the pilot’s chair like you’ve burned him. He storms out of the cockpit, climbing out of his machine and leaving you inside. You think about the argument you had within each other’s head, how Touya would have rather died than be linked to you like he is now.

You slump against the seat, comforted by the metal cage you’ve been left inside of.

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #tw claustrophobia #just in case it’s like so brief and doesn’t describe much yet but I just wanna be safe #ghost.writes #ghost.fic

202 notes · View notes

breeyn · 11 months

Text

An essay rebutting the “bad writing” claims of s2 ofmd. Spoilers herein.

I’ll preface this with saying you’re obviously allowed to like and dislike whatever you want. I am in no way opposing that. And your reasons are your reasons. Have at. (Also - this is a collection of observations from the past few days, I’m not calling anyone out)

I AM going to rebut the idea that season two was poorly written and lost the spirit of what the show is about.

My favourite movie of all time is Empire Strikes Back. It’s been my favourite movie since I was four. I’m pretty sure it’s a fave of David Jenkins, too. He and Taika have made absolutely no attempt to hide their love of all things 80’s - Prince, the Princess Bride, Kate Bush, Star Wars, etc.

I have ancient video tapes (that I can’t play because who has a vcr) where Lucas is interviewed by Leonard Maltin? Malkin? I dunno. Who cares. Maltin asks him about the Star Wars (original trilogy) story arc. Lucas says “in act I, you introduce all the characters. In act II, you put them in a situation they can’t get out of, and in act III, they get out of it.”

That’s how it works. This is how stories and literary structures work.

Of course you’re not satisfied with season two. You’re not supposed to be.

The arguments I have read on why s2 loses the spirit of s1 is because no one heals. No one learns anything. No one moves forward properly. The person who makes the biggest move towards healing dies. The two main characters end the show doing the exact fucking thing they had promised themselves and each other they wouldn’t do. Our romantic lead still doesn’t understand his value or make any headway on addressing his tragic flaw. It makes no goddamn sense.

My gremlins in weird: it’s not supposed to. In Act 2, EVERYONE LOSES. This is how it goes.

I’ve read a lot of people saying “but this felt like a series finale, not a season finale.” We all know that outside politics play a part here, the strikes make everything precarious. I remember the last writers strike. It destroyed tv for fifteen years. Anyone remember Pushing Daisies? Some of y’all have never had your fave show cancelled with zero resolution for the characters and it shows.

Daddy J did us a kindness. He softened the blow of a tough season. After the brutal cliffhanger of s1, he gave us a little softness and hope. All those things you’re mad aren’t resolved? It’s because THE STORY ISN’T OVER.

No one on earth thinks “stuff all your trauma into a box and ignore it” is good advice. A way to actually live. This show did not have enough screen time to throw out dialogue for no reason. There was foreshadowing in s1 for s2, and there is foreshadowing for s3 in s2. This is a well-crafted story by very smart people who care very much for these characters. There is zero chance Frenchie explained the box in his head for no reason. The reason people have not resolved their trauma and growth is because they haven’t done it *yet*.

And friends - it’s not thinly veiled. They straight up fucking tell us what they’re doing.

Luke Skywalker spends the first two movies fucking up and desperately trying to prove himself and just generally being an idiot. Sound familiar? He ignores the lessons he is supposed to be learning to go off and do what he feels like doing, and loses fucking badly. At the end of Empire, Han is gone, Luke and Leia wave goodbye to the Falcon that has Lando and Chewy - the rest of their crew - aboard. Everyone has lost everything they care about. Vader is undefeated. Yoda is pissed. Nothing is resolved.

You see where I’m going?

If you think I’m stretching this too far, welp, when Ed tells Stede he loves him - the climax of the finale - Stede quotes Han fucking Solo. Like - *it’s right there*. The story structure. The reason everything is unresolved.

So yeah. They wave goodbye to their ship because they have wounds to heal (like Luke’s hand). The people aboard the ship have things to find. Ed and Stede have *not* learned their lesson about whims and how not to be like Anne and Mary. It’s not stupid that they’re doing the same thing, and it’s not pointless that we were shown Anne and Mary. It’s all relevant.

The resolution comes in Act 3. None of these people are done. The story is far, far from over. And just in case the studios want to be dicks about it, David Jenkins was lovely enough to not repeat my enduring heartbreak over Pushing Daisies.

Thank you, @davidjenks 🖤

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd spoilers

713 notes · View notes

gffa · 3 months

Note

I keep updating my feed to see if you have more opinions about the acolyte episode. I feel like this recent episode could’ve used a couple of your posts as reference when it comes to how the Jedi canonically go about acquiring [redacted for spoilers just in case you haven’t seen it yet]

Honestly, it felt like the show was trying really hard to portray the Jedi's methods as hinky, but couldn't actually do anything about it because of established worldbuilding. The Jedi of the High Republic have explicitly said they have to get permission from the parents. The Jedi of the prequels are explicitly shown as not adoption-hungry, the only time we see potential Jedi younglings, neither of them are taken from their parents, one says they'll be going later, one is just handed back to her mom, no indication Roo-Roo is going to be a Jedi at all. So, I think it's a weird situation, where The Acolyte is working so hard to create tension and mystery, but I'm not sure how it's going to shake out. I keep thinking of Torbin, like, yeah, what happened was a tragedy, but why was he specifically so torn up about it that he felt he had to die to obtain Mae's forgiveness? From what we saw in the episode, Mae set the fire, Mae ran off and the scaffolding fell and she was assumed dead, the Jedi never forced Osha to join them, Osha was the one who said she wanted to go. Therefore, unless the show is really, really poorly written, there has to be more to the mystery that we haven't yet unraveled. I feel like that's also influencing everything going on with the Jedi potential adoption, that this situation feels like we still don't have the full context. Why was Aniseya so worried about the Jedi finding out how the twins were conceived? Why do the Jedi care so adamantly, when we see in both the High Republic and the prequels that the Jedi live perfectly fine with other Force using traditions/cultures? Even if this coven was dark, that doesn't mean anything to the Jedi, they were perfectly well aware of the Nightsisters' existence and did nothing about it. Unless this show is extremely poorly written/ignoring top level canon, there has to be more to what was going on with the coven than we know about. Because what we see is the Jedi felt very strongly about these two girls for some reason, but they were clear that, while they had the right to test them, it still relied on the parents' permission. We see that they're pretty aware that Mae and Osha were failing on purpose--Mae can't fake her blood results, after all--and they don't push Mae, but they do gently push Osha because everything about her is straining towards wanting to be a Jedi. And EVEN THEN they just say she passed the test, it's Osha who talks to Aniseya and gets her to agree to letting her go, not the Jedi. The show's vibes kinda feel like there was pressure from the Jedi there, but the actual content of the episode is that the coven agreed to it specifically because they didn't want to attract attention, like they weren't part of the Republic, they specifically said they didn't have to agree, the others were willing to fight about it, but Aniseya was the one who said, no, let them take the test. Yeah, the Jedi are pushing for some reason, but it feels like it's not because that's how they operate in any other situations where we see them with Force-sensitive children, but because they know something specific about this situation. So, I'm fine with everything presented so far and, honestly, it was a lot more positive than I was expecting! Like, this show isn't just a big lore dump, it has a specific story to tell, you know? It's a situation that has its own unique circumstances and, sure, they were borrowing elements from other Jedi worldbuilding, but everything we saw in there was done with permission and they made a point to roll with what each girl seemed to want. Sol was so careful not to unduly pressure Osha, just ask her what she really wanted, gave her a little nudge because he could see what she wanted. They made sure it was her choice! That it was her mother's choice! How could I have asked for more than that?

#lumi.txt #star wars #the acolyte #the acolyte spoilers #osha aniseya #mae aniseya #jedi order #meta

151 notes · View notes

some-little-infamy · 3 months

Text

You Are the Difference

(Read on AO3) (Written for @911actions, prompted by @daughterofscotland : What if Buck is Tommy's first serious boyfriend?)

Buck isn’t ashamed of being bisexual. He’s not. But not being ashamed and being 100% comfortable in public are two entirely different things. He’s seen the way people look at them when he’s out with Tommy. It isn’t everyone, it isn’t even every time they go out, but it does happen. It happens enough that Buck finds himself glancing around when he’s on a date with Tommy, clocking every person around them who shows any signs of being a potential problem.

Buck’s explained that he isn’t embarrassed, that he just feels better being aware, and Tommy’s accepted that much. It doesn’t stop Buck from holding his hand while they walk down the street, or giving him a quick kiss before they leave the restaurant, or leaning into the arm Tommy has wrapped around his waist while they wait in line for popcorn at the movies.

Tommy watches him do it, but he’s stopped commenting on it the way he used to. Instead of trying to reassure Buck he simply allows Buck to go through the motions that make him feel a little more comfortable. Tommy doesn’t seem to mind… but it’s something Buck overthinks every time he does it, especially after watching the way Tommy doesn’t seem to notice or react to any of it. Tommy only seems to notice Buck noticing.

“Does it get easier?” Buck asks one day, after clocking a serious side-eye from a woman in line behind them at the coffee shop. There’s so much happening around them, music being piped in through speakers, orders being called, the hiss of the espresso machine’s steamer, the chatter of other customers… but Buck can’t help but focus on the one thing he wishes he wouldn’t.

“Does what get easier?” Tommy asks, taking a sip of his latte. They’re sitting down at a table in the corner, and Buck glances past Tommy to the bustling cafe behind him. He debates not bringing it up at all, changing the subject to something else before he’s stuck admitting to more things that are probably just piling up until Tommy decides he’s had enough of Buck.

Still, Buck’s tried to be nothing but honest in this relationship, and it’s working out so far. Why stop now?

“Putting up with people being awful just because you exist,” Buck clarifies. “I mean, you’ve been doing this a lot longer than I have. How long did it take you to get used to it?”

Tommy considers the question for longer than Buck anticipates, to the point that Buck almost does change the subject.

“I don’t know,” Tommy says finally.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Buck asks, brows furrowed.

“I mean,” Tommy starts, hesitating before pushing forward. “I don’t know. I haven’t really dated before. Not seriously, at least.” The admission comes slowly, like Tommy’s debating taking the words back even as he says them. He doesn’t, though, and in the face of Buck’s surprised silence Tommy continues. “I usually just go out to bars before a hookup. Maybe a coffee date or two. But I haven’t been with anyone I liked enough to see more than a few times.” Tommy flushes slightly, looking back up into Buck’s eyes when he adds, “Before you, obviously.”

The silence that falls between them has a weight to it now. This shared first is so big that Buck’s afraid he might actually shed a tear over the wave of feelings he experiences at the realization, blindsided by a truth he never would’ve guessed on his own.

Buck doesn’t know what to say. He’s stunned, unable to fully process everything that Tommy just told him. All this time, Buck’s assumed that Tommy was so much more experienced at all of this… this dating other guys stuff. Of course Tommy would have years to practice being cool and collected in the public eye, because why wouldn’t he? Tommy is… well, amazing. He’s hot, and kind, and funny, and the idea that he’s been single for the entirety of the time he’s been out just feels… wrong.

“I’m your first boyfriend?” Buck asks incredulously. His eyes are wide, unable to hide a single ounce of his surprise.

“Yeah,” Tommy confirms. “Is that a problem?”

Tommy’s tone isn’t accusing or even challenging… there’s a vulnerability there, and just the slightest hint of worry. Buck could laugh - if it didn’t feel so wildly appropriate for the moment they’re having - over the idea that Tommy thinks there’s a universe in which Buck would be scared off by something like that.

“No, no, uh, of course not,” Buck reassures him. “It’s just… I mean, you’re so many firsts for me, and I just figured…” Buck trails off with a soft, fond smile crossing his features. “I never thought I’d get to be a first for you, too.” Buck shifts in his seat, his coffee forgotten in front of him. “How has this never come up before now?” It’s been weeks now. Months. Months of Buck thinking that this is just the life Tommy’s used to living, and that he’s the only one feeling out of his element here.

“You never asked,” Tommy says simply.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly keen to go into all of, uh, this comparing myself to your exes,” Buck admits. “It felt safer not to ask.”

“Evan,” Tommy says, his tone so caring, so soft, that Buck nearly melts back into his seat from where he’d been growing more tense and alert with every word, quick to try and hop on the defensive.

“Sorry,” Buck’s quick to apologize.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Tommy says. “But you should know that I’m not comparing you to anyone. Who you are, what we have? It’s… special. It’s different from anything I’ve had before.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Buck agrees, smiling easier now. “I guess I just assumed I was just another boyfriend for you.”

“You’re not ‘just another’ anything, Evan. You’re important to me. Our relationship is important to me. I hope you know that.”

Lately Buck’s been worried whether he’s moving too fast or too slow, if he’s doing this dating thing all wrong in regards to Tommy. It turns out there is no ‘right’ way. There’s nothing Tommy’s used to that Buck might be messing up or not doing, nothing Tommy’s expecting.

Tommy chose Buck because, well, because he’s Buck, and that’s all he needs to be.

“So, you think I’m special?” Buck asks, a smirk slowly pulling up the corners of his lips.

“Oh my god,” Tommy says, a fond exasperation filling his tone. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” “I hope not,” Buck says.

He hopes that there’s nothing but time for the two of them. Closing his eyes Buck imagines a future of other firsts - going on vacations together, moving in together, proposals and marriage and maybe even a kid or two. He imagines years, decades, a lifetime, with Tommy, and it feels good. It feels right.

“I plan to bring this up forever.”

#9-1-1 #911 on abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #kinkley #tevan

105 notes · View notes

ofstoriesandstardust · 2 months

Text

can't take the home out of oklahoma - ii. (k.c.)

a/n: we're soooo back! this is filled with banter and found family and all the sweet angst! also, it's come to my attention through a third rewatch that i've actually been wrong the whole time and kate's last name is in fact carter. if you catch any of my slip-ups, whoopsies! thank you to @cottagecori for letting me ramble about this one the phone for hours and to @sometimesanalice for listening to all the personal lore. i actually ended up having part iii written before i start part ii but now i think it needs a rewrite so that should be up in a few days. comments and reblog are always appreciated!

part i.

summary: You and Kate build a friendship until you stand on the precipice of something more.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, tornadoes, concussions, angst, kissing, scott is actually the villain

word count: 10.7k

Kate pushes the barn door open, a piece of toast in her other hand.

You’ve got another cup of coffee in hand as you follow Kate inside. She stops as you take the place in.

“This is where the magic happens?” You ask, taking it all in. The model town, the polymer tucked up at the top, extra equipment for the truck strewn about through the place.

“Just about.” She answers.

She hangs by the door, as you walk around, taking it all in.

Towards the back, where some of Kate’s papers sit, are photos. There’s some of the Wranglers, some of her Mom. Others of her and Tyler, some with her and Javi.

You nudge one of them aside, looking at one of the pictures tucked in the very corner.

It’s a picture of an obviously much younger Kate and Javi with three others you don’t recognize.

You think you should maybe be surprised that it’s clear Javi and Kate go back so far but in thinking about what you’ve seen from them, it feels like the signs were always there.

There’s a comfortable ease they have with each other that can only come with so much time of knowing someone, the same one Boone has with Tyler.

“You know, I owe Javi a lot.” Kate comments, coming to stand next to you.

“Yeah?”

She nods. “Without him, there wouldn’t be all of this. He brought Tyler and I together in a way. If he’d never convinced me to come back to Oklahoma-“ She breaks off, shrugging.

“I get what you mean.” You say softly.

“He’s my best friend. We’d do anything for each other I think. No matter how far apart we go, he’ll always be there. He’ll always be in my orbit.”

“You guys complement each other in a lot of ways.” You say softly and she nods.

It’s quiet again as you think of the conversation you’d caught on the stairs last night.

Javi, telling Kate she should give you another chance.

Kate, saying she doesn’t want to get hurt again.

You want to ask about these three people you don’t recognize but you know well enough that Kate probably wouldn’t tell you, would probably get annoyed at you for not having the wherewithal to not ask.

A knock against the wooden door of the barn pulls both your attention. It’s Javi, standing tentatively at the doors.

“Owens says we’re gonna leave in about an hour, so to be ready by then.” You nod, going to step away and Kate gestures her head, beckoning Javi in.

You wait as Javi walks over. “Just showing her all the grant stuff.” Kate says, gesturing to the messy table next to you. There’s a white board hung on the wall, grant and sponsor deadlines in a sprawling handwriting that screams Boone.

“That’s right, we’ve got the deadline for the proposal to talk to the governor and the senators this Friday.” Javi says, picking up a binder. “Good thing California’s got the experience writing proposals.”

“Really?” Kate asks.

You shrug. “Nothing too impressive, just research proposals. I haven’t written many as I’ve read them — comes with the territory of working in a Writing Center for four years.”

“The hell’s a Writing Center?” Javi asks, flipping through the binders, presumably to figure out what they should take on the road with them.

“Place to help students with their writing on college campuses. I spent two years one in my undergrad and then both years of my Masters.”

“You’ve got a Masters?” Kate asks.

“Yeah but not in anything useful.” You say with a shrug.

Kate clicks her tongue. “That’s okay. I don’t even think Javi knows how to spell the word conference, so we could use all the help we can get.”

“Hey now!” Javi defends, snapping the binder shut. “I was in the same PhD program as you!”

“Agh!” Kate shouts.

You shut the door, hand flying up to cover your eyes.

“Sorry!” You shout. “I thought you were still in the bathroom!”

You cringe, thinking of the scar running down’s Kate thigh you gotten sight of. You think of the picture tucked into the corner of the barn, the one with three people not around.

Kate opens the door and you spin around. She rubs her cheeks, a dusty pink covering them. “Sorry.” She says. “You just scared me.”

You shrug. “No, it was my fault.”

You two both stand there like in the doorway, awkwardly looking at each other until you hear heavy footsteps. You both look down to see Tyler standing at the bottom of the staircase, hands on his hips. “We’re waiting on the both of you.” He says matter-of-factly. “Hurry up. I’ll leave you here.”

He turns on his heel and you can hear the front door shut behind him.

“He will.” Kate says. “Leave us here. So we should probably-“

You nod, ducking into Kate’s room to grab your bag. She waits for you and then you both walk down the stairs, Kate shouting goodbye to her Mom as she does. Cathy meets her daughter at the door and you slip out, trying to not let your heart twinge at the sight of the obvious love and care Cathy has for Kate.

Tyler tells you you’ll be riding with Lilly and you nod, climbing into the passenger seat of her van as Lilly whoops, shouting something to Javi about finally not having hot cheeto dust all over her radio and dashboard.

Kate leaves the house a few minutes later and your eyes meet through the windshield. She gives you a tight smile and a small wave before climbing into the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck.

“You okay?” Lilly asks and you startle, not having realized she had opened the door.

“Fine.” You respond. She studies you for a minute before turning the key.

“Let’s go chase some twisters then baby!”

You shoot up with a gasp, feeling the sweat drip down your back as your breath comes out in short pants. Tears sting at your eyes as you take in the darkened space.

The Oklahoma rose nightlight sits in the corner, the grey cotton sheets beneath you familiar.

Okay. Okay. You were in Kate’s room. You were okay. You were safe here.

You press your palms into your eyes, trying to push back the tears as someone shifts next to you on the bed.

“Are you okay?” She asks softly and you have to bite back a whimper at the humiliating knowledge that you’d gone and woken her up.

“Fine.” You say, pulling your hands away from your eyes. She reaches over to her side of the bed, flicking her lamp on. “You don’t have to do that.” You say quietly. “I’m sorry for waking you. You can go back to sleep.”

Kate shakes her head but doesn’t say anything as she moves to have her back be supported by her headboard. Finally, you sigh, moving to match her position as she waits.

“You know, I used to get them all the time too.” She says, her twang a bit more prominent at this point of night. “The nightmares.”

“How do you deal with them?” You ask quietly, chancing a glance at her.

She sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t know that I used to deal with them per se. When I first moved to New York after it happened, I used to stay up for days at a time until I was so tired I wouldn’t dream. Some nights I’d have to spend hours reminding myself what was and wasn’t real. They’ve only gotten better since I’ve started to deal with what happened head on.”

You want to ask her what it is exactly that happened, an incident everyone but you seems to know, but you can’t bring yourself to dare to ask. She must know the questions you have though because she keeps talking.

“I see you look at that picture of them.” She says quietly. “The one in the barn. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

“I didn’t think I should.” You say quietly.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever made it clear you could.” She responds. “They were friends of Javi and I’s. That photo in there, it’s the last photo we ever took together. We were storm chasing that day; they were helping me with my dream.” She lets out a shaky breath. “The storm we ended up in was an EF-5, not the EF-1 we had been hoping for. We tried to hide under an overpass. Praveen was taken first, he never made it. Addy and I were trying to climb up when I got cut.” You think of the scar down Kate’s thigh, the one you’d only seen that one time on accident. “Addy got hit by debris right after. My boyfriend at the time, Jeb, he helped me get up, to cling to the metal piping. He was holding on to me until he wasn’t.” She swallows. “For years, I’d see them in my dreams. I’d wake up think Jeb was telling me we were going to be okay, that Addy was chasing one more storm with me, that Praveen was still there with his cautious concern. For years, I thought it was my fault.”

“Kate, I’m so sorry.” You whisper. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t even imagine.”

You think of Texas, of the horrors you’d seen there. And yet it almost can’t compare to the loss Kate’s lived through.

“It’s why I’m glad you’re joining Javi and I in DC next month.”

“How do you mean?”

She wraps her arms around herself, a tear trickling down her cheek. You resist the urge to reach out and wipe it off her face.

“Praveen’s parents told me after the funeral that they could never be angry with me for what happened; that they knew their son had died doing what he loved. Praveen had gotten struck by lightening a few weeks before and I don’t know, I think they knew that those were the risks he was taking after he decided to keep going back out. Addy’s parents blamed me though. Said that I encouraged her recklessness, that Addy would’ve been safe if it hadn’t been for me.” She swallows. “But Jeb’s parents- they’ve got money, the degrees in science. They’re pretty prominent in the meteorology community but they’re not storm chasers in any form of the term. They didn’t just blame me for Jeb’s death, they blamed Javi.” Another tear drips down her face. “Javi never even got close to the storm. Jeb was dating me; he’s the one followed me into the storm. He never would’ve been there if it hadn’t been for me. But they put that stain on Javi’s name too, it’s why Javi had to fight so hard to get StormPar together, it’s why he had to bring Scott on. I’m terrified it’s gonna affect what we’re trying to do here too.”

This time, you finally reach out for Kate. You take her hand, squeezing it. “Kate, you’re testing the unprecedented out here and it’s working. You’ve got the support of all the Wranglers, all their supporters. You’ve got this. You and Javi and Tyler - you guys are going to change the game, I’m sure of it. It doesn’t matter what they say, I see it every time you guys go out into the field and cause a storm to collapse. You’re going to change the world, I just know it.”

She gives you a watery smile as you bite back the you don’t need me for that.

“I hope DC is going to be good.”

“It’s going to be great.”

She sniffs, taking her free hand to wipe at the nose. “Anyways, I didn’t mean to make it about me.”

“No, you didn’t-“

She cuts you off. “Just that if you ever want to share that stuff that’s haunting you, the stuff that keeps you up at night, I’d listen.”

“You guys, I thought we had a no work at the dinner table rule.” Dani says.

She shrugs, crowding over your phone with Javi. “Technically foods not here, so it’s not dinner time.”

You’re inside with her Mom and Tyler and Dexter, getting ready to bring out all the food for dinner. Javi chuckles as they scroll through the outline you’d drawn up earlier in the day.

Suddenly, your phone starts ringing with a call and her and Javi shoot back like they’ve been burned.

She doesn’t recognize the name on your phone, but she knows you haven’t spoken of the life you’d left behind nor talked to anyone from that past.

“What do we do?” She hisses.

“Kate, just decline it.” Lilly says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

It probably is, but it doesn’t save her from pressing the wrong button and answering the call.

Her hands fly up to her mouth, looking around the table as they all fall silent.

Hello? Hello? Are you there?

She can hear a man say and she glances at Javi, wide-eyed, unsure of what to do.

Sweetheart, can you hear me? Are you there?

Javi’s hand darts out and ends the call.

It feels like the table lets out a collective sigh of relief when the phone starts ringing again.

Lilly reaches around Dani this time and ends the call. Javi picks up your phone again, going back to reading the outline.

“Kate man, you’ve got all those fancy degrees and you’re telling me you don’t know how to decline a phone call?” Boone crows from the end of the table.

“The question should really be are we going to say anything to her.” Dani says with a smirk on her face.

“Oh please don’t.” She groans, letting her head fall into her palm.

“Oh fuck.” Javi mutters from next to her and she steals a glance at the phone. “Kate can’t decline a call but apparently I can’t swipe away a voicemail notification either.”

Out of her peripheral vision, she thinks Dani’s eyes flicker up over her head.

“Hey guys, this feels like a real invasion of her privacy.” Lilly says and she’s right. Her Mom would wring her neck if she knew what her and Javi were reading right now but it’s like a bad car wreck they can’t look away from as the voicemail transcribes itself.

“Hey guys, she’s coming back, I’d put it away.” Boone says, shifting closer to take the phone.

“Okay, yeah, like put it away right now.” Dani says, scooping the phone up but it doesn’t make her forget what she’s seen and she knows Javi won’t either as they share an uneasy glance. “Here.” Dani says, offering you your phone as you slide the platter down in front of her and Javi.

She swallows, chancing a glance at you as your confusion about the obvious fuss over the phone turns into a hard look, sliding the phone into your back pocket.

You’re quiet through most of dinner as her and Javi keep looking at each other, both unable to participate in the conversation either.

Hey, sweetheart, it’s me. It sounded like you picked up there for a minute but maybe it’s a fluke, I don’t know.

I miss you, darling. I miss you so much. The last six weeks have been so hard without you and I just hope that you’re safe wherever it is you’ve gone. Your sister still calls me sometimes to ask where you’ve gone and I still listen to your favorite music hoping it’ll make you be there.

I know you’ve said we’re done, that you didn’t want to be with me anymore, but if you ever want to come home, please let me know. I still love you baby, I always will you. You can come home whenever you’re ready.

“Man, California, what’s all this? It’s like an art project.”

You look up at Javi from where you’re cutting out paper.

“I’m getting the questions for tomorrow’s video ready.” You smack Javi’s hand that’s reaching out for the pile that has Boone’s name on it. “Stop it - you don’t get an advantage.”

Javi hisses, retracting his hand as he glances at the kitchen. “And the cookies?”

“I got drunk and made cookies. Kate’s Mom said I could.” You pause, looking up at him. “Well, the getting drunk was all me. But Cathy did say I could make cookies.”

Javi chuckles. “Okay California, so what I’m hearing is I’ve got to catch up to you?” He asks, pulling another beer from the fridge.

You shrug. “Sure, but you’ve got to help me pull the cookies out to cool.”

He nods, sitting across from you at the table as he takes a draw from his beer. “So California, I gotta ask-“ You groan. “That voicemail.”

You sigh before reaching out for your own drink (a strong dirty Shirley Temple, Boone had teased you as you’d made them for you and Dani) and taking a long sip. “My ex.”

“Sounded like you broke his heart.”

“I probably did.”

“Why?”

You sigh again, looking over at your phone that had all the questions written down on it, the Sharpie squeaking against the cardstock you’d found shoved into one of the closets.

“It just wasn’t working. The relationship wasn’t right anymore. It probably hadn’t been right for a while, maybe ever, but I wanted to make it work.” Javi waits for more information and you sigh, capping the pen. “He was in the Navy and-“

“C’mon California, don’t you know better than to date a military man? Coming from a former military man.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You? Actually, yeah, that tracks.”

Javi chokes. “The fuck does that mean?” He says hotly but there’s no real malice behind his words, a wide grin on his face.

You give an unimpressed look. “Do you really need me to explain it?”

Javi laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, I get it.”

You nod, uncapping the Sharpie again as you start on Kate’s questions. “Anyways, he was also eight years older than me.”

Javi makes a noise through a laugh. “Hoohoo, so you mean to tell me you were the scandalously younger girlfriend?”

“I wouldn’t say it was scandalous. I was 22 when we met.”

“Making him 30. That’s pretty scandalous to me.”

“We only went on two dates and then decided to be friends so by the time we did date I was almost 24 and he 32.”

“That’s still pretty scandalous.”

You snort, setting Kate’s questions aside. “Yeah, well, my friends would agree with you there but honestly it never really phased me.”

Javi takes another draw of his beer. “Yeah, cause you were being groomed.”

The deathly look you give Javi sends him into a fit of laughter.

“I was not!”

“What are you guys doing?”

You look over at Kate and Tyler from where you’re laughing at the meme Javi’s showing you. You swallow the rest of your laughter, sliding off the kitchen counter like you’d been caught.

“California and I got drunk. We’re bonding.”

Tyler looks unimpressed as Kate steps into the kitchen, surveying the cookies. “Can I have one?” You nod.

“Damn California.” Tyler whistles when he sees the amount of cookies sitting in Kate’s kitchen.

You give a nervous laugh, scrubbing your forehead with your wrist. “Yeah, I know. Its my Dad’s recipe — I always forget how much the recipe makes and I even halved it.”

“So you disappeared from the barn to drunkenly make cookies?” Kate asks, not to you, but to Javi, and your face falls.

Right.

Right, Javi had been in the barn with Dexter and Kate and Tyler to talk science stuff. You couldn’t find your place in the conversation with Boone and Lilly and Dani as they had s’mores, so you’d come inside to make cookies.

Javi shrugs, a lopsided grin on his face as the alcohol paints his cheeks a rosy red. “Just trying to get to know our new team member, s’all.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract him.”

Kate shrugs as she takes another bite. “Not like it’s hard.” She swallows. “He’s like a toddler — he gets distracted by food and shiny things.”

“Hey now!” Javi says as you hear the front door open again. “Nah, California here was just telling me about her scandalous-“ Javi pauses as Boone and Lilly come through the kitchen, Dani behind them as they wait for him to finish his sentence. He must see something on your face cause he softens. “Nah California, that’ll just be between us.”

You give him a tight smile before turning to Tyler as the newcomers realize there’s cookies. “Owens, what time are we leaving tomorrow?”

“1. And we need to film that video for the YouTube channel, which is what I’m guessing this all is.”

You nod as he gestures to the table with the stack of questions on it.

“I hope Tyler loses again.” Lilly says and Tyler gives her a face in return. The group laughs at him, presumably thinking about after he had lost the game of Twisters last week, he’d had to feed Kate’s angry rooster Mr. Biscuits, who Tyler had, up until that point, thought was a dog.

“Hell no, I’m not doing that again.”

“Um,” You say as you pull the sleeves of your (Javi’s, though he doesn’t seem like he’s going to ask for it back at this point) pullover down your arms. “Can someone make sure the cookies get wrapped up? I think I’m gonna head to bed for the night.”

“Wait, but we were gonna watch a movie!” Dani protests.

You shrug. “Tired.”

It’s a weak excuse as the energy shifts in the kitchen.

Kate clears her throat. “I can. Make sure the cookies get put away.”

You give Kate a small smile. “Thanks Kate.”

“No problem.”

You turn to leave the room, various calls of goodnight following you as you walk up towards the stairs. You sigh when you reach Kate’s room, shutting the door behind you. The sleeping bag you’d gotten had migrated its way inside as you always ended up falling asleep on Kate’s floor.

She’d offered to share the bed again more times than you could count but ever since you’d awoken her from your nightmare, you’d elected to sleep on the floor in hopes to ride them out alone.

You all but flop onto the floor, feeling your body protest as you do. As much as you dismissed the uncomfortable sleeping conditions to the group and especially to Kate, your body protested more than anything after sleeping on the wooden floors of Kate’s house.

Your phone dings and your stomach drops as you look down at it.

Hope you’re safe wherever you are.

You swallow around a scream, seeing Jake’s name on your screen. Your fingers begin flying across your screen without your permission.

Jake gets blocked first, then Javy. Natasha and Bradley. Pete and Bob and Sophie, Elle and Sam following. Mickey and Julia and Reuben.

Before you can even realize it, most of the people you knew who were wondering where you were now had been blocked. Maybe you should’ve done it before now, seeing as how desperate you were to leave those memories in Texas where they belonged.

Angry tears sting at your eyes as you resist to throw your phone, deleting photos en masse.

As you hear laughter from down the stairs, an ache settles in to your bones.

Six weeks gone and it still sort of felt like you were always standing at the edge of this group, never quite able to find your place. They seemed to like you more now, Kate especially, but it still felt like the bonds they’ve woven together in the last year would always put you on the outs.

A lot of the time it still felt like you’d never really run from the memories of Texas, your past life left behind.

Kate says your name softly. “Are you awake?”

You shift in the sleeping bag, turning to face her. “Kate?”

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. “Seeing that voicemail- that was wrong of us. We didn’t mean to.”

You shrug, though you doubt she can see it. “Not your fault.”

“I know you don’t want to talk about why you left but I- it sounded like he really cared about you.”

“Caring about me doesn’t mean our relationship was right. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t unhappy for a while before I left.”

Kate sighs. “I get what you mean. It just sounded like he really missed you.”

You swallow, turning back over. “Yeah.”

“I get that we can’t make you stay.” She whispers. “But I understand how someone could miss you that much. I think I’d miss you that much if you left.”

Your tears are resurfacing but you can’t bring yourself to respond to Kate’s words.

After a few minutes, when it becomes clear you’re not going to respond, Kate bids you a quiet goodnight and rolls back over.

I think I’d miss you that much if you left.

“Now, you might be wondering where our fearless leader Kate is today.” Boone says through the grainy feed of the live stream.

“And her lovely sidekick Javi.” Lilly adds from her end.

“Tyler, why don’t you tell the viewers at home where they are?” Boone prompts, facing the camera to Tyler.

“Well folks, they’re in DC with our lovely social media manager to talk to the governor and Senators from a bunch of the states in Tornado Alley, particularly Oklahoma. They’ll be presenting the research we’ve been done out here in the last year in hopes of getting more state budgeting allocated to tornado research and relief.” Tyler informs the livestream and you grin as you type out a comment.

Tyler wasn’t invited because he’s not smart enough.

Boone lets out a bark of laughter, repeating the comment to Tyler. Tyler makes Boone gesture the camera over to him, getting real close as he drives. “I know where you sleep at night.”

Hello FBI, there’s been a threat made against my life.

The group sets off into laughter as Boone struggles to relay the message to Tyler through his laughter.

“What are you doing?” Kate asks, sitting down next to you, Javi across from you.

“Causing chaos in the livestream chat.” You exit it, turning your phone off. “How come you guys aren’t eating?”

“I think I’d throw up right about now.” Kate says, looking over to Javi, who does look much paler than normal.

“You guys can’t seriously be nervous?” You ask around a mouthful of Cheerios.

“You’re not?” Kate asks in disbelief.

You shrug. “I’m used to public speaking. Besides, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good presenter, if I do say so myself.”

“Great, want to present all the data?”

You blanch. “I wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of that. All I gotta do is talk about Tyler and well, he makes that part pretty easy.”

“So, it’s like I was saying, when I backed out of StormPar, a lot of these guys came over because of Kate.” Javi says as he makes introductions of his team, the ones who’ve been out in the field, using the radars to collect the data from the tornados Kate and Tyler have collapsed.

“Javi.” Someone says and the group turns. Javi’s face sours noticeably.

“Scott.” Javi says with a grim face before turning to you. “This is Scott, my ex business partner.”

His eyes gloss over you as they land on Kate. “See you’re still wasting your time with Carter here.”

Javi’s eyebrows scrunch up but you put your hand out, stopping him. “Sorry, Simon, was it?” Javi snorts.

“Scott.”

“Right, Sonny. Sorry. I mean- do you like take pleasure in being an asshole? That’s not a very attractive personality trait.”

“It worked for Owens, does it not?”

“Oh, Stephen, sweetie. The internet would never make thirst traps of you like they do him.” Javi has to cough in his fist to hide his laugh and Kate has a hint of a smile on her face. “Oh, I know! You must be jealous of Javi’s sauve charm or- no, it must be because you think Kate should be in the kitchen, cooking and cleaning right? Cause women can’t have degrees.” You snap your fingers. “That must be it.”

Scott gives you a displeased smile, turning to Javi. “When did you two get a guard dog? Couldn’t face me on your own?”

Javi introduces you. “She’s Tyler’s new social media manager, been out there giving us a hand.”

Scott clicks his tongue. “Maybe she’d like to meet my new investors.” Scott turns, gesturing over a woman and man, and the sight of them must mean something to Javi and Kate as they both take a step back, their faces going pale.

Scott introduces them to you with a smirk on his face. “She’s working for Javi and Kate, figured it might be good for you all to meet.”

The woman, in particular, has strong displeasure written on her face. “So, you decide to follow these two into a tornado?”

You give a half shrug. “Can’t seem to think of why the decisions of a stranger would matter all that much to you.”

She raises an eyebrow, adjusting her purse. “I just think you should be careful.”

“I think you should mind your own business.” You say sharply, catching sight of the aide opening the door for you guys down the hall. “If you’ll excuse us, we should be going.” You touch Javi and Kate’s arms, nudging them forward.

“And when you die for them, will it be worth it?”

It’s the man this time.

You turn. “Excuse me?”

“When you die for Kate and Javi, for this- this- hypothetical they believe in, like the one our son died for, will it be worth it?”

And suddenly it all makes sense. It all clicks into place.

Kate’s words come back to you, how Jeb’s parents who were meteorologists who had money, how Jeb’s parents blamed Javi and Kate for their son’s death.

Javi says your name softly. “C’mon, they ain’t worth it.”

“Your son didn’t die for some hypothetical. He died for research that’s working.” You say sharply. Kate grabs your wrist, pulling you back. “Maybe you should watch the YouTube channel sometime. Sounds like you could stand to learn a thing or two.”

The aide ushers you into the conference room after that. The presentation goes smoothly, no obvious signs of how much the encounter had rattled Javi or Kate, and it’s obvious that more than a few of them are impressed with what you had to tell them.

Until Kate asks if anyone has any questions.

“Ms. Carter, you’re from Salpulpa, Oklahoma, isn’t that correct?” The governor of South Dakota asks.

Kate swallows. “Yeah. That’s right, I am.”

“And six years ago, you were caught in an EF-5, right? Working on this research with your business partner here?”

She nods, hesitancy growing on both her and Javi. “That’s correct.”

“And this research, you were doing as part of your PhD? But there was a team of five, right? What happened to your three colleagues?”

You frown as Kate glances at Javi. “They were killed, sir.” Javi answers for her. “In the EF-5.”

“Sorry, I just- Can I ask why that matters?” You interrupt.

The governor shifts as the one of the senators from Oklahoma turns to him. “I’d like to know as well.”

“Well, two of my constituents are directly connected to that incident, as their son Jeb was dating Ms. Carter at the time. And they’re raising a lot of concerns about this research you’re out here doing. I mean, how are you going to ask me to sacrifice more lives and money to your data that’s not even backed?”

Kate seems stunned, Javi too. “Well, sir-“

“Sorry, what are you implying here?” You say, cutting Javi off.

“I’m saying that this research is led by two people who have a known history of being responsible for the death of my constituents and I simply won’t put any more time forth on this.” The governor stands, snapping his folder shut. “We’re done here.”

“So you’re saying Kate and Javi are responsible and at fault for the deaths of three equally educated researchers who willingly chose, by no influence of Javi or Kate, to go in the storm that day six years ago? Because I think that is incredibly gross and inappropriate.”

Javi reaches out for your arm. “Stop.” He whispers. “It’s fine, we can take it.”

You shake your head. “No, no because you’re wrong. To insinuate that what we’re doing out there is anything less than helping the people these tornados target is wrong. We use the data from the radars Javi’s team sets up to understand how these tornados are collapsing and when we can’t get to a storm in time, we’re there, on the ground, giving out food and water and helping people dig through the rubble of their lives while you sit in your fancy office, removed from the everyday struggles of these people!”

You finally breathe, taking a step back as you pray Javi and Kate can forgive you.

“You’re new to this team, that’s right?”

You nod. “Been here just under three months.”

“And how did you find yourself here?”

You shrug. “I’ve seen firsthand the destruction and death these tornadoes cause. I’ve seen what these people can do to help. All I’ve ever wanted is to make a difference.

“And when you die, cutting your life short, for this research?”

You glance at your friends. “Then I’ll die knowing I gave my life helping others to change the game. I’ll died knowing I did what I could to make a difference.”

Her and Javi sit in their hotel room, uneasy silence between them.

They’d invited you to come with them but you’d seemed hesitant and had retreated to your room down the hall.

“Can we talk about it?” Javi asks finally.

“You ever think about that voicemail we saw?”

Javi shrugs. “Not really, I guess.” He glances at her. “Do you?”

She shrugs, pulling her shorts down. “Sometimes. Just wonder what the hell she’s doing out here when she’s got people at home who seem to care about her that much.”

Javi shrugs. “Whatever they did to force her to Oklahoma, that cut’s gotta run deep because oh boy, she seems to be loyal something fierce.” There’s a knock on the door and Javi slides off the bed. “That’ll be our room service!” He jogs to the door, getting the food and thanking the person. He shoves a fry in his mouth, moaning around it, before he talks again. “I mean, she had the balls to stand up to the governor of South Dakota for us.” She doesn’t say anything response, running her fingers over the starchy fabric beneath her. “Kate.”

She glances up at him. “What?”

“C’mon, talk to me. What’re you thinking?”

“I can’t ask someone else to sacrifice their life for this.” She says softly.

Javi sighs, sitting back down on the bed. “That’s the thing I think you’re missing Kate. You’re not asking. She’s offering.”

“But why?” She croaks. “What is any of this worth to her?”

Javi shakes his head. “That’s the part I can’t quite figure out. I don’t know, Kate.”

Your head meets the table as Cathy slides a plate down in front of you. “I need three naps and an IV full of Diet Coke.” You mumble and Dani laughs into her coffee from her seat next to you.

“So, c’mon tell us about DC.” Boone says excitedly. “You said you’d say over breakfast.”

You can hear Javi sigh from across the kitchen at the coffee pot. “It didn’t go well.”

“What happened?” Lilly asks around a mouthful of food. “Javi stumble over his words or something?”

“Well, for starters, we saw Scott.” Javi says as you lift your head from the table. There’s various groans and boos from the group as Javi’s grins grows. “Yeah, but she was mean to him.”

You snort. “Yeah, I said the internet would never make thirst traps of him and he must think women belong in the kitchen. Oh, and that he must be jealous of Javi’s charm.”

“We also saw Jeb’s parents.” Kate softly, immediately sobering your friend’s laughter. Cathy frowns, reaching out for her daughter.

“They’re Scott’s new investors.” Javi explains as Kate looks at you.

“They asked her if dying for me like Jeb did would be worth it.”

Tyler scoffs. “That’s bullshit. You told them that was bullshit right?”

You sigh. “Them and the governor of South Dakota, whose pocket they’re in. Told him it’s was gross and inappropriate to ever say Kate and Javi were responsible for the deaths of their friends.” You sigh, standing up from the table. “Sides, I know my words won’t make any difference to men like him but they didn’t go into that storm for Kate. They did it with Kate. This was something they believed in and it’s something I believe in too.” You push your food towards Boone. “Here, you can have it, I need to go to bed.”

She sighs and Javi tosses her an irritating look.

“Alright Carter, cough it up. What’s bugging you?”

She shrugs. “Nothing.”

“Kate, do you really take me for an idiot?” She gives him a curious look. “Look, I see how you are with her. The looks you give her when you think none of us notice. The way you’re always trying to include her in conversation, the way you always want her to be around. What gives?”

She scuffs her heel against the asphalt of the parking lot. “Do you think she’s got a thing for T?”

Javi sighs, rubbing his hands together. “No, I don’t.” He nudges her. “I mean that genuinely. I ain’t just saying it cause I know it’s what you want to hear.”

They both look at where you’re sitting, crowded up into Tyler’s personal space. Tyler’s arm is resting on your head obnoxiously, a cross look on your face as you elbow Ty in the ribs. To an outsider’s perspective, she could see how someone would mistake you two for something more but she knew the truth.

Tyler Owens saw you nothing more than the little sister he had never had and had always wanted. Tyler was protective of his team, it was a given, but with you he was different. There was an innate, inherent bond between the two of you different from everyone else. And if Kate had to guess, it stemmed from where your pasts intertwined, even if they didn’t know how.

But maybe it would be better if you did have something with Tyler.

“Better how?”

She blinks, turning to look at Javi. “Didn’t realize I said that out loud.”

Javi studies her for a minute before standing. “C’mon, I need to get a jacket, come with me.” She follows as Javi shouts that they’ll be right back to the group and she catches your curious look from across the fire.

Only once the motel door of Javi and Boone’s bedroom is shut, Javi looks at her. “Kate, what’s up?”

She looks at her friend before sinking to sit down on the bed. “I didn’t- I didn’t think I could ever love someone again after Jeb.” Javi’s eyebrows raise. “Ty showed me it could be possible.” She swallows, feeling tears sting at her eyes. “But I can’t ask her to love me back and to die for it in return.”

“Wait, Kate, hang on.” Javi says, raising his hand. “You’re- Are you saying you’re in love with her?” She nods slowly. “Kate, that’s- that’s amazing.” He breathes.

“No, it’s not Javi!” She nearly shouts and he flinches back. “Tyler nearly died for it and I saved him from that fate. But Jeb died because I loved him and so will she!”

Javi sighs, running a hand down his face before moving to sit next to her on the bed. He’s quiet for a minute as their knees knock together.

“Kate, look at me.” She does only to meet with a flurry of emotions. Concern like she might be spooked by his next words, love and care woven into the proudness that’s written there. “Kate, just because- just because they died doesn’t mean that we don’t deserve to love afterwards. Just because Jeb died doesn’t mean you have to suffer and pay the price for that.”

“Their deaths are my sins, their blood is on my hands.”

Javi shakes his head, taking her hands in his own. “No it ain’t. Would you say their blood is on my hands?”

“Never.”

“Then you need to understand that it isn’t on yours either. What happened was a terrible stroke of luck, maybe fate. I’d give anything to have them back with us, to have stopped it from ever happening. But we can’t go back, we can’t make our homes in the past. We’ll miss what’s right in front of us. And Kate, you deserve a love as soft as hers.”

She lets out a shaky breath, feeling her shoulders let some of the tension bleed out from them. For the first time, she doesn’t have the heart to argue with Javi, to tell him that he was wrong. She wasn’t sure she could when he looked so sure and absolute in his words.

You watch as Kate and Javi walk up the steps when Boone reaches over and nudges you.

“California, when are you gonna admit you got a thing for Kate?”

Your eyes slide over to him, giving a cool look. “Whenever you admit to the thing you’ve got going with Javi.”

The group lets out a bunch ohs and Tyler cackles. “She’s got you there Booney baby.”

“It’s just stress relief!”

You look back at Boone. “You know no one believes that right?”

“Man, stop deflecting, I was asking about you and Kate first!”

You roll your eyes as Dani breaks into silent laughter from across the fire, Lilly’s shoulders shaking as she works on the drone in her lap.

Tyler climbs off the truck, moving to stand behind you. You glance up at him as he does. “C’mon though. Seriously, what is going on with you and Sapulpa?”

“Nothing.”

Tyler sighs. “C’mon California, you really expect me to believe that little lie?”

You shrug. “It’s not a lie. I’m not denying anything I feel for her but I’m pretty sure Kate doesn’t like me in that way. Most days, I don’t even think she likes me period.”

“She likes you.” Lilly protests.

“Kate’s just a harder read because of…” Boone trails off, looking to Tyler.

“Because of what happened to Jeb, I know.” You say softly. “She told me.”

“I just wasn’t- We weren’t sure.” Dani says gently.

“But you guys always said she was a certain way with T right?”

Dani hums. “Yeah, but they aren’t exactly who I’d take as example from considering-“ She glances at Tyler. “Well, considering their fling lasted all of three weeks before they nearly killed each other.”

“Tyler, anything to contribute here?” Lilly says after a minute and you look back up at him. He’s got his hands on his hips, an unreadable look on his face.

“I don’t know that I should be encouraging any inter-company dating here. Team dynamics and all of that.”

Your eyes grow wide as you almost rocket out of your chair before gesturing to Lilly and Dani, who only laugh. You then turn to Boone, gesturing a hand at him. “Really?!” You nearly yell. “You’re so full of shit Owens!”

Tyler sighs. “California, I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt. I mean, if I tell you something wrong and it turns out to be a misstep, and shit goes wrong and one of you leaves, it’d be a huge blow.”

Dexter shakes his head, finally speaking up. “Kate’s not leaving.”

You can see the silent I know on the edge of Tyler’s lips, the It would be you leaving written in his eyes.

“Hey guys,” Dani calls. “We’re all still here. Wanna include us in whatever silent conversation’s happening over there?”

“I don’t want to get involved.” Tyler says with a wave of his hand. “Y’all are both too important to me for me to get this wrong.”

You sigh, settling back in your chair as you see Javi’s door re-open, Kate and Javi emerging. Boone sighs, patting the spot next to him and you move, falling into the space next to him.

“Boone, anyone ever tell you you need to shower more?” You mutter as Tyler meets Javi and Kate halfway, probably to bid them goodnight.

“I’ll take the shot if you do.” He whispers back. You glance at him as Javi and Kate return to their original seats across the campfire. Javi’s got a strange look on his face at the sight of you and Boone and Kate’s eyes are watery as Dexter hands her a few Oreos.

“You first.” You mutter.

Boone gives you a wolfish grin before sliding a marshmallow into his mouth. “I’ll think about it.”

“Guys, look.” Dani calls, and you and Tyler turn, seeing her hold a small puppy.

You coo, walking over to her as she holds the dog out to you.

“Where’d you find this little cutie?” You say, holding the little baby up, scratching underneath his chin.

“Heard him whining under a bunch of wreckage a few blocks over. One of the firefighters helped me pull him out. EMTs said the elderly couple who lived there didn’t make it. Probably couldn’t get to safety fast enough.”

You feel Tyler’s body deflate next to you as he kicks at a piece of wood at the ground.

“Ty?” You ask softly as the puppy nuzzles into your collarbone. You can’t read his face but it doesn’t seem like Dani can either as he scrubs at his forehead with his wrist.

“Could we keep him?” You ask softly. “You heard Dani.”

“We’ll find a shelter for him.”

Dani shakes her head. “Shelter here got destroyed; there’d be nowhere for him to go.”

You turn a pleading look onto Tyler, who has a storm brewing behind his eyes.

“We can’t have a dog on the road you guys. A dog, chasing after tornadoes? Really? Let’s use our brains here. Besides, I think Boone’s allergic.” Tyler snaps, hands falling to his hips.

Your pout grows as you hold the puppy up to your face. “But Tyler, little Enid wants to come with us. Don’t you Enid?”

“Enid?” Tyler asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, we found him in Enid so we should name him Enid.”

“First of all, that dog is not an Enid.” Dani chokes down a laugh at Tyler’s snark as he shoots her a look. “And we are not adopting a dog.”

“I think we should do a group vote.” You say, turning on your heel in search of the team.

“You can’t override me!” Tyler calls after you.

“Watch me!”

You find Lilly and Dexter first, handing food out. “Group poll - should we keep this little puppy? His owners passed away. Dani and I vote for yes. Tyler votes no.” You can hear Tyler walking behind you so you drop your voice to an over-exaggerated whisper. “For the record, Tyler’s vote is wrong. Vote yes.”

“This is not a democracy!” Tyler shouts.

“Man, just let the girl have her fucking dog!” Lilly shouts back.

“What dog?” Kate says, appearing from the back of the van. Her face softens. “This is such a cute little puppy.” She coos, bending down to scratch at his ears.

“I think we should keep him and name him Enid. Tyler disagrees.” You explain as Kate fawns over the puppy.

“He seems like such a sweet little guy, and you’d have so much fun on the road with us, wouldn’t you little Enid?” She coos, taking the dog from you.

“So that’s an enthusiastic yes from Ms. Kate Cooper.” You say, hands falling to your hips.

“Once again, this is not a democracy.” Tyler says sharply.

“It’s an Owens-acracy.” Javi calls from down the street. “Meaning Tyler does whatever the hell he wants.”

“Javi - Yes or no on keeping the puppy?” You shout back.

“Aw hell yeah! Our little storm chasing dog! Our little data dog!”

“We are not keeping the dog.” Tyler says firmly, impatience growing.

“Is Boone allergic?” You ask Lilly, who snorts and nods.

“Yeah but that man would die so happy covered in dogs. He loves ‘em. Had bloodhounds growing up.”

“A dog can’t stay in most motels.” Tyler reminds the group.

“As if he couldn’t be snuck in.” You counter. “Besides, you’re telling me that after a long day of storm chasing, you wouldn’t want to cuddle up with this little puppy here?”

The look Tyler gives you is answer enough.

“Somebody go find Boone and ask him if he wants to keep this dog.”

“Aw hell yeah, we’re getting a dog?” Boone crows, walking up behind you.

“Boone, you’re allergic.” Tyler deadpans.

“Man, I grew up hunting with bloodhounds, I’ve got like a natural resistance by this point!”

Kate holds up the dog, smile wide. “Boone, this is little Enid.”

Tyler sighs, turning on his heel. “We are not taking that dog and we are certainly not naming him Enid!”

“Famous last words.” Lilly mutters.

Tyler flips you all off as you break into laughter.

“Man would you stop pouting, you’re ruining my vibe!” Javi exclaims, which only causes you to sink further down in your chair.

“This is fucking stupid.” You mutter, kicking at the dirt as you do.

“I’m not happy about this either.” Tyler says from across the fire pit, begrudgingly looking down at the dog on his chest.

“I’m the whole reason Enid came with us and who does he want to spend time with? Oh, Tyler of course! Smoke practically came out of his ears when he saw Enid in the truck! But nooooo, that’s who the dog wants to be with!”

Boone’s chair creaks as he leans over. “You kinda sound a little crazy, talking to yourself like that.”

You shoot him a glare that has him withering back in his chair.

“I’d want a cat, I think.” Kate says thoughtfully from her seat next to you.

“I hate cats.” You mutter, crossing your arms. “I want a dog.”

Javi lets out a long sigh from next to you. “This is gonna get real old.”

You’ve been with the team for four and a half months when it happens.

You’re in some small town, just past the border of Oklahoma into Kansas, when the second storm cell you had all been tracking touches down.

“Hey guys.” You call, panic starting to creep into your voice. “That saying with lightning, how it never strikes the same place twice? Does that apply to tornadoes too?”

Moments after you finish your sentence, the winds kicks up, the sirens blaring.

It’s almost like you’re rooted to the spot, staring at the beast coming towards you as Lilly shouts from down the street to follow her to the shelter.

“California!” Tyler shouts. “What are you doing?!”

You sweep your gaze to him, spotting the truck as you. The unmoored truck.

He catches what you’re looking at and he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, come on!”

“I got it, I’m right behind you!” You shout, already darting towards the truck.

You think Tyler curses but then he’s off down the street after the group. “Damn it, Boone.” You mutter, brushing the cookie crumbs off the console that are preventing you from getting to the switch. “The snacks have got to stop.”

Once the button has been pressed and you can hear the gears start, you throw the truck door open, sliding down to follow Tyler.

Except one minute you’re standing and the next, you’re on the ground, groaning.

You blink your eyes open to see debris scattering down the street and realize it must’ve taken your feet out from under you. You push yourself up and realize you don’t know where Tyler went. Your head hurts from its collision with the ground and through the pain, you can feel yourself start to panic. You roll over catching sight of the truck locked into the ground.

The truck.

The truck probably wouldn’t fly. The truck had harnesses. The truck had protected Kate once.

You crawl to the truck in hopes to avoid catching any wind, pulling yourself up and slamming the door as quickly as you can. You tug the harness on, debris hitting the car as the wind speeds pick up.

From the bed of the truck, you can hear Enid let out a bark, climbing over the arm console to curl up in your lap. He lets out a whimper, nuzzling closer to your stomach.

“It’ll be okay, Enid.” You whisper, letting your eyes shut as your hands curl in the dog’s shaggy fur. You guys really needed to take him to a groomer. “We’ll be okay.”

She watches her friends filter into the shelter, panic clawing at her as everyone from the town passed through the doors with no sight of you.

Javi’s pushes his way through the doors and he collides with her, her fingers clutching in his jacket. “Javi!”

“She isn’t with me Kate.” He breathes out, backing her up from the doors.

Her breaths coming in stuttering gasps as she clings to him. “Can’t be.”

“Kate, she’s probably with T, they were together. They’re coming, don’t worry.” Boone tries to soothe and Javi confirms his words, rubbing his hands up and down her shoulders.

Until Tyler appears through the doors, the last of the crowd.

“Where is she?!” She’s frantic now, a sob growing as she sees Tyler round the corner. “Tyler, where is she, I thought she was with you!”

Tyler glances over his shoulder, where they’re shutting the doors. “She- She was just supposed to nail the truck down.”

Kate’s moving towards the doors before she realizes it but she doesn’t get very far before someone’s arms are pulling on her jacket.

“Kate!” Javi shouts. “Kate, we can’t help her now!” She looks at him, feeling her eyes sting as she looks at his defeated face.

“It’s just like last time.” She chokes out into a whisper.

“I know.” He says softly. “I know, but there’s nothing you can do for her right now. We just need to wait.”

The mere minutes it takes for the storm to pass drag on, the tears unabashedly slipping down her face.

How could this happen again?

It’s maybe only 15 minutes later she’s standing outside in the clearing Oklahoma sky but it’s felt like a lifetime has passed and when the street is empty, save for their truck at the very far end of the street, it feels like it’ll all drag on for a lifetime more.

Her team is beside her but all she can do is wipe at her face, unable to stop the salty tears against her tongue.

“Kate…” Tyler says gently and she whips around, near snarling at him.

“This is your fault! You should’ve taken care of the truck, it never should’ve been her! She should’ve come with us, you never should’ve let her out of your sight!”

Tyler swallows, eyes growing glassy. “You don’t mean that.” He chokes out.

She doesn’t and she knows she doesn’t.

But this loss stings.

Lilly reaches out a cautious hand, and when Kate doesn’t push her away, Lilly pulls her into a hug. Dani joins, Boone not far behind. She thinks she can even feel Dexter join at the edge as the tears slips down her cheeks. She clings to Lilly, the girl running a hand up and down her back.

And then Javi shouts out.

You finally breathe, blinking your eyes open as you do.

You wince, your head throbbing as you begin to take the harness off and-

You pull on the door handle, tripping out of the truck as you start throwing up onto the gravel road.

Tears sting at your eyes, the small rocks digging into your palms as you empty your breakfast onto the ground.

“Yo!” Someone shouts from a ways away, but all you can focus on is the throbbing in your temple.

A hand is on your shoulder, gently pulling you up. You blink, wincing as Javi comes into focus.

“Javi?” You breathe out, leaning into him as the sound of footsteps running towards you gets closer. “Think I- head. My head hurts. Concussion.”

Javi doesn’t respond as another body collides with you. It feels like the wind has been knocked out of your lungs as the person trembles against you. “Thought you were gone. Thought I lost you.” Kate whispers.

“Kate, you’re gonna get vomit all over you.”

“Don’t care.” She whispers, still holding you. “I know you probably have a concussion, I’ll take you to the EMT’s please just- just let me hold you for a little longer.”

You nod. Despite how tight she’s holding you and the throbbing behind your eyes, it feels like you can finally catch your breath as she does.

“How’d you even think to hide out in there?” Lilly asks and you blink your eyes open, seeing the team standing before you. You don’t let Kate go.

“I truly was right behind you T.” You say, locking eyes with Tyler. He looks devastated, the relief of seeing you unable to loosen the tension in his shoulders. “But one minute I was standing and the next I was on the ground and you were gone. I think some debris knocked my feet out from under me and I sort of panicked. I remembered how it had kept Kate safe and it was the only place I could think of in time.”

“You gave us all quite the scare.” Dexter says. “Glad to see you safe.”

“Me too.” You whisper, squeezing Kate.

“Holy shit Enid! You been in there the whole time?” Boone shouts after a minute.

“My brain hurts. Paramedics now?” You ask. “Please?”

Kate nods, stepping back. “Yeah. Right now.”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Tyler scoffs. “You can’t even see me.”

You’re laying on the RV bed, eyes closed. The lights are dim, the quiet conversation from outside barely audible.

Tyler had shooed Kate out to get dinner and told her she actually had to sit outside and eat it or he’d remove her concussion watch entirely.

“Yeah but I can feel it.” You reach a foot out, knocking Tyler’s knee. “T.”

He takes your foot, but must think better of whatever jerk move he’s going to pull because he lets your feet fall on his thigh softly, hand resting over them. His thumb finds your ankle bones and he rubs over it softly.

“That feel okay?” He asks quietly and you nod. The show of intimacy, however platonic, is nice as you sit there.

“I’m real sorry for putting you in harm’s way kid.”

You let out a breath through your nose, resisting the urge to open your eyes. You know Tyler will just get mad if you do.

“You didn’t. It was an accident.”

“Kate blames me. Hell, I blame myself. It would be okay if you blamed me too.”

“Tyler.” You say firmly. “It was an accident. You never meant any harm to come to me. I am fine, nothing more than a wittle baby concussion. The paramedics checked me out and Dani’s been keeping an eye on me the whole drive. I am fine.”

“You’re not fine!” Tyler snaps and you wince at the loudness in his voice. “Sorry, sorry. I just- You have a concussion, not to mention the bruises and cuts you’ve saddled yourself with. That’s not fine in my book.”

“Tyler, I got hit by a car in college. What’s a little debris?”

A smile tugs at your lips as you remember the way Dani and Javi’s eyes had gone wide as they’d sat with you as the EMTs check out you when you’d told the paramedics that story.

They’d told you it was incredible that this was the situation you’d ended up with a low grade concussion and the other only a sprained wrist.

“A tornado and a car are hardly the same.”

“Technically, the tornado never hit me. Just debris.”

“Semantics.”

“The semantics are keeping Kate’s sanity in tact so please don’t make the difference in front of her.” You say quietly and Tyler sighs again.

“She really cares about you, you know?”

“Thought you weren’t getting involved?”

“I’m not.”

“Then stop talking.”

Tyler pushes your feet away, scooting closer to you. “Your loss would’ve devastated her.” He says softly.

“So I’ll be more careful next time.”

He sighs. “You’re not listening to what I’m saying.”

You crack an eye open. “Tyler, my brain hurts too much for this conversation. Can you please get to the point?”

Tyler’s point never gets made as the RV door opens, Javi telling him that Dani had pulled him off concussion watch too.

You suspected Javi just wanted to be around you but you’d take his presence over Tyler’s interrogation. Javi sits next to you on the bed as you close your eyes again.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, though I wish I could call my freshman year room mate and annoy her like she did me.”

Javi chuckles. “How do you mean?”

“She got a concussion in a skiing accident and made me talk to her for hours because she was bored and couldn’t do anything. I need payback.”

Kate wrings her hands, eyes flickering around the room nervously.

“Kate?” You say cautiously. “Are you okay?”

“I just- I mean, are you sure you’re gonna be okay here? By yourself, you know, I could stay with you?” Her eyes roam over your body. “No, I think I should stay. I’m going to- I’ll go tell Tyler right now. I-“

You grab Kate’s wrist, cutting her off. “Kate.” You say softly. “It’s fine. It’s a baby concussion. I’m going to sit here for a few days and force Enid to snuggle me. It’ll be fine.”

She sighs. “I don’t know, I still think I should stay.”

“Kate, you are no use to anyone here. Anything I need, your Mom can get for me. I’ll be fine.”

Your heart clenches at the concern swimming in your friend’s eyes and it’s going to take every minute of each one of those day to remind yourself that that concerns is only because of the losses in Kate’s past.

She’s lost three friends before, she doesn’t want to lose a fourth.

She sighs, taking a step back. “You’re right. But- you call me if anything changes, okay?” You nod and so she takes another step back.

You can hear Tyler shout up the stairs for the third time in fifteen minutes. “Tyler’s gonna get mad, you should just go.” You say, already taking a step back towards her bed though your eyes never leave hers.

“Yeah, I should-“ With one last look, she slips back out the bedroom door. You sigh, pressing your hands to your eyes, willing yourself to get it together.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” You mutter to yourself. The door creaks open and you glance up, seeing Kate stride through the door. “Kate?”

Kate crosses the room in three steps, pulling you into a kiss. Before you can even process what she’s doing, she’s pulled back.

Her hands fly to her mouth, a shocked expression on her face. “I can’t believe I just did that! Oh, I’m so sorry- Mmph.”

You cut her off, crowding her space before pulling her lips back to yours.

Your hands slide down to her hips as she cradles your head in your hands. Only does she break away when Tyler shouts up the stairs, heavy footsteps on the wood.

“I really should go this time.” She breathes.

“You’ll come back right?” You ask, nudging your nose with hers. “I want to talk about this, I want to make this work with you.”

She nods. “I’ll always come back for you.”

iii.

#kate carter #kate carter x reader #kate carter x female reader #twisters #twisters fic #kate carter fic #can't take the home out of oklahoma

122 notes · View notes

dead-enby-detective · 4 months

Text

To continue my comparison of the Dead Boy Detective show and the Doom Patrol episode with them in it, I wanted to talk about the exploration of Charles’s aversion/fear of water in Doom Patrol, I thought that was an interesting way to give him some more depth in the short time frame (especially since we get to see more of Edwin’s depth with his pain being used to open the door to the afterlife and Larry reaching out to him to discuss his feelings for Charles).

In the scene above Charles has to work himself up quite a bit in order to cross the lake and continue their case.

DBD Charles, in comparison, doesn’t seem to feel the same way about water.

In episode 2, he’s delighted by the enchanted ocean container.

In episode four, he even calls the view “pretty brills” while staring out into the ocean.

He doesn’t hesitate to run to Crystal when she’s dangling over the ocean.

He walks on the ocean side later (probably partially to ensure she doesn’t try to throw herself into the ocean) and even walks toward the water without any fear.

And when the Night Nurse has him relive his memories she sends him to the lake.

To me he seems more confused, maybe frightened because he doesn’t know where he is or what’s going on and than is far more scared when he gets attacked by the boys again rather than afraid of the water itself.

Then after the Night Nurse lectures him he’s angry,

and willing submerges himself to get away.

Then when he returns he, in his anger, sends her over the wall into the water.

To me, if he was afraid of the water, he’d be less likely to want to go towards it, or he’d at least hesitate before putting his plan into motion.

In my first post comparing and contrasting the Agency from the two show, I said the Doom Patrol Boys feel far less reactive to violence, especially their own. They doesn’t seem scared of it or using it themselves. But while DP Charles isn’t afraid of violence, though it did cause his death, he is afraid of water, which also played a role in his death.

In the DBD show Charles is scared of violence (especially his own) - as violence impacted him greatly in live with his abusive father and bullies but doesn’t seem to be of the water which also played a part in his death.

It’s very interesting to me which parts of his death the writers focused on for each show, the DP writers focused on the water/hypothermia and the DBD writers, the bullies.

As I said in my first post, obviously there’s far less time to explore the boys in the Doom Patrol episode than in the Dead Boy Detectives show so that absolutely could have been part of it.

I haven’t yet read the comics so I’m unsure which version of Charles’s fears is more accurate to the source material, if there’s an exploration of it at all.

It makes sense, in the Doom Patrol episode to show his fear of water. It naturally introduces his death, just as the door to the afterlife being opened by open naturally introduces Edwin’s experience in Hell.

The actor handles it really well. Just as the DBD actor handles his fear of violence really well. Both feel natural and important within the context of their shows.

Additionally, I tired looking up to see if Charles’s father was also abusive in the comics and I couldn’t find anything (please let me know if you know otherwise) and according to his wiki Charles actually died from burn injuries - though he did have to spent time in the icy lake as well.

So it’s definitely interesting that both shows focused on the hypothermia from the lake rather than the burns and it makes sense that if there’s isn’t a major storyline about his father in the comics that DP Charles has less negative feelings about violence than DBD Charles and thus, going back to my first post, reacts differently to it even though he too was bullied to death.

It’s incredibly interesting to me to see how the same character can be played/written in two very different ways based off the same source material and the ways the writers chose to focus on their traumas and fear differently.

What do you all think about how the shows chose to handle Charles’s fears?

#dead boy detectives #charles rowland #edwin payne #crystal palace #niko sasaki #dead boy detectives meta #doom patrol #edwin paine #my post

134 notes · View notes

thequeendesi · 1 year

Text

Two Pink Lines

Title: Two Pink Lines

Alt Title: I’ve Heard Worse News

Warnings: swearing, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of bad childhood

Pairing: Fezco x Reader x Platonic!Ash (lil bro ash and big sis reader ftw)

Disclaimer: I don’t own you or the euphoria franchise. I own the writing.

Rating: PG I reckon

Word count: 2k

A/N: I haven’t written anything in three months! I hope this doesn’t suck! I’ve had so much going on lately! I’ve gotten into my own place w my bf, I had a car crash, a major pregnancy scare, and a job promotion lol. I’m doing alright rn, so I figured I’d take the chance and finally get something out again! Thank you all for being so so kind and patient w my inconsistent ass 😂 I genuinely love all of y’all!!

✨✨

You sighed, placing the test face down on the counter. Music playing from your phone to try and ease your nerves. Snooze by SZA playing low as you slipped down the wall. You pulled your knees to your chest as you allowed the song to play through, your brain running the entire time.

The jokes you made to your boyfriend, Fez, were just that. Jokes. In no way did you actually think you were ready for children. You had just graduated from East Highland less than a week ago.

Your childhood wasn’t the most pleasant. You had been living with your boyfriend since you two were 13 and 14. Fez was all you knew, and you were all he knew. You knew everything about him and his life. His grandma, his job, his brother. And you fit like a glove in all of it. His grandmother took you in with open arms and loved you as her own.

You didn’t know what you’d do with a baby, you didn’t know where it would fit into your current life. You worked at the local breakfast place, it was like a Waffle House, but called MeeMaw Judy’s Home.

Your mind drifted to Fez. He didn’t want kids. You knew for a fact because he always told you “keep it movin’ ma”, everytime you passed baby aisles. Hell, the two of you even had talked about it last night. As far as Fezco was concerned, he didn’t see a baby in y’all’s plans for at least another 4 years.

The song ended and you took a deep breath. You couldn’t begin to explain how long those 3 minutes were. “Alright.” You whispered to yourself as you stood up, turning over the test you stared at them. Two pink lines. You’re not even sure you’ve ever seen pink lines so dark.

“Fuck.” You whispered as you placed the test on the counter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you said, voice cracking at the last fuck, tears welling in your eyes. You had false positives before, only for the next test to have been negative. But this time you knew you were pregnant. Nausea, fatigue, as well as paired with your period being late not one, but two weeks? Oh yea, your eggo is preggo.

Your thoughts ran to a complete halt as the door opened. “(Y/N)! Can you make waffles… what the fuck is all of this?” Ash asked, looking at the test on the counter. Your heart sank as you tried to explain. “Look, I just… just please get out. Please.” You pleaded, trying to push him out. “Hey, it’s ok. Stop stressin’. Y’a’int in trouble. Just… y’know. Take a deep breath.”

Ash grabbed your hand, thumb rubbing over your knuckles, a trait he picked up from Fez after he noticed it helped you calm down. “Ash, please. I need to think of how to tell Fez.” Ash shook his head before leading you to sit on the couch. “Worry about calmin’ your ass down first. You’re acting like your life is over. It’s just a baby.” Ash let go of your hand.

You felt yourself relax a little. How was he so calm? How is your life not over? Taking another look at the test, you grabbed it. “This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.” You walked out of the bathroom to the living room.

You sat on the couch and let go of the breath you were holding. “Why’re you so freaked out?” Ash asked, taking a seat next to you.

“Ash, you’re 14. I really don’t think any of this is your business. You’re too young.” You said, placing the test face down on the table.

“(Name).” Ash said plainly, looking at you.

“Okay. Fair.” You nodded, before taking a deep breath. You’re really about to vent to your boyfriend’s 14 year old brother? Well, it wouldn't be the first time. Ash looked at you as a mother figure, seeing as his only real one was incapacitated.

“Fez doesn’t want kids. Not now at least.” You

“Well, ya should’ve been safer, huh?” He crossed his arms. “What’s the plan (Y/N)?” Ash asked you, leaning back into the couch.

“I don’t know. Haven’t thought that far ahead. A minute ago I found out I’m…” The words got caught in your throat as you leaned onto the couch as well. “You think MeeMaw’ll let me bring a kid to work?” You half joked.

“I’ve seen what she allows, it wouldn’t surprise me.” Ash said, a small smile finding itself on his rather stoic face.

Mrs. Judy, or MeeMaw as you and everyone called her, was a kinder old lady. Standing at a firm 4’10 inches, she’s seen a thing or two. She was always kind to you, making sure you had food to bring home to the boys. She knew your upbringing and the conditions that landed you to who you became.

“When’s Fez supposed to come home anyways?” You asked Ash. “Not sure. He’s sellin’ at some kid’s party tonight. What’s her name, Kat, I think?” He shrugged. “He probably won’t be home until midnight then,” you sighed, rubbing your face, “gives me at least 2 hours to think about what I’m gonna do.”

“I got somethin’ you can do then.”

“Waffles?” You half-laughed, looking at Ash through your fingers. “I think we need to buy eggs and milk for it actually.”

“Damn.” He placed his arms next to his sides. “We can watch a movie?” You suggested. “I got Maddy’s Netflix.” You shrugged.

“Better than waitin’ around for nothin’.” Ash grabbed the remote and handed it to you.

Turning on a movie on Netflix, some random movie by Adam Sandler, who’s movies were yours and Ash’s favorite way to pass time.

He quickly tuned into it, but your eyes glued onto the white slender test. Millions of thoughts ran through your mind.

Was Fez gonna be mad?

Was he gonna leave? Or more so, make you leave?

Was he gonna tell you it’s ok?

Was he gonna marry you? God, what a thought. Marriage wasn’t a bad thing, by no means. When it works.

By 12, your mother had been married 6 times, and two of them were remarriages to your father. Screaming, crashing and crying was no stranger to you.

You remember the argument your parents had that led them to that final divorce and you into Fez’s home.

“(Mother Name)! What’s this shit? You’re pregnant? Again?!”

“I was gonna tell you! You went snooping through the trash? Are you fucking insane?!” CRASH, you heard as the test that was thrown at the picture frame that had a picture of you holding your half-brother. You sniffed the tears back as you packed your bag faster.

“You should’ve wrapped it if you didn’t want this shit!” She screamed at him. “Fuck that! You’re just as much to blame! Is it even mine, whore?!”

“Oh fuck you, you bastard!”

“No thank you! That’s how we landed here! Just go! Go and fucking take your goddamn mistakes with you!”

Mistake? That’s all your father thought of you?

“You act like I wanted to get pregnant again, or any time beforehand! I didn’t want these fucking kids anymore than you or Jerald and Will did! Besides, (Name) is the only one here!”

Nevermind, there was your mother being the way she was. You looked at the broken glass on the floor as you stood in the doorframe.

“I’m not going with her.” You stated, in your broken little voice. “You’re not fucking staying with me.”

“I wasn’t fucking planning on it.” You walked past your father. “The fuck are you going?” Your mother asked.

“Why do you care?” You grabbed the doorknob, the rest of your body turning to look at your parents. “I’m a mistake to both of you, so why is it such a big fucking deal if I just grant you both your wish of getting out of your hair?” You asked them, tears free-flowing down your cheeks.

“Why the hell did you have kids if you hate them?” You asked them. “Why do I have to be an adult when I’m 13?”

Your parents stared at you, expression unrecognizable. “Well, just so you know, I hate you guys. So don’t worry, the feelings aren’t one sided.” You opened the door and walked out, closing it behind you.

You used your finger to wipe the tear that began to slip down your cheek. You haven’t seen your parents since that day, hell, you don’t even know if they’re alive or dead. You sent a graduation invitation to the house your mother lived at, but received the initiation back with RETURN TO SENDER in red letters over your face.

You looked over at Ash, who was fast asleep with his head on your lap. You smiled a little at him, and your gaze returned to the test.

Your phone began ringing from the bathroom and you gently placed Ash’s head on the couch. He curled up in a ball as he got re-comfortable. You walked to the bathroom and grabbed your phone.

Answering the call, you placed the phone to your ear. “Hey ma.” Fez’s voice sounded like honey over the phone. “Hey baby.” You said, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you threw the box in the trash. “Ash ‘sleep?” He asked.

“Mhm.” You answered, walking back to the living room to grab the test.

“You good?” He asked into the phone as you heard his blinker. “Yea… no. I just… we gotta talk when you get home.” You answered, walking to the front door. “I’ll just meet you at the car so we can talk without waking up Ash.” You told him, hanging the phone up.

You walked to the front of the house and leaned against the gate. You put the test in your bra as you waited.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you watched the bright lights pull in front of you. Putting your head down you walked over to the passenger seat and got in.

“What’s wrong?” He looked at you, his hand moving to hold your face. His hand rested on your cheek as he made you look at him. “Whatever it is, ma, it’s gonna be aight.” He said, thumb stroking the soft flesh of your cheek.

Your lip quivered as you let go of the breath you were holding. “I’m pregnant, Fez.” You said straight out, taking the test out of your bra to hand to him, eyes drifting to the floor.

“Oh.” His hand leaves your cheek to grab the test, turning on an overhead light, he looks at it. “I’m sorry.” You sniffed, eyes welling with tears as you stared at your feet on the floorboard.

“Whatchu sorry for? This ain’t bad news. I thought you was finna tell me someone died.” He looked at you. “It ain’t like we knew it was gonna happen. Shit happens, ma. We’ll figure it out, somehow. Hell, grandma did.”

“You’re not mad?” You asked him. “I’m not thrilled. But that part ain’t important no more.” He took your face in his hands, test between his fingers. “You’re what’s important to me, ma. Without you, I don’t know where I’d be.” He kissed you softly. “We’re gonna have a baby. I’ve heard of worse news from you.” He said against your lips.

“I was scared you’d yell at me.” You confessed.

“Yell?” He pulled away from you. “Not about somethin’ like this.” He shook his head. “We got other shit to worry about rather than yellin’. Yellin’ ain’t gon’ get anything done other than stress my babies out.” He said simply.

“I got milk and eggs. Ash texted me.” He said.

“I guess I ain’t getting out of making them waffles, huh?”

“You figured you know better about that.” Fez half joked, grabbing the milk and eggs bag from the backseat.

“Now come on, I’m tired. It’s been a long night. We can talk more in the morning.” You patted his thigh and kissed his cheek.

He laughed a little and nodded his head. “Alright ma.”

#des’ writing #euphoria x reader #desi’s oneshot #desi’s writing #fezco x reader #euphoria fez #euphoria fezco x reader #euphoria imagine #fezco imagine

777 notes · View notes

darlingsart · 9 months

Note

your oc is so adorable! 😍 can you tell us more about him?

Thank you!! 🥺❤️ Here he is (+ His little brother!)

Okay SO I've had these Patchilles OC's for like 3-ish years now and I've never shared them on here before bc they mean so much to me the idea of putting them out here seemed super scary BUT here are two of my Patchilles kids Maximus and Hyacinth 👉🏼👈🏼 (Yes that name is intentional and supposed to be ironic lmao)

More about them + the lore under the cut!

Basically, this is canon divergence and the lore is that Pat and Achilles don't go to Troy and instead stay in Phthia after their time on Pelion. Thinking that they no longer have to worry about a prophecy, they end up getting married and starting a family but, unbeknownst to them, the prophecy doesn't exactly go away, it gets passed down to Maximus and becomes it’s own big thing as the war goes on for well over a decade overseas. Thetis is the only one who actually knows about this and she keeps it a secret from Achilles and takes it upon herself to train Maximus and turn him into the next aristos achaion.

I'm actually in the middle of writing this as a series on ao3 (Currently on the 4th work!). If you're interested, you can start with the first fic, New Beginnings, which explains everything a lot more (their engagement, the reason why they stay) OR you can jump right into the story I'm currently working on, The Rest of Our Lives, though you might be a bit confused!

Maximus is by far one of my favorite OC’s but I love developing his siblings as characters too. If you read/have read The Rest of Our Lives, you’ll see that Maximus definitely takes after Achilles like without a doubt and it’s brought up several times but as he grows older, he becomes a well rounded mix of them both and I like to think that Pat’s attributes shine more then though I haven’t written it all out just yet! Maximus is just a fun loving, rambunctious kid who tries his best with the cards he’s dealt, he’s very loving and kind hearted and an overall good kid!

Hyacinth is about four years younger than him and one of my favorites too, especially as he grows into his character. So they do have another sibling but I’ve only just gotten there in the story so I don’t want to spoil anything, but he is a true middle child lol it’s actually an important part of his character that really gets explored later on in the series. He’s also a sweetheart, a little more reserved than Maximus but I wouldn’t call him an introvert, he’s just not as…. Hyperactive as his older brother lmao but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get roped into Maximus’ antics too.

I’ve also written modern au stuff with them (which I haven’t posted anywhere), so like now whenever I imagine any au with Pat and Achilles, it’s hard not to picture these two, especially Maximus, in it too lol

Sorry for rambling so much, this is the first time I’ve actually talked about these two outside of my writing 😅 I hope y'all enjoy them as much as I do! And feel free to ask me about them from time to time if you want :)

#asks #the song of achilles #tsoa #patrochilles #angies art #sorry for answering this the next day I spent the day drawing all of these pictures bc of my hyperfixation brain lol #it feels so weird to post about them on tumblr but I wanted to share them!!#also if you’ve already read the rest of our lives…. hey 🫣🫡#fancy seeing y’all here LMAO #my ocs

115 notes · View notes

dinadumas · 11 months

Text

Hiiii~

Dear novels lovers, I sincerely want to recommend you one of the best works I've read. So if at the moment you are in search of something interesting don't pass by!

This novel actually has a manhwa with the same title, so if you're not interested in the novel you can find and read the manhwa! It does not have any plot discrepancies from the original.

"Turning" by Kuyu (쿠유).

It's a novel in the bl, fantasy, and omegaverse genre.

Wait wait. Those who now thought that the omegaverse is not interesting or poorly written, you are sorely mistaken! The novel itself doesn't pay that much attention to this genre, so you won't feel any discomfort while reading it! I even forgot about this genre at times. (Although most of the hot scenes are related to it, but you'll be satisfied, I promise.)

There are approximately 970 chapters in the original, and 305 are available in English (free).

If you are already a bit interested, please read the description first~

Yuder was a commoner Omega who rose to the top with his ability.

When he woke up again after being falsely accused and executed, he was back 11 years ago before everything began.

He must not repeat the same mistake he did before.

A chance to get back……

To survive, and to save the world, now he had to save the man he had killed!

Are you more interested? Jesus, I love you already. Keep going!

If you want to hear the opinion of someone who has already read all the chapters available in English, @armed-teddy-bear answered some questions especially for you!

Q : Dear reader, please tell us what you liked most about the novel "Turning" by Kuyu?

Teddy : It’s hard to pinpoint a single part of it, since all of it is perfect in my eyes. The characters are well-written and never act like walking tropes with no common sense, the worldbuilding is one of the best I’ve ever seen, the intrigues are taking and all well-linked together to form an enduring mystery and drama that, as of 300 chapters, is still just as interesting…

If I really had to pick, I would say the relationship between the two protagonists is honestly a high point. Heavily influenced by the past only Yuder can remember, it still manages to progress naturally while never having a boring moment. Every scene where the two of them interacted became one of my favorites.

In short, I would say: If you think you’ve read a novel like this before, no you haven’t. In my opinion, this novel is the best you could achieve in the genre of rebirth/time travel.

Q : Do you think the omegaverse genre is ruining the novel?

Teddy : It’s not a problem to me at all. But there are a lot of people who are uncomfortable with it. I don’t understand why exactly, but it’s like that.

On the contrary, I think the way Turning handles it makes it even more interesting. It hasn’t played too much into the story that far, so it could even be ignored by people who don’t like it, but I think it adds to the story quite a bit by adding more worldbuilding to the “awakeners” characters and the powers of this world.

The reason given for why it happened in universe is also good in my opinion. 👍

So it’s a complete OK for me!

Q : Can you highlight any flaws in the novel?

Teddy : I became the number one fan overnight. In my eyes, Turning can do nothing wrong.

But if I try to see it from someone else’s eyes… Maybe the length would be too long for someone else. You have to wait 200 chapters for the main couple to kiss for the first time, and at times you see characters and situations being set up.. and then you don’t see them begin to unfold for another 50 chapters!

There’s also a very, very large cast of characters, some of them named only to never properly appear… although that can also be seen as a quality! The novel feels very realistic and profound thanks to this, as allies and antagonists fade in and out of the storyline in accordance to the plot, never overstaying their welcome or standing uselessly in the background of a scene.

The supporting cast is also characterized and explored, even if they don’t stay for long, meaning that every character is inherently interesting. It’s thanks to this length in chapters and depth in characters that the novel gains in worldbuilding and intrigue with each new chapter.

Q : Please tell potential readers why they should not pass by this novel?

Teddy : Not reading Turning means passing by a novel that can and will satisfy anyone!

If you don’t like romance, then you’ll find your happiness in the worldbuilding, magic systems, and political plots.

And if you don’t like worldbuilding, magic systems, and political plots… well, think again! I thought I didn’t like those either before, but reading Turning, I found myself on the edge of my seat with every word. Everything is explained clearly and logically when it comes to intrigue, making it easy to understand and all the more interesting — but that doesn’t mean it’s lacking in emotions either! This novel masterfully meshes both plot and character building, making each moment count.

But most importantly, you’ll miss reading the developing relationship between Yuder and Kishiar, which I think is the biggest appeal of all. I’ve never rooted for a couple more in my life. Despite a past together filled with pain, they still manage to be one of the healthiest and most sincere relationships I’ve read in a long time.

So, to whoever is listening, please read Turning. You definitely won’t regret it.

Wow if you read to the end we really appreciate it! Thank you for your attention.

Please read Turning~

#manhwa #novel #turning novel #turning #yaoi bl #Boys love #bl manhwa #bl novel #터닝 #Teoning #Please read turning #Please

184 notes · View notes

heartsofminds · 2 years

Text

and at every table, i’ll save you a seat - part i

“Well, apparently Baby Goose’s been losing his mind ‘round the base about how this really smart and sweet girl invited him to a wedding and won’t text him about it.” or you invite Bradley to a wedding but your big fat crush on him won’t let you actually. . .invite him.

“and at every table, i’ll save you a seat” - tunes of the gossipy Hard Deck patrons and liking someone so much you feel like you can’t breathe

A/N: hey guys!!! so in the midst of writing this, i realized how long it actually is and how many dividers i had on my google doc? anyway, i thought it would probably work out so much better if it was released in parts rather than just one, big, fat, HUGEEEE piece that would probs crash on mobile. listen along to the playlist (that will be updated with each writing update) and relish in overly flirtatious bradley with me! which btw, he’s the lover album personified with a dash of red and a hint of fearless!

“I’m not asking him.”

Phoenix rolls her eyes before she takes a sip from her Ultra. The thought of it tasting revolting because of its lukewarmness crosses her mind despite her head pounding unceremoniously. She almost speaks up to answer you, but closes her mouth.

She softly places the bottle back down on the counter instead.

She can’t quite tell if the pain in her temples is from the sound of excited chatter all around her, the sound of Mickey, Javy, and Bob shittily singing Go Your Own Way on the karaoke machine in the corner, or the sound of your blue glitter gel pen scratching away at the scrap paper you have by the register; frantically carrying decimals for tip calculation and pathetically adding and subtracting since Penny’s “older than dirt” cash register bit the dust an hour prior.

She almost concludes that the pounding ache working its way to the forefront of her brain is because of your absolute and utter refusal to do the simple and the obvious. But wait.

I haven’t eaten at all today. Yeah, that’s it.

A deep breath fills her lungs before she exhales. Her elbows find themselves on the lip of the bar top and her forearms come up to rest her head on her hands. She notices that the scribbling stops from what she assumes is you looking at her.

An uncomfortable beat passes which is unusual for you two. There’s always some sly remark made or interminable giggling filling the gaps of silence.

You pop your hip on the corner of the table. Your magenta tank top was far too bright of a pink to be welcome in the warm-hued bar. Your bracelet screams “graduation gift” and you can feel the oil on your face contorting your makeup as your time in the muggy air passes.

Out of place is always in your thoughts but doesn’t become an insecurity until you’re left alone with them. The absence of Phoenix’s voice makes this fact more obvious to you.

“You good? Not gonna hurl all over the place?” you cautiously ask, “Because it’s fine if you gotta puke, but I’ll murder you if you make me clean it up.”

Natasha lets out something short of a laugh but too informal to be considered a huff. “I’m fine,” she says, leaning her head into her hand and adjusting herself in her seat.

You nod, returning to your scribbling when the man sitting next to her hands his card to you. “You know, if you write any harder, you might permanently etch,” she pauses, leaning over to get a peek at what you had just written, “ten dollars and eighty-three cents into the counter.”

“Maybe it’ll convince Penny that a new cash register is a need and not a luxury.”

Natasha scoffs. “Could say the same about your plus one, but hey, if you don’t want my advice, then certainly don’t take it.”

You hand the gentleman back his card with a smile and a small “thank you” before returning your attention back to Natasha. She digs her teeth subtly into the plush of her bottom lip.

“I already told you. I’m not asking him.”

She groans, pushing herself to stand up from her seat. Even dressed in civilian clothes, she looks like she belongs. Her aura demands respect; even in a lacy wine-colored top that Hangman had tried to tease her about earlier when the brood of rowdy pilots had first arrived.

“Well, you said no to Jake.”

“You say it like he would be willing to say yes.”

“You said no to Rueben.”

“He’s in a situationship with that girl from my spin class. Going with me to a wedding and her seeing the pics on Instagram would just make shit weird,” you start scrubbing at the permanent water stain near the beer taps anxiously, “Especially when I set them up.”

Natasha rolls her eyes again. She swears that by the end of the night, she’ll know exactly what the inside of her eyelids look like.

“Whatever,” she huffs, “You said no to Javy and Bob.”

“Javy would rub the fact that I asked in Jake’s face and they’ll start a pissing contest on how to woo me…and Bob,” you look around to make sure no one who knows you all is within earshot, “He’s sweet. Like, sooo sweet.”

Natasha tries not to crack a smile before you get your words out, but she certainly knows where the tail end of your sentence is going. “But it’s definitely not believable that we would be together and my aunt is one hell of an FBI agent and I’m sure he’d crack and rat us out and I’d have to sit there and eat my weight in tiramisu to drown my embarrassment.”

Business is painfully slow for a Thursday evening despite the upcoming weekend. Your eyes dart around the room to look for anyone to come and rescue you from this conversation (and even volunteer to be your date to your bitchy cousin’s wedding next weekend without you asking, but you know to only hope for one miracle at a time). And when your eyes turn up empty for an ample opportunity, your shoulders droop while Natasha snickers at you.

“Cut your losses and just ask him. I know he won’t say no,” she says, coy smirk at home on her face.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“What is so wrong with him that you don’t wanna do it? Huh?”

You ponder on her statement before shaking your head. You’d rather be shot in the foot with a nail gun eight times than expose your silly little schoolgirl crush in the middle of the Hard Deck in front of his best friend turned your best friend since moving to the area five months ago.

“Why not Neil or Brigham? Or hell, even Mickey? I know he’s like, engaged, but Mariella is so freakin’ sweet and I know she’d understand so like-”

“Mmm-mmm. No, no, and hell no.” Your frown plasters itself on your lips faster than you can comprehend at her words. “Rooster or bust.”

Your spine straightens as you begin to engage in protest before you’re cut off by the man himself.

“Rooster or bust, what?” he asks, lips coming out to lick the dryness of the San Diego sun away. Your knees start to buckle and you can hear Natasha stifle a laugh as you try to conceal your lack of balance.

He stands in front of you, hand on his hips and sunglasses tucked on the tight, white tank top underneath his button-down shirt. Today’s print was red with cream-colored hibiscus flowers and you wonder how he could pull them off so well. If it were anyone else, you would have had to try your hardest to keep it together with Natasha in front of you; the jokes about touristy dads and low-budget porn actors in the works.

You realize he’s waiting for an answer as you see Natasha getting called away to sing karaoke with Javy and the gang out of the corner of your eye.

Great. Just fucking great.

“Taking bets on who the best pilot is or?” Bradley speaks, trying to get to the bottom of the small fragment of the conversation he had walked into.

“I-,” you stammer.

Fuck. Can someone just come to the bar and order so I can avoid this?

“You?” he looks at you through his eyebrows comically. Everything he does makes you nervous.

“I-,” the lines in his forehead raise with the infliction of your voice, “I need a favor. Like a big one.”

“Okay,” he laughs, “How big are we talking?”

“Umm-”

“Like ‘giving you my other kidney’ big or letting you borrow my car big?” he interrupts.

“Well-”

“Or do you need me to house sit? Dogsit? Babysit?”

You inhale as you place your hands on the countertop. Your eyes find his honeyed-colored ones and you almost drown in them before your pride kicks in.

I cannot embarrass myself in front of him.

“I need you to come to a wedding,” you speak gently. You can see the wheels turning in his head without him having to say anything. Bradley’s face always gave his thoughts away.

“If you don’t have plans, of course.”

The realization of what you had just said starts to kick you upside the head the longer you look at him. He doesn’t say anything. His face doesn’t move at all. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t even blinked yet.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

“And if you’re comfortable! Obviously!” you start to ramble before you can convince yourself to shut the hell up, “It’s next Saturday in Long Beach near the seaside. You don’t have to say yes or anything but I just thought I’d ask because I had a plus one when I had a boyfriend eight months ago and now-”

“I’ll go.”

“-we’re not together anymore and my bitchy cousin is the one getting married who, by the way, makes everything a competition but that’s beside the point. But I know my mom is gonna be pissed if I don’t bring someone because my aunt is her sister and she’ll bitch about how they wasted money and how my mom is running out of time to become a grandma because I’m not married yet and that’s totally not true because I’m not even thirty so my biological clock hasn’t even started ticking yet but -”

“Hey!” he raises his voice slightly, amusement hidden in his tone, “I said I’d go with ya, kid.” He steps forward to put his hands on your bare shoulders. You try not to melt into his touch.

“S’all good. I love weddings and the beach. Promise it’s not a hassle.”

You’re dumbfounded by his response and how collected he is about your word vomit, not to mention being invited to a wedding where he’ll meet not only your parents, but your entire extended family in a little over a week. You know for certain you wouldn’t have handled the situation as calmly as he had.

“You - you’ll…go?” The sound of Britney Spears’s “Toxic” and Jake absolutely murdering the high notes in the back of the bar is the only thing keeping you from spiraling into another dimension.

“Well, I’m not a liar,” he sits down on the seat Phoenix was previously occupying, “I don’t just say things I don’t mean.”

Your head nods solemnly in silent understanding, your hands grabbing a glass to pour him a whiskey on the rocks. He raises his eyebrows in suspicion at you knowing what his usual drink is, but throws away the thought to comment on it before it can even develop all the way. The subtle pang in his chest of you taking that much notice of him makes itself known. He would be lying if he was to say he didn’t hold a brightly lit candle for you.

You’re a regular, Bradshaw. Get your head out of your ass.

“To be honest,” you start, placing the chilled glass in front of him, “that sounds a lot like something a liar would say.”

He gives you a soft smile as he reaches into his back pocket to grab his wallet. “Well good thing that I’m not one then, right?”

Your heart flutters in nervousness and with about as much grace as a stampede of elephants. You’re positive that Bradley can see the outline of it beating out of your chest.

“No, no, no. Your drink is on the house.”

He shakes his head, forcing the twenty dollar bill that lays in between his fingers next to the scrap paper you have laying near the register. “No, I insist.”

“No, I insist. It’s on me, Bradley.”

He cracks a soft smile as he forces the money into your hand. His fingers wrap yours around the beat-up bill that has definitely seen better days. “That just won’t do ma’am.”

“I”m awaiting Bar results, not living in a shoebox on I-405. I assure you that two dollars and sixty cents won’t break the bank.”

The loud scrapping of a bar stool against the hardwood floor (which will probably leave a noticeable scratch in the hardwood flooring that Penny will pretend not be upset about) interrupts the cocoon of the world that existed with just you and him. Just you and Bradley…and Jake Seresin’s loud ass mouth yelling, “Bradshaw! What the hell, man? Get your ass over here and sing some Journey with me!” across the bar.

He shakes his head in disbelief and if you didn’t know any better (didn’t feed into your delusions, is more like it) you would almost think that he was…disappointed? That he didn’t want to leave you and that he was almost as desperate as you to give each other attention; eyes fully and ears solely attuned to the other.

Hoots and hollers and the sound of his call sign being screamed from his rowdy group of friends make the delusion hard to manage, and the reality finally kicks in that he’s not here for you. He’s here for them.

You wish you weren’t so good at hurting your own feelings sometimes.

“Your spotlight awaits you,” you sigh, trying not to show how dejected you felt to him.

A beat of silence passes before he slides his palms on the front of his jeans.

“Here.” He snatches your blue glitter gel pen off the table, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he begins to write. “Text me the details?”

He offers a slight smile that makes your words catch in your throat; the butterflies dinging around in your stomach begging you to reach out and touch him. To lean forward. To say something. To do something. Anything.

But before you can he’s zipped across the bar and the sound of Call Me by Blondie inflates the room. You look down at the cerulean ink with specks of shimmer in it.

xxx-xxx-xxxx Call me, kid! Bradley B

You’re definitely not gonna call him anytime soon…

“Sweetheart, I love you, but if you dry those glasses one more time I think I’ll have a brain aneurysm.”

Penny snatches the dish towel from your hands as your mouth gapes in silent protest. She throws it lazily on the countertop and snags the crate of beer glasses that you were going to town on away from you. The clinging sound of the dishes makes your head droop with disappointment.

“I wasn’t done yet! They still feel slippery! ”you complain and she just teasingly shakes her head.

“So?”

She winks at you and you have to find it in your heart not to be a little annoyed at her for cutting your task off mid-attempt.

Perfectionism fuels your life and she knows this. She knows that you’re using the glasses to stress clean. She knows that your cousin’s wedding weekend starts on Friday and you’re fighting the urge to tear your hair out. She also knows that you have Bradley’s phone number on a slip of paper that’s burning a hole through your nightstand because you still haven’t called him.

“So?” you ask, lightly mimicking Penny’s statement, “Someone’s gonna drop the glass because they’ve never learned how to hold it the right way and then there’s gonna be glass shards everywhere and they’ll get hurt and-”

“You are such a worry wart, my dear. Reeelaaax,” she interrupts, placing her warm, nimble fingers on your shoulders.

The subtle sunburn you had gotten this past weekend is slowly starting to calm down, but the initial sting still startles you. She can see the small happenings of a frown starting to form on your lips and she decides to frown along with you. She spins you to face her and holds your forearms in her hands, offering them a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

It’s not a secret that Penny Benjamin takes pride in knowing her staff well and loving them even better. In the five months she’s gotten to know you, she’s taken you in as one of her own without making her love for you about her. That was kind of her thing; knowing all without having to be told and giving so selflessly without having to ask if you were in need.

Penny just got it, and it’s hard to find people like that nowadays; people who love you genuinely and truly expecting nothing in return.

The thought of her warmness makes you sniffle, and you’re sure that if the jukebox wasn’t turned on and playing some Beach Boys tune, the tears would’ve made their way down your face at a speed that Formula One drivers would envy.

“I know what it feels like to have your every movement judged and not being able to say anything to defend yourself,” she starts, “But you’re smart. You’re kind. You’re so important. And you’re nothing less than amazing, so don’t let anyone treat you like you aren’t.”

You can’t muster up the words to keep the conversation alive. You’re sure that all that would come out of your mouth is a blubbering mess you don’t feel like trying to force out in between choked sobs. Besides, the car doors closing in the parking lot alert you both to the Wednesday night crowd making their way in.

You settle for a small “thank you” before she cracks another smile at you; lips quirked up in amusement. She saunters off to the back to grab the bucket of prepped lime wedges.

“You never have to thank me for the words you deserve, sweetheart. Those are on the house.”

You snort before wiping your nose with the back of your hand. Only she could manage to subdue the mini meltdown brewing in the depths of your chest. But Penny was just like that.

Always calm, cool, and collected.

The night moves slowly in a frame-by-frame manner (one that emulates the night you asked Bradley to be your date, but you shake the thought whenever it tries to enter your head because you think you may actually puke). It’s nothing too out of the ordinary for a Wednesday night.

Mickey and Mariella pop in for mango margaritas after their weekly date night. Mickey gives you a small “hello” before flashing you a knowing smirk. You try to ignore Mariella swatting at his chest, but the imagery eats you up inside. You know that he knows and that she knows, and not taking the steps to actually ask Bradley to a wedding you invited him to makes you feel guilty.

He picks up on your guilt when his eyes catch you twisting your ring around your pointer finger. His eyes soften and he almost considers apologizing to you before he thinks about it. Bringing more attention to it would embarrass you more, he figures. The apology sitting on his tongue is swallowed down with a sip of his drink and Mariella’s kick to his shin.

“Well, we’re about to head out. We’ll see you Friday?” Mickey declares as Mariella narrows her dark eyes at him.

Your heart stops and your fingers feel numb.

Fuck. He wants to bring up Bradley. What do I say? Fuck. Shit. Wait. How does he even know? Has Bradley brought me up? Fuck, wait. He wouldn’t do that. Why would he even be talking about me? He probably told them that I’m obsessed with him and he was cornered and couldn’t say no and-

“Uh? Are you good?” Mickey looks at you with soft eyes and waves his hand in front of your face.

Mariella slaps it down from in front of you. “Don’t do that. She’s not a fucking dog, Mick.”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Duh. I know that. I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t having a seizure or anything like that.”

“A seizure?”

“They’re called absence seizures. Went down a whole YouTube rabbit hole about them a couple of nights ago.”

You chuckle at their antics and can’t wait for the day they finally have their wedding. At least when the time comes you know you won’t have to forge a story about having a boyfriend. And it’ll be a wedding filled with people you actually like; ones that don’t make you order water out of feeling insecure about how many calories you’re consuming or ones that gossip about the shade of blush you wore making you look too “flushed” behind your back.

“I go down rabbit holes all the time,” you chide, “I watched this documentary about the Pentagon Papers and the atomic bomb from World War II the other day, and now I’m confident I could get my Ph.D. in like, Historical American Screw-Ups.”

Mickey and Mariella let out chortles at your statement before starting to head toward the exit.

“Well, we’ll see you later then. Tell us about that wedding on Monday?”

Your mouth hangs open as they stride out the front doors of Hard Deck. The shock of what just happened makes your heart beat erratically.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He told.

Mike Metcalf sits at the corner of the bar top on his regular stool with his sweating glass housing a whiskey neat. He sends you a teasing smirk as you move near him to wipe the countertop down.

“Still haven’t texted him?” he asks.

The shock continues to run through your body. You have to place your hands on the edge of the table to keep yourself from stumbling over.

Why does everyone in this bar know what’s going on?

Admiral Metcalf was friendly with you - one of those regulars who offer you engaging conversation, tidbits of grandfatherly affection, and generous tips.

You would tell him not to tip you so much for a single drink, but he would always insist; quoting something along the lines of you reminding him of his granddaughter and that you treated everyone with such kindness and respect that you deserved it back tenfold.

You take a deep breath, arms pushing you up slowly to stand upright. “I’m scared to ask how you know.”

He chuckles, a real belly laugh, and you struggle to find out why you can’t piece together a logical explanation for how he would know.

“Well, apparently Baby Goose’s been losing his mind ‘round the base about how this really smart and sweet girl invited him to a wedding and won’t text him about it.” He shrugs before taking a long drink from his glass. “Thought it sounded like you. I meant to ask about it the other night, but once you turn eighty you forget things at the drop of a hat.”

“Smart and sweet?” you want to ask, but you know that it would confirm rather than get you the answers that you want. You shake your head to dislodge the thought before furrowing your eyebrows.

“. . . Baby Goose?”

The older man plays with the paper coaster underneath his drink. A soft smile blooms on his lips. “We’re talking about Bradley Bradshaw. Correct?”

You start to drum your fingers against the lip of the bar top. The thought of lying briefly crosses your mind until the sound of James Brown’s shriek at the beginning of “I Got You (I Feel Good)” startles you.

“Uhh, hello? You still there, kiddo?”

I have got to get better at answering quicker.

You straighten your spine and pop your hand on your hip. “Wouldn’t the correct terminology be ‘gosling’?”

He raises his brows, “Rooster. Baby Goose. Bradshaw. Gosling,” he rattles off, counting the phrases on his fingers, “Does any of this ring a bell?”

You chew on your lip. The toe of your sneaker slides underneath the sole of your other one. The fidgeting tells Admiral Metcalf all he needs to know.

“Maybe,” you say under your breath.

“Maybe?” he questions. He leans forward to investigate your expression with his eyes.

Another sigh exits your lips. “Okay, well, maybe a little.”

You sound defeated, he thinks. He decides to investigate even though he can hear his wife’s voice in his head telling him not to. If he turns his head just a little bit to the right, his hearing aid catches the sound of the jukebox. He can’t focus on you talking and his wife’s voice if he also hears the jukebox.

Sorry, Carrie.

His chair swivels a little bit and he wipes his hands on his jeans. “It’s certainly more than a little, kiddo. Especially if you asked him to a wedding.”

You scoff, annoyance painting the inside of your brain. Nosiness is one thing you absolutely cannot stand, and it’s the reason why you insisted on not moving back in with your mom after law school. Working yourself to the bone to study for the Bar during the day while mixing drinks and popping caps off of beer bottles at night seemed worlds better than having your privacy invaded constantly. Tired or private. From where you stand currently, it’s safe to say you picked the latter.

Or so you thought.

“So is this just a thing?” You can feel your heart rate speed up as you start to become defensive. “Like, a trend where all you Hard Deck patrons like to gossip and spread rumors?”

“It’s not a rumor if it’s true.”

You almost roll your eyes but the politeness you were raised with paired with your people-pleasing won’t let you.

“Yeah, but it’s technically gossip if you didn’t hear it from me,” you state directly, “How do you even talk to all these people on the base? Aren’t you retired?”

Admiral Metcalf chuckles. “I may be in bed by 8 every night but it doesn’t mean I’m not social, my dear.”

“Okay, but why would your connections be talking to you about Gosling?” You lean on your forearms and glance at the cash register to make sure someone isn’t waiting to be served. Your eyes glance back to the older gentleman sat in front of you. “Aren’t you guys like. . .fifteen generations removed from each other?”

He gently pats your arm with his calloused palm. “You’re a funny girl.”

“You’re dodging my question,” you frown, sitting up straight and grabbing him his usual glass of water he drinks before he decides to go home.

He mouths a quick “thank you” before taking a sip. “Did it ever occur to you that I was a pilot?”

The wheels in your brain start turning to decipher why he would say that and how it would mean that he and Bradley know each other.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“And a Top Gun instructor.”

“Okay. . .?” You’re starting to get the hint now, but it still just seems like a lot of abstract events put together.

“I taught Maverick and Goose.”

Penny’s “boyfriend, not-boyfriend” who comes in to pick her up or hang out on days when the crowd is as dead as a cemetery. Maverick.

But who’s -

“Goose?” you ask, finishing your question out loud.

“Bradley’s father.”

And shit. Oh shit. Fucking shit!

“I- You- Wait-” you stammer. He simply sips on his water, amusement painted on his features at the signs of your internal panic.

“So that’s how I know. I keep in touch with Maverick and he just happened to mention the absolute mess Rooster’s been the past couple days about this wedding,” he declares, “Which, by the way, is kind of rude to invite someone and then not go into detail about it. Don’t you think?”

Your mouth opens and closes in shock, the magnitude of your recent revelation being endorsed by the silence coming from you.

Your brain can’t even begin to wrap around all the degrees of separation and acquaintances and friendships Bradley has from the bombshell of information that was just dropped on you. This place is just littered with people who probably knew him before he was Rooster; all puppy fat and awkward haircuts. You bet there’s probably a series of his prom and high school graduation photos that circulated from eye to eye.

But this also means that if you go through with it, that if you actually bring him with you to Long Beach this weekend, you’ll become part of that essence of knowing - everyone knowing what Bradley told them and your entire weekend spent with him being a topic of discussion.

You try to get over the dehumanizing feeling that will come with being called “Hard Deck Girl” after this weekend when he inevitably tells Maverick about his weekend who will then tell Iceman who will probably tell Admiral Metcalf. You can’t bear to think about all the snickers and teasing that will come from Bradley’s group of friends.

Hangman loves to tease you already. You don’t think you’ll survive more “pigtail pulling” if word gets out about Bradley having to hold your hand and awkwardly slow dance with you on Saturday.

Admiral Metcalf lets out an impressive-sounding whistle that catches your attention and brings you back to Earth.

“That’s one gorgeous Bronco,” he comments, head turned to look outside the windows of the bar. “Used to have one just like it years ago.”

Your eyes follow his gaze to see the cobalt blue vehicle parked in one of the empty spaces of the parking lot. The headlights fade as the owner steps out of the vehicle and -

Fuck!

He has a soft bounce in his strut. His Raybans are tucked into the collar of his white t-shirt. The light-wash denim of his jeans hugs his legs just the right way. His slightly rosy cheeks and tanned forearms bulging from his shirt make him unmistakable.

Bradley Bradshaw is about to walk into the bar. On a Wednesday night. While the crowd is drier than the Mojave.

And there’s nowhere for you to run.

He has a slightly faster pace set to his walk than he usually does. . . Not like you spend your time watching him walk (even though you do, and you’d rather roll over and die than admit that to anyone).

“Good luck getting him back on that perch,” Admiral Metcalf speaks up. He opens his worn leather wallet and fishes out a fifty-dollar bill. “He won’t fly back up there once he gets off.”

You follow him to the cash register to ring him up. The drawer is opened and the bills counted for his change before he stops you.

“Keep it. Part of your tip,” he says, “Least I can do for all the trouble I’ve caused you tonight.”

You begin to thank him before the saloon-style doors open and Bradley stands dead in the center, hands on his hips and eyes grazing the surroundings.

“Good luck, kiddo. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it,” Admiral Metcalf says before turning on his heel. He claps Bradley on the shoulder as a brief greeting and continues his stride outside to the parking lot.

Your heart starts beating in your chest erratically; a tell-tale sign of white hot panic that makes your knees buckle and heat grow on your scalp.

And you’re. . . starting to sweat?

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Bradley spots you while you stand paralyzed at the cash register. Your fingers are shaky and a lump in your throat starts to form. You feel like a deer in headlights when he begins to stalk forward to approach you.

“I’ve gotta bone to pick with you, missy,” his voice booms, his steps coming to a halt.

His hands spread and turn as he leans on the table; eyes locked on your face.

Your adrenaline kicks in and your feet start to move faster than your brain. A harsh swallow plagues your throat before you book it to the kitchen; french braid slinging heavy on your back and the bucket of lime wedges on your mind.

Bradley zips around the oval-shaped bar top and grabs your waist before you make it out of the opening. His hands squeeze your sides softly. If you were in your right frame of mind, your cheeks would have flushed.

“Uh-uh,” he says, whipping you around to face him. His grip falls to your forearms; holding you firmly but not enough to hurt. “What’s your deal, kid?”

His breaths are exasperated. When he left work today, he had no idea that he would be chasing you around the bar like a goddamn dog who had gotten off its leash. Despite being in good shape (which he takes pride in, given the number of shirtless runs he does in his neighborhood) he still finds himself a little winded.

Your eyes are almost bulging out of your head. His touch feels electric and you feign the ability to even think about opening your mouth to respond. Bradley Bradshaw is here, right in front of you, and almost holding you hostage.

Hostage is dramatic, you think. But so is chasing me.

“I-” you start. Another harsh swallow forces its way down your throat. At this point, you think that swallowing your spit is the only way you can remind your body to breathe.

Bradley’s eyes soften at your frazzled state. He takes his hands off of you and drops them back to his sides.

“I- I need to get the lime wedge bucket,” you rush out, the entire sentence sounding like one phrase.

“Let me come with you,” he says.

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You’re not allowed back there.”

“Yeah well, you’re not allowed to ghost me about a wedding you invited me to, but look where we are,” he counters back. His legs start toward the kitchen hidden behind gray steel doors near the back.

You stand frozen; trying to catch your breath and looking around to still see an empty bar with no signs of life.

“Are you coming or not?” he calls out, a smile on his face juxtaposed to the annoyed expression he wore a few minutes ago when he caught you.

And if it were anyone else, you would be utterly annoyed. You would refuse and start rattling off how it’s a health code violation for patrons to be in the back serving area or how it was inappropriate or how you didn’t want anyone to come in and clean out the Hard Deck while you were distracted.

But because it’s Bradley and because you have this stupid big fat school girl crush on him, you don’t say anything even though you so badly want to.

He’s already a little annoyed with me, you think. He doesn’t want to hear me ramble on top of that.

Your sneakered feet follow him into the terracotta quarry-tiled kitchen in the back. He moves to the side to allow you to step in front of him in pursuit of the infamous lime wedge bucket you had your heart set on.

The silence between the two of you is deafening, but you can’t even rub two of your brain cells together to form a coherent sentence that won’t leave you hunched over in embarrassment. Having a crush as an adult is downright embarrassing. But having a crush as an adult on an older, more refined adult is absolutely humiliating.

The industrial refrigerator stands sleek and tall. The door weighs as heavy as it looks and you damn near pull your shoulder out of socket every time you attempt to open it. More than often, Penny has to come save you and open it because you can never seem to get the resistance of the rubber door gasket to give way.

Thankfully, the door opens with a heavy tug and the bucket of limes was left on a shelf you could reach. You pop the fridge door closed with your hip before you start a fast-paced walk back to the bar; leaving Bradley behind to scramble up to you once again.

In hindsight, your body language and lack of talking makes you seem furious and annoyed. And maybe you are, but it’s mostly frustration and annoyance pointed at yourself because you can’t just be fucking normal.

No, because you have to be the odd one out of your family. You have to be the one cousin who got dumped by her “perfect” dentist boyfriend (who treated you terribly, but you never complained aloud to your family for your fear of being called ungrateful and unbecoming). You have to be awkward and sensitive and young with a silly-ass schoolgirl crush on a gorgeous man who David of Michelangelo envies.

The bucket of lime wedges is slammed on the counter before you realize what your hands are doing.

Bradley rounds in front of the cash register, a sheepish look on his face. “Hey, kid,” he whispers, “I’m sorry for barging in on you like that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

A wave of guilt breaks the tide in your brain. He’s apologizing, and it’s sincere. It’s certainly not anything you’re used to. Usually, everything is your fault and you find yourself pushing your feelings aside to accept a half-assed apology.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have invited you to something that’s such a big deal and then refused the details,” you say.

And you should stop there, you know, but you do that stupid thing you do about having to over-explain everything and keep going. Word vomit to the maximum.

“I mean, I think I kind of bombarded you about it? I know you said that you would go and that you didn’t mind, but it’s really a lot to ask of someone to come with you and fill in for your ex in front of your shitty family who has a cow because you didn’t get married right after undergrad.”

You rock back and forth on your heels and you pinch your fingers together to help soothe yourself. The anxiousness exuding off of you is obvious and Bradley can’t help but feel extremely guilty for making you feel horrible on top of what feelings you were already dealing with.

“You can really say no, Bradley. My feelings won’t be hurt if you do. Honest,” you whisper, finishing your statement.

Feeling small isn’t foreign to you in the slightest.

His eyes soften even more. He recognizes the doubt written all over you. He’s felt that way so many times before.

“I said what I meant, and I really wanna go to that wedding with you. Honest to God, I mean it,” he says, taking a seat on a stool nearby. “I just need to know what the plan is so I can pick you up and everything. Don’t want my suit to clash with your dress now, do we?”

A small giggle leaves your lips. “Alright, Casanova. You’ve convinced me.”

He extends his hand out to you. “Deal?” The large palm looks inviting, but you’re sure the adrenaline coursing through your veins has made your hands clammy.

Your brows knit together and your lips pull themselves into a straight line. “What the hell are you doing?” Suddenly, you’re self-conscious about the potential armpit stains that may have soaked your tank top.

Goddamn nerves.

He contorts his expression into one of faux offense. “Making you shake on it. What the fuck does it look like?”

You let out a breath through your nose. “I mean, exactly that, but don’t you think that’s too. . .”

“Sophisticated? Formal?” He grins as if he had just won the lottery.

“Little Rascals -esque.”

Bradley kisses his teeth before laughing. “You’re never too old to relish in the magic that’s The Little Rascals.”

“What happens if I don’t shake?” you question, fingers drawing circles on the surface near the cash register, “Will I be a target of the He-Man Woman Haters Club?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t confirm but I can deny only if you shake on it and promise me a dance.”

You shake your head before he finishes his sentence.

“I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Then I’ll make sure my dress shoes are steel-toe,” he reasons, shrugging his broad shoulders. His biceps subtly flex and you almost bite your lip but the fact that he’s so close and can see your expression makes you withhold.

“You really wanna go still?”

“How many times do I have to say yes, kid? I want to go with you and I promise you that we’ll have the best time ever. Is that clear enough?”

Penny waltzes back in before you can answer. Her eyes hold a mischievous glint as they look at the interaction going on between you and Bradley. She sends you a soft wink before she joins you behind the bar.

“Bradley!” she greets with a grin, coming to come rest next to you and in front of his seat.

“Hey, Pen. Mav taking you out on the bike today?”

She subtly bumps your hip with hers. She’s about to stir up some trouble.

“No, no,” she sighs, “I have to close up here tonight so we’re going this weekend.”

Bradley nods as you stand frozen next to her.

“Speaking of weekends,” she chirps, “What are your plans, Bradley?”

I love Penny. I love Penny. I love Penny. If I say it enough, I won’t wanna kill her.

“Oh, the kid and I were planning on going to her cousin’s wedding in Long Beach. We were actually just talking about it,” he answers as Penny lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh thank God. The suspense of if she was actually gonna talk to you about it was killing us.”

“Us?” you ask, voice filled with irritation and concern.

“Me, Pete, Tom, Mike,” Penny lists, “Jake and Rueben started a money pool. Guess Hangman’s a hundred and twenty dollars richer now.”

You groan and pinch your nose between your fingers as Penny takes your shoulders into her palms and rubs them. She picks up a crate of shot glasses before turning to leave.

“Bradley?” she calls, and his ears perk up.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Stay out of my kitchen,” her eyes narrow playfully, “That’s a health code violation.”

He holds his hands up with a grin. “You got it.”

“You kids have fun this weekend. Gonna have to take tons of pictures and show them to me!” she exclaims before disappearing behind the same steel doors Bradley had followed you into earlier.

A beat of silence passes; partly because you’re so stunned by what had just occurred.

“So,” he clears his throat, “Now that I know you’re old enough to have watched The Little Rascals, what’s the plan? Like is this an overnight thing or a reception thing or?”

You perk up at his question.

“Oh, umm.” You subconsciously pick at your cuticles before forcing yourself to stop. Your mom and aunt would be disappointed to see them ripped to shreds. “So I kinda - well, it’s an overnight thing but we definitely don’t have to stay overnight.”

He nods his head, ears intently listening to what you’re saying. You think he’s nodding his head to queue up a firm decline to your plans despite his insistence on going with you.

“I mean, you don’t have to! You can like, drive home and come back the next day? Or not go to the rehearsal dinner and just meet me at the wedding? I just know that sleeping in the same room is gonna be weird and I think my room reservation only has one bed because like I said, I had a boyfriend whenever they booked it and I never changed it after we broke up and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he interrupts your word vomit, “Breathe, kid. Breathe.”

You take a deep inhale in and you want to kick yourself for doing it at his request.

Are you just gonna do whatever Bradley tells you to do, or do we actually have a fucking mind of our own?

“Why would I leave you hanging like that? Huh?” He licks his lips subtly and you have to keep from drooling. “You asked me to come with you and I’m gonna go the whole time and have a blast.”

You nod your head. Your thoughts and emotions have been bouncing off the wall in a vapid fashion from the two hours you’ve been clocked in.

“Okay,” you whisper shakily.

“Okay,” a laugh jumps from his throat and he leans in closer. “Can I get your number, at least? So I can call you instead and make it easier?”

You’re reaching beneath the bar and grabbing aimlessly at the mason jar full of random gel pens and a roll of open receipt paper that was too short to be put inside the machine but too long to be thrown away.

Lime green glitter ink spells out your phone number on the stark white paper before you wordlessly slide it over to rest near Bradley’s fingertips.

He sends you a smile before pulling out his phone and typing the number into the keypad. You have to look away because if you don’t, you’re sure you’ll start hyperventilating.

Your cell phone buzzes in your back pocket once, twice, thrice.

“Are you…calling me?” you ask, head tilting to the side to meet his mischievous glint.

“Context clues, kid. C’mon,” he replies. He holds his phone to his ear as he listens to the dial tone.

You stand in disbelief in front of him.

He shoos you with his hands. “Go on! Answer!” he urges.

You sigh and playfully roll your eyes before slinging your phone out of your back pocket. You click the green phone icon on your screen before bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Alright, missy. What’s the address I’m picking you up from Friday afternoon?”

Bradley Bradshaw may not be your boyfriend and probably will never be, but he sure knows how to play the part well enough to fool your family. He may even have you fooled too.

“Shit!” you yelp. Your upper body tenses up and you slam your curling iron on the countertop of your bathroom sink.

The strong vibrations of your phone ringing move your device closer to the edge. You scramble to pick it up and bring it to your ear. You didn’t bother looking at the caller ID before answering. Odds are, it’s either your mother or your only cousin that you can actually stand, Hallie.

“Fuck,” you whisper before clearing your throat, “Hello?”

You flash your neck in the mirror, fingers dancing around the irritated baby pink skin surrounding the already darkening magenta wound. The skin feels hot to the touch and you know that its placement makes it look more like a hickey than anything. Your mind starts to wonder if putting makeup on it would be a bad decision.

“Hey, kid.”

Fuck. Bradley. It’s Bradley. I forgot about Bradley!

“I’m outside.” You take a deep swallow that you pray he can’t hear over the phone. “You said the house with the purple hydrangeas near the front steps. Right?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Am I this fucking stupid that I can’t even think of another word to use right now?

The long pause doesn’t make Bradley hang up.

“Kid? You okay in there?” The sound of a car door slamming can be heard through the receiver. You listen to the Carlsons down the street mowing their lawn. A few dogs are barking and the sound of Bradley’s shoes hitting the pavement plays a symphony with the bliss of what is a Friday afternoon at 2 PM encapsulates.

His knuckles rap against your front door and you audibly gasp. Your finger hangs up the phone before sprinting to let him in. The flutters in your stomach make you feel like you might projectile vomit any second. No amount of pep talks you had given yourself in the past two days can prepare you for the events of this weekend; not to mention Bradley and your big fat crush on him being the cherry on top.

You swing the door open; a shocked Bradley staring at you and a frenzied heart damn near beating out of your chest.

“I’m not ready yet!” you exclaim, turning your back and rushing back into your bathroom. You move so swiftly that you don’t even notice the bouquet of flowers clutched in his right hand.

Fuck! The curling iron is still on.

Bradley lets out a laugh. “Well, hello to you too.”

You pick the iron back up and finish curling the piece of hair you had started on before being interrupted.

“Sorry!” you shout back, “Give me five and I’ll be ready to go.”

Bradley lets out a puff of air he didn’t know he had been holding in. If someone had asked him a month ago where he thought he would be spending a Friday afternoon in mid-March, he probably said he wouldn’t know for sure.

Which is true.

He’s worked out a schedule where he’s able to leave work by 11 AM on Fridays and what he does is often a wild card; his Fridays range anywhere from mundane errands to impromptu skydiving endeavors with Coyote and Phoenix. He might even go for a quick afternoon surf session if he feels up to it.

He’ll admit, sometimes he imagines spending his Friday afternoons with you. In one timeline, he convinces you to ride down the coast with him at sunset. Another has you laying on your stomach at the beach with your nose shoved in a book pretending not to be ogling him while he surfs.

Bradley even lets his mind wander to the possible tan lines on your hips and how he would graze his thumbs just beneath your bikini bottoms to feel the fullness of the skin there, but then he realizes how inappropriate that may be, and he lets the thought sit in the back of his brain unwatered and underdeveloped.

Besides, he was raised better than imagining women naked. . .Even though he thinks you’re absolutely stunning both clothed and naked. . .And would love the opportunity to see you na-

That’s beside the point. Get it together, man.

His eyes survey the surroundings of your living room. Throw pillows and blankets. Candles on the coffee table. Books everywhere. Open windows create sunspots on the carpet. A vintage record player on the shelf of your bookcase and your Tango in the Night vinyl playing softly.

He likes to think that in another life (he’s hopeful for this one, but he’s learned what having too much hope does to a person) your blue fuzzy blanket has a home on his cream-colored couch or that your Fleetwood Mac vinyl finds solace next to his Otis Redding and James Brown records.

Bradley takes a seat on your couch. The brown butcher paper holding together the peony floral arrangement he had picked up crunches in his hand. The other pats along to the soft rhythm arrangement in time with “Mystified.” He can smell the faint scent of your perfume and the sounds of life you make, the small gasps and soft humming and whispered curse words, fill him with endearment.

He’s so wrapped up in melting into your aura that he doesn’t even realize that you had left the bathroom until you stood dead in front of him; curled hair, makeup on, and an electric blue dress laying flawlessly on the silhouette of your body.

You make his mouth dry and any words that he wants to say disintegrate with how amazing he thinks you look. Him not saying anything makes you panic and you wonder if you forgot to blend the bronzer near your neck or if your blush was too pink or if there was a piece of hair you had forgotten or if the dress you had on actually made you look like a frumpy version of Aquamarine (a lot of or, or, ors).

Bradley, please say something.

He sits up straighter upon seeing you. The navy blue dress pants on his long legs bring out the green in his hazel eyes. Your heart feels warm at the thought of him matching you; especially after offhandedly mentioning that you were thinking of wearing a blue dress to the dinner rehearsal.

Your eyes glance to his non-dominate hand and spot the pink peonies wrapped in butcher paper. The simple notion of him getting you flowers makes your knees weak, and the fact that he didn’t get them from the grocery store - that it was an arrangement that he had gotten from a florist - makes you wish you were a better woman and weren’t thinking of dropping to your knees right there in front of him and thanking him with a blowj-

He doesn’t even think you look pretty enough to say something. Don’t get too ahead of yourself.

“Oh,” he wipes his empty hand on the fabric of his pants, “These are for you.” He pushes the bouquet forward for your observation.

A smile is center stage on your lips as you grab them from his grasp. “Thank you. This is really kind of you, Bradley.” You turn to head into your kitchen to grab a vase.

She didn’t say they were pretty. Does she even like peonies?

The silence surrounding you both is deafening. If you could ignore the slightly prickly feeling of heat eating away at the hairline on the back of your neck, you can almost forget that Bradley is even here.

But the thing is, Bradley is here. He’s here and so present and you’re gonna have to give your poor heart a break from beating so fast if you want to survive this weekend without having a stroke.

All the thought does is make you even more nervous (as if that’s even fucking possible at this point).

“Okay, kid. If we’re gonna be together all weekend, this,” he points his finger between you and him, “Ain’t fucking happening. We need to tallllkkkk.”

You swallow. “I -We are talking.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“Okay,” you whisper sheepishly, your bare toe grinding into the carpet. The friction sends a wave of heat to your otherwise numb toes. It’s unconventional, but at least it’s helping you feel something other than anxiety.

He nods his head before standing up. His eyes glance at the gold watch on his left hand. “Well, it’s 2:30 and the rehearsal dinner is at 5. We need to get going if we wanna beat traffic.”

“Okay.”

He sighs, watched wrist coming down to lay his hand flat across his stomach. “Talking means more than just saying ‘okay.’ That’s not a conversation.”

You pause for a moment. The flowers he had brought still rest in between the crease of your inner elbow. More silence ensues. You just don’t know what to say.

He starts heading down your small hallway. The whiff of his cologne kickstarts your reaction.

“Hey!” you say, starting to stalk after him, “What the hell are you doing?”

He snickers. “Grabbing your bags? I was serious about getting a move on. Don’t want your folks to think your boyfriend is a slacker now, do ya?”

Bradley grabs the two bags you had struggled to set outside your bedroom door with ease. You never forget how strong he looks (oggling at a guy three days out of the six you work will do that to you) but you always seem to forget how strong he actually is.

You close your mouth before you begin to drool. Bradley will for sure be talking about this weekend with his friends and uncle. You don’t want to add any more embarrassing details to the story. Besides, your awkward preteen pictures from your mom’s Facebook hadn’t even been brought up yet. Some room needs to be saved for your utter humiliation.

Your feet slide into the pair of heels you had set aside before you scramble to grab your keys and purse. How Bradley can move so quickly is beyond your thinking capacity as you haphazardly take the needle off of your record. Your eyes do a quick sweep over your living room to make sure that everything is turned off so you won’t magically come home to a fire safety example at the conclusion of your weekend.

Now, if you can just make yourself stop feeling so jittery, you might be able to actually manage to fit your key into the lock of your front door.

After what feels like three years (and the embarrassment of knowing Bradley probably watched you struggle), the keys are stuffed back into your purse before you pause on your porch.

A black Ford F-150 sits curbside to your driveway. It doesn’t fit in with the SUVs and small sedans that make up the neighborhood you live in. You had never seen a car like this where you lived at all. Come to think of it, you had never seen this truck ever.

Doesn’t Bradley drive a Bronco?

Your eyebrows remain wrinkled with your puzzled expression as he rounds the back of the car; the resounding noise of the back door shutting makes his entrance known. He opens the passenger door for you and stands next to it.

He squints as he looks up at you. The sun is blazing and he forgot to grab his sunglasses from his side of the door.

“Cold feet?” he calls.

You start to head down the stairs and onto the pavement. “It’s seventy-six degrees. I think cold feet is kinda ill worded.”

“It’s a saying.”

The crossed arms over your chest signal your apprehension. Bradley stands before you, leaning against the truck and his arm slung on the top of the cab. He raises his brows at you and does a gentle motion of his head to the seat, inviting you to climb in. Even next to the large vehicle, he still looks. . .huge.

In a good way! In a good way. He’s actually really fit and I’m shaking inside and I’m sure I’m sweating and I have got to stop wearing light colors in front of him because he can probably see the sweat and - Oh God. Oh God, the seats are leather. What if I sweat all over them?

The lump in your throat is swallowed as you stand before him. “This isn’t your car,” you say lamely.

He scoffs. “Spying on me? Do you have my license plates memorized too?”

You know he’s teasing and that he doesn’t mean it literally, but you almost answer, “yes” because you do. Thankfully, you’re in the stage of your anxiousness where you clam up instead of puking your words out.

You cock your head to the side, eyes narrowed because of the bright sun.

“How do I know it’s not stolen? What if we get pulled over because it’s stolen?” you wonder, and then the word vomit picks up and - “ I can’t go to jail! I had nothing to do with it and the ABA is gonna pull my Bar application if we get arrested and I spent too much damn money and worked too damn hard to let an F-150 ruin it for-”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters into a small laugh, “I know you love the Bronco,” he gives you a teasing look, “But the Bronco has no air and I figured that since we’re driving two hours on the highway, you would appreciate not having to ride with the windows down the entire time.”

“You still haven’t confirmed that it’s your car.”

“You know, for someone so smart, you are extremely bad at picking up on obvious context clues. Why the hell would I steal a pickup truck and then drive you to a wedding in it?”

You scrounge your brain for a reply. “. . .For the plot?”

He whistles and crosses his arms over his chest, mimicking your current stance. “Wow. I have a comedian for a date.”

“I’m serious. It could be a possibility!”

“Well I don’t think “felon” looks good next to “painstakingly handsome,” so I’ll pass.”

You remain standing in front of him. Stubbornness was a quality that your mother both loved and loathed and you know it, but Bradley has yet to see this side of you yet. Your arms wrap around your torso tighter and your eyebrows are raised every so slightly.

Bradley knows what you’re doing. He used to do it to Maverick all the time when he was growing up. You’re digging your heels in.

“C’mon. Don’t start poutin’ on me before I even get to disappoint you with my dancing,” he quips. He brings his face closer to yours before flashing you a toothy smile.

You sigh dramatically before letting him help you into the seat. The gentle “Atta girl,” he gives you pinkens your cheeks. You pray he won’t notice your flushed face when he sits on the driver's side of the car. Every interaction you’ve had with him has kept you tossing and turning at night because of your nervousness.

So many things you wish you could take back and so many ways you wish you could act normal; a never-ending cycle of “could’ve, would’ve, should’ve,” and the thought leaves a small seed of sadness in your stomach.

719 notes · View notes

jokeroutsubs · 1 year

Text

An interview with Bojan Cvjetićanin and Nace Jordan in Jana magazine, published 10.10.2023. Featuring a very special shoutout! 😁

On the couch with Joker Out: about the big changes in their lives

Still good, sober boys

We’ll play this and then we’re off – to switch off

The time we have with them is tightly limited, but that’s appropriate for stars of their kind. They are the most popular musical group right now, and they’ve thoroughly conquered many hearts far beyond both Slovenian and Balkan borders. At sold-out concerts, Finns are swooning because of them, Poles, Serbians, Croatians and Spaniards are fainting, not to mention the girls back home. No one prepared them for this kind of craze, but they’re holding up pretty well – they’re still humble guys with good manners, which can (also) be seen in their polite greeting and relaxed chatting in front of their rehearsal space, a comfortable hideaway somewhere between Ljubljana’s warehouses with an unappealing blue door.

Floating into their sanctuary, you almost hit your head on a collection of hanging bras with various affectionate messages written on them. A few more steps, and we plop down on the couch with Bojan Cvjetićanin and Nace Jordan. Jan Peteh and Kris Guštin (damn, he’s tall!) are busy with another camera, and Jure Maček is nowhere to be seen.

How’s your health doing with your (as it seems if you look at the crazy number of concerts all around Europe) pretty exhausting life? How do you take care of your physical fitness?

Bojan: By working out.

Nace: Well, you and I work out, the others only do it a little.

Bojan: Well yeah, she asked us.

Nace: So: we work out a lot, we play badminton, I run, we go to the gym and hike, Bojan also does mixed martial arts.

You’ve found yourselves at a turbulent stage in your career, and like you’ve said before, you cannot be fully prepared for that. What about mental preparation? Do you have to pay extra attention to that or do anything you've never done before?

Bojan: Yes, we have to rest. We haven't had any rest ever since everything became much more intense. My mind and body are now really begging to switch off.

Nace: I agree. Just the other day, we were talking about how we haven’t truly rested since the pre-Eurovision performances. Two- and three-day trips don’t count.

So you’ll only be able to turn off for a bit, after your big concert in Stožice?

Bojan: That’s right. Well, we maybe planned our break a little poorly, because we’re going on a holiday together. (both start laughing loudly)

Nace: Everyone has the same stunned reaction that you did.

You really have to love each other and have a good time together, that’s all I thought. Can you reveal where you’re going?

Bojan: Far away, somewhere warm. As to whether us going together is smart, we’ll tell you when we come back. If we end up needing another holiday after this holiday, then we didn’t make a very wise decision.

Since you really hang out with each other so much, do you perhaps understand any better why some bands get into fatal quarrels or even break up?

Bojan: We definitely understand it a lot more. In a short time, I’ve realised that this rock and roll lifestyle presented to us by rock legends (myths, stories, Hollywood) is truly something that is untenable in the long term. If we look at all the most famous bands, they actually existed for a very short time.

Nace: And, as an interesting fact, most of them broke up while on tour.

Bojan: You can’t do rock and roll and be devoted to your music, concerts, travels, if you’re constantly under the influence of any substances (drugs, alcohol). You really can’t do that, because neither the human body nor the mind are made to withstand this kind of strain, sleeplessness, pleasure, dopamine. All those legends either died young or the bands broke up. Sure, they did a lot, left a permanent mark, but at what cost? We’ve realised that if we want to enjoy what we’re doing, we have to be sober, and you truly enjoy yourself a lot more if you’re sober and feel physically and mentally ready and cultivate friendships. I think that this way, we’ll remember a lot more after a few tours than many rock legends do in their longer careers. How much can you even remember if your brain isn’t even with you on the same stage?

I see that you’re drinking plenty of water, and we remember you, Bojan, from Eurovision, when you were walking around with a bottle of water and blowing into a straw. What was that for?

Bojan: It’s a technique to warm up your vocal chords, based on the principle of blowing into a slightly wider silicone straw in a water bottle. You blow into it, in the correct way and because of the water in the bottle, a negative pressure is created that puts your vocal chords into the most natural position and it works like a massage for them.

Did you discover this for yourself or was it recommended to you?

Bojan: I had never paid special attention to my voice before that, I’m not a trained vocalist, but luckily I naturally developed the correct technique. Otherwise I would’ve lost my voice long ago. So, on the stage, this mechanism luckily developed in a very positive direction for me, which was also confirmed by singing coaches and the doctor I went to for my vocal chords check-up. A phoniatrics specialist, a wonderful guy, helped me during Eurovision. Before the Eurovision performance, my voice gave in a little due to nerves, so I was constantly in contact with a doctor – and we didn’t even really know each other – who gave me advice over the phone. Then, at the first sound check, everything opened up and sounded like it should. It’s really interesting what happens with your voice, it gets incredibly affected by your mental state. Your vocal chords can be perfectly fine, but if your mind is not in the right place, your voice won’t work either.

I also went to get advice from singing coach Nataša Nahtigal, who really helped me a lot. I especially needed that preparation from a psychological point of view.

Did the other band members also need coaches for anything?

Nace: Me and Kris also visited Nataša, because at the beginning we thought that we’d be singing the backing vocals live on the Eurovision stage. So we also practised with her a few times. We also had rehearsals with a choreographer for the optimum stage performance.

We’re having this conversation five days before your biggest concert yet, in Stožice. Does that require any special preparation?

Bojan: It’s a special concert, because it’s the first time we’re encountering the organisation of something this big; it is, after all, the only arena in the country. It’s a lot for us, Magnifico also told us that he was kind of in the dark the first time, but now they’re acclimatised to it. It’s a different type of preparation: we have to prepare the show, the lights, the stage appearance …

Have you even internalised what you’ve managed to do, all the places and the number of people you’ve played to in the past few months (from Ireland to Great Britain, Finland, Norway, Belgrade, Zagreb, Vienna, and now in December, you've got Amsterdam, Madrid, Barcelona …)?

Bojan: I think that will be a task for the upcoming holiday. When things just keep happening, you’re in this cycle and don’t even really differentiate between one peak and another, so we need to come down a bit to start retroactively comprehending what really happened. Because it’s really wonderful. We were in cities and countries we’d never been to, and then we were there – to play our own sold-out concerts. We absolutely never thought anything like that would ever happen to us.

Nace: Often it’s only when I come home from this kind of tour that I think to myself: wow, look at where we were! We’re playing on a stage where world legends had played before us! Now, in the club in Helsinki, Foo Fighters and AC/DC had played there, among others. Any musician would wish to play there, let alone sell out that concert.

When you walk around these European cities where you have sold out your concerts, do people already recognise you on the street?

Bojan: It’s pretty bizarre, but now they’ve really started to. I think that on this Nordic tour there truly wasn’t any place we went to without at least someone recognising us – either on a train, on the street, in a restaurant, at the airport. Foreign fan culture is a little different, as they get prepared to meet us, in a way – for example, they know when we’ll be at the airport, and they wait for us with gifts, they don’t just come to take photos with us. They bring along our merch shirts, various things for us to sign, they give us gifts. Fans make a lot of things on their own – bracelets, dolls, there are a lot of drawings, crafts; I have two knitted Joker Out scarves at home.

Nace: In Finland we got a lot of knitted socks, hats …

Hand-knitted socks?

Bojan: Yes, with a Slovenian and Finnish flag, for example.

The Scandinavian youth are clearly well-versed in that.

Bojan: Let’s go, Slovenian youth, start knitting Joker Out stuff too! (laughter)

And what is it like to walk down the streets of Slovenia? Can you go to the store in peace?

Bojan: It’s nice to walk down the streets of Slovenia, but we truly always get recognised, that’s a fact, it’s not as inconvenient in stores as it can be when you’re out for drinks, when you constantly feel like someone is eavesdropping next to you.

How difficult is the rockstar life?

Bojan: It’s really nice – every time we’re on the stage, the audience rewards us with a really nice energy, you can’t compare that to anything else, but like any profession, ours has negative sides as well, with the biggest difference being that you’re constantly in the public eye. Very few things are truly personal – you also have a hard time judging for yourself what’s private and what’s not. It’s more of a mental game with yourself – that’s the hardest part of it all. As well as not sleeping, because you travel a lot.

Are there any big disappointments or unexpected things – perhaps that some fans get “carried away” or that not everyone is as well-intentioned as you thought?

Bojan: Absolutely! You suddenly find yourself not only belonging to a home crowd, but also becoming an internet hashtag. The internet has no limits, people have no reservations there, they hide behind a nickname. Each of us has definitely had a few of these moments that shocked us, that’s why we’ve started to pull back from social media.

That’s probably pretty tricky: for the sake of advertising and contact with fans, you have to be present on social media, but meanwhile you’re aware that you need to take a step back for the sake of your health. How do you stay on the safe side? What’s your strategy?

Nace: Primarily, we’ve all stopped reading Twitter, the comments … We have to maintain a certain distance.

Bojan: To be completely honest, I’d like to find someone who could handle my personal profile on social media. It also bothers me that you really waste a lot of time on social media and subconsciously create a lot of unrealistic expectations, because you’re constantly swiping through people’s perfect lives, faces and situations, it’s all quite absurd.

Do you want to influence teenagers in this area, to pass any important messages on to them?

Bojan: Yes, find some wonderful analogue way to follow us and delete your social media.

So, knit a Joker Out scarf or socks instead and listen to their music – that’s pretty analogue. Then, you can also do a charity auction of your fans’ knitwear.

Bojan: Exactly!

One small revolutionary move would also be if concerts or gigs at various parties started earlier. Us slightly more mature citizens also like to go to concerts, but we also like to go to bed a little earlier.

Bojan: I can say that after our Stožice concert, people will be able to be asleep by midnight. But actually, when we were abroad, we got used to gigs starting very soon – sometime between seven and nine in the evening – and the party is definitely not any worse because of that.

You say that you’re full of creative energy. Does your creative process continue under the covers too, do you have notebooks on your nightstand?

Bojan: All the ideas come to me just before I go to sleep. The most recent song Sunny Side of London also happened on the last day before we went to the studio – I couldn’t sleep and I came up with those base lyrics while in bed.

Even though your latest song is in English, due to most of your songs being in Slovenian, you’ve unintentionally become ambassadors of the Slovenian language as well.

Bojan: It was never our goal to become ambassadors of the Slovenian language, but we consciously decided to sing in Slovenian at Eurovision. It means a lot to us, and we hope that our fans will accept that we want to widen our listener base and that there will be some more songs in English because of that. I think that people all around Europe or even further singing twenty of our songs in Slovenian is already a lot, and shows that we’ve done our job. In the future, we’ll create in foreign languages a lot, but we’ll also stay loyal to Slovenian.

A lot of your TV appearances can be found translated to English on the internet. Is that your doing?

Bojan: No, the credit for that goes to a group of fans from all around the world called “Joker Out Subs”, who follow our videos and concerts and translate into quite a few global languages (recently even into Hebrew). They’ve already translated a huge amount of our content, and they do it voluntarily. They’ve also connected with each other in that way, and they’ve told us that 20 of our fans, who met online because of us, booked a house together for our concert in Amsterdam (in December). They’re all coming to the concert and they will stay there together.

Nace: A lot of people have connected like that because of us, which is very nice.

What’s it like at home? Is everything the same at home despite your stardom?

Bojan: Yes, it’s all the same – go mow the lawn!

Nace: I, for example, still drive my grandmother around to run her errands.

And your grandmother listens to your songs?

Nace: She’s definitely listened to some, but I doubt that she’s playing our entire discography. (laughter)

Bojan: Oooh, mine plays it every day, she goes through everything 150 times!

Have you made any changes to your menus?

Bojan: I’ve started eating vegetables – bowls (various healthy ingredients, served in one bowl), Nace got me into that.

Nace: Isn’t it nice to savour something together that’s healthy and that we all like? (Kris pipes up from the background, saying that Nace has gotten them all into Asian food.)

Translation of the captions on the photos:

1) The special friendship with Finnish Eurovision representative Käärijä continues. Together on Finnish stages in September.

2) Bojan loves Swedish girls, says the writing on his shirt.

Translation cr: Joker Out Subs

EDIT: to celebrate the JokerOutSubs shout-out, we prepared a giveaway for Tumblr! You can read more aboout it here!

#joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #bojan cvjeticanin #nace jordan

181 notes · View notes