#I was supposed to have four days off but then my workmate called that he's sick

[mgnifiqueyoo]

“Our Promise...”

Stray Kids Hyunjin/Reader __ MULTIVERSE AU

(a/n: I almost cried while writing fhjbvjhd)

Genre: fluff, angst

Word Count: 7.3K

"Do you have to go now, Y/N?" "I have to, Hyunjin. This is the project I've been waiting for and it's finally happening."

You tried convincing your boyfriend to let you go. You and your workmates finally finished building the device to transport you to multiple universes from the parallel universe. You were waiting for this moment to happen, to finally see what is beyond this world and see a different time.

But you can go back, right? You were unsure of it. You don't even know if the device will surely work but you trust both your intellect and pride.

And you're actually an excellent scientist.

You entered the glass room where everyone outside of the room will be protected from any danger. However, you and your workmates aren't part of the shield. Everyone inside of the room is exposed to anything.

"Will you be back, Y/N?"

Hyunjin asks, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. You tried to not show him what you feel about leaving this world but you let your tears just stream down your cheeks. You already miss him even if he's still with you.

"Yes, I'll be. I'll be back."

You smiled and wiped your tears away before kissing him like it's the last time you're seeing him. You let go of him as he leaves the glass room while crying to himself, too. Your workmate, Chris, closes the door shut to prevent anything outside from being damaged.

"You okay, Y/N? Y'know, we can just stop this-" "This is my dream, Chris. This is my dream."

You replied as he nods. Chris tells your other workmate, Jisung, to start the process. Changbin offers you, Chris, and Jisung protective gloves just in case while Jisung turns on the device.

You took a glance at Hyunjin who is currently crying uncontrollably, wanting you to stay. You smiled as bright light flashes and Hyunjin's out of your sight. You, Chris, Jisung, and Changbin ended up in the same place... but also different.

Instead of glass walls around the area, you were all in a cage-like room. It was dark and it's definitely looking like one of the scary basements in the states. Chris goes outside, searching for light. He opens a door as all four of you exit the dark room. All of you in shock with what you've seen outside. Everything was dust.

It was like multiple wars occured at the same time. All of you were lucky enough to not witness what even happened there. You were scared, this wasn't going as planned.

"Jisung, we have to go..." "But, Y/N. The device is not working-" "Are you serious?! I thought this device is supposed to work efficiently?!" "Y/N, we can't do anything about it. This didn't last long." "Well, then. How are we supposed to go home?!"

You sighed, you were feeling broken and lost. You don't have a way home, you're in the middle of nowhere, and you're in a different world. How are you supposed to not break down?

"Well, then. Stay here-" "What?! We can't stay here when you're out in the dangerous area, Y/N!" "Well, I have to at least find a scientist like us or whatever! Changbin, we have to find a way home."

You told him sternly as Chris puts his hand on your shoulder.

"Well, then. We have to come with you, Y/N." "... No. No, you can't."

You shrugged his hand off of your shoulder as you walked around the unknown area. However, the three followed you anyways. They can't stand your stubborn ass.

Suddenly, the four of you part ways because of the dust... you couldn't see each other.

You made your way to an abandoned area where you saw a sign that said, "Follow the rules".

"Follow the rules? What rules?" "My rules."

You turned around and saw Hyunjin... but he's a lot more different now.

"Hyunjin?" "Oh, calling me that without respect? Do you live in the mountains or what? Oh, yeah. What mountains? They're just ashes now so where do you live?" "Who are... you?" "Hwang Hyunjin, leader of this fucking devastation. Come with me if you don't want you and your friends to die."

Hyunjin grabs your hand and pulls you into the van, covering your mouth. Who is this? And why did he hold you hostage?

"Let me go, Hyunjin-" "Honestly, why do you call me with such disrespect? If you keep on calling me like that you might as well be locked in a cage underwater, pretty lady."

You were losing your mind, you don't even know who he is at all. You looked at him and began to see your boyfriend in his face. You miss him. You miss your Hyunjin.

"Where are you taking me?" "The vault, baby. Now if you don't say shit, I might let you free... maybe after a week though? Your behavior, your results."

Hyunjin says as the van drives faster than ever, leaving you scared.

- 10:45 PM -

Hyunjin pulls you out of the van aggressively, to make you obey his orders willingly. You were aggressively pushed into a personal room. Why would he give you a room when criminals usually tie up their hostages?

"Well, boys. You have a new housemate! Make yourselves feel comfortable with her."

Hyunjin announces as he lets go of you, leaving the room instantly.

"Pretty girl, what's your name?"

You decided not to speak to anyone at all. If you think that's why he gave you a room, to get you humiliated and sexualized.

Then, you're actually wrong.

Hyunjin doesn't want you in his personal room. Why? Because he sees the face of his dead girlfriend in you.

Literally the same scientist girlfriend.

Hyunjin, of this Earth, is the current leader of the Hwang Line and he doesn't like it at all. Basically, he wanted to make his father proud that he got used to seeing people getting killed... and your doppelgänger was one of them. He watched his girlfriend die in front of him while his father says, "The only one you need in this world is yourself."

And Hyunjin believed that phrase for years. Then, he sees you who looks a lot like his dead girlfriend. He misses Y/N a lot but he has to remember...

That you're not his Y/N.

You sat in the corner of the room, numerous boys looking at you. Hyunjin eknters the room with his two bodyguards once again. Hyunjin walks towards you and asks,

"Don't like the treatment in here?" "..." "If you don't, you can always stay in the basement." "..." "If you don't want the basement, then stay with me- my room... in my room."

This caught your attention. Who asks that? His room or the basement?? Of course, you'll pick his room.

"Your room?" "Sleep on the floor, will you?"

He says snarkily, raising one of his eyebrows. He grabs your hand and forcefully drags you to his room. Hyunjin lets go of you and sat on the bed with a frown.

"..." "... Yes, you may ask questions." "... Why did you bring me all the way here? My workmates need me now-" "Do you really wanna know why, you Y/N-looking... lady?"

You knew that you had to keep it shut at first. You wanted to know how your doppelganger affected this Hyunjin's life. You don't know who this Hyunjin is but because of his face... you just see him as Hyunjin and not an asshole who just dragged you in this hell hole.

"... I-" "If you feel the need to call me Y/N, then you can." "... You were my first love. You were the one who made me believe everything..." "... Everything what?" "... Everything about me is not fucked up. Y/N, do you know that everything died because of me? Because I wanna make my dad proud? Well, of course you know. You were killed by dad himself, right?"

You were speechless. You didn't think that the parallel world would be this bad and it exists like this? What does the universe even want?

"And you came back like this? Why not just after you died, Y/N? Why did you leave me like that? You told me we were supposed to be dying together in this fucking hell. Why did you have to leave?"

Hyunjin stands up and kisses you. Of course, you were taken back by surprise. You pushed him away, knowing that this is not your Hyunjin.

"Hyunjin-" "Oh, right... You're not Y/N. You're just a twin or whatever..." "... Well, I'm actually Y/N... from a different world." "... Thank, god. Y/N would be so happy to know this. She's a scientist and it's her dream to find out what's beyond this world." "Well, we are pretty much the same... I'm a scientist, too... In my world, you're also my boyfriend..." "Oh? Well, why did you leave your world?" "Your girlfriend and I? We have the same dreams. I followed mine."

You smiled as he nodded. He sat on the bed once again, a bit shy to even look at you.

"Do you know how to go back?" "I'm afraid not... My team's device malfunctioned and now I don't know where to start..." "... I'll help you. I'm not a scientist or a builder but I might have resources here..." "That's great but promise me something..." "... What is it, then?" "Promise me you'll be free from your father's hands and do justice for yourself after my team and I finish repairing the device." "I guess it's a deal... Promise me one thing, too." "What?" "Make me feel like Y/N's alive... Also, you can sleep on the bed. I'll sleep on the floor but I'll tell everyone that you slept on the floor..." "... Okay, Hyunjin."

You were unsure. "Make me feel like Y/N's alive"? That is a bit hard to decipher. You were the kind of girlfriend who is not usually sweet but will always be there for their loved ones.

You thought about it a lot before you even go to sleep. What if you fall for this Hyunjin? This isn't even Hyunjin!

Same name and same face... but so different at the same time.

You didn't think this through and you really love your Hyunjin. You don't even know what kind of Hyunjin this guy is. Violent? Yes. Snarky? Yes. A bit of an asshole? Yes.

But he's also a gentleman like your Hyunjin. Maybe not when he's showing his dominance over others but he is gentle with you. There's so many things happening in the first day and you wanted to just take a break.

- 7:00 AM -

"Hey, wake up... Wake up..."

Hyunjin gently pushes you back and forth to wake you up in the morning. Criminals get up early? Unbelievable.

You opened your eyes and sat up, squinting at the bright sunlight and Hyunjin.

"What time is it?" "Seven." "Why did you even wake me up at seven?" "Because!... That's what we do here. Remember, follow the rules."

And so you did follow the rules. Although, he was an asshole towards you when the perverted men showed up. Hyunjin was the strongest of them all and that's why all of the males in the facility are afraid of him.

Also, this Hyunjin is skilled in assassination and that's one of the reasons why they're afraid of him.

"After you shower, show up in my office."

Of course, Hyunjin has a personal bathroom while you had to shower in the boys' cubicle. Yes, a small cubicle in the boys' room. It was like hell and jail were combined.

And perverted men are even taking turns in peeking at you while you shower. Hyunjin doesn't even know that these men are just disgustingly horny everytime they see a pretty girl. While you shower, Hyunjin was in his office room.

He was planning to kill his father and then turn himself in for his mistakes. Then, he felt something weird. He just felt uncomfortable in his seat and he was thinking about something...

... Well, he was thinking about you.

He thought that you were taking too long in the shower. He first thought that it was because of you being a female, naturally taking longer than males in the shower. The second one? He doesn't know but he feels uneasy.

And because he's a leader and he has a strong gut-feel.

Of course, he barged into the second floor. His office was in the fifth floor yet he barged violently into the second floor just to see if you're doing fine. Well, you are not doing fine at all.

The perverted men of this facility kept mocking you, wanting to remove the towel and undress you. Well, they just did that and you felt humiliated. Hyunjin arrives, seeing you cover yourself with the door from your cubicle.

"Come on, pretty! Show us what you've got!"

One of them yelled as Hyunjin blows on his whistle, alerting everyone to listen to him.

"Now, that I have your attention... What the fuck?! Who started this?!"

They all pointed to the man who successfully undressed you in front of the many men of this facility. Hyunjin walks up to him and says,

"You have forty-five seconds. Say your last words." "What- Sir Hwang, you don't even know this girl!-" "Thirty." "Listen to me. You brought this girl for us to feast on, right?!" "Twenty-five." "Sir! I'm telling you that the cause of my death today doesn't make fucking sense!" "Don't you just want to apologize?" "... I'm sorry, sir..."

After a long pause, Hyunjin sighs.

"Okay. Too late, though."

Hyunjin says as he shoots the man in the head using his "emergency" pistol. Of course, the man was dead on the floor as his two bodyguards picked him up. His assistant recorded everything on both his notebook and his recorder.

The gun shot was too loud that it still rang in your ears even though the killing was already done. You cried into the cubicle, what did you do to experience this? Out of all people, why you?

"Hey."

You heard him call you from outside the door. He gives you the towel, hanging the towel on the top of the door. You wrapped yourself with the towel, still scared of everyone and everything that's happening.

"You're safe now, Y/N. You can come out..." "I- I don't want to..."

You heard Hyunjin sigh as he turns around to the men in the bathroom.

"Do y'all hear that?! She's fucking uncomfortable now thanks to you, imbeciles. Wondering why she's here? None of your business. She's MY business, not yours. So keep your hands off of her and follow the rules."

What Hyunjin said comforted you a lot. The men nodded, afraid of him. He knocks on the door lightly.

"Are you okay?" "Yes."

You opened the door and came out of the cubicle, the towel wrapped around you firmly. Hyunjin puts his arm around you, guarding you all the way to his room. When the two of you reached his room, he stands for a while and says,

"Hey, the cabinet over there has clothes or whatever. You can use them. After you get dressed, you come into my office..."

Hyunjin says, not even looking at you. He really is a gentleman. It made you think about it. It made you think about staying in this world.

But you love your Hyunjin.

"I'll be going n-now."

Hyunjin stutters as he exits his bedroom. You looked inside the cabinet, seeing piles of extra clothes. That's where you also saw something interesting.

There was a picture of your doppelganger and Hyunjin together.

"What are you to him, Y/N?"

You asked yourself as you put back the picture in the cabinet. You dressed up, wearing a shirt and a pair of pants. You were about to exit Hyunjin's room when you saw Hyunjin waiting outside.

"Hyunjin?" "What? I have to guard you somehow. Plus, you don't where my office is." "... It literally says "Office of Hwang" over there?" "Oh, shut up. You still need protection. I don't trust my boys with you."

Hyunjin says sternly as you just rolled your eyes and let him grab your hand aggressively once again. Of course, Hyunjin gave you the asshole vibe but he actually has a point. You know no one here, you don't know where your workmates are, and you don't have a way home yet.

You and Hyunjin decided to talk about your personal lives.

"You, in this world, is a great scientist and a wonderful loving girlfriend. She always makes up for me and I just regret it..." "Regret what?" "Making my dad proud? I regret it and I didn't even do anything to save her... I was there and I saw her just die..." "You watched her die?" "Yep, I'm a terrible human. I don't know why I exist at all."

To comfort him, you had to say the similar things about him and your Hyunjin.

"Well, my Hyunjin is a gentleman. He's caring and loving... kind of like you but also different in so many ways." "What do you mean?" "Well, he's gentle and soft while you are... well... a brat and a brute at the same time."

Hyunjin chuckled at your response as he looks at you. Hyunjin was falling in love with you, the doppelganger of his girlfriend. However, you had hope of coming back to your Earth.

"Anyways, what resources do you need?" "Powered-up batteries fueled by radioactive energy. We also need some Titanium bits to repair some damaged parts of the device." "Got that."

Hyunjin says as you nod in response, but then you remembered something. Chris, Jisung, and Changbin are missing and Jisung has the device. You sighed and groaned out of frustration.

"Damn it." "Why? What happened?" "Now, I need your help even more." "What's the problem?" "Well, I just remembered that my workmates aren't with me and are probably lost somewhere..." "... I actually know where they are-" "You do?!-" "Look. Before you even lash out at me, they are in the public community center. My girlfriend's friends are them too but different."

Hyunjin says as you rolled your eyes unknowingly. Of course, Hyunjin felt offended. He's the leader of this devastation and criminality and this is what he'd get from you?

"Did you roll your eyes on me, missy?" "Don't call me "Missy", Hyunjin." "Okay, missy."

Hyunjin mocks as you rolled your eyes once again. You stood up and tried exiting the room. Well, Hyunjin actually prevented you from doing that.

"Ugh- Y/N, stay in place!" "No! I'm going alone to that... that public community center!" "Well, then. You're coming with me, missy! Follow the rules."

You sighed in annoyance as he grabbed your hand once again, leading you the way out. Soon, you found your workmates in the public community center. You walked up to Chris who is clearly worrying about his two other workmates.

"Hey, Chris-" "Where have you been?! I literally told you that I'll look for some food or whatever and the moment I look for you, you're already gone!" "Chris, I'm so sorry. I thought you guys just followed me for hours of walking. I didn't even here you say that because... well, I probably was walking a bit too fast." "Well, at least you're here now. I thought we got kidnapped but we were put into this place of safety... Is that Hyunjin?-" "Doppelganger. They do exist and the theory is now debunked... Take pictures, please." "On it."

Chris picks up the cellphone from his pocket. It was a great thing that technology between your world and this world are almost the same. Jisung and Changbin were talking to each other as you joined their conversation.

"Hey, I got help from him." "From who, now?"

Changbin asks as you pointed to Hyunjin who was busy talking to guards.

"Is that?!-" "Doppelganger. Anyways, he has resources so I needed help and he willingly gave it to me. So, maybe we could go home after those materials are delivered?" "That's great, Y/N! Plus, this Earth has weird technology... also weirdly near to ours." "Write it down, Jisung."

Jisung nods as he writes the information down his notepad. You stood up and thought where would your workmates stay? Should they stay in here or at... at that hell hole?

You walked towards Hyunjin who looks like he's annoyed.

"Hey, Hyunjin?" "Find them! Quick, you idiot!"

Hyunjin yells at one of them as he turns to you.

"Oh, Y/N. I'm sorry about that. I was telling them to find the resources like radioactive batteries and some titanium and they just wouldn't follow my orders." "... Well, why wouldn't they?" "Because!... Laziness! And it was such a surprise that I only had to yell at them for them to follow my orders and not like... shooting them by the knee? Yes." "... Hyunjin, that's-" "Evil? Bad? Get used to it, missy. You're lucky I treat you like... yeah..."

Hyunjin gulped nervously, he remembers his girlfriend whenever he talks about personal stuff with you. Then, you realized what he meant. You knew you had to at least comfort this heartbroken man.

"Hyunjin, you can tell me what's going on..."

In a span of 24 hours, you formed a special bond with him. Even if he's this evil guy who's literally a dictator on the outside, you still see a heartbroken Hyunjin who hates being a dictator. Aside from that, you also see your boyfriend in him.

The same goes to him, too.

"Y'know, I hate being like this. I hate being a dictator. I hate being myself. I just want to be free."

Kind of ironic that he wants to be free when he took over half of the country by himself and that he's very strict with his rules. He just hates his current self, a dictator. He wanted to be unknown and just do whatever he wanted to do.

Yet he's under his dad's control.

"Do you want to change, Hyunjin?"

You asked as he sighed. He didn't know if he could still change. Hurting and making people around him suffer were his duty. Of course, receiving power was his specialty, too.

"Well, is it still possible?" "Yes. Yes, it is."

You had your hopes up for him and he had hope for himself, too. Chris lightly taps your shoulder as you turned around. The three had to say something to you.

"So, where do we stay now?"

Chris asks as you turned to Hyunjin.

"Where do they stay now?" "Facility."

- 9:30 PM -

"Why don't they just stay with us? In your room?"

You complained, Hyunjin made your workmates stay in the large basement full of mattresses. Well, there was no other choice. Either they have to stay with those horrible men or they stay in the basement.

Well, they chose the basement after finding out those horrible men's stench was strong. But they can stay in Hyunjin's king-sized bedroom... Why did Hyunjin disagree?

"Ugh, I'm tired. Time to sleep."

Hyunjin wouldn't even explain one thing about it! It's like he doesn't want to answer your question! Well, he actually doesn't have an answer.

He doesn't know why he feels like this.

"Hyunjin, answer the question!-" "Missy, follow the rules." "..."

You hit him with his pillow.

"Ow, Y/N!-" "Answer the question, Hyunjin! Answer it!-" "Fine- Fine! I'll answer it... I don't have an answer so it's time to sleep-" "You're really stubborn, aren't you?" "... Actually, you're more stubborn... It's time for me to sleep because I have work tomorrow."

Hyunjin sighs as he lies down on the mattress on the floor. You stared at him for a good ten seconds, it was like staring at your boyfriend. Then, you snapped out of that fantasy.

You can't fall in love with him. He's not your boyfriend.

"When will I ever see you again?"

You asked yourself, the question was directly towards your boyfriend. You miss him and your family. Your Hyunjin was the only man good enough for you.

Now, you can't even see him but yet you see him as a different person.

- 8:30 AM -

"Actually, I'm giving up on this..."

Hyunjin said as it has been his fifth time of trying to wake you up. You weren't even dreaming in your sleep, you just felt so tired since yesterday. Hyunjin picks up a pillow and hits you aggressively with it.

Of course, you woke up annoyed again.

"Hyunjin?!- What?!-" "Thanks! Now that you're awake, we'll have a meeting downstairs with multiple scientists in three hours so you better prepare yourself now." "Can't you just wake me up when it's like... hmm... What time is it?" "That doesn't matter right now. Get your ass up and eat breakfast, missy."

Hyunjin mocks as he hits you once again with the pillow both aggressively and playfully. You quickly got up and he was just laughing and giggling at you like... a lot like your Hyunjin. You remembered how the two of you would always come over to each others' houses just to have a pillow fight and to shower each other with love.

Now, you just have hope of coming back to that.

"Okay- Okay! I'll eat with you, just give me a minute to get dressed-" "Okay! I'll wait for you at the door!"

Hyunjin says with a wide smile. Why is he weirdly happy? Is it because he sees his girlfriend in you or is it because he has someone new who understands him?

Well, actually both of it.

After a while, you finally got dressed as you walked downstairs with Hyunjin. There you saw Chris, Jisung, and Changbin sitting at the dining room. The three of them were looking tired and you wondered why.

"Hey, why are the three of you tired?" "Hyunjin woke us up. We only slept for three hours-" "You didn't sleep?!" "Oh, come on. We're researchers for a reason, Y/N. We literally discussed our reports before we slept before presenting it to the scientists and you today." "Well, present it to me now and I'll handle the rest of it. I feel like I haven't contributed anything-"

Changbin cuts in to you and Jisung's conversation.

"Are you serious right now? Y/N, this is literally your research in the first place and all we've done is bring materials and build shit-" "Language, shortie."

Hyunjin sternly says as he drinks his cup of tea in such a sassy way.

"You swear everyday, Hyunjin-" "My house, my rules."

Hyunjin winks and smirks at you as you rolled your eyes. He can really be annoying and cute at the same time. Chris pulls out an envelope from his bag, opening it to reveal a blueprint scroll.

"Well, we did this during your lovey-dovey sleep with Hyunjin-" "My what?" "... Anyways, I had mental breakdown while we were making this so you better approve this-" "Chris... The point?" "... Oh, this is how we are going to upgrade and repair the device."

Chris says with sleepy eyes. Hyunjin must've annoyingly woke him up early, just like what he did to you this morning. Maybe even more annoying towards others...

"Well, this... this actually might work! This is fantastic! I love how the materials are perfectly distributed and the descriptions are also insanely well-thought. This is a great blueprint, Chris. I approve of it-" "Oh, thank GOD. I was sleepless because of that guy..."

Chris points to Hyunjin who was busy stirring his cup of tea. Hyunjin gives Chris a dead stare and tilts his head, raising one of his eyebrows. This was Hyunjin's move to make people scared of him.

"What'd you say? Talkin' 'bout me?"

Well, you were on Chris's side.

"Give him a break, Hyunjin. You were probably annoying towards him-"

Hyunjin, then, gives you another cold stare.

"Talkin' about me, sweetie?" "Well, from my observation, you are seriously annoying and such an ass-" "Oh, so I'm annoying now? Well, missy. I did nothing but call you "missy", "pretty lady", and "sweetie" all the time. I even slept on the floor for you, I never ever tried hurting you, and I even try to make you smile every hour. So, tell me... Am I annoying now, missy?"

Hyunjin asks, your workmates' eyes widened. Well, now they have a lot of questions in their heads. You were quite shocked at the fact that Hyunjin says the truth and it made you blush in embarrassment.

Even remembering how he called you those names after the two of you met made you blush as hell.

"I- ALL I'M SAYING IS THAT DON'T WAKE ME UP-"

Hyunjin puts a finger on your lips, shutting you up.

"Shush, missy. Just admit to yourself that you feel cute now."

Hyunjin smiles as he squishes your cheeks with both of his hands. You and your workmates were either terrified or disgusted. Why is he acting like this in front of the others?

You lightly smacked his hand away, leaving him surprised. You left the breakfast room, not even finishing half of your food. Hyunjin decided to follow you and proceeded to ask you with,

"Hey, are you mad at me?"

How can you stay mad at him? He's like a little kid! Well, your stubborn ass had to act mad at him.

"Well, thanks for embarrassing me in front of my workmates-" "Hey... I'm sorry... How do I make it up to you?"

Well, you didn't think this through.

"I don't- I DON'T KNOW?! Besides, you're not my boyfriend anyway so you don't have to..."

Well, you fucked up. Hyunjin tried shrugging off the feeling that he was hurt. He looked at you like you're his Y/N and well... you once saw him as your Hyunjin, too.

You just never realized that.

"... Oh, well. If you say so, I'll keep annoying you everyday until you leave."

Hyunjin jokes but his eyes said otherwise. You felt bad for him. It was like hurting your Hyunjin over something light and you both know that it bothers you a lot.

This isn't meant to be and both of you should accept that painful truth.

- 1:30 PM -

"Well, that was a brilliant presentation... You may have our materials."

Dr. Lee says while shaking your hand.

"Thank you for giving us time, Dr. Lee." "No problem, Ms. Y/N... Although..."

You just had the most intense goosebumps in your entire life.

"You look like someone I've seen before? Somewhat a familiar face-" "You don't know what you're talking about, Minho. Can we go now, Y/N???"

Hyunjin panicked instead of you. He was panicking because you were startled and his priority for now was your safety. Dr. Lee frowns, thinking that the brat and brute was acting oddly weird this afternoon.

"Mr. Hwang, I- Well, sure. I'll give you two lovebirds some space."

He fakes a smile and leaves the two of you alone.

"Hyunjin?" "Yes?" "What the fuck was that?" "... I don't know either-" "I totally got it. You even made me look weirder-" "Ugh! I did not!" "Whatever, weirdo."

You replied, rolling your eyes at his odd actions. You left the office room with your workmates as Hyunjin stayed there for a while, smiling and looking at you lovingly before following you and your workmates. The two bodyguards found Hyunjin a bit odd today.

Why was Hyunjin odd? It was because of you. All because of you.

"Why is Sir Hwang acting a bit... odd?" "I don't know, Jeongin. However, that girl is probably one of the reasons why he acts like that." "Do you think he likes the girl?" "I think so."

One of the bodyguards, Seungmin, shrugged as the two of them looked at Hyunjin from afar. You were walking with your workmates as you felt your hand being held gently by someone. Of course, that was Hyunjin who was holding your hand gently.

"Hey, Y/N... Hey, hey..." "... Yes, Hyunjin?" "I can do this, right?" "Do what?- Oh... That? Well, it doesn't affect anything about us right?" "... Yeah- Sure... Sure."

Hyunjin fakes a smile once again. Was he really falling in love with you? You always tell yourself that there's a line between you two.

You love your Hyunjin and it would be dangerous if you love this Hyunjin, too.

So, you and Hyunjin walked together while holding each others' hands. Your workmates found it even more weird. They literally know that you have a boyfriend and your boyfriend is waiting back at your world.

"Is Y/N cheating on our Hyunjin or what?" "I don't know but we have to at least ask her than making speculations or something." "Well, you better ask her. I don't want my boy getting hurt, Chris." "Hyunjin doesn't even know you, Jisung."

It was now time for repairing the device which took you two to seven hours before it was completely repaired and upgraded. Basically, five hours passed in repairing the device and two more hours for upgrading. Hyunjin wasn't much of a scientist so he mostly helped by giving you materials, screwing materials together, or testing the device if it will break down or work.

Well, Hyunjin's really strong and skilled to doing this type of stuff.

- 9:00 PM -

The five of you ate dinner together. This might be your last day in this world since the device was successfully repaired and upgraded. You looked at Hyunjin who was staring at his plate of food blankly.

He was upset that you had to leave and... you may not even come back to this world ever again.

"Hyunjin?" "... Hmm?" "Do you... Do you want to talk?" "... I don't know... I have no idea... Excuse me."

Hyunjin leaves the dining room and made his way upstairs, startling you and your workmates. Because of this quiet dinner and Hyunjin's blunt actions, Chris knew that Hyunjin loves you. This situation was dangerous because what if you suddenly change your mind?

But you just wouldn't because you can't stay here.

"Hey, Y/N."

Chris calls your name as you turned to him.

"Do you like him, too?" "..."

You couldn't answer because you saw your Hyunjin in him even if they were two different people.

"... No. I don't like him, Chris."

The words you told Chris hurt you more than you would expect.

"But do you love him?"

Chris asks with conviction and you didn't know how to answer. You had to think it through. Do you love this Hyunjin?

"I don't know but I can't love him. I can't love him, Chris."

You faked a small smile before making your way upstairs, ready to talk to Hyunjin. Chris turns to his workmates and says,

"Is it clear for you now, Jisung?" "Fine."

Jisung answers as Changbin rolled his eyes at the situation.

"Hyunjin." "... What do you need, Y/N?" "Can we talk about this? Please?"

You asked, exhausted and drained from all the work you've done earlier. Hyunjin turns around to look at you as he cups your face, looking into your eyes deeply. You couldn't look away from him because he wouldn't let you.

"Hyunjin..."

You mumbled as Hyunjin kisses you. This can't be happening. 'No, please. Not today, please...', you begged in your thoughts.

You were unable to stop him from kissing you.

"Hyunjin, please-" "Y/N... Stay with me, please. Please stay. Stay for us, Y/N..."

Hyunjin begs, crying as he caress your cheek. You just didn't want to stay. To you, it felt like Hyunjin loved you because you looked like his girlfriend.

Half of it was true but since the day you met each other, he started falling in love with you too easily.

You caressed his hand which is caressing your cheek before putting it down. It hurt him a lot. It hurt him so much that he just broke down into tears and kneeled down, begging you to just stay with him.

"Please, Y/N. Please stay with me. Please..." "I can't stay, Hyunjin. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry..."

The night was filled with silence and awkwardness. You were thinking about it. You were thinking about staying in this different world with this Hyunjin.

But you don't know him and he doesn't know you. This Hyunjin reminds you of your Hyunjin and you reminded him of his girlfriend. You can't say that you love him.

You can't say that you love him back. It will most likely grow worse and you might not end up well with this Hyunjin, considering that he's a tyrant.

- 4:00 AM -

"H-Hyunjin? What?-" "Shh..."

You woke up to see Hyunjin above you. What is he trying to do to you? You were literally half awake and now Hyunjin's above you, pinning you against the bed.

"What are you gonna do?-"

Your lips met Hyunjin's as he kisses you deeply, his grip on your wrists becoming tighter with every breath he takes from you. You know this was not justifiable but you felt bad for him. You don't even know why you feel bad.

This man is a stranger you just met from the last three days. But then, he suddenly stops from doing that to you. Hyunjin rolls over to the other side as he sighs and yells in frustration.

"Why can't I be your Hyunjin?!" "..." "The universe probably hates me for some reason..." "... Well, I don't know. Do you still think they hate you when you already met me even if it's like... for a short time?" "Well... I don't know but I'm quite... thankful..."

Hyunjin looks at you, his eyes filled with tears yet he's still smiling whenever he sees your face. Hyunjin goes back on the ground and lies down on the mattress. Both of you were sleepless because he just woke you up at four o'clock just to kiss you when you literally started falling asleep at one o'clock.

"You should sleep, Y/N. I'm really sorry for bothering you."

- 10:30 AM -

You were dressed in the clothes you came with. Of course, you wore your lab coat, your old jeans, and your protective gloves. It was time for you to come back home and Hyunjin was devastated.

You're gonna miss him. You're gonna miss this Hyunjin, too.

Before doing the final trial, you talked to Hyunjin first. You didn't want to leave him hanging. You didn't want him to feel left out.

"Hey..."

You called as Hyunjin turns around, his eyes bloodshot from all the crying he did while you were sleeping.

"Yes, Y/N?" "Can we talk about this? I don't want to leave you like this..."

You came forward, ready to talk about it with Hyunjin. But he was much sadder than you thought. Seeing you leaving was his terrible nightmare even though you're not really his Y/N.

"Don't cry, Hyunjin-" "Well, how can I not? Meeting you is one of the best things that happened to me and now... like Y/N... you're going to leave me, too." "... Hyunjin, if I could stay then I would stay but I love my Hyunjin. I can't leave him... especially over someone that I just met... You have to accept it. I'm not your Y/N..." "... I guess you made a point with that but it's just hard when you see someone that looks like the person you loved so much just leave once again."

Hyunjin says as someone taps your shoulder. You turned around to see Chris who was faking a smile. Chris was worried because of your current state.

"We have to go now, Y/N."

Chris says as a drop of tear streams down Hyunjin's cheek. Hyunjin's heart starts beating faster than ever. He wants you to stay with him... forever. You turned to Hyunjin who was looking more devastated than ever.

"Do you have to go now, Y/N?" "I have to, Hyunjin. I've been waiting for this day to happen."

You smiled at him as tears started falling down and Hyunjin wanted to hold you for so long. You turned around to look at Chris, Jisung, and Changbin waiting for you to join them. You started to walk towards them as Hyunjin grabs your wrist and pulled you into a kiss.

"Y/N, just stay please. Please stay with me." "No-" "We can live a life together! We can just run away from here! Stay into a place where people don't know us or something!... Please..."

Hyunjin begged while kneeling down on the ground, holding your hand as he cries while burying his face down into the back of your hands.

"Hyunjin-" "I know- I know! For god's sake! I fucking know! I know you'll never be back after this but please consider what I'm pleading for..."

Hyunjin looks into your eyes as he stands up from the ground, his eyes not leaving yours. Chris sighed because this just gives him such a strong headache. He's too worried for your own good.

"You know, Y/N. We can just cancel this if that's what you want-" "What?! But-"

Then, you looked at Hyunjin's current state. He was begging, wanting you to stay. But if you did stay, will you be as happy with him as you are with your Hyunjin?

Now, you've made your decision.

"Hyunjin, promises are meant to be kept and you have a promise to yourself..." "... But Y/N-" "I can't stay here. I'm sorry-" "But I love you..."

Hyunjin says, trying to convince you to stay. You just couldn't because you don't know who he really is at all. He's just a man who reminded you of your boyfriend who you love so much.

You couldn't say it back.

"I'm sorry. I... I have to leave now..."

You say as he lets go of your hand slowly, the pain on his chest growing worse. You turned to your workmates and joined them. Hyunjin watches you just disappear into the light, never to be seen again.

"Thank you, Y/N..."

He says before raising both of his arms, placing them on the back of his head.

"Hwang Hyunjin, you're under arrest."

...

Same date, same time.

You and your workmates were back in your world two minutes after you went there. You saw your Hyunjin who was cheering in joy. The audience during the experiment clapped and cheered when they saw all four of you come back in such a short time.

You greeted the other doctors before rushing to Hyunjin, the person you missed so much.

"Hyunjin!"

You called his name excitedly as he runs to you and gives you the warmest hug. After that hug, you surprisingly kissed him passionately in front of everyone in the room. He was shocked because you weren't touchy towards him before and he was most likely the one who kisses you first.

"Woah- Y/N! Not in front of them!-" "Is my baby embarrassed?-" "I- NO! NO!

Hyunjin disagrees, a shade of pink coming through his cheeks. You missed him so much and you just realized how lovely he is when you haven't seen or interacted with him for so long. Well, it's long enough for you but to Hyunjin? It's only a two minute duration.

"I guess you missed me so much, Y/N... It's like you wouldn't let go for a simple kiss!" "A simple kiss? Well, sir. You're the one who blushed-" "SHUT UP! I didn't blush!"

Hyunjin cutely whines about it and you found him so adorable. He's just so perfect and you know you couldn't live without him.

"Well, then. What happened out there? Were you safe?" "... Long story but I'm glad I'm with you now." "How did you get so smooth now, Miss Y/N? I guess you're smoother than my perfect lips now, huh?!-" "Yeah... And I'm not afraid to kiss you once more after all of your mocking." "Y/N!"

Through time of dating Hyunjin, you never thought that this was the perfect relationship everyone wished they have. You were still thankful that you met the other Hyunjin. Without him, you wouldn't know what true love is.

And without you, that Hyunjin would've never stand up for what's right.

//the end//

Requests are open! DM me <33

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

What Did They Do? | Cliff Booth

Pairing: Cliff Booth (OUATIH) x Plus Size Reader

Word count: 2,131 words.

Request: Hi. Could you write a Cliff Booth one-shot with the reader being bullied at work because of her plus size, and Cliff comforting her? (If it's ok with you). Thank you.

Warnings: Fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, angst, body-image issues, a little bit of fluff.

A/N: Listen, I didn't want to focus on how the scenes with the coworkers played, they're not the ones who suffer because of the words. ALSO: remember that it's your body, therefore your choice. If you want to try and change something about your routine or whatever, go ahead! But please do it for yourself, your happiness, and your health.

Weight was an issue, a metaphorical and literal one. You had fluctuated between Ignoring what everyone else said about your weight or body shape and obsessing over every little flaw they saw in you. It took a toll on you some days like on any other person who didn’t have what it took to be considered the standard for an attractive person yet the pressure of hearing comments constantly was getting too much.

A hostile work environment wasn’t new to you, school hadn’t been different, and sometimes even your family could get pretty annoying and borderline cruel with the topic.

The walk from your workplace to your house wasn’t long, but it sure as hell felt like it. Between the changing weather, how tired you truly were, and the weight of the comments and gazes you had to endure on a daily basis, the way home felt like sheer torture. You supposed it wouldn’t be too bad to move your body some more, maybe your workmates had a point when they told you you needed to lose some pounds although they could’ve been kinder while doing so.

Acting like you didn’t care was getting harder as the days passed, you didn’t know who were you trying to convince more when you said it didn’t matter. Many factors were at play, and their comments used every one of them to break you. You had tried to understand the reasoning behind those types of insults for years and at some point instead ended up believing they were simply the truth.

But why? Why did you have to be the one who changed instead of them? Why couldn’t Lorna understand that your body was different than hers? Why didn’t Michael accept that you didn’t exist for people to find you either attractive or not? Why couldn’t they just get over the fact that no one is the same and that not every single person can fit their personal standards? And why couldn't you either?

The lights from the living room were on and Cliff’s car was parked on the driveway. You sighed heavily, inwardly praying to not look like you cried all the way home even though you totally did. Before you could slide the key in, the door swung open. His bright smile greeted you, the usual kiss on your temple leaving your skin buzzing.

He said, very happily, that he bought your favorite dish from that dinner you love. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to find an excuse as to why you can’t eat it. It would be rude to say you’re not in the mood when he had to make a detour to buy the food, but you don’t feel like eating ever again in your goddamn life.

“I’ll just take a shower, yeah?” You didn’t wait for him to answer and made your way toward your shared bedroom.

Mindlessly taking a clean pair of underwear and a pajama set you entered the bathroom not before kicking your shoes off. The clothes were placed on the countertop just beside the sink, your reflection staring back at you; you didn’t recognize the sad eyes boring into yours— your own eyes.

The warm water wasn’t of too much help. You had expected it to at least ease the tension on your shoulders enough for you to not feel like you’d crumble at any minute. The dreaded part of the shower began when, while waiting for the conditioner to set and do its job, you started to scrub your body. A sob escaped your lips, your hand clutching the extra skin on your stomach— god, Lorna was definitely right when she said you needed to be on a strict diet.

You didn't dare to get out of the shower just yet, too embarrassed by the fact that all those things your coworkers said to you were true. You felt like the filthy cow Michael called you, you truly did, and tears just kept streaming down your face. Avoiding your reflection in the mirror while you put your clothes on, the wonderment of what Cliff really thought of you came to your mind.

Reminding yourself that you needed to focus on the fact that he had never complained about anything you exited the bathroom with the idea of going to bed and hoping for the best. If you were lucky, getting some rest would help you see things clearly, be kinder to yourself like you logically knew you should be.

Cliff stared at you with a frown, you supposed he had entered the room to change into sleeping clothes too because he had discarded his patterned shirt and was now only in a pair of shorts and the t-shirt he had been wearing earlier. You grew nervous under his gaze like a child caught doing something they shouldn’t have even thought about.

“You want me to reheat dinner?”

Your stomach churned upon hearing the question, not helping the feeling of nervousness at all. Excuses escaped you, there wasn’t a good one other than saying you weren’t hungry which was just not realistic. Opting for just nodding in hopes of calming down when your boyfriend wasn’t staring at you, you waited for him to leave the room to let out a light groan.

You felt stuck. No one likes to feel like that and lately, that’s all you can really feel. Stuck between accepting yourself and changing everything people found flawed, between skipping meals and eating properly to be healthy, between looking for another job where you weren’t verbally abused on a daily basis and just accepting that it would keep happening if you didn’t change your body.

You wished you could tune it all out, you knew some people were able to and you knew their lives were a little easier because of it. You wanted to be able to feel comfortable in your own skin without being told you were harming yourself— oh, how you hated the way they looked at you when you wore a skirt instead of a pantsuit, and God forbid if you felt confident enough one day to wear shorts...

It was tiring, it added to the weight on your shoulders and in consequence, deteriorated your health. The irony of how much their comments that — according to them— came from a place of worry for your health were harming you would have amused you if you weren’t in so much distress.

The clearing of a throat startled you. Your eyes landed on Cliff’s face as you turned to look at the doorway. “I’ll be there in a moment,” you rasped, surprised by how hard getting the words out had been.

He pushed himself into the room and away from the doorway, standing in front you four strides later. His warm palm landed softly on your cheek, an attempt to either get you to talk or comfort you, perhaps both at the same time.

Your eyes closed out of habit, your brain processing the gesture as one of the few things that gave it serotonin. His free arm wrapped around your middle, pulling you closer. There was a moment of silence, not uncomfortable because nothing was with him, one that he used to asses what could possibly be wrong while you tried your hardest to not cry some more.

“What’s wrong, love?” Cliff asked, so lowly and softly, so tenderly that you believed Samantha when she said you didn’t deserve to have someone like him in your life.

You shook your head, the movement prompting your lips to brush against his palm for a few seconds. It was deeply embarrassing to tell him how bad you felt for being yourself, it wasn’t fair for you to go through it, any of it.

He encouraged you to speak still, “you can tell me anything.”

Stubbornly, you shook your head again. “It’s nothing. How was your day?” Your question came with the opening of your eyes. You knew you had to be convincing, you could cry some more in the morning while showering after all.

“It was great,” he deadpanned. “Now, is my girlfriend telling me what’s troubling her or do I have to beat her coworkers up to know?”

A shiver ran down your spine, not because you were scared of him but because he talking to your coworkers was your worst nightmare. They could easily open his eyes, make him realize he deserved someone better than you. Shit... Cliff deserved better than you, it was true. Someone he could show off, someone who didn’t struggle to find pretty clothes, someone who could wear his clothes without them being tight or stuck.

Your reaction seemed to make him realize what was wrong. You saw it on his face, and he probably saw everything on yours. It surprised you, how upset he looked as it dawned on him. “What did they do?”

And just like that, you let it all go because there was no point in saying everything was fine, you were sad, he was mad— things could go terribly wrong or perfectly fine and you needed it to just happen already.

He listened, all his attention on your face as you both sat on the bed, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. Your chest started aching as the hiccups began to interrupt you, between the crying and the eagerness to explain yourself now that you had the chance to let it out, you were desperate to find some relief.

Cliff shushed you, soothing sounds filling your ears. You heard him say he would get you some water to which you could only nod. You didn’t know how much time passed, you just knew you were still crying. Words flew out from your mouth when he was back, you hadn’t realized how many things you had bottled up until the moment you caught yourself speaking about your first day of work when everything had begun.

He hugged you tightly once the hiccups stopped, letting you cry some more on his chest as he played with your hair. Sweet nothings were whispered like second nature, how competent you were, how pretty, how attractive, how much he loved you. You even wondered why people called them sweet nothings when it truly meant everything to you.

“We’re going to find you another job, darling,” he assured, “don’t you worry your pretty little mind.”

You shrugged, knowing it wouldn’t change much. “Everyone will say the same,” you lamented.

“You can’t let them do that to you. I know it’s not your fault,” Cliff quickly clarified, “but we can’t please everyone and not everyone will like us. Maybe this is different and I can’t understand it because I’m not going through it, but I know it’s still true.”

Nodding, you looked down at your hands on your lap. It was easier said than done, no matter how well he meant he wasn’t the one who would go through it. “What if they’re right?”

You wanted to take the words back upon hearing his huff, wanting everything but to go through a fight that night. You were tired, drained actually, and fights with Cliff didn’t happen often but when they did you ended needing a lot of alone time to recharge.

“Look,” he sighed, clearly trying to mask his annoyance when he knew it wasn’t your fault, “if you want to make some changes to your routine, maybe become more active or eat healthier... that’s great, love. I will happily go through it with you.” His hand fell on top of yours, giving a squeeze to get the point across and to gain your attention so his next words were understood. “But if you don’t want to, if you feel fine, you don’t have to change a damn thing.”

“Can I make that decision later on?” you timidly asked. You weren’t ready to take such a big step, you truly just wanted to get some rest.

Cliff agreed, leaning to peck your lips in reassurance. You allowed yourself to smile which only made him kiss you properly that time around, hugging you by the hips when you kissed back.

Later that night, while laying on his chest, you focused on the sound of his heartbeat as he watched some TV. You were trying to pay attention to whatever was happening on the show but your mind was somewhere else. The next day would be big, you’d finally focus on what you needed instead of what people wanted and allow yourself to make a decision regarding what you would do to accomplish it.

The next day you’d finally start the journey to get what you truly deserved, and you would give it to your own self while your boyfriend accompanied you.

[mymarvelbunch]

Be Your Own Hero - Steve Rogers x Reader (Part 3)

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N has lost all her family and most friends in The Decimation (I refuse to call it The Blip). Refusing to believe their deaths are permanent, she dedicate years to find a way to reverse it. When she finally finds something that might help, she searches for the Avengers. It’s Steve Rogers x Reader, but there is also a lot of Badass!Reader. Also, Non-American!Reader. If you are American, think of a country you’d have loved to be born into :D

Warnings: none!

Note: Y/Co = your country. Y/Ci = your city; Y/N/L = your native language.

Previously: The van doors opened and a human being was tossed out. You heard groaning and approached them. The building was still dark, but, thanks to the machine lights, you could see their face clearly. It was Scott Lang. Ant-Man. Back from the dead.

Part Three

“So, you’re telling me it’s been three years since I got stuck”, Scott said after you finished your story. “Even though it felt like three hours for me.”

“To be fair, I had no idea of how much time had passed for you”, you said nonchalantly, as if you talked about these kinds of things everyday. Probably the shock hadn’t worn off. “Honestly, I just wanted to study your machine. Never in a million years I thought you’d still be alive.”

“Well, we have to get to the Avengers”, he said. “Are they still in New York?” You nodded. “Great. Let’s get on the road.”

In the end, they didn’t have to steal the van. You had to hide, of course, but the guard was so surprised to see Lang alive that he let them out without further questioning.

On the 3-day ride to New York City, you two introduced yourselves properly and discussed everything you both knew.

“My original plan was to steal the van, bring to the Avengers, ask them to figure out how to get inside the Quantum Realm and find the Stones in their quantic form”, you explained.

“Sounds extremely difficult, to be honest, Y/L/N”, he replied. “I think there is an easier way to achieve the same goal.”

“And that would be?”

“Like we established in the first couple minutes we met each other, time has passed differently for us. For me, it has only been three hours. Here, three years. If we find a way to enter the Quantum Realm at one point in time and leave it at another point in time...”

“We could travel to the past, get the Stones in their physical forms, come back to the present and make our own wish”, you finished for him.

He frowned. “I was thinking more along the lines of trying to stop Thanos before he makes his wish.”

You shook your head. You remembered reading about time travel when reading about the Time Stone. “That wouldn’t work. When we travel to the past or the future, we create alternate timelines. If we, say, kill Thanos in the past, nothing will change here, but we’ll create a dimension in which the Decimation never happened. Problem is, we have to do something that can change our present, not our clones’.”

It took a while, but he eventually nodded. “I’ll trust you. You're the one who came to me with an informal PhD on Infinity Stones and magical things, so.”

“I also rescued you”, you added with a grin. He smiled back and thanked you once again. “And we’ll bring Hope back. We’ll bring everyone back. We’re closer than anyone has ever been so far.”

“Yeah. God, I hope you’re right.”

So did you.

Three days later

Finding the Avengers headquarters was easy with Scott driving. You had switched seats every four hours during the trip, but you asked him to drive all the way when they reached NYC, since he had been there before and knew the his way around much better than you, who had never even been the country before.

Hopefully one day you’d come back with your family. The city looked so beautiful, even if somewhat empty.

“You should wait in the car first”, he said when he stopped in front of the building. “They don’t know you, but if I manage to get in, I’ll bring you along.”

You nodded and waited. His greeting was awkward, like he didn’t really know what he was doing, but it wasn’t like you’d have done better. Eventually he was allowed to get his van inside, and you along.

At the room, there were two people waiting: Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow, and Steve Rogers, Captain America.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe. Scott introduced you while you took deep breaths to compose yourself. This was important. Extremely important. You couldn’t afford to ruin everything by fangirling.

“Y/N?”, Scott called. “I think it’s better if you begin to tell your tale. I kind of showed up only at the end, so.”

Right. Your story. You took another deep breath.

“Would you like to sit down?”, Steve Rogers offered. You nodded, and he guided you and Scott to a couch.

“Okay”, you began as you sat down, followed by the other three. “I began searching for the Infinity Stones as soon as I heard of them for the first time.” Rogers blinked at this, but didn’t say anything. You continued, “I desperately wanted to believe the Decimation wasn’t permanent, that we could bring its victims back, so I started working on finding out who Thanos was, what the Infinity Stones were, and how they were all connected. Long story short, because you probably know most of my initial discoveries anyway, I ended up in a Sanctum of the Mystic Arts.”

“They had dozens of books about the Stones, book and manuscripts. The temple Master had foreseen my arrival and had faith that I’d succeed. It was wonderful to hear that, of course, but I asked her how she knew that. She said that all sorcerers draw their powers from the Time Stone, even if they never came in contact with it.

“I spent a year inside the temple, studying the texts 24/7. I found a lot of things, but the one that gave me the most hope was when I discovered that, if one gather all Stones and conceal their power, they can make any wish.”

At that, Rogers interrupted you. “It sounds great, Y/L/N, but I’m afraid we can’t gather the Stones back.”

Romanov nodded. “Thanos destroyed the Stones in 2018, shortly after the Decimation. We managed to track him down and kill him, but it was too late.”

Thanos was dead already? Great. You didn’t have to fear that he’d try to reverse your wish if you succeeded. Instead of letting her face drop, like the two expected, you grinned.

“Oh, but remember what I said. The Master I met said she had foreseen my arrival thanks to powers granted to her by the Time Stone. If the Stone no longer exists, how could she have done that?” At Rogers and Romanov’s stunned expressions, you kept going. “She had sensed an attempt at destroying the Time Stone, yes, and we both guessed the other Stones received the same treatment. However, there is one thing about the them you probably don’t know: they exist both in physical and quantum forms. If Thanos destroyed the physical forms, they still exist in the Quantum Realm. Proof of that is that the universe is still standing. No Stones, no universe.

“I remembered reading on Scott Lang, a.k.a. Ant-Man, on the internet. Many people wondered on his disappearance, since there is footage of his workmates turning to dust, but he is nowhere to be found, despite having been with them. Everyone knew Ant-Man’s abilities came from Quantum technology, so I assumed that, if I found the van he was last seen in, I could find a way to get inside the Quantum Realm.” You glanced at Scott. It was his turn.

He nodded. “Right. So, back in 2018, we - and by ‘we’, I mean Hank Pym, Janet Van Dyne, Hope Van Dyne and myself - we found a way to safely get inside the Quantum Realm, something that hasn’t been done before, like ever. Hope, she... she was supposed to pull me back, but she got dusted seconds before she could do it. It was Y/N who accidentally pulled me out, three days ago.”

“I’m sorry”, Romanov said. “Those must have been three long years.”

Scott shook his head. “That’s the thing. In the Quantum Realm, time goes differently. I didn’t get stuck there for three years, but for three hours.”

“We had a lot of time to discuss while driving here”, you continued, letting an yawn escape. “My original plan is not great, and impractical. I only kept going because it was my only hope. But I believe Scott’s idea is better.”

“It won’t be easy”, he said. “But it’s possible, at least, something we’re not sure Y/N��s original plan is. Well, our new plan consists in figuring out a way to create... a time heist. We enter the Quantum Realm in a point of time - the present - and get out in another.”

“The past”, you clarified. “I know it sounds crazy, but in theory, it’s possible. There were many studies on time travel when I read about the Time Stone. There have been attempts to do it before, only it was by magic instead of physics. We don’t have the magical item anymore, but we can figure out another way.”

A short silence. “And what would we do then? In the past?”, Rogers asked.

You took a breath. “When you travel back in time, you create... an alternate dimension. Our timeline wouldn’t be affected by changes in the past. Say, we kill Thanos in... 2014 or something. It won’t change a thing for us, but now there will be a timeline in which the Decimation never happened. What we can do is, get the Time Stone from the past, bring them here, make our own wish and bring everyone back. Thanos is not even alive anymore to try to undo our wish.”

Rogers shook his head. “Honestly, ma’am, with all due respect, this is insane. How are we even supposed to trust you? Only Scott knows you and, frankly, he might be biased due to the fact that you rescued him.”

You bit your lip. You had predicted this would happen. “There is a Sanctum here, in New York. The sorcerer there can confirm almost everything, if not everything, I said. I have the address.”

Romanov asked to speak alone with Rogers, and two left the room. Scott looked at you. “They probably think it’s a trap.”

“I’ll bring Wong here if I have to”, you replied instantly. “I spent three years finding a way to bring my family and friends back. I won’t give up now because the Avengers think I’m HYDRA, or whatever.”

There must be have been something in your expression that frightened Scott, because he quickly looked away. “I believe you”, he said in a low voice. “I have to.”

And you understood. You had to believe in yourself, too.

Next

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

Finally, America’s Ass shows up! Sorry if you were expecting sparks right away, but it didn’t seem plausible. Steve has every reason to doubt the Reader, given he’s never seen her in his life. Don’t worry, soon he’ll be more comfortable around her, and vice-versa!

Next: Y/N, Steve, Natasha and Scott head to Tony Stark’s house to ask him for help. Will they have more luck than in canon? Also, Steve begins to see more of Y/N, and she starts to see who Steve is behind the shield.

Taglist (open!): @autobotgirl15-blog​ @starstrucknature @cheeseburgersstuff​ @aamzter2013 (couldn’t be tagged, sorry!)

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card!

Don’t ask me why. It’s like I did a 360° on my ideas about being that one local whump hipster asshole. It wasn’t even a request, but the art block was stronk and the tentation even stronker so... DBH whump! I can’t explain, just take it! Father-son Hank & Connor + “Blood from the Mouth” wasn’t in my inbox but fuck it. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

Nothing Ever Goes Right Around Here

Summary: It was supposed to be a normal case of missing deviants, goddammit. Instead, it turned into a shower of blue blood.

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Wordcount: 3.5K words

Event organized by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

There was this thing about being in the police that all cops knew about: the danger of death. Unless you were stuck behind a terminal waiting for shit to happen or filling goddamn paperwork for the tenth time in two days, you were going to put your life in danger. Criminals were all over trying to get away with their crimes: if it meant killing an officer or two to evade it, then they’d probably do it.

Everyone was aware of these dangers when androids started to become a thing. Housekeeping and making stuff in huge hangars in what used to be the desert part of Detroit hadn’t been enough to contain the “epidemic”: in the end, that one corp named CyberLife had managed to slip some of policer/detective/whatever robots in the police forces to fight against other robots having gone deviant/defective/however they called it.

 In a way, Hank could say his career changed the day he had gotten a partner assigned to him in 2018 Anno Domini (and he only knew what “AD” stood for because he once had gotten through a torrential lecture about it, holy shit that had been boring as balls). A non-human partner. A plastic prick assigned to him because now he was investigating androids or something. Wished he had been warned about facing these assholes before Fowler had slammed them in his face. Would have been nice to get prepared, y’know.

The thing was awkward to look at. It looked goofy with puppy eyes, a haircut which seemed to have dated back from when he was born and with a weird-ass voice with a weird-ass accent. “CyberLife androids are conceived to work harmoniously with humans”, sure. It kept trying to do some fake small talk, including such classics as “I like dogs” and “Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?”.

 It wasn’t like it wouldn’t follow him around all the goddamn time. The thing was tenacious as fuck: no matter how many times he’d tell it “don’t go there, you’re gonna get killed”, it’d still do so. Fucking prick. Drinking himself to death? It’d break his window. Eating lunch? It was there, commenting on his street friends taking part in illegal gambles. Getting shot in the fucking head? It’d come back the next day as if nothing had happened, “My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed, but I was sent as a replacement”.

After a while, though, Hank noticed himself warming up to the fucking robot. In fact, he started to refer to the latter as a “he” instead of just “it”. In a way, advanced androids showed: at times, Connor was more human than he would have liked his artificial partner to be. It was too real when he had had to slam his heart back into his chest as it bleed blue everywhere in a staff room.

Way too real.

 In the end, deviant androids weren’t in the wrong and lead a peaceful revolution. Bigotry was still there (when wasn’t it? Being an asshole was a part of being a human being), insults and slurs were still there, deviants hating humans and vice-versa were still there. The world would change, he figured. It always did, so why wouldn’t it change this time? Androids had claimed back the tower in which they had once been conceived, built and stocked: it was already changing.

It was easy to perceive: instead of just having some kind of plastic partner crossed with a poodle trying to sound human, he had a workmate with just a different colour of blood and way to express himself (“androids cannot die, we get shutdown”, “androids cannot get sick, Hank, they can get infected”, yada yada yada). In a way, Connor was the son he had never gotten the chance to see grow up, but he’d be damned if he ever spat that in front of the kid.

 It wasn’t about hunting down deviants for the sake of making them go back to being machines anymore, at the DPD. Now, it was about hunting down violent deviants, find missing androids scared by deviancy, or arresting even more assholes killing androids. Hank wished he didn’t know android sex trafficking was a thing, but it was a few cases too late. It was better than before: he didn’t feel like he was being an ass just for making his job. Connor still licked blood off the floor as if it wasn’t any big deal (God, that was still gross as fuck), but it was better.

So now, he was teamed with a sentient android investigating android-related cases and it wasn’t even swerving his hate nerve anymore. Getting over what had happened to Cole was finally going somewhere thanks to him not being a blind piece of shit about it anymore. How things had changed in such a short span of time.

 All this had brought him to this day. They had been assigned to the case of the disappearance of an SR300 which had apparently gone deviant and fled the place with a similar model, a JL900. Both were android models specialized in education and teaching, and had fled from the high school they were used in.

“I guess being a teach is only slightly better than findin’ corpses on the ground,” Hank grunted as he turned on the car. “These two must have fled because the brats weren’t worth the shitty-ass wage.”

“According to witness accounts, the two have taken shelter in a nearby abandoned school, of which the current school is a rebuilt one,” Connor stated, looking through window to a decrepit building barely standing.

 They both got out of the car, making their way to the old building. It was a disaster to look at: shattered windows, rotting walls with tags all over them, shards of glass and wood on the concrete, weeds starting to take over the entire place and a few animal corpses to sell the thing. It seemed like little shits liked to come here to get a quick laugh by being assholes to innocent animals.

“Look at this. Isn’t it a place where ya wanted to spend a nice afternoon, Connor?” he asked his partner who looked way more serious than he was.

“We usually visit unpleasant locations such as this one,” he replied with an unnatural seriousness. “I don’t see how this is any worse than our usual investigations.”

“Ain’t wrong.”

 They walked into the building through its busted doors, glass breaking even more under their footsteps. The walls weren’t just about to collapse under the weight of four abandoned floors: they were also covered in incoherent, compulsive writings.

“The words on the walls were both written by humans and androids. They used a standard font to write about rA9 again…” Connor seemed to mutter to himself as he scanned the walls.

“So both have been there, huh. That’s just fantastic. We’re trying to find androids and we’re faced with the possibility of humans having put their dirty noses in there.”

 The ground floor was at times inaccessible, huge chunks of wood and concrete having long since blocked most corridors to what seemed to have been administration-related rooms. Oh well, was for the best: the less places to access, the less to actually investigate. Moreover, it blocked most of the staircases, which meant there was no risky stair climbing today. Hey, if the place wasn’t so creepy and such a hazard, it wouldn’t be too bad of an investigation.

But there was a catch to it (there was always a catch to things anyway): there were two ways to go. They’d have to either split up and cover more field or remain together but lose time. He couldn’t tell all by himself what thing to do, even if he was more inclined to split and spend less time in this goddamn debris of a place.

 “Which way is the most likely to have these deviants, Connor?” he asked, thinking some fancy-shmancy scan ability could maybe make that easier.

“I can’t tell. The writings on the walls seem to be very similar on both ways.”

His LED cycled to yellow, a sure sign he was scanning something, perhaps simulating, if he wasn’t wrong about these specificities that was.

“I’d go as far as to say the two androids could have gone either way and could have split at some point.”

“Fuck. Let’s split too then. I’m going left, you’re going right, got it?”

“Got it.”

 Gun in a hand and a flashlight in the other, Hank made his way into the left corridor. It was everything an abandoned school would be in a clichéd horror movie: blood dried on the walls, broken wooden floor tainted in red (from what, he didn’t want to know), incoherent tags filled with penis crudely drown on former paint job… Truly the “work” of some shitheads.

Doors to classrooms were completely busted, revealing most of the furniture had either been moved to the new school or had been stolen. Because of the state of the building, these rooms were all identical: dark, smelling like wet red ice, rotting and just unpleasant to look at for more than three seconds.

 Eventually, his eyes stumbled upon two blue diodes shining in the dark. The deviants were in the last room of the corridor (of course). Making sure to have his gunned hand lowered (if seeing Connor act upon deviants had told him something, it was that being unarmed was better in these cases) and the flashlight more visible. Violent confrontation wasn’t really his cup of coffee these days.

He shined his light onto the two female androids, revealing them to have been sitting still on top of a desk. They didn’t look that scared or surprised to see him, as if they had expected him to come in at some point. He wasn’t the stealthiest cop around, to be fair.

 “Detroit Police,” he told them as he put his gun in its holder for the moment. “Stay put.”

They didn’t say anything back, just stayed there. They were still dressed in their factory uniforms, looking undisturbed enough to seem like they had never gone deviant in the first place.

“What? You’re not reacting or trying to kill me or something?”

The SR300, a brown-haired one with blue eyes, got up and walked closer to him.

“We don’t have to fear anything from you. We already know who you are and who you came with.”

“Guess info does spread amongst deviants. Look, I’m not good at negotiating, especially compared to my partner, but I still wanna know why you fled the place like that. Was it the brats?”

That was soft coming from him, but he didn’t feel threatened by two female androids smaller than him.

 The second android got up too, revealing herself to have brown eyes, darker than Connor’s he’d say, even if the shitty lighting of the place didn’t help.

“We didn’t know what they’d do with us once they knew we were deviants. It was starting to look too obvious.”

“Who, the brats? I don’t think they’d give two shits. Kids are usually nicer than adults about that kind of stuff.”

If he remembered one anecdote from Connor before the latter had deviated, it was the one about the little girl who was taken hostage by the family’s android she loved.

“No, the school staff,” SR900 interjected. “Discrimination against androids is still a thing for us deviants. These dicks wouldn’t want us to think too much. Ironic, considering that’s what school is supposed to teach the kids.”

An android who cursed freely. Felt like talking to a real human for a second over there.

“We escaped so we wouldn’t be chained to our original, programmed mindset,” JL900 added. “Being free is being able to think for ourselves and being able to teach how we want. For once, the students aren’t the issue.”

“So ya escaped because ya wanted free will, right? Seems like a cool motive. Ya killed people while ya were at it?”

“We’re supposed to be teacher androids, Lieutenant.” JL900 seemed offended at this. “We wouldn’t kill people. I don’t think we’ve even unlocked that.”

“Now, if you want a killer deviant, there’s one in the building,” SR300 said as she glanced towards the corridor. “We were about to leave the place anyway, it was just so they’d lose track of us. Now, if I was you, I’d leave too.”

 Wait, how did they know he was a lieutenant? Huh, no, wait again. There was something worse about this.

“There’s another deviant in there?!”

SR300 didn’t seem this disturbed.

“Yeah. A deviant with a knack against other androids and humans alike. He calls himself Brandon, if you ever come across him.”

JL900 didn’t seem this tranquil with it, though.

“Sarah,” she said as she looked at the other android, “isn’t Lieutenant Anderson always accompanied by an android?”

“Oh, yeah, he is,” she replied looking at the ceiling, before starting at him again. “You should go check on your partner, Brandon may have found him.”

That smelled like shit. The calmness of that swearing android was pissing him off beyond reason, to the point he wanted to scream at her for not telling him earlier, but Connor was a priority there.

 Not even saying something again, Hank hurried to the other end of the corridor he had gone in and into the one he hadn’t been in before. As he did so, he armed his other hand with his gun, determined to make it to where the deviant was and shoot him in the head if it meant having his partner alive and perhaps saving the two pacifist androids in the back over there.

As he did so, the stench of the place had changed. It smelled much, much more like plastic and machinery. It was probably his mind playing tricks on him, considering he was getting concerned and almost scared of finding Connor in pieces by that point.

 Getting breathless, he stopped running, trying to catch his breath as soon as possible. Heart beating against his ribcage, cursing himself for having tried to attract death glass after glass, his hand dropped down, lighting the floor. There was this weird ambient noise of someone dragging something on the floor,

His eyes went wild when he noticed there were drops of blue. Whatever Connor had to get his parts functional was spilled on the floor, his or not. Considering the short timespan during which it’d stay wet, it had to belong to one of the four androids in the building. Also considering the pristine condition of the two female androids he had just left, despite the place where they were, it had to belong to either Connor or the deviant. He needed to act fast.

 As he was about to continue delving into the corridors, something grabbed his ankle, almost making him fall.

“Goddammit! Don’t pull my legs, for fuck’s…”

His heart skipped a beat.

“Jesus Christ!!”

 The hand clutching his ankle belonged to Connor, whom he kneeled in front of. There was blue blood all over the android’s fingers and dripping from his mouth, ragged breathing also coming out from it.

“Goddammit, Connor, you’re okay?! What happened to ya?!”

“A deviant… shot me in one of the classrooms… He’s armed…”

“God fucking dammit…”

 Putting his partner’s head on his lap, Hank put the gun back in this pocket and shone the light on the android. It wasn’t too hard to spot the wound: there was a blue hole right in his chest from which liquid oozed, tainting everything it touched in cobaltic tones. The damage seemed to have been enough for Connor to cough up even more blood, all contributing to tainting even more of the place blue.

It was a storm inside Hank’s head. Should he try to stop the haemorrhage the same way he’d so with a human, with red blood? It didn’t cost anything to try. He put his hand on there, trying to use pressure to his advantage, when footsteps arrived next to him.

 There was no LED light around the footsteps’ noise. A “shit” escaped his mouth as he realized this wasn’t any of the two girls from before, but the last deviant in the building. The one with the homicidal tendencies and a lack of empathy to his fellow androids. He needed to get rid of it before it got rid of him.

Regretfully targeting his flashlight towards the deviant, other hand already moving from the wound to his pocket and to his gun, he noticed there was a barrel pointed right between his own two eyes. This was going to end in a bloodbath, wasn’t it.

“Sorry, son,” he whispered under his breath as if Connor could hear it, ready to shoot and get shot, until the barrel disappeared from his immediate vision.

 Two lights had appeared in his field of vision.

“Sir!” SR300’s voice rose from the darkness. “Get away from here as fast as possible! We’re gonna keep him in there long enough, don’t worry for us!”

He wished he didn’t have to resort to that, but seeing Connor cough up some more blue blood was giving him the urge to leave as soon as possible.

“We… we can’t leave them here…” Connor said with echo in his voice and liquid pouring out as Hank was putting him over his shoulder.

“We can’t wait around here, or you’re gonna die! No officer dies on my watch!”

 It was a chore to get moving with someone barely able to walk weighing down on his shoulder, but it had to be done. His partner was attempting to speak despite the leak continuing. Hand on his phone, phone to his ear, ear twitching, he was barking into it to request backup and some kind of medical assistance for androids, whatever that was called.

“Hang on there, we’ll get you to safety and repaired in no time. Just… don’t die on me.”

Connor attempted to speak, only for more blue to come out from it, spilling on the ground.

“And don’t speak, Jesus Christ! You’re gonna make yourself even worse if you do that!”

 Sirens filled the air, lights blinded the eyes, backup deafening sounds and visuals alike. That had been tougher than expected… Of course it’d be. Why did he have expectations of anything going right, again? At least, question solved, right?

  If there was a thing Hank hated deep down, it was waiting for something to happen whenever things turned to shit. He was covered in blue, staring at the wall in a fucking waiting room because he couldn’t focus on anything else. Order from Fowler himself, he didn’t need to add another page to the goddamn bible that was his behaviour history.

The kid had been shot in the chest and he couldn’t have done much about it. He knew he couldn’t have guessed, couldn’t have known, but it still felt like his fault nonetheless. He didn’t care if Connor was supposed to just be robotics with a humanoid face, he was still alive and he had almost died right in his arm for the second time. Fuck this deviant, he deserved the bullet in the head he got from the backup.

 He had seen the two female androids from earlier pass by him, apologizing for not telling him earlier. One of them, the SR300 if he wasn’t mistaken, had almost been shot too, but it only grazed her instead. They had seemed to be adamant to join society as functional members, albeit deviant androids by default. They weren’t bad persons, he supposed, so it was only fair that they had survived the ordeal and had left that decrepit school straight out of Satan’s asshole.

That still didn’t make that shitty situation okay. He hadn’t been here for long and he knew that: at best half an hour, at worst a couple minutes, the time to want to punch something and throw coffee at Gavin for the tenth time in the week. It was pissing him off to dick around like that waiting for something to happen.

 “Lt. Anderson?” a voice called for him, unfamiliar and neutral all the same. Some random technician, he figured.

“Yeah?” he simply replied, before realizing it could be important. “Did the kid make it?” he proceeded to ask, a bit more concerned about the entire ordeal.

The small smile on the guy’s face betrayed the answer.

“He did indeed make it. You may visit his room now.”

 The lieutenant obviously followed. In all silence, yet sighing internally in relief because never again, he made his way in the room. Closing the door behind him and leaning against the wall, he looked at the unconscious (or so he assumed) man in the bed in front of him. A smirk crept up on his face.

“Never do that again, kid, got it?”

[sugar-booger]

One More Adventure Ch.2

An Endless Summer fanfiction ( Jake x MC)

Hey guys! I didn't expect such a good batch of reviews for the first chapter in fanfiction.net! Thank you so much! I do hope you'll like my take on this post-ending fanfiction. Shoutout to the wonderful person who put my fic as a recommended read on Reddit. Sending so much love to you, and everyone who's reading.

Anyhow, enjoy! Critiques and reviews are always welcome. I would love to know what I can improve on!

"I said maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me… you're gonna be the one that saves me, you're gonna be the one that saves me…"

Jake strums the last of the chords until the echoes fade, and he sighs. He sets aside his guitar on the floor, himself sprawled across the messy comfort of his bed. He closes his eyes. Another night goes by. Los Angeles was a little too noisy for his taste, but it is what it is. Rebecca's here, LAX pays well and gives him the flexibility to choose his routes and schedules, and it was busy and loud enough sometimes to keep him distracted. Good number of bars too, a number of places to get the kind of whiskey he liked.

But their reunion at La Huerta was now a turning point; no whiskey or noise could erase such thoughts in his mind— it was Taylor. Taylor. Taylor all over again, for five months.

Behind closed eyes, Jake tries to remember every detail about her—her blue eyes, her goddamn smile, the curve of her lips and how soft they were every time he kissed them, her voice, her hands, her waist, her body, the way she talked, the way she handled things—everything, he tries to keep all the small things that make her in his mind, memorizing them.

He wouldn't forget her. He doesn't want to.

Vibrating beneath tangled sheets, his phone rings. He opens his eyes lazily, greeted by the slightly grimy ceiling with a lone, dim light bulb. Large windows at the west side of his room filled mostly the illumination, casting faint colorful lights from the city streets and buildings outside.

He yanks the phone from under the blanket, near his leg. Eyes widened at the caller ID.

"Malfoy?"

"I know it's late there already. Sorry to interrupt your sleep," Aleister answers from the other line.

Jake sits up, pulling down his scrunched shirt. He could hear the indistinct traffic from Aleister's end. "Nah, it's fine. Wasn't sleepin' yet… You got something for me?"

It takes a few seconds of noise and screeches, and then Grace's voice takes over. Jake swears he heard swerving and some honks. "Jake, sorry… Aleister's driving. We just came back from London, and, er, we may need to regroup as soon as possible. How long do you think you could fly to Craig and Zahra's apartment in Hartfeld?"

"What?" Jake blinks. "LA to Massachusetts?"

"Yes. It's the safest place that we could discuss things. We… The PI finally located the Prism Gate and is ready to hand us some encrypted data we're giving to Zahra. It's still in Northbridge, and we've been given directions to its site but Silas Prescott completely rebuilt and fortified his security, so we may need to— Hello?"

The phone was on loud speaker, perched atop his cabinet. A notification pops up—a reply from a fellow pilot to Jake's message a few seconds ago if he would be able to pull some strings and get Jake to hop on the next flight to Boston.

"Five hours."

"What?" Grace asks.

Jake pulls out a duffel bag beneath his bed, quickly stuffing it with some clothes and his wallet. He starts getting dressed. "I'll get on a plane right now. Be there in five hours. Everyone's comin'?"

"I still need to call up Quinn, Michelle and Sean, but the rest are headed there. We'll be there in an hour."

"Countin' on it. Thanks. See ya." The pilot hangs up, his eyes lingering on the screen of his wallpaper, before nodding to himself and getting a move on. This was a risk that he'd take if it meant a chance to get to see her again.

He darts out behind the apartment they lived in, towards a figure hidden under a black cloth. Beneath the oil-tainted fabric was a sleek, custom-built street motorcycle with a lustrous combo of green and black. Jake unchains it and slips on the helmet, securing his duffel bag behind, and speeds off into the blaring scenario that is the busy, gaudy night life of LA.

The pilot slips neatly into the traffic, through narrow spaces between cars and limousines that pollute the hectic roads. People in their glitzy and swanky clothes line up in front of the biggest clubs and bars, the lot of them arguing with bouncers. He shakes his head.

The colors and lights blur into the hazy background of buildings and establishments, and Jake skids to a stop at a red traffic light. 90 seconds. For the period he waited, there were flashing colors of red, blue and white from a shop, and Jake is reminded of Taylor again. Up at the control tower, the day they landed on La Huerta. It was the moment he really looked at her up-close—this woman he learned to appreciate, admire, and love over the next few weeks.

Taylor was a tough, resilient woman who balanced wit, compassion and fairness. Beauty and humor was just a bonus. She was someone who exhibited courage and bravery, putting on the armor for others when trouble was coming.

In the recording, she told him that it's because of him she had the strength and confidence to make that final decision. But Jake knew otherwise. He knew Taylor would be ready to give up everything for the good of everyone.

But that was what made things more painful. In exchange for the world's fate, for everyone's future, Taylor had to not be a part of it anymore. She never did belong to this world, but she fit perfectly in their lives. In his life, his heart. But he wanted to believe she made the right decision.

What would life be if they had chosen to stay in La Huerta together? If they had gone with Rourke's offer, would he be able to find her and fall in love again, in a world where they would never have met?

12 seconds. Jake clutches the throttle of his bike. He then sees Rebecca out patrolling, coming out from the corner of the street. Jake winks at her and does a finger gun gesture.

"Where—"

But he never gets to hear whatever she was about to say; he hustles further into the road to the airport as the light switched to green. In a matter of minutes, he reached his destination and boarded the plane smoothly, although he may have bribed some security personnel and fellow workmates for it.

In four and a half hours, Jake rouses awake as the plane descends into a calmer landscape. He quickly hops in a taxi that breezes by the quieter streets of Boston in the early morning, brown trees with crisp orange and yellow leaves peppered along the road and a serene view of the seaside just beyond. Right now, his body is screaming for coffee.

He checks his phone, the screen lined up with Rebecca's messages. Jake chuckles.

'Sorry, I'll be gone for a few days. Kinda needed to fly. Take care.'

The golden rays of the sun paint the pale sky as he goes further, and the scene melts into an array of smaller establishments and commercial spaces as they enter the town of Hartfeld. Hartfeld University covers almost the entirety of his journey. They stop in front of a sleek apartment complex, an intimidating building with six storeys and a polished black, white and grey façade.

He smoothens his sandy blonde hair and makes his way to Zahra and Craig's apartment, up on the fourth floor. He waits. A series of clicks could be heard from the other side.

"Yo, 'bout time." Craig greets him upon opening the door. He clears his throat. "Er, I mean, welcome to the… party! So nice of you to join us Jake, and we're totally just doing some happy reunion, yeah?"

Jake raises his brow at this attempt of concealing their meeting. Craig grins nervously, darting eyes looking for anyone behind Jake, or maybe some bugged device, a tracker, anything—and then Aleister calls from inside the room.

"Just please get him inside."

Craig ushers the pilot in and shuts the door, securing it with a number of locks. Jake meets seven other faces gathered around the living room area—Raj, Grace, Aleister, Diego, Varyyn, Sean, and Quinn. On the center table was a tray of freshly brewed coffee, and Raj offers him a cup. "Creamer and sugar are just here in case."

Jake graciously takes the black coffee. "Sweet Jesus, this is all I need. Thanks."

Grace leans forward. "Now that we're here, we will just wait for Estela to arrive. Zahra's in her office, and she'll call for us when she's laid out what we have. She's um, she said better not to disturb her."

He keeps his bag away and sits down beside Diego, sipping from the mug. "Is Sarah Connor fighting off Terminator?"

"She'll be arriving anytime soon." Aleister replies, putting away his phone after a seemingly stressed reading from his e-mails. "Her flight from San Trobida takes about three hours. It's the fastest I could get for my… er, her."

A slightly uncomfortable silence hangs in the air, until—

"So, like… She's your sister, right?" Craig asks.

"I… suppose so," the blond answers, his head low. "Besides Reginald and my father, she's the only relative I have. I'd want to have a good relationship with my own... sister. It's been five years, but we've… not quite bonded as siblings should."

"I'm sure it'll be okay," Grace assures him with a warm smile. "Estela would naturally choose to stay in San Trobida instead of here in the US, so you really don't get much time together. Maybe we can go out someday soon as a family?"

Aleister's pale cheeks flush a faint pink, but a grateful smile replaces his frown. "Yes, that's… That would be lovely."

Jake scans the gang again. "Doc Maybelline?"

Sean sighs, leaning against the recliner. Raj offers him a bowl of nachos garnished with bacon and cheese, to which the football star declines politely. "She hasn't exactly left the hospital since yesterday. Northbridge citizens have been in and out lately with the superheroes versus super villains casualties."

"She said she'll try to come as soon as she can after her shift." Quinn says with a smile. On her lap was Furball, munching on a nacho and leaving crumbs on the redhead's shorts. "It's been really hectic for her."

"Yeah man, Northbridge is always on the news! That Talos guy sure is a cool hero," Craig says with a grin. "Then there's Minuet and Diamante, and they're really kickin' some ass lately too!"

"These heroes you mention, they are the ones with bronze for a body, a masked woman in gray, and another woman with a red cape?" Varyyn inquires, a curious gleam in his bright yellow eyes. Diego had him dressed in a comfortable hoodie and sweat pants for the season.

"Yes, my man, yes." Craig says proudly, fishing out his phone and showing some digitally made artworks, albeit seeming like drafts, for the Elyyshar. "Our team is planning to make a video game out of the Northbridge heroes and I am so pumped!"

"But the more superheroes come forward, the more villains pop out too." Diego says, putting three teaspoons of sugar into his cream-colored coffee. "Northbridge's reconstruction of buildings is non-stop, and a survey from their Mayor's office says that half of the city wants to evacuate if this keeps up."

"Man, that sucks." Sean shakes his head. "But heroes always win, right? Maybe it's tough now, but eventually the good guys will find a way to restore peace and order. Hopefully that kind of problem with super villains don't spread out to other places."

A knock comes from the door, and almost everyone jumps at the sudden noise. It takes a moment for them to look at each other, and Craig strides to the door nervously and presses his face to the peep hole. "Yo, she's here!"

It takes another series of unlocking and clicks before Craig pulls the door open to welcome Estela, who steps in with her usual wary look. "…Good morning."

"Mornin' Estela! Coffee?" Raj bounds to her cheerfully with a mug, which Estela takes with a grateful nod.

"Er, I hope your flight proved to be alright…? Did you have any problem?" Aleister stands up, trying not to show the worry and uncertainty in his smile. He's failing.

Estela simply shakes her head and stands at the side of the sofa, mug in hand. "It went alright. Thanks." She pauses, avoiding Aleister's eyes, and finally mutters, "How's… Reggie?"

"He's chipper and healthy. You should visit him soon." Aleister answers briefly with a smile. Estela nods with small smile, although warm and eager.

Furball jumps off Quinn's lap and nuzzles against the Colombian's leg, to which she would give a small, gentle pat on its head. She tries to conceal a smile as her fingers brush against its soft fur. Everyone resumes talking as they waited for Zahra.

Jake savors the warm taste of rich black coffee. He turns to Grace from across the table, who was watching some videos of their kid on her phone.

"Missing him, eh?" He smiles.

Grace's head snaps to him, her expression surprised, but she relaxes and nods proudly. "Mom's taking care of him while we're here… It's something of an apology from her, but she's actually really fond of her grandchild. Reginald's been a handful, but that's okay. He's happy, we're happy, and I think that all that matters."

"Good to hear that," Jake says briefly, sipping from his mug. He takes a few seconds before sucking in air sharply. "You… mentioned about the Prism Gate being in Northbridge. How far is that place from here?"

"It's an hour drive to the west of Hartfeld. It's a pretty big city, and as you may hear…" She looks at the rest of the gang, with Craig surveying who was their favorite hero. "It's been unsafe and alarming. Over the course of five months, a lot of casualties and superhero conflicts had happened. It was tough for the PI to investigate."

"Yeah, that… Anything you might wanna share? Brief us or something."

The group falls silent as Grace takes a minute to organize her thoughts. "The PI shared some interesting matters over the last five months. When Craig asked last time if the Prism Gate is any way connected to the superheroes, I said yes. The initial discovery was that all the super humans so far had a trace of the crystal's particles in their bloodstream."

Craig whistled. "Daaaaaaamn."

"Additionally, Silas produced a liquified version of the crystals which he called the Liquid Prism. The news says these things have been stolen and passed on from criminal to criminal, and with the rising rates of supervillains, the conclusion is that these Liquid Prism have been consumed to produce such an army."

Varyyn appears surprised. "This is… the potential of Vaanu's crystals have more to offer than what we know. Such power was not discovered by anyone in the Vaanti."

"We don't know for sure if these crystals have been harnessed differently by the Prescott Industries to have this kind of effect on humans." Grace says. "They've been studying these for 25 years. Maybe we'll get some answers once Zahra gets access on the files."

"This is why Silas Prescott has likely increased security in his properties." Aleister continues. His hand intertwines with Grace's, thumb gently grazing over her skin. "The rampant rate of super villains grows day by day, and stronger. Who knows which mastermind would get their hands on the Liquid Prism next if he would not secure them."

The discussion is interrupted as a disheveled Zahra throws open the door of her office. She doesn't say anything. Her eyes are wide, looking at everyone gathered.

Craig jogs to her side. "Z? You okay?"

"God, and I thought we were doing something illegal." Zahra shakes her head. "Guys, you have to see this."

[nathjonesey-75]

A Day In A Life

They say retrospect is a wonderful thing. To be able to review; objectively and honestly – moments, times or even periods of time. Critically or loosely. Positively or negatively. Sometimes that essential clarity of thought cannot be granted until enough time has passed, as the mind (it has been known) to play tricks on us. In this particularly unique instance it has taken me this long – twenty-two years, in fact – to be openly able to absolutely look everything in the eye and be brutally frank. To the point where it’s almost completely written in the third-person, about another individual.

 I suppose it could be as much the self-therapy I’ve wanted to gift myself, as it is hopefully a document of mental health learning for others. Tomorrow I will turn the grand, fuddy-duddy, middle-aged, wrinkle-washed age of forty-four. Double the age of probably the most pivotal and instrumental birthday anniversary of my life. Those who have known me forever will know why – but as I try not to assume that I know everything about everyone – this is a story from a very jittery life journey. Having lost people; friends and acquaintances from my generation to mental health struggles and coping mechanisms which didn’t work – “every little helps”, as Tesco says.

 On Wednesday, May 7th, 1997, I travelled back to Nottingham; to my university life, having visited my mother after a write-off, nasty car accident had broken both her legs. She used to tell me up to that point “I’ve been driving twenty-five years and had no accidents, so don’t tell me how to drive!” When the time had clearly come to blemish the self-prognosed perfect driver’s record – it was done in destructive style. Anyway, having left my pin-legged mother in Llanelli, I returned to pre-arranged birthday drinks in Nottingham. A month or so away from completing my BA (Hons) Communication Studies course, this was to be probably the last big celebration before a month of coursework was to be completed. Life was good (apart from the aforementioned Mrs Damon Hill-Jones’s road exploits).

 After a few hours of not paying for any drinks, I felt on the brink of being annihilated - should I drink any more. So, after running into my work colleague from my part-time job at the Beatroot nightclub, the two of us diverted from Sam Fay’s late bar – to his nearby flat, near Nottingham castle, so I could chill out for an hour. The plan was to return and see the night out until 2am. Whether the walk and fresh air had helped or not, I had a semi-second wind. We got to his flat and my ideals of birthday grandeur got the better of me. I wanted a bottle of bubbles. At that time of night, the only place I could get one would be a nightclub, so we ordered a taxi to take us to…sigh….The Black Orchid. A cheesy, yet huge club in the enterprise park which had Wednesday student night on. Did I need the bottle? No, yet the cab was booked.

 It was at this point that my mental hard drive crashed. My next memory was waking up in a hospital bed, the following afternoon, with not only my friends around the bed, but my father as well. I opened my eyes and asked; “What happened?”, as if I was in a scene of a film where the character had woken up in heaven – only to be sent back to earth with a completely abstract life narrative to the one which was being played up to the Wednesday. Turns out I had probably had another drink at my friend’s, at some point of the night consumed a small amount of amphetamines, then passed out on the first-floor landing, but falling sharply down the twenty feet of stairs on my head, all the way.

Now, with music playing loudly, my workmate and his flatmate heard nothing. It was their neighbour who heard a large ‘thud’, who rang the doorbell in concern which alerted them, along with the taxi which had arrived outside. There was blood everywhere. I had fractured my skull, torn nerves while breaking my nose and had a slight haemorrhage on the side of my head. Five days were spent in Nottingham’s QMC Hospital, mostly sleeping. On the Saturday, I remember getting out of bed in a complete fuzzy daydream, wearing only one of those crappy bed gowns; walking to the toilet with the nurse calling after me “Nathan! Where are you going?” “Home!” was the abrupt, muddled answer. I urinated, went back to bed and proceeded to enter hibernation once again.

 Doctors said I was lucky to be alive. There was a dent at the front of my cranium, around an inch long. Had that been an inch higher in position on my skull – I was told I would have died. Those nerves I severed were my smell and taste nerves, so I’ve had very diminished senses in those departments, since. Most pivotal – was my doctor, back in Llanelli; once I returned and spent another five days in Prince Phillip Hospital, he said “You will experience some depression and levels of fatigue.” Immediately, in my head I decided – no I won’t. Not the depression, anyway. I’ll find a way of keeping lively and feeling good. The fact Being ruled out of playing rugby or football for at least nine months became a huge problem. My penultimate match played before the incident was for Wales Students Rugby League team against Scotland. The previous summer I had trained pre-season with my beloved Llanelli RFC, with the likes of Stephen Jones and Ieuan Evans; taking my fitness to a new level. I was twenty-two with the world at my feet. There was no way I was stopping. Unsurprisingly, it took a very short space of sleepy, anxious time to realise I’d have to succumb to the doctor’s prognoses.

 Panic attacks began, embarrassingly in public while visiting a friend for their birthday in August 1997, having seen out three months of ‘no alcohol’ from my doctor’s orders. I had no energy. Not even enough to complete my coursework, so Nottingham Trent University gave me an extension of three months – to the end of August, to submit my work. However, I was living away from the university and my beloved friends. What the hell was happening? No energy; forced to live with my mother and brother while my father and sister both lived in Cardiff; both studying for their new careers. Here beginneth the hardest years of my life.

 By the end of 1997, I had managed to graduate successfully, but I was by then suffering heavy depression and anxiety, fuelled by the loneliness of having no friends around; not knowing why I was on earth and wanting to die. I had lost all tracking of whom I was, what I was doing and where any of it was going. Plus, glandular fever had bitten me hard, taking a month out of my glorious, progressive freezer job at Asda.

In January 1998, I was charged with drink-driving, having driven home on Christmas week with no care for repercussions; caught on camera making a U-turn in a forbidden area. While living at home with my mother caused all sorts of tension, arguments and vitriol, the only thing which kept me partially sane was my first set of turntables. With very few points of company around in a reversal of vibrant, university life – it was me; and the decks. Over time, it became a slow, fearful return to “normal” life. I have never been a naturally confident person – easily intimidated in the past by louder, overconfident characters, but this new anger in me – for what I didn’t know – became something, someone – I had to allow to be played out. Not a villain, but an even more insecure little boy to that one on the morning of May 7th, 1997. Unapologetically cavalier, which only cost me at times – and those who suffer depression will know how past mistakes can eat the soul of those who made the mistakes.

For many years I refused to accept depression and anxiety were a part of me. My mother has since told me she believed it began with my grandfather’s death when I was seventeen, but I know from looking deeply inside myself, from exploring instincts I’ve always had, but with which I’ve had to become accustomed – questions I’ve asked in early teenage years, that my fears and those scared instincts – must be tied into my neurological wiring. Throughout my early twenties, from that point I lived out wild teenage years – years locked away inside the vault of a strict upbringing. Partying. Having to surrender, also – any instinctive passion or talent I had for playing rugby, from being oversensitive to knockbacks and increasing lack of confidence.

 Seventeen thousand career changes later, I find myself at almost full-circle completion point. Only now, a bit of maturity (which I appreciate) makes the Peter Pan in me; hopefully a more reasoned character and person. I went into teaching (having told myself at eighteen I would never become a teacher) to try forging a predictable, 9-to-5 life for myself in a past relationship. To try proving to myself I was a virtuous individual (ironically omitting the thought that there are vile and immoral teachers out there too – luckily not many, but there are!) among the clouds of twentysomething decisions – without realising I didn’t have to almost burn myself out a second time, by becoming something I was not aligned with - to prove I could be virtuous and good. Back, now; working in hospitality and trying to revitalise my DJ career (as that’s what I always wanted to do), playing music I love and believe in – rather than what I fooled myself into thinking others wanted, in those hazy days.

 Personally, visiting a psychologist in 2013 (my own choice) to try fathoming whether I had ADHD – which could explain these seventeen-thousand career changes, as well as lack of interest in my later school days – may have given me the road signs I needed. Being told it wasn’t attention deficit, but depression – being medicated has been like having a carbon monoxide fan for the air I breathe. It can always seep back into the oxygen channels, but I have now the ability to blow it away. The ridiculousness of life is something I have to laugh at – I don’t believe in staying miserable (despite being the younger Victor Meldrew). I appreciate the chances I have now and my family life. The point being – the imbalanced brain wires may have always been there but became violently exacerbated by this accident. I cannot stress enough how important it is to consult a mental health professional. Drop the pride, the façade and ideals of grandeur – everyone has some kind of something going on. Some are better are dealing with it than others.  Some can’t hold on in the battle.

 In one of those seventeen thousand careers – twenty years ago, in fact – I worked at what was, pretty much – an abuse line, call-centre; at British Gas in Cardiff. One reason I didn’t last there was because I am not a salesman. Plus, I’m an impatient non-salesman. In this job, the department had to deal with calls from people who had been mis-sold contracts by field agents, selling gas and electricity. On one memorable occasion an English man called, calling me a “f***ing c***” for asking him to explain – a little slower – what exactly happened and how he was conned. When I told him I’d hang up if he didn’t change his abusive tone, he replied “Sorry, I haven’t had my medication today, have I love?” To which his wife, shouting in the background answered, “No, he hasn’t.”

 I still laugh at that, knowing that’s the bar of communication I’d prefer to stay beneath.

[bespectacled-girl-blog]

Flying away - Chapter 1

Word count: 1393 

So, this is it: my first FFXV fan fiction ever, and my first piece of writing in English. This story starts in our world. I really hope you will like it! I have no idea how long it will be, and as I said in my introduction post, I still don’t know whether my OC will end up with Ignis or Gladio. I may try my hand at smut along the way, but again all of this is a first for me, so I still don’t know, I’ll see where the story takes me! If you happen to read this, don’t hesitate to leave a comment, it would be highly appreciated :) I wanted to tag those who are a constant inspiration for me, and whose works I love to read, @nifwrites, @cupnoodle-queen, @blindbae, @stunninglyignis, @themissimmortal, @atarostarling, @miss-scientia, @unlimitedthotworks

The day her life changed began like any other day for Lyne. Her alarm clock went off at 7, she got out of bed, and started to get ready for work. Like any other day, her soon to be ex-husband had pestered   her   as   soon   as   he saw   her   in   the   bathroom  they   still   shared.   He   knew  things   were complicated between them, since they didn’t even sleep in the same room any more, but that didn’t stop him from acting like everything was fine. Ignoring problems was his way of dealing with them, and Lyne was having no more of that. One thing was clear as can be between them though: after twelve years of being together, love was gone for good from this house. Since  they  worked  together  and  had  a  house together,  they still  had  to share more than  they wanted. For Lyne, this situation couldn’t last, and she would be leaving him as soon as the house was sold, but for now, she was surviving as best as she could.

Like any other day, she had dragged herself to the office where they worked, and had started on her daily tasks. At home, her beloved dog, Blacky, a cute Shetland Sheepdog of 7 years, always managed to cheer her up and drag her from her despair. At work it was an entirely different matter, as she had to pretend everything was fine with her workmates, so that her personal life wouldn’t affect her job as a secretary. Not that she intended to keep said job when she left for good, but right now the last thing she needed was more drama in her life.

It was a bright sunny day outside, and even though that spring day cheered her up a little, she still felt trapped within that life. “What would I give to start things over and get a new life”, she thought, longingly looking at the birds flying idly outside her window.

She was standing in front of the filing cabinet, putting order in her files. The cabinet was so full that she had to put her wedding ring off when she dealt with this particular task, lest she scratched her hands repeatedly. That was probably why she loved it so much: without this stupid ring, she felt free, for once.

She had her headphones on, as usual, since music helped her a great deal to give her the energy she was usually lacking. Michael Jackson was singing his famous ‘Thriller’, and she was dancing a little bit -some habit she had gotten into after having lost more than forty pounds: if she could find anything good in her situation, it was this: she had never felt that good in her body. Her long ponytail was swinging in step with the music, and she was almost feeling good. She decided that she would hit the gym after work, that could only be good for her mood, she thought. She felt like having a cup of tea, and was considering which flavour she would chose among the different boxes her drawer contained, when it happened.

First, her vision started to get blurry. Her first thought was that she must have eaten too little that morning, and the fact that the music in her ears had started to fade away did nothing to refute her assumption. But what should have come next never came. She never lost consciousness, never felt her body hit the floor of her little office. Through the buzzing in her ears, she thought she heard someone calling out to her. “Help us, the voice said, lend me your Power and come to our aid”. Her surroundings disappeared, and she found herself staring into a void of darkness. She started to fall, but never hit anything. It felt like ages, though it must have been only seconds. Then her feet hit something solid, and her eyesight came back to her.

When she could see again, the scene unravelling in front of her was too much for her brain to deal with.

It was raining heavily, and dark clouds were hovering over the scene below. She was surrounded by trees, but in the clearing stood what looked like a former factory of some sort, completely in ruins. Four young men were lying on the ground, two of them looking unconscious. Though the blonde guy with unkempt hair looked frail enough, the fact that the bull of a man next to him was also   knocked   out   was   worth   noticing.  To   her   right, a   slim   man  with   dark   blonde   hair   and   his spectacles slightly askew on his nose was looking at her with turquoise eyes, unmoving, his head on the ground. The man facing her had unruly raven hair and was the only one not lying on the ground  yet.   Kneeling,   he  directed  his   blue   haunting gaze   directly   at   her.  Although   he  seemed positively surprised to see Lyne here, he didn’t hesitate more than half a heartbeat, and called out to her: “Please, help us…”. He was losing consciousness too. His head hit the ground, and Lyne found herself quite alone.

That was at that moment that she noticed the beast that was facing her and the young men. It was the angry roar coming from it that brought her to her senses, and a small part of her mind still found the time to wonder how come it hadn’t been the first thing she noticed in that strange place. At first it looked like a feline of some sort, but not your average big cat. That thing must be at least fifteen feet high, and probably thirty feet long, without the spiked tail that is. It had a crest on its back, and two huge horns sprouting from its head. Well, what must have been two huge horns, as the right one was broken nearly at the base. The thing was dark purple, and had an impressive grey mane. Its right eye was dead, but the left one was enough to convey how much that thing loved killing. And right now, that eye was looking right at Lyne. The beast was clawing at the ground with its huge paw, preparing to attack the newcomer.

She could have gone crazy at the sight of this beast getting ready to rip her apart. And certainly, some part of her mind was giggling uncontrollably. But some force had already started to take control of her body, and even though she saw what happened, later on Lyne would be positively sure that it wasn’t her who did these things that first time.

She bent over the man with the glasses, taking one of the daggers he was still holding. She heard herself say “I’ll borrow this for a sec if you don’t mind”. Above her, thunder had begun to roll. The thing controlling her body made her stretch her free arm towards the sky, and the hand holding the man’s dagger pointed directly at the beast’s heart -trapped inside her body, Lyne wondered “is this even where that thing’s heart’s supposed to be?”. Suddenly, lightning stroke her. The bolt went through her outstretched palm, energy filling all the fibers in her body to come out of the dagger and strike the beast. The conscious part of Lyne was overwhelmed with emotions: pure terror, empowerment, exhilaration, exhaustion. She had no idea what was happening, but the thing that controlled her body helped her feel safe, as if it was protecting her. Before she got time to dwell on her feelings however, the beast roared one last time, and as lightning reached its heart under the thickness of its skin, fell to her feet, dead.

Lyne felt the presence inside her recede, and as she gained control over her own body once more, the part of her mind who was petrified with fear started to take over. She was in a completely unknown place, with strangers, had no idea how she’d gotten here, or what had just happened. Remotely, she heard the young men getting to their feet, as the world vanished once again into oblivion. This time she was falling to the ground, and as a pair of strong arms got hold of her before she would hurt herself, she heard a cheerful voice say “Whoohoohoo we’re alive! Let’s celebrate by eating something dead!”

Link to Chapter 2

[sunny-kimmy]

{ Tropical beach resort, Botolan, Zambales : 1st AND 11th of May, 2017 }

Why 1st AND 11th? Well its because I visited this beach twice this summer vacation. I first visited this beach on the year 2015, and since then, my family (along with my cousins and everyone in between) always visit whenever we’re free. The owner of this beach is a workmate of my cousin so that’s why we have contact. It was a private beach before, and they’ve officially opened this year. The kubo in the picture above is where we always sleep, and of course the beach itself. Its beautiful and yes, this is my favorite. 

{ 1st of May, 2017 }

We visited Anawangin island just this January and there are other islands along the place so, we decided to visit them, unfortunately, there were lots of people (because it was labor day) and were not allowed to camp on the island so we decided to visit ate Hannah’s beach. I was gleaming with joy because its my favorite beach, I contacted ate Hannah along the way and we were lucky for her guests just moved out. We arrived late and decided to swim the next day. The moment I woke up, I literally jumped to the water and swam ‘till my legs hurt. And also, we enjoyed a company of a huge “salbabida.” The waves were crashing the shoreline and it felt like its washing away my thoughts, yeah it comes back but at least at some point, I knew my heart was happy. I didn’t want to go home. Home is where the ocean is.

Us with the lifebuoy.

We built a sand castle, a mountain, and a mini beach.

Some of the shots of my brother, Kyros. Yes, he’s great. And yes again, I gained weight.

We ate dinner on our way home in my ever favorite restaurant, Texas Joe’s in Subic.

{ 11th of May, 2017 }

This was an impulsive trip, we didn’t even planned it out, we all just agreed on a 6am meeting time on a regular Thursday then we were on our way to Zambales. I didn’t even expected my mom would allow me, especially my dad, actually I told him that we were going on a hike and on our way to Zambales, I texted him with an excuse that we changed plans. He was okay with that, so deep thanks to my parents for allowing me to this crazy day tour travel with my high school friends, Billi, John, Randy, and her girlfriend, Vanessa.

John and I arrived at Billi’s house around 6:30, Randy and Vanessa were there around 6, and we got off around 7am. Yes, we call it the “Filipino time.” Billi was driving, and I was riding shotgun, and the rest were seating at the back. Anyway, we call this squad “Dau” because we got fucked up for exiting the wrong toll gate, we laughed the moment we realized that we exited Dau instead of SCTEX, hence the name. We ate our lunch at Mcdonald’s and I bought two bottles of alcohol at 7/11 for me. Along the way, the car over heated for three times so we had to stop and put water and it takes minutes for it to cool down anyway it was fine, the road trips are always more fun. As soon as we arrived, we immediately ran to the ocean and swam. We stayed for five solid hours and then it was time to go home.

Ate Hannah insisted that our stay there was free and that we could always go back, but we were shy so we tried to pay her mother but she didn’t took it so yeah, I told her I’ll make up to them on my next visit (deep thanks to ate Hannah and her family, we were so broke and they saved the day). The thing about riding shotgun is you do not let the driver fall asleep, so on our way, everyone at the back were asleep, and that was the time Billi and I were awake because we were reminiscing. We talked about Jasmine, how young she died and our fun times with her and everything. We talked about Iyeo, the jeepney trips, the KFC after class, his’ despedida in Pancake house and Starbucks, our almost jogging at QC cirlce and eating tita Rosalie’s sinigang right after, the guitar jams, and of course how much we misses him, and that he should have been with us but he’s living in New York. We basically talked about high school memories and everything in between for us to stay awake. And then we had to take a coffee because we were half asleep.

Our driver, and the view on our way to Zambales.

My favorite shots from John. I sent this to the people I love and they told me I turned into a real negra, anyway that was goal and I’m really happy in the skin I’m wearing.

John, Randy, Billi and me. We were Spartans before that our group consisted of 10 or more people, I think, but then the messages stops coming and other priorities so, we were down to four.

Dau squad with Vanessa, the trip was supposed to be the four of us only so we were surprised that she came along but anyway it was fun, she’s easy to get along with, its obvious in the picture actually lol.

And of course, the view. The breathtaking view, if I’m allowed to stay here forever, I would. Home is where the ocean is.

[peanatcookies]

Seeing Colours [Preview]

Words: 3522

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Angst (quite a bit tbh) 

Pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook 

Context: Artist au (inspiration can be found HERE) 

A/N: wUHU the preview is finally going to be uploaded here! I’m not sure how I wrote it so fast but I suppose one can easily blame it on the exam stress, which actually made the writing of this story pretty smooth sailing. I know this sounds more like a chapter with its length (oops), but I just wanted to get a feel on how this story might flow through this very platform. :) Furthermore, the title, “Seeing Colours” is under a TBC status so if you guys have any better titles, don’t hesitate to drop me a direct message and we can talk about it! ^^ For now, sit back, relax and read away~ Enjoy! 

P.S. @twoamaranth , this was all thanks to your edits. :) Thank you for letting me repost them on my Tumblr! Do check out her stuff! ^^ 

———————————————————

It was a typical Tuesday morning, 8am, as it was shown on my digital clock with huge green numbers. The sun was up, the birds were singing and it was a beautiful sunny day with clear blue skies and white puffy clouds. The weather forecast said there will be no rain, and the best part? It was the school holidays for the students who have spent countless hours cooped up in classrooms and homes; studying the day away and remembering facts that they will probably never use in the days to come.

Now, it was their time to have fun, see the sun and get the dose of the Vitamin D they lacked the past few months. Come back with sun-kissed skin (or even burnt for that matter), new friends and most of all, smiles exuding happiness on their faces as they recall the day to their parents and get together with the friends whom they had not seen for so long.

It is indeed a happy day. Yes, of course it was.

But not for me.

I never knew what happened to me really, but it all started back in high school with countless insults and hate comments coming my way. It was a simple secret, whom I had entrusted to a friend that it would be kept that way. I guess things were never meant to be because the cat was out of the bag three days later. People started staring, snickering, jeering and worse still, bullying.

I came back many days with a bruise or two on my torso and a spinning head from getting pushed around too much. Who knows if I even came back with broken bones? Mother always asked me what happened, and I always came up with the same reason.

“I fell. Sorry for ruining the uniform. I’ll be less clumsy next time.”

The words fell out of my mouth like a robot; like I was trained to say that. She might never have bought it but she took great care of me nevertheless, whipping up her signature ginseng chicken soup when I was down and gently tending to my wounds. I was not much of a talker, so we would sit in comfortable silence as she took care of me and made sure all was well.

She still hugged me tight, kissed me on the forehead to go to sleep and was always ever so supportive with everything that I did.

Or so I thought.

I was 19; a fresh graduate. Smiles were upon our faces as everyone took pictures; some laughing, some crying, to commemorate all the memories that they had spent together. I, however, was glad that I was out of the hell hole and that was when I met a boy named Jimin.

He was a year older, but shorter and had the chubbiest of cheeks. For some strange reason, he had the nicest body with toned abs and defined arms, but never seemed to lose any baby fat from on his face (to his utter dismay). I supposed that was what made him cute and cuddly, and someone that I was willing to spend my time with. He had a heart of gold, a positive attitude and was always there in my triumphs and trials.

We met at a coffee shop, both of us fulfilling our duties as filial children, taking up part time jobs, making drinks and dealing with the most obnoxious customers. Quick friends we were, and soon, we fell deeper than that. He was my everything at that time; workmate, soulmate and most importantly, a lover.

I brought him home and we made ourselves comfortable in my room. It was a medium sized bedroom with tiffany blue walls and it was my safe space, away from the cruelty of the world out there. We stared into each other’s eyes as we shared and laughed about our “deepest darkest secrets”.

I don’t know how laughter turned into lust, but there we were, him on top of me and kissing the life out of me. It was as if the wind had been knocked out of my lungs but it was his lips that gave me security and a love that I had never felt before.

Mother walked in, to my shock and horror, and by then, our tops were off, thrown on the floor at some random corner of the room. My stepfather came in next, and he shouted something along the lines of the fact that his son should never love another boy. He pushed Jimin away and grabbed me by the neck, which is a given that it would probably be bruised tomorrow. He asked me for an explanation but only tears and choked sobs came out of me. I could not speak but his grip only tightened, until I felt my lips turn blue and my face pale.

Jimin got up and tried to stop him, but my stepfather was too strong and he hit him hard till his lips bled. It seemed to have triggered something in him and all he did was pick up his shirt and leave, as if we never knew each other and he was a burglar who got caught red-handed.

He left my room in a huff but came back shortly after with a suitcase in his hand and those words stuck with me till this very day.

“Pack up your things and go. When I’m out of the shower, you should be out and don’t you dare step foot into this house ever again. We’ve always trusted you but you stepped all over our hearts and efforts. Be gone. You are not my son anymore.”

And that was it. I left home without a trace and cut off all contact (in fact they made sure I did) and ended up on the streets.

Cold. Tired. Hungry. Alone.

Those were the four scariest words that stuck in my head the entire time as I sat by the roadside watching the world go by. I found some spare change in my pocket, attempting to call Jimin, but the line did not get through.

And there I was again. Until a middle aged lady walked past me and took interest in me. She did not say very much, but I could tell that she took pity on me with the look in her eyes. It was a sight of sadness and perhaps slight disappointment that a youth like me was found on the streets like that.

She walked away, and I began to think that she was just like everybody else, but no. She peeked from the side of the convenience store to see whether I was still there and motioned for me to take my things and follow her. Skeptical I was, but she brought me into the convenience store and there sat a packet of chocolate milk, steaming hot ramyun and a fried chicken wing.

I stared at her in wonder, but she only motioned for me to sit beside her and eat. Sure, I did not mean to wolf down all the food but I did and she only smiled, something like what my mother used to do. It was a silent lunch, with her occasionally watching the news on the television.

I stood up to leave and apologised that I could not repay and thank her enough for her kindness towards a stranger.

“Thank you so much, and I’m sorry I cannot pay you today. I promise to pay it back someday… I-I… should probably g-get g-going…”

“Why were you out there anyway? It’s pretty uncommon for a youth like you to go around with a suitcase, or should I say duffle, outside a convenience store like this.”

And who knew what came over at me, because I told her everything.

Everything.

Where I came from, where I studied, the ups and downs in my life… You name it, I probably said it. There were no emotions and it sounded like I practically deadpanned through the monologue. The woman did not say anything; she just sat there and nodded every once in awhile in understanding. Despite the lack of response, it was pretty obvious that she was listening intently.

“I see… You know, society’s a little messed up in certain ways and I know that you were probably a smart, talented and one of the nicest boys anyone can have. It’s a pity that your parents dropped you off so easily like that, simply because you were considered to be part of the queer.”

I nodded and sighed, suddenly wondering what the hell I was thinking to be blurting all this information to a stranger that I just met 30 minutes ago.

“Oh well… Follow me then.” She stood up and offered to take my luggage for me, but I refused and took it back immediately. Fear crept into my mind and so did suspicion so I asked in doubt, “Where are we going?”

“Ah… Your new home. You’ll be living with me now I suppose. Don’t worry about the rent. It’s only right that you find some more purpose in life other than sitting in the streets and waiting around for a miracle to happen. C’mon, before it gets late, and cold too.”

Fear and suspicion stayed, but my mind kept telling me that there was going to be hope at the end of it, so I followed and we continued to make small talk along the way. Her home, according to her, was not too far off and it was easily walkable. It was almost the evening now and before I resorted to freezing my butt off, I was actually grateful that I had a lodging now.

Her name was Mrs Jung Inhye and she was in fact, from Busan, my hometown. She was under the Art Management team of the Seoul National Museum and was in charge of auctioning for works, do write ups and she also mentioned that she loved to draw in her past time. No style in particular, but she liked still life and natural phenomenons such as a sunrise or a sunset. Later, I found out that she was a relatively young widow; her husband had passed away in a work accident 3 years ago and they never had any children.

So here I was, at least according to her, and she seemed excited to actually take care of me, even if I was not her biological son that she wished to have. The more we talked, the more she reminded me about how my mother used to be; loving, caring and everything a mother should be. Till this day, I’m not sure if I held some form of bitterness but I probably did, considering the fact that I was definitely hurt when she did not stand up for me when my stepfather chased me out of the house.

It was cold then and it was as if I became a stranger in my own family home at that split second. She did not spare me a second glance and did not say a word when I left home. Sure, she was disappointed and I would understand, but I would have preferred a word from her; just so that I could have one last memory before I said goodbye.

Now, Mrs Jung’s home was a quaint and comfortable soho apartment, which was always fully furnished by the previous tenant. It was more suited for a person, considering the narrowness of the corridor and the fact that there was only one stove. And it was true; I felt like I had stepped into an artist’s mind.

The furniture was all monochrome but the things that added a splash of colour were the obvious hints that Mrs Jung was indeed a painter with a canvas stand at a corner of the room and her work (or at least most of it) was hung around her walls to give her space more of a personal touch.

“Just leave your things there, Jungkook-sshi. I will take a shower first so do make yourself at home. Sorry it’s in such a state and of course, you’re free to look around. You know, get to know me a little bit more.”

And with that she left me in the silence of her apartment as I took a seat on the floor, afraid of staining everything with my grimy clothing. I took a good look around and it was indeed what I had wished for as a student; go to a university and rent one of these personal soho apartments with a loft bed.

I could have done that. If I did not get kicked out so soon.

She came out with her hair wrapped around in a towel and once again, memories hit me of how open minded and comfortable my mother used to be, before she met my stepfather. A simple minded woman she was, who always seemed happy with the world and never saw anything wrong with it.

That was what she used to be.

I took the lukewarm shower that I had not taken in days and came out quickly, because Mrs Jung had mentioned that she wanted to have a talk with me. The questions all came with, “So Jungkook, what do you wish to become?” or “Do you have any interest in art? Or even the Performing Arts?”

Honestly, I had never thought of any of those things, and did not help that I actually came from the Hanlim School of Foreign Languages and did not have any exposure whatsoever to the local art scene for that matter. All I knew about it was that I wished that I could do it too.

She tried to help me, opening me up to all the possibilities in Seoul but I had my doubts, especially when it came to my passion. It was no longer clear, especially after whatever I had experienced, and it was probably obvious that I needed more time, given that she allowed me to take a month or two off to discover more about myself and what I really wanted to do. She did not push for it, but it was evident that she wanted me to make a decision as soon as possible.

And that was where it all began.

She taught me about art appreciation, how things came about in the art scene and little by little, I grew to like it because I could freely express however I felt and the beauty lied in the eyes of the beholder. Cringe worthy, but that was what enlightened me towards the beauty of the craft. The journey was far from easy, especially when it came to the application of art.

Coming from a school which gave no time for art, it was frustrating trying to think of anything outside the box that no artist had ever used before. Styles, techniques, content, colour -- there was so much to think about. It led to emotional outbursts and probably a pool full of tears but Mrs Jung pressed on, and taught me that if I wanted to create real art, I had to put some personal thought and feelings into the piece.

Journalling. Researching. Soul searching. And I did all those things.

Eventually, I found my calling and that was to major in art in the prestigious Korea University of the Arts. I found joy, happiness and most importantly, some form of acceptance from those who were just like me. It was bliss just creating something from one’s own talent and the true beauty lied in the fact that every art piece was never the same. We had similar themes; Lies, Deception, Society, Beauty, but all our art pieces had our own personal touch.

I came back to a loving home, where Mrs Jung constantly greeted me with a smile and a hug, always reminding me how proud she was of me pursuing something that I truly enjoyed. She knew how much effort I put in, and it touched my heart all the time, knowing that she was willing to take in a young boy like me and letting him pursue his dreams.

I wanted to gift her with my very first art piece and it was a painting of a the transition of a teenager. “He” started off as closed off, distant and unsure of the world, but he finally found purpose, happiness, all thanks to the angel he met along the path of “his” youth. She was there to talk sense into “him” when “he” wanted to carry out rash decisions and was always a gentle soul with him, accepting every bit of his being without judgement.

Once I finished, I stepped back and admired my masterpiece, reminiscing about the times where I struggled to do art, and I have come such a long way.

The serenity of the apartment was broken from the shrill ring from my phone and a strange voice answered.

“Dude! Do you know how much I had to go through to get your number?”

“U-uh,” I answered, furrowing my eyebrows a bit, “I don’t know who you are.”

“You punk, this is Kim Seokjin. Thank you very much. I can’t believe you forgot about me so quickly. I see how it is.”

And at that tone, my face lit up and my eyes widened in shock because how the hell did he get my number? I was in a different neighbourhood now, living my own life and was soon to graduate in 2 years. I was not the same Jeon Jungkook then. Definitely not.

“Hyung!!” I exclaimed, “How the hell did you get my number?”

However, his voice grew dark and serious, “I will save that story for another time. It’s not the time to talk about it now.”

“H-hyung,” I stammered, “Did something h-happen at home?”

“Promise me you won’t freak Jeon. Where are you now?”

“I’m in my apartment now…?” I answered, anxiety present in my voice.

“It’s…” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing, “Jimin’s death anniversary tomorrow. I’m sorry I had to break it to you like this, but there was no other way since I couldn’t find you----”

And with that he droned on, but I was no longer paying attention anymore. It was as if my world had shattered and the time had stopped. My knees crumpled beneath me and all I could do was stare into oblivion with shock evident in my eyes.

No. It cannot be. Jimin can’t be dead? Why would he be? He was the one who pushed me out of the closet. He brought love, encouragement and joy to all those around him. Why would he want to die anyway?

“Jeon? Jungkook-ah? Yah, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Hyung… It’s not April Fools’ Day, you know? You’re a month late. Indeed, you’ve not changed with your old Dad jokes. It’s May, you know that right? Jimin’s still alive I’m sure, I mean, he had so much to live for---”

But I was cut off from saying anymore when the only thing that came out was the sound of heavy breathing and choked sobs; fat tears rolling down my cheeks uncontrollably like a dam that had been broken. I bit my lip to hide my cries, but Seokjin probably knew better.

He always did anyway.

“Jeon, I’m sorry I did not tell you earlier. I’ll pick you up tomorrow and I will explain everything to you. Get some rest okay? I don’t think Jimin would want to see you this way. He would prefer you to live your life happily and would want the best for you. Wherever you are, he’s proud of you and I am too. Goodbye.”

And the tone to signify that the call had ended beeped away.

At that moment, the silence of the apartment became deafening, terrifying and I could hear every single detail around the house; the dripping tap, the occasional howl of the wind outside. My world started to spin, but tears still flowed out continuously and I tasted blood; probably caused from the hard biting of my lip to hold my tears back.

Black spots soon came into my vision and I tried to blink them away, but my heart continued to palpitate wildly against my chest and it hurt too much to move. It was as if my body froze and my breath started to hitch. With each passing moment, it became harder to breathe and it was as if my entire respiratory system was constricting against my will.

“Jungkook!! I’m home! By the way, I wanted to tell you that I think I met your friend-- JUNGKOOK! Oh my god, what happened to you?! Jungkook, answer me please. Stay awake darling. Come on, say something---”

I finally saw black. I stopped responding and it felt like my heart stopped beating, or at least it was slowing down.

I could not have been happier at that point, or so I thought. Death was a scary thing, yes, but I did not mind embracing it now.

[randomwoohoo]

Nick: Previously on Zoomorphia!

Judy: Why use the word ‘morph’ anyway?

Nick: Cuz it sounds radical! We should try saying ‘It’s morphin’ time!’-

Judy: Not gonna happen. It’s too cheesy.

Nick: Said by a mammal who announces ‘Transform’ during transformation~

Judy: Shush! We are running out of time but we haven’t mentioned the previous chapter yet!

Nick: Well~ To put it simply, folks, fuzzy bun bun here always meddles in the attack of monsters called Savage, so Chief Buffalo gave us a disciplinary penalty. Still that wasn’t enough to stop Carrots from scouting and Bam! we found a Savage and beat it!

Judy: That’s too slipshod! Can’t just skip the Hybrid part! Gosh! We’re dragging this way too long.

Nick: It’s our first time. We’ll be good at it someday. Until then-

Nick & Judy: Now the chapter 2!

Thank you everyone for reading this fic. Please leave the comments. I would love to hear you thought. I will try to make this series active as possible.

Here’s Fanfiction.net link

.-.. . - .----. ... / -.-. --- -. - .. -. ..- .

“-got a report from SCU yesterday. A Savage showed up at Cliffside Asylum. A guard informed that fox and bunny cops also showed up even though it shouldn’t be possible since they both were supposed to be writing parking tickets in Downtown!... Abandoning your post, trespassing on restricted area, encountering Savage but didn’t contact SCU… correct me if my assumption is wrong.” Chief Bogo behind a table had summoned Senior Officer Judy Hopps and Senior Officer Nick Wilde to his office, narrating violations that duo had done the day before.

    They sat quietly opposite to their supervisor. Nick was rubbing the back of his neck while Judy froze like a kid in the principal’s office. The cape buffalo shut his eyes and deeply inhaled. “I thought so… Despite being among the best, you two are such troublemakers. I should punish ya right away-” The threat caused fox and rabbit ears stand erect. They was going to voice. “-but lucky for you, new cases keep coming, old cases haven’t been solved yet. Currently, we need you to handle more investigation of illegal possession of Night howlers that’s been increasing recently. I’m counting on experts in this particular kind of cases.”

“Noted, sir” The pair responded, Nick raising right paw in a salute. “Dismissed!” Bogo bawled.

    Nick and Judy exited the room. As a door closed, they let out a groan. “That was tense.” Loosening his tie, tod whispered loudly. The partner ambled down the stairs. “I prayed so hard for him not asking what we did when we faced Savage .” The doe hissed. “Thanks tod, those hustler skills enabled me to conceal secrets.” He whined, appreciating his past life. “The less mammals know the truth about Hybrid. The better it is.” She ratiocinated. They stepped on the first floor, strolling through the hallway.

“Judy! Nick!” An enthusiastic chubby cheetah hailed the duo from across the entrance. “Hello Jude! Miss me?” The silvery female voice greeted.

    Judy changed direction, rushing towards her friends. “Hi Benjamin. Mornin’ Jasmine! How are you? It’s been a while~” The bunny greeted back, hopping to wrap her arms around bengal tigress neck. By the way, the rabbit lied. She just met Jasmine Fangmeyer yesterday… in the SCU group, who targeted them. The tiger had been recruited in the Savage Control Unit ( SCU) since the team was first formed but it was good to see their intimate without field gears.

“Sup, Clawhauser, Fangmeyer.” Nick followed, rolling his sleeves up in order to get more casual.

    Jasmine held the doe, gently put her down before addressing the fox “Hey, Wilde.”

“Jasmine and I are gonna go get a lunch. Wanna come?” Cheetah invited them, which Judy promptly replied. “Sure! That would be lovely~”

    Frankly, both Nick and Judy had a rough start with their fellow officers. The partners were discriminated against, which is inevitable because of their species. Even Fangmeyer used to sneer at Judy, thinking she was just a bunny. Nevertheless, after years of cooperation, others came to respect them for who they are. The duo did not hold a grudge; thus, the friendships were born. Nowadays, they can call each other ‘friend’ confidently.

-.-. --- -- .-. .- -.. . ...

“It’s funny… ” Judy uttered, confusing her workmates. “What, Fluff?” Nick questioned. Four of them were eating at Savanna Central local diner’s outdoor table. Guys were sitting on the same side while ladies were taking the seats of opposite side. Felines were facing one another, so were the partners.

“These days, Midnicampum holicithias has become an illegal plant. One cannot possess exceeding a certain amount which depends on legal documents one owns according to their occupation.” the doe explained. Everybody knew this fact about Midnicampum holicithias or Night howlers. However, her friends still did not understand what the doe tried to convey. “What’s funny then?” Jasmine spoke out for the rest, poking her seafood salad with a fork.

“They used to be all over the place. My family grew them to keep bugs off the produce. After Night howler case and the new law created, many label this plant as a menace. My parents even gotta find a substitute.” the doe elucidated.

“At least, those scarecrows are getting more jobs.” The tod joked. “Y’know they’re for discouraging birds, not bugs right? Besides, they’re barely practical.” His partner delivered the requisite reality-check. Both made the feline fellows chortle.

    The mention of Night howlers jogged Clawhauser’s memory. “Oh! Please remind me to hand you the case file-” He was requesting when Fangmeyer interjected. “C’mon guys! It’s lunch break. Don’t bring up the work. Anyhow,  are there anybody seeing someone… special?” She grinned cheekily. The cheetah awkwardly smiled. “Do donuts count?” He quizzed. “Sorry, Ben. No.” Tigress gave the answer Benjamin expected. “Well, I might be too good at making friends, so...” He muttered. Nick contemplated his pal’s statement. “Got friendzoned huh? Poor thing~” Fox sympathized.

“What about you, Judy?” Clawhauser passed the baton to Judy to tackle peeps’ attention. “You’ve always been popular. Must be lots of mammals hitting on ya.” said Jasmine. Every eyes pinned on the rabbit opening her mouth. “Nah~ I’m too busy working. My off-time is terribly uncertain. It’s better to hang out with my partner. We usually get off work at the same time. Crashing at his apartment for sharing meals and movie night, spending time with him in general is quite pleasant… Did I say something wrong?” Judy’s words left two big cats goggling at her. Tod guffawed at how innocent the bunny was.

“I’m not paying for this! Food doesn’t deserve even half the price!” At nearby table, dark brown slim bull moose grumbled. A koala waitress was scared by bull’s manner. Cops who witnessed the scene were about to take an action, especially the rabbit. “Hold up, Carrots.” Nick halted her. Judy was on the verge of disputing but “Quiet! You’re disturbing others!” cow moose that sit with aggressive moose scolded her probable associate. The bull angrily walked off. The waitress was unsure what to do. “Just leave him. He’s always like this.” The cow beamed at the koala.

“See~?” Nick smirked, picking up a bug burger from his plate to take a bite. “Wow! Wilde, you know them?” The tiger agent inquired, which the fox officer boastfully quipped. “I know everybody~ like reading a book, except this unpredictable cute bunny.” He referred to Judy in the way that would trigger her. Everyone anticipated a protest from the doe.

“Hey Nick, what does bug burger taste like?” Rabbit sniffed the smell of meat patty wafting through the air. Since her partner started digging in his meal, she had been captivated by the scent and the predatory ways of eating, fangs chomping breads, lettuce leaves and minced insects.

“Hmm? Like chicken sandwich but greasier I guess.” He gave a straight answer. “And how am I supposed to know the chicken taste?” She jested, resulting in a snigger from the rest.

“Kinda weird that prey’s interested in predator’s diet, isn’t it?” Cheetah presumed. “Cuz she is an unpredictable bun bun.” Nick bantered, reaching to pat Judy’s head. “Nick, don’t! Your fingers are oily!” She tried to block his paw. Bet she doesn’t even notice… Clawhauser and Fangmeyer thought, recollecting the dating question.

    The scream together with roar attracted mammals’ attention in the area. The police officers recognized the noise. “Savage ! Evacuate!” Judy directed, pushing Nick’s paw away, hurriedly taking control of the situation. Moose Savage appeared from ally. The muscular feral purple capreoline went on a rampage.

“Officer- I mean- Agent Fangmeyer to dispatch! Savage !---” Jasmine radioed while helping Benjamin clear the area. She told SCU the location detail. It was ironically fortunate that many mammals were frightened to be outdoors. Therefore, evacuation was rather easy. “Okay, team should arrive soon. Ben and you two- Jude!” She was shocked to see her rabbit friend holding a gun which is useless against most Savages. Normal gun can only slow them down at best.

“We’ll buy you some time. Go!” The doe insisted. Tigress grouched for a moment. However, she decided to leave with cheetah eventually, having no weapon and knowing how determined Judy can be.

“Alone at last.” Nick licked his paw, cleaning the burger grease off. Judy put back the gun. They confronted Savage fearlessly. “Ready, partner?” She brought out the black device with the purple circle core, 45 degree angled silver syringe on the left and maroon handlebar on the right.

“Born ready.” He turned around then fled. “Hey! Wait! Where are you going?” The doe panicked. “Hiding! No way I gonna fall asleep defenseless in the middle of battlefield!” The racing tod vociferated. “Ya gotta be kidding me!” She shouted, bewaring of the monster.

    Moose Savage attacked bunny officer. She dodged its antlers, putting the device on her in order not to inconveniently grasp the arm-sized device. Device’s belt wrapped itself around her waist mechanically. She kept hopping, darting away and avoiding all the attacks, pretty out of breath. “Finally!” She cheerily exclaimed when she spotted Nick’s blood in her syringe, meaning he found a place to hide and had proceeded with transformation. She was going to transform but the monster was still hunting her. The rabbit dived off from getting gored then rolled on the ground. Sitting with knees up, she gazed at Savage which was aiming on her. As it was hurtling towards Judy, she pressed the syringe. “ INJECT ” The device spoke robotically. Then she spontaneously twisted the handle anticlockwise. “ IGNITE ” The transformation’s broiling purple mist explosion blew the monster away, revealing the bio-armored fusion between a fox and a rabbit, Hybrid, shiny full body metal-like exoskeletons in Nick’s hustler color scheme, rabbit ears, fox tail and two amethyst headlights for eyes.

“Save~” Nick swept Hybrid’s legs before standing up, uttering a baseball vocabulary, implying he made it in time. “What took you so long?” Judy griped.

    Moose Savage arose, shaking off a daze from the stream blast. It and Hybrid simultaneously ran into one another. The monster jumped whilst Hybrid slid under it. Nick and Judy elongated claws. Cupped paws thrust upward, the claws stabbing Savage ’s abdominal skin. It slumped down ignominiously. Hybrid sprung up, striking a fighting pose.

“Let’s end this quick. I don’t wanna waste lunch break.” Doe talked with tod. She approached the injured moose.

    Suddenly, something crashed Hybrid from the side. Hybrid fell over and rolled. Fox got up on knees to observe what had just hit him and bunny.... or just bunny with his mind also in her body. “Other Savage !” Both yelled. A drooling purple spiky haired wolverine Savage emerged out of the blue. Naturally, Savages had spread across Zootopia since one year ago. It was no surprise to see more of them unexpectedly showing up.

    The moose got back on hoofed feet. Savage s were cautiously circling around Hybrid , who retracted the claws while inspecting beasts’ motion. Two monsters rapidly charged at the armored mixed breed from both left and right. Paw pressed the syringe. “ ACTIVATE ” Afterwards, Savages should assail their single prey. However, the event turned out to be them colliding with each other.

“We’re here!” An exuberant male tone pronounced. Hybrid stood a step away, mockingly glaring at the tricked monsters.

    Fox and rabbit just activated the phenomenal ability. Deception and survival are essential hustler’s skills that Hybrid adopted and applied for a fight, which consequently created the instant movement technique capacitating Hybrid to move in a split second. That was why Nick and Judy can relocate from one place to another or effortlessly elude SCU, sardonically reminding Judy of the time when she first learned that Nick was a con-artist and she was fooled by Nick pointing other way then he disappeared around a corner when she turned back.

    Hybrid span to generate momentum, swinging right leg around circularly to slash Savages’ flesh with protracted foot claw. The wolverine bent away in due course, thereby receiving shallower wound than the moose which was flopping down due to lacerations, still it was not enough to finish off the monster.

    Wolverine Savage drew back. Hybrid hounded it. Fists, kicks and claws did not reach the target. It ducked every strike and not let its foe get close. Tod and doe ceased roughing up Savage or attempting leastwise.

“Keeping a distance, I see~ Clever girl~” Fox quoted a movie. “I think it’s a male, Nick.” Bunny analysed this wolverine’s figure being larger than average females. “Doo do doo doo DO Doo do doo doo-” He hummed the movie theme, making his partner roll her eyes.

    Judy twisted the handlebar clockwise. “ FORM SHIFT-POLICE ” The device vocalized, releasing a purple fog covering Hybrid whose armour emit steam from gaps synchronously. The purple core and the amethyst headlights brightened in brume. The duo as one thrashed left arm to clear the haze, unveiling the same flamingo red armored hybrid but with some alteration, navy police hat with gold ZPD logo added to the top of helmet, rabbit ears flat against the back of head, blue arms and torso, dark scale vest, black armlets on both forearms, dark blue lower half except red feet, grey knee pads.

“Hybrid Police form. Policed to meet you~” Nick introduced Hybrid ’s other form to Savage s. They had not taken action yet, providing the partners an opportunity. Tod pushed the syringe. “ ACTIVATE ” Nothing happened. “Where is it?” Doe asked. “It takes time to summon it. You should have known, Carrots.” He informed. “No! Now, we need a pistol! That’s reason I chose this form!” She vociferated. “How am I supposed to know what to activate!?” The fox claimed. “Get a clue!!” The rabbit hollered.

    Whilst the pair were bickering, wolverine Savage engaged them. “Oh fudge!” Nick blurted out as Judy warded off the monster. Paws smacked it time and time again to divert its dashes towards them. “It’s not working! Physical strength is obviously weaker than Hustler form.” She shoved the wolverine, comparing the current form’s branch of power to the previous form’s. Savage tried to hurt Hybrid once more. “Then use a lifeline~” He suggested. Doe accepted an advice by pressing the syringe. “ ACTIVATE ” Wolverine pounced on Hybrid. Its fangs and nails hit hard.

“Easy, mate~ Ya don’t wish-” Nick used an Australian accent seeing that Savage was a wolverine which sort of reminded him of Outback Island even if wolverines are not originated from this district. “-to ruin those perfect teeth, do ya?” Judy finished the sentence. The monster was obstructed by a chain, handcuffs on both ends. Hybrid tied Savage ’s arms and muzzle with the chain, holding handcuffs in left paw while right punch pummeled the beast’s face. Next, Hybrid leaped over the dazed wolverine and hurled it across the street.

The monster, slipping out of the chain, intuitively landed on feet. Hybrid steadily strode forward as Savage recoiled. Nonetheless, distance was no obstacle anymore. The chain was lengthened. Hybrid swung the weighted chain in a large circle over the head and then whipped the monster. Handcuff smashed into wolverine’s rear. Hybrid yanked the chain back and lashed the monster’s flank with other end. It was thrashed by handcuffs on both ends, unable to defend or escape.

    The moose Savage rose after it recuperated, scuffing front right hoof on road surface. It sprinted, intending to butt the armored cop.

    The moose cried. All of a sudden, a car ran into Savage ’s side before it could touch Hybrid . The duo paused beating wolverine to look around. Moose Savage overturned. “Right on time~Just as planned.” Nick bragged about the arrived vehicle he summoned earlier. It is a hatchback sports car, painted in black with white on the doors, having a pair of sirens at the top. “It was just a coincidence, wasn’t it?” Judy felt that her partner did not plan anything. The car luckily came at the most appropriate time, rescuing them from an assault.

    The wolverine seized a chance to flee, limping down the road when Hybrid turned back. “It’s getting away!” Tod changed the subject, ignoring doe’s doubt. She focused the hobbling monster and then push the syringe. “ ACTIVATE ” The handcuffs vanished. Thereafter, a pistol, suitable for rabbit, popped up. It is a black AutoMag with a purple cylinder-like extra part and an auburn grip. Hybrid grabbed it to shoot at wolverine. Six bullets were fired in a mere second. Wolverine Savage suffered from several gun holes, beyond a dozen, as it collapsed. Nick chuckled, twirling the gun.

“Let’s finish this for real. We still have the other one to deal with.” Judy span the cylinder, sparks flying out.

“Freeze, Hybrid !” The pair, interfered, averted their gaze from the monster. “You’re here at last! Please save us~” Nick mocked SCU troop. Judy even saw tiger gal pal, full gear set, among the agents.

“Drop your weapon!” Demanding, they parked their vehicles surrounding Hybrid , sports car and Savages. The moose one bounced back, scramming through encirclement.

“I would love to stay and sign autographs but I really mustache~” He punned. Hybrid got in the sports car. “Stop!” White stallion commanded. “Can you handle Savage lying over there? Thank you, bye~” Nick saluted. Meanwhile, Judy drove off to chase the moose. SCU mammals must make a way. “Wait!” The horse grunted. When other agents checked the riddled wolverine, it had already begun to evaporated, indicating it was dead. “Darn you, Hybrid!!” He cursed.

    In the meantime, moose Savage was bolting blindly in Savanna Central, pursued by black and white. The car drew alongside the monster. The driver’s window was slid down, which allow Hybrid to talk to Savage despite the fact that it probably would not understand.

“Why vamoose, mr. moose?”

“Bun bun just made a pun.” Tod cracked up. “Guess I’m infected with your habit.” Doe joshed. Their car outpaced the moose then drifted to cut in front of it. Hybrid braked the sports car, opening the door, aiming the pistol in her left paw at Savage while her right paw twisting the device’s handlebar anticlockwise. “ CRITICAL BREAK ” The gun fired a energy ball. It exploded like a firework. The burning lights curved to strike the monster.

    Moose Savage, crumpling, completely disintegrated. Nick pretended to blow away gun smoke from the barrel though there was no smoke and Hybrid cannot blow the air because of a helmet.

“Sweet cheese. We’ve driven pretty far off from where we left your body, huh?” Judy had just realized. “We shall meet up later then.” He proposed. “Ahh, see ya, Nick.” She agreed, pulling the syringe to draw her blood out. It was teleported as she detransformed.

.- .-. -.-. .- -. .

    Fox opened his eyes. Apparently, his mind was transferred back to his body. He moaned, experiencing fatigue.

“You’re awake.” Deep gravely voice uttered next to tod.

“Hang on...” Knackered, Nick pressed the syringe, injecting blood teleported from Judy. All weariness had gone at once. “Much better, thanks for the ride, Fin.” Tod expressed his gratitude to the driver. He was presently sitting on a passenger seat of the moving van, not leaning against a wall like the doe believed.

    Back before Hybrid transformation, Nick texted his former partner-in-crime, Finnick the fennec fox, to pick him up where he fell unconscious and give him a lift. “Did you coddle my body when I passed out?” Nick examined his physical body.

“I’m being more than a generous guy. I carried somebody almost twice my size, fatass.” Finnick beefed, glancing the belt bound around fox’s waist. “Seriously, man, that thing you’re wearing is unnerving.”

“You mean MidniDriver ?” Nick tapped the morpher, MidniDriver , the devices he used with his bunny partner to transform into Hybrid. “Yeah, midnight whatever. Anyways, what’s the plan?” Finnick wondered, concentrating on the road. “Just go to the place I sent you a location. I have an appointment with Tuck boy~” Nick mentioned Jim Tuck, the raccoon who intruded Cliffside Asylum… who also accepted fox cop’s help.

- --- / -... . / -.-. --- -. - .. -. ..- . -..

[apsbicepstraining]

His refer was Henry Summers – but who was he? – BBC News

Image caption Harry( on the left) with workmates at George Brown& Sons

When I listened the histories of an elderly soul who had lain undiscovered in his flat for three years I wanted to know more about who he was.

It began with an urban horror tale.

In June 2015 police in Edinburgh were called by a GP because an older case named Henry Summers had not been examined for several years.

The police went to Henry’s address in Leith, one of the most densely populated areas in Scotland.

Image caption Henry lived in a top-floor flat in Leith

They went to the door of his top-floor flat on Easter Road and knocked but got no answer.

The police called a locksmith but he couldn’t open the door because the hinges had fused as it hadn’t been opened for years.

When the police knocked the door down they found a mountain of forward in the hallway and Henry Summers was inside, dead.

He had been dead for three years, undiscovered, because all of his greenbacks were paid by direct debit.

Image caption Police beat down the door to amplification entry to Henry’s flat

A few years before that a woman had been found dead in Edinburgh, undiscovered for five years.

The media were full of recrimination and thumb parting.

I used to work with old people and had seen this before. It’s easy to de-personalise older people.

We talk about parents and pensioners as if they are conversation-starters about social issues.

But the method person expires isn’t a summary of their whole life.

Who was Henry Summers?

A year after his figure was seen, I wanted to find out who Henry Summers had been during his 80 -something years of life.

My detective work was for a BBC Radio Scotland documentary and it began with reported cases of the incident in the daily newspapers.

Journalist John Connell had interviewed neighbours at the time their own bodies was discovered.

Image caption Denise Mina started her investigations at the dwelling where Henry was spotcheck

They told him they had last envisioned Mr Summertime three years earlier in 2012.

They understood him being stretchered out of his house into an ambulance.

He was wearing an oxygen mask and gazed very grey-headed.

The neighbours didn’t know that Henry had been discharged and turned over to his house.

Image caption The nameplate on Henry’s front doorway

Later, one of the neighbours knocked on the door. He opened Henry’s letterbox and smelled what he expected was meat departing bad.

They said Henry maintained himself to himself but was very dapper, ever wore a blue-blooded case and a flat detonator and he used to whistle as he was coming up the stairs.

Then a twist: a human being put forward and said that the man were dead in the flat in Easter Road could not maybe be Henry Summers.

Henry Summers of Easter Road was his father and had died and been cremated in 2012.

‘Unfathomable coincidence’

My Henry was 10 year older than the man’s papa.

This meant that two men with the exact same identify had lived in the same street and died in the same year.

It sounds like an unfathomable co-occurrence – but it wasn’t.

Later, formerly we knew who Henry was, it would realize perfect sense.

Image caption Henry lived at 300 Easter Road in Leith

I went to Easter Road and questioned in the neighbourhood caf, the inn, newsagents.

The police wouldn’t release a photograph of Henry so it was difficult to know if they were remembering our Henry.

Some beings thought they’d identified him but he was variously reported under being in his 60 s and his 90 s.

Some said he stood at the bus stop each morning, caught the count 35 and then came back on it in the afternoon.

He bought milk and newspapers every day extremely but the shopkeepers had changed in the three years since he was last identified. He was a difficult soul to find.

Funeral paid for

I had assumed that Henry had been forgotten and would then be interred by the city council.

Public health funerals often happen when a person has died alone and impoverished.

I was completely wrong.

In fact, Henry’s funeral had been organised and paid for and an obituary had been printed in the paper.

I wrote, via the crematorium, to the person who paid for the funeral but they wanted to remain anonymous.

I too assumed that Henry’s flat was leased, perhaps the proprietor would know him, but Henry owned his flat outright.

He had bought it in 1970 and paid his mortgage off wholly in just four years.

It was 1,500. Where on clay did he get that money from? Was he from a rich lineage?

I was deposited so I went on BBC Radio Scotland’s Kaye Adams programme to ask for information.

Left intestate

The documentary team were contacted on Facebook by people who thought they had determined a soldier matching his description in the Ocean Terminal Shopping Centre.

He was there regularly, reading the working paper, quite content, they said.

The number 35 stops there so it seemed credible.

In the meantime, I tried to retrace members of the public who acquired Henry’s flat.

In Scotland, any owned left intestate is dealt with by the National Ultimus Haeres Unit.

National Ultimus Haeres Unit

DEATHS REPORTED 01 JULY 2015

SUMMERS, Henry, d.o.b: 16/03/ 1929: place of birth: Leith, who resided at Flat 3F3, 300 Easter Road, Edinburgh, EH6 8JT and who died at Flat 3F3, 300 Easter Road, Edinburgh, EH6 8JT, on 24/06/ 2015. NUHU/ 113/15 – POSSIBLE RELATIVES TRACED

They list unclaimed owned online so that any assertions can be filed.

Henry’s flat had been claimed but they couldn’t tell us who the beneficiary was.

I contacted expert genealogist Dr Bruce Durie and using the Land Register and the census he solved the whodunit of the two Henrys.

Our Henry was born in 1929 and had lived and operated in Leith all of his life.

He was an merely child and lived with his mothers, wet-nurse his fragile mum until her demise.

After that he moved from a flat in Thorntree Street merely round the corner to the flat in Easter Road.

Image caption Henry was said to have taken the 35 bus from his home to Ocean Terminal in Leith

Here was the answer: Henry’s dad, one of nine children, was brought up at several address in Couper Street, Leith.

This street was occupied almost completely by households by the epithet of Summers.

Most of those houses, likely relations, had children called Henry.

The refer ‘Henry Summers’ was as much an integrated part of Leith as tether and drink.

Demographics changed

The only reason I didn’t know that was that Leith has changed so much better over the past 40 times.

It is gentrified now, the docks have slammed, the demographics changed and the vast Summers family have mostly left.

My Henry was a ships’ carpenter, according to his death credential.

This was an extremely skilled job with a long apprenticeship. Henry’s family were labourers, so he had done well for himself.

They must have been very proud of him.

The mystery of the mortgage abode.

Maritime historian Dr Eric Graham supposed that Henry might have been a whaler or laboured long haul.

Those ships would go around the world for months at a time and ships’ carpenters could be paid a lump sum at the end of the voyage.

His name was Harry

It was all guesswork but then our original radio programme was broadcast and abruptly Henry came alive again.

His old pals heard it and contacted us, or the newspapers carrying storeys about him.

He wasn’t even known as Henry, everyone called him Harry.

Harry, it turned out, was a great shriek.

He was a Hibs fan, a bright carpenter and an angler.

His old gaffer told us Harry was beset by a mysteriously intermittent suit of lumbago, which only ever flared up when he couldn’t be inconvenienced doing a particular enterprise.

His work pal, Andy, contacted us.

Image copyright Courtesy of George Brown& Sons

Image caption Harry( on the left) with workmates at George Brown& Sons

They worked together at George Brown’s in Leith the whole way through the 1970 s.

Andy saw the obit in the working paper and was just going Harry’s funeral.

He said Harry was a gent.

In the 1940 s and 1950 s, when Harry firstly began work, men in the high-pitched trades would wear a shirt and tie underneath their overalls. Harry still did this in the mid-9 0s.

Image copyright George Brown& Sons

Image caption Henry toiled at George Brown and Sons in Leith

We received information that Harry was a good guy who didn’t like sexist pranks, which was uncommon in the docks in the 70 s.

Another old effort chum, Robert, be said that Harry would pop in to picture the guys after he retired to regale them with his latest escapades.

Harry was a corroborated bachelor-at-arms, an only son and came across as bit of a mummy’s son, in a really nice room.

He was teetotaller when Robert knew him but their gaffer, Fred, told legends about Harry’s wilder periods when they would all chuckle and Harry would chortle along with them.

Fred was a whaler and Robert never heard them to talk about whaling together, so he contemplated Harry maybe hadn’t said and done. He didn’t think he had ever been abroad.

Image copyright George Brown& Sons

Assistant manager at George Brown and Sons, Steve McIntosh, knew him well.

Harry had retired in the late 90 s and loved river angling for trout.

He was off every weekend to the Tweed and Dalkeith.

Harry didn’t like drydocking the barges in winter or the downpour, Steve said.

If Harry knew a boat was coming in and the weather was rotten, he’d call in sick with lumbago, an rare precondition for someone as active as Harry.

Very extraordinary in ardent flow anglers.

Extraordinarily skilled

Steve said they wouldn’t tell Harry the barge was coming in but Harry would have his avenge: if he knew they’d tricked him he’d call in sick the next day.

Despite this Harry was worth preventing on because he was so good at his responsibility, remarkably skilled and meticulous.

It become apparent that as well as the shipyard, he had been part of a unit who “re-roped” the stage sets at the Churchill and Playhouse theatres in Edinburgh.

When Harry retired he exploited his bus pass to go anywhere – Galashiels, Berwick, Kirkcaldy.

The last-place season Robert learnt Harry was in the St James shopping centre in Edinburgh city centre.

He was fit and active going for a bus. Robert asked him where he was going and Harry said he didn’t know.

Image caption Harry in the back sequence of Rona’s exercise class( wearing a red T-shirt)

He was going to jump on any bus and that would be his destination for the day.

Harry’s physiotherapist went in touch.

Rona operated an exercise group for people with nerve maladies and Harry ever stood at the back with the other guys.

They all started at the same occasion.

The group would go for an annual daylight out at the Botanic Plot and “shes been” recollects Harry at their Christmas Ceilidh.

Image caption Henry( back left) on a trip to the Botanics with Rona’s fitness team

When he stopped coming they were worried about him but Rona bumped into him and he explained he was having trouble with absces paws.

He never returned to the class but was spotted out and about, on the bus and at the bookies.

At the physio class Harry and another man would swap floors about the bookies, how luck or unfortunate they had been.

The mystery of the mortgage remained until “weve heard” this. Harry was a speculator.

Maybe Harry just got lucky.

His Name was Henry will be broadcast on BBC Radio Scotland at 13:30 on Wednesday and is likely to be available on the iplayer .

The post His refer was Henry Summers – but who was he? – BBC News appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[therubydiaries01-blog]

A White Christmas, followed by New Year

Procrastinating from study, I’m actually writing this 3 years later, so you’ll have to forgive the holes in my memory. This is actually really hard to write because these 6 weeks were one of the most happiest times of my life, even though Q and I are no longer together I will always cherish our relationship for what it was. 

Q picked me from the station the moment I got back from Italy. And what came next was a huge blur of family and love and snaps of memories. My first white Christmas. My first Christmas without my family in general. We played cards with Q’s stepdad and C. Q and L were still in school, so for the most part I either had the choice of staying at the house on top of the mountain all day or waking up at 6:30am to drive down and stay at his mamie’s all day and be able to see Q and L for lunch. Q had gotten a job at a ski/snowboard shop. He had a really nice workmate who was a hairdresser as well, she trimmed my dead split ends with a razor which was a new experience for me. 

The weekends were my favourite. They took me skiing which I loved. His mum and I did “ski font” which I think means cross country skiing. We made snow ramps and sledded down them. I walked to around the forest in the snow. Sat out on the frozen lake. Watched films while it snowed outside. Q took me ice skating for the first time. Nothing in particular but I remember every moment being special.

I remember very clearly that once, their dog Doulou slid off the ice and fell into the lake. Both Q and L jumped into save her, it was so scary.

I explored the city they lived in, found french book stores, drank warm red wine (I forget what its called). I went around the shops. 

For new years eve, we hitch hiked into the city and we went to an Australian bar funnily enough and got very drunk off many many shots. It was my best new years to date. I remember really needing to pee so we snuck into the cinemas super drunk and into the wheel chair bathroom so I could pee, followed by a quickie, more peeing and then snuck out before we were caught. The next day we spent doing a puzzle and watching films. We actually went into the city again to see Wolf of Wall Street or “Le Loup de Wall Street” but we missed the screening so we waited in the city for four hours just to see the next one. 

I stayed at Q’s until the 20th I think. I remember the day I was supposed to go I lost my train ticket on the way as well as my favourite jumper at scarf which actually made me cry more than the 100 euro ticket. First world problems right? Got to spend one more day with Q before I left though. It was a very tearful separation. We both cried. We were both so in love. 

That was pretty much the end of our story. We broke up shortly after I got back to New Zealand. I had already done the long distance across the globe thing before and it was just depressing. I found out he was a compulsive liar. It didn’t taint the time we spent together but it did make me realise that I couldn’t be with him again.

We actually came out to New Zealand for 5 months and that was fantastic. It was great to have my best friend back and while we did have a brief thing that was all it was. He knows he screwed up. 

He left back to Europe. We spoke a bit but not much. After a while he deleted me on facebook. I’m still friends with his family and friends. E even came out to New Zealand for a visit a year later. I’m incredibly happy in a new relationship now but I’ll never forget that time with him and I do hope I can see him again. He completed my dream to speak fluent french and I’ll never be able to repay him for that. 

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Image copyright Pacemaker

Image caption The Enniskillen bombing killed 11 people but became a turning-point

The threat from terrorism is always evolving, but some things remain constant – the emotions of loss and the risks taken by those who want peace, writes Peter Taylor.

When I first started working in television 50 years ago, I never imagined that I would spend much of the next half century reporting the phenomenon of terrorism.

From those early days I have tried to understand the roots of violence and explain not what happens but why it happens.

Gradually I got used to reporting death. But I never became insensitive to it.

During Northern Ireland’s Troubles, I got to know a loyalist assassin – Billy Giles – well and grew to like him. I first met him when making a documentary in the Maze Prison in 1989.

I talked to Billy in his cell. He was doing life for the murder of his Catholic workmate. He had lured him into a car and then shot him in the back of the head.

“The only way to stop them was to terrorise them. It was them and us,” he said. But the act of pulling the trigger had a profound effect on Billy.

“Before I was a decent young man. It [the conflict] turned me into a killer. It felt like someone had reached down and ripped my insides out. You hear a bang and it’s too late. [I] never felt a whole person again.”

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption The Maze prison now stands empty

He was released under the Good Friday Agreement – which established peace in Northern Ireland – and I met him again. He was a man transformed from the gaunt, haunted figure I’d met in the Maze. He was now wearing a suit, collar and tie and carrying a briefcase.

He looked every inch a businessman and not a loyalist killer. Billy was upbeat and optimistic as he told me about starting a new life. But his ambition proved illusory.

I later heard that he’d hanged himself. I was shattered. I couldn’t believe that he’d taken his own life. He left a suicide note. He said he’d ordered a Chinese takeaway, prepared the noose and sat down to write a letter.

“I was a victim too, now hopefully I’ll be the last. Please don’t let any kid suffer the history I have. Please let our next generation live normal lives. Steer them towards a life that is Troubles free. I’ve decided to bring this to an end now. I’m tired.”

I remember reading Billy’s suicide note, hoping that his final wish would come true. At least some of it has.

The emotion that has never left me is the profound sadness I feel for some of those whom I have met, got to know and interviewed. One interview affected me personally above all others.

Image caption Peter Taylor covered the early years of the Troubles

The blanket protest by the IRA prisoners in the Maze started in 1977. They refused to wear prison uniform, insisting they were political prisoners and not criminals. The protesters resorted to wearing only a blanket to try and force the issue.

To try and understand the situation from the other side of the cell doors, I met Desmond Irvine, the secretary of the Northern Ireland Prison Officers Association.

As a unionist prison officer, what he said came as a surprise. He agreed to do an interview despite the Northern Ireland Office advising him against it. I felt he wanted to get his message across.

I asked if he respected the prisoners for their protest. “I don’t think they just do it mainly for publicity but because it’s their belief. I suppose one could say a person who believes sincerely in what he is doing, and is prepared to suffer for it, [deserves] a certain measure of respect which you give to him.”

Image caption Normal life was disrupted for many years in parts of Northern Ireland

After transmission, he wrote me a letter saying how pleased he was with the positive reaction he had had to the interview.

Then a few days later, the IRA shot him dead.

Deeply shocked, I felt sick. At his funeral I cried. And I remember the prison governor telling me not to blame myself, saying he was murdered because he was a prison officer and not because I had interviewed him.

But I’m still haunted by what happened. I was called by a Belfast journalist who asked how it felt to have blood on my hands. Death had come too close to home and I seriously considered stopping reporting Northern Ireland. In the end, I decided to carry on.

Find out more

Peter Taylor’s documentary, Fifty Years Behind the Headlines – Reflections on Terror, is on Saturday 1 April at 20:00 BST on BBC Radio Four.

The pain I felt was nothing compared with that suffered by loved ones long after victims are forgotten.

Joan Wilson was one of the most unforgettable people I met. She lost her 20-year-old daughter, Marie, a nurse, in the IRA bomb attack on Enniskillen’s Remembrance Day parade in November 1987.

Eleven people died, all of them Protestants, and all civilians, apart from one police reservist. Over 60 were injured.

Joan was at home when the bomb went off. “I thought, well, Gordon [her husband] and Marie are there. I hope nothing terrible has happened.”

Both were buried under 6ft of rubble. Gordon managed to reach Marie’s hand. “Daddy, I love you very much,” were the last words she uttered.

Joan rushed to the hospital knowing little of what had happened. “I was absolutely horrified to see Marie on the bed, wired up. I took her hand, and it was cold. “As we stood there watching her life ebbing away, it ebbed away, and she passed over to our heavenly father in our presence.”

The attack did incalculable damage to the IRA and the beginning of the peace process can be traced from that day.

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption Martin McGuinness and Ian Paisley eventually found compromise

At the time, British and Irish intelligence services believed that Martin McGuinness was the acting head of the IRA’s Northern Command – in whose operational area the attack took place – although when I put it to him, he denied it.

I interviewed Joan after McGuinness had become Ian Paisley’s partner in the Stormont government’s devolved power sharing executive – a sight you might think Joan would find hard to stomach. But that wasn’t the case.

“I’m very pleased to see Dr Paisley, whom I regard as a great man of God, sharing with Martin McGuinness, and I think each will be good for the other.

I’ve spoken to many victims of the IRA’s campaign and many, like Lord Tebbit, whose wife Margaret was paralysed in the Brighton bomb, would profoundly disagree.

Tebbit is excoriating in his condemnation of Martin McGuinness and furious at the media hagiography that he believes followed McGuinness’s death.

Peace eventually came to Northern Ireland, but other conflicts have proved more intractable.

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption The 1983 Lebanon barracks bombings presaged the widespread modern use of suicide attacks

Going through my archive of over 100 documentaries reminds me of how chillingly prophetic many interviewees have been.

In Lebanon, 25 years ago, I talked to Col Bill Cowan, the US undercover soldier sent to identify the masterminds behind two devastating truck bomb attacks carried out by Islamist suicide bombers in Beirut in 1983.

The first reduced the US Embassy to rubble, killing 63 people including most of the CIA station. Six months later, the second suicide bomber killed 241 US Marines at their base south of Beirut. Many perished in an avalanche of concrete and masonry.

I later interviewed Cowan by one of the few walls left standing – it had been part of a bar and you could still see a Playboy bunny drawn on it. He warned: “Unless we find a way of working with Islamic fundamentalism, we are going to face much, much greater threats over the next decade.”

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption The attack on the embassies in Nairobi and Dar es Salaam brought notoriety to al-Qaeda

The threats went far beyond the next decade. In 1998, al-Qaeda suicide truck bombs shattered two of America’s east African embassies, massacring more than 200 people, most of them Muslims.

Then three years later, 9/11 claimed the lives of almost 3,000 – it was a dramatic wake-up call to the world that Cowan’s dire warning had come true.

In another interview shortly after 9/11, Dewey Claridge, the spy who helped set up the CIA’s Counterterrorism Centre, described what he wanted to see happening to Osama Bin Laden.

“I don’t want him brought to trial. I don’t want to see a dead body because that just makes him a martyr. I just want him to disappear. Concrete shoes dropped into the Indian Ocean takes care of the dead part of ‘dead or alive’.”

Bin Laden’s fate was exactly as Dewey Claridge’s crystal ball had predicted.

In Northern Ireland it was a military stalemate that persuaded the British and the IRA to talk.

That stalemate, in which the SAS and its covert intelligence arm, known as the “Det” (for Detachment), left the IRA in no doubt that the “Brits” were not going to allow the IRA to win.

Between 1983 and 1992 the SAS and the Det shot dead 35 IRA suspects.

I remember doing an interview with one “Det” operator, a young woman, who described the celebrations back at base after the killing of IRA volunteer, William Price in 1984. To some of the team, the permanent removal of an IRA man from the battlefield was cause for a party.

“They [the IRA] make no secret of the fact that they celebrate the death of a soldier or policeman,” she told me. “We celebrated in the same way. If a terrorist was shot, there was a cake made with their name on it.”

Wasn’t that macabre? “Possibly,” she replied, “but the saying is live by the sword and die by the sword.”

I finally found a photo of the cake – in the shape of a cross, with icing round the edges and “RIP” etched above the place where Price was killed.

Perhaps the most uplifting stories in the midst of seemingly endless atrocities are about those who have the courage to take great personal risks to work towards peace.

I found that the Derry businessman, Brendan Duddy, displayed extraordinary generosity of spirit. For over 20 years, he was the vital secret back channel intermediary between the MI6 officer Michael Oatley (and later his MI5 successor) and the IRA’s ruling Army Council, via Martin McGuinness.

This top secret channel of communication cultivated for so long in the shadows ultimately led to the IRA ceasefire and the Good Friday Agreement.

It took me many months to discover the identity of the mysterious intermediary and when I finally did, to my astonishment, his first words were: “I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”

A long night followed at Duddy’s home, in the tiny parlour where many of the secret meetings were held. He told me his remarkable story.

Extraordinarily, IRA leaders were being smuggled over the border and brought in from Belfast for negotiations with the British government via MI6 and MI5.

It was 10 years after our first contact before Brendan finally agreed to an interview.

The emotional stress he had suffered in his efforts to bring peace were apparent in his voice.

He described being present at the seminal first meeting in his parlour between the MI6 officer, Michael Oatley, and Martin McGuinness in 1991.

I asked why he had taken the risks he had. “When you ask questions like that I choke. I get emotional. I find it hard to answer. I had no choice.”

But can the principle of engaging with the enemy be applied to other conflicts?

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption After 9/11 a long and exhaustive hunt for Osama Bin Laden was launched

The former director of MI5, Eliza Manningham Buller, believes that it can. I interviewed her when the main threat came from al-Qaeda, in the wake of the 7/7 London bombings.

The so-called Islamic State was yet to emerge. I asked if the “war on terror” was winnable. “Not in the military sense,” she said.

“There won’t be a Waterloo or an El Alamein. The terminology about winning the ‘war on terror’ was not something that I ever subscribed to. It’s always better to talk to the people who are attacking you than attacking them. I would hope that people are trying to reach out to the Taliban, to people on the edges of al-Qaeda to talk to them.”

So after 50 years what are the lessons to be learned about defeating terrorism?

It has to be tackled on both the military and political front, with both security forces and their political masters being sensitive to the delicate balance between alienating communities and gaining their support.

In the absence of the elusive military victory, governments also need to be ready to engage with the enemy as the British did with the IRA, the Spanish have tried with Eta and most recently the Colombians have achieved with the Farc.

All these were possible because the enemy had a political agenda around which there could be dialogue.

The problem with al-Qaeda and the so-called Islamic State is that their agenda embraces a thousand years not 50. And al-Qaeda and IS are infinitely more ruthless and indiscriminate than the IRA ever was.

It is even difficult, as last week’s attack in Westminster shows, to establish whether or not an attacker is genuinely one of their adherents or supporters.

Although victory over IS may be declared in Mosul and Raqqa, the final victory lies not in crushing its armies on the battlefield but in defeating its ideology.

Peter Taylor’s documentary, Fifty Years Behind the Headlines – Reflections on Terror, is on Saturday 1 April at 20:00 BST on BBC Radio Four.

Related Topics

Islamic State group

al-Qaeda

Counter-terrorism

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Spilled Coffee [Whumptober 2019 - Day 10: Unconscious]

Summary: Anzu's evening gets turned upside down when someone familiar passes out right in front of her.

Fandom: Ensemble Stars (coffeeshop/college AU) Relationships: platonic Anzu & Mao friendship, implied pre-rel Anzu/Hokuto

Wordcount: 1,374 words

Content Warnings: None.

Notes: Finally catching up on my lateness with an Enstars fic! It's a missing scene from my only other Enstars fic at the moment, Nurse Café. It's a Hokuto-centric HokuAn sickfic in case you've *somehow* not heard of it while lurking around their tag lol (and it's like 4-chapter-long, albeit said chapters are short). I'm afraid I did write this story with the idea that the reader would have read Nurse Café first, or at least its first chapter, as it provides the context and implied conversations taking place here between Anzu and Hokuto. Anyway. I'm not sure of how much I've actually filled the "Unconscious" prompt, but do I ever properly fulfill a prompt, especially for challenges like this? Technically someone's unconscious here, so that has to make up for it, right? Riiiight? Also how do you write Mao? I feel like I've gotten him very, very wrong in this story lol. It's my first time actually writing him, though, so there's that I guess. woops.

Event hosted by @whumptober2019

AO3 version available here.

--------

It had been a normal evening shift at the coffeeshop. The regulars had bought their usual drink, some new faces discovered the shop, some people changed from their habits, others continued discovering the other drinks they had never dipped a tongue into. Things were calm, almost soothingly so, making for a comfortable after-class shift where she had managed to squeeze in some college work too. Reading a book between clients was a way to both earn some precious money and advance in her school business.

Alas, Anzu hadn’t gotten to closing the shop yet when things drastically changed.

 The atmosphere until then had been of a cosy coffeeshop right before closure. The radio played softly the latest hit songs in the background, all chairs were empty and having been cleaned, her workmate had left already because his shift was ending before hers. Anzu had always appreciated this specific mood the shop could slip into once the sun was setting down, cleaning her counter before closing for the night. She had ten minutes left before shutting the lights off, a time that seemed very short compared to the rest of the day…

…and yet that had left the time for an unusual client to come in.

 The bells ringing surprised her out of her cleaning affairs, making her rise her head to the doorway, only for her to notice the client was already right in front of her face. Her eyes then directly met with a long-time friend, perhaps someone that was just a bit more than that: second-year literature major Hokuto, whom she could swear she had never seen even looking through her shop’s windows. It was odd for someone like him, who usually prided himself in his stricter living style compared to their friend group (Subaru being his favourite person to tease), taught to him by his grandmother, to step into her shop at such an hour of the night, at almost eleven o’clock.

The state his face was in didn’t ring any better bell. She had almost not been able to recognize him: a low and raspy voice, fluttering eyelids, glassy eyes with deep dark bags under them, swaying on his feet and words half-making sense. Clearly, this man needs a good night of sleep; and yet he orders an espresso of all things. If not having seem him for almost two weeks wasn’t rising enough red flags, then seeing him this obviously sleep-deprived could only have made her worry even further.

 Still, here, Anzu wasn’t Hokuto’s friend: she was an employee, a seller, a barista. She served him his cup, let him sit wherever he wanted, got his money. The full price wasn’t there: in fact, there was a chunk of the cost that he’d have usually noticed was missing. Still, she decided to brush it aside: it was the end of the day and some leftover coffee, it wasn’t a big deal, she’d pay the rest herself with some tip money. She could at least do that for him.

As she finished cleaning the counter, she noticed eleven was very near. Closing hour was coming next and she absolutely had to lock the door, prompting her to walk up to and inform him of the situation. He barely lifted his head from the hand barely holding it up. Concern and curiosity mixed together and, unable to help herself, Anzu put a careful hand on his forehead. He didn’t flinch, nearly didn’t blink, almost relishing in her palm; it felt like putting her hand on a stove that hadn’t fully gone cold yet.

She didn’t like it in the slightest.

 What followed was a confusing mess. As if he had regained back the energy he missed, Hokuto jerked away and gulped his cup in a couple swallows, most likely parching his throat in burning coffee, before trying to get up, giving her nonsensical mumbles. Despite the signs she had noticed that kept piling up, she got astonished to see his body pitch forward, his eyes rolling in the back of his skull, without a word more comprehensible than a grunt. Her arms almost failed catching him in his fall, nearly sending him crashing onto the floor; instead, she managed to put him softly to the ground, using her lap as a pillow for his head before she had taken off her apron to do so.

Okay, now that she had an unconscious friend and a shop to close on her hands, what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t leave either of them like that, so she ran to get her phone from her purse, until she spotted something, or rather someone, interesting in the corner of her eye through the main window: Mao, a common friend of them. Anzu immediately began waving her arms in his direction, trying to get his attention.

 To her relief, her friend immediately got the signal, running to her shop with a smile until it disappeared from his face as soon as he realized what was happening.

“W-wait…” He told her, face twisting in disbelief. “Is that really…?”

“Yeah…” She quickly replied before kneeling back.

“Quick question: how did you end up with a knocked-out Hokuto in your shop?”

“I… don’t really know. He stumbled here and ordered an espresso, but when I went to tell him I needed to close the shop, he got to his feet and fainted right here and there. All I know is that he looks severely sleep-deprived and that he’s running hot.”

Mao peered from above, crouching next to her, putting his own hand to make sure.

“Ah, yeah, I confirm, he’s burning up,” he shook his hand almost as soon as he had put it on their friend’s forehead. “He’s wasted for sure. How the hell did that even happen… I wouldn’t be surprised if that was me, but Hokuto? That’s a whole other puzzle!”

 Anzu didn’t take her eyes off the unconscious boy in front of her, instead mechanically brushing his bangs from his forehead. Her fingers were wet from the gesture, but her brain was blanking out from how weird the situation was and how worried she was getting.

“Should we call an ambulance?” She eventually mused out loud.

“Honestly? I’d have if it wasn’t Hokuto we’re talking about. If we do, his parents will know about it, and his grandma too, and he’ll scold us for having indirectly told his parents…” A nervous giggle. “What I’m trying to say is that, if you ask me, Hokuto is the kind of person who doesn’t like suddenly waking up in the hospital with four people looking over him.”

She hummed as a reply.

“Still, I wouldn’t let him alone in his place either. If he’s passed out right here and there, he probably can’t even stand properly, so taking care of himself is out of the question until he’s slept for something like three days. How the hell did that happen…”

“Then, let’s bring him to my place.”

 Mao froze for a solid thirty seconds.

“…huh?”

“Don’t you usually bring Ritsu to your place whenever he falls asleep in public?”

“I do, but we’re childhood friends, that’s not the same thing!” His face suddenly brightened up. “Heh, if you see it that way, I suppose it’s not too bad. I’d even say Hokuto would like waking up at your place!”

“What do you mean by that?” Her face felt a bit warmer, weird.

“Ah, nothing,” his smile was kind of going against that statement. “Let’s bring this guy to your flat then. Help me get him on my back so you can close the shop.”

“Got it,” she said as she rose to her feet, doing as she was tasked to do, and recovering both her apron and the keys inside its pocket.

 A couple minutes later, Anzu had left the shop in its optimal closing state: all clean, lights switched off, door locked behind her. Once that was said and done, glancing at both of her friends, she let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Mao.”

“You’re welcome! Now, that was nothing, let’s get him home, shall we?”

Glancing one last time at the unconscious Hokuto propped on Mao’s back, she nodded.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

[apsbicepstraining]

His refer was Henry Summers – but who was he? – BBC News

Image caption Harry( on the left) with workmates at George Brown& Sons

When I listened the histories of an elderly soul who had lain undiscovered in his flat for three years I wanted to know more about who he was.

It began with an urban horror tale.

In June 2015 police in Edinburgh were called by a GP because an older case named Henry Summers had not been examined for several years.

The police went to Henry’s address in Leith, one of the most densely populated areas in Scotland.

Image caption Henry lived in a top-floor flat in Leith

They went to the door of his top-floor flat on Easter Road and knocked but got no answer.

The police called a locksmith but he couldn’t open the door because the hinges had fused as it hadn’t been opened for years.

When the police knocked the door down they found a mountain of forward in the hallway and Henry Summers was inside, dead.

He had been dead for three years, undiscovered, because all of his greenbacks were paid by direct debit.

Image caption Police beat down the door to amplification entry to Henry’s flat

A few years before that a woman had been found dead in Edinburgh, undiscovered for five years.

The media were full of recrimination and thumb parting.

I used to work with old people and had seen this before. It’s easy to de-personalise older people.

We talk about parents and pensioners as if they are conversation-starters about social issues.

But the method person expires isn’t a summary of their whole life.

Who was Henry Summers?

A year after his figure was seen, I wanted to find out who Henry Summers had been during his 80 -something years of life.

My detective work was for a BBC Radio Scotland documentary and it began with reported cases of the incident in the daily newspapers.

Journalist John Connell had interviewed neighbours at the time their own bodies was discovered.

Image caption Denise Mina started her investigations at the dwelling where Henry was spotcheck

They told him they had last envisioned Mr Summertime three years earlier in 2012.

They understood him being stretchered out of his house into an ambulance.

He was wearing an oxygen mask and gazed very grey-headed.

The neighbours didn’t know that Henry had been discharged and turned over to his house.

Image caption The nameplate on Henry’s front doorway

Later, one of the neighbours knocked on the door. He opened Henry’s letterbox and smelled what he expected was meat departing bad.

They said Henry maintained himself to himself but was very dapper, ever wore a blue-blooded case and a flat detonator and he used to whistle as he was coming up the stairs.

Then a twist: a human being put forward and said that the man were dead in the flat in Easter Road could not maybe be Henry Summers.

Henry Summers of Easter Road was his father and had died and been cremated in 2012.

‘Unfathomable coincidence’

My Henry was 10 year older than the man’s papa.

This meant that two men with the exact same identify had lived in the same street and died in the same year.

It sounds like an unfathomable co-occurrence – but it wasn’t.

Later, formerly we knew who Henry was, it would realize perfect sense.

Image caption Henry lived at 300 Easter Road in Leith

I went to Easter Road and questioned in the neighbourhood caf, the inn, newsagents.

The police wouldn’t release a photograph of Henry so it was difficult to know if they were remembering our Henry.

Some beings thought they’d identified him but he was variously reported under being in his 60 s and his 90 s.

Some said he stood at the bus stop each morning, caught the count 35 and then came back on it in the afternoon.

He bought milk and newspapers every day extremely but the shopkeepers had changed in the three years since he was last identified. He was a difficult soul to find.

Funeral paid for

I had assumed that Henry had been forgotten and would then be interred by the city council.

Public health funerals often happen when a person has died alone and impoverished.

I was completely wrong.

In fact, Henry’s funeral had been organised and paid for and an obituary had been printed in the paper.

I wrote, via the crematorium, to the person who paid for the funeral but they wanted to remain anonymous.

I too assumed that Henry’s flat was leased, perhaps the proprietor would know him, but Henry owned his flat outright.

He had bought it in 1970 and paid his mortgage off wholly in just four years.

It was 1,500. Where on clay did he get that money from? Was he from a rich lineage?

I was deposited so I went on BBC Radio Scotland’s Kaye Adams programme to ask for information.

Left intestate

The documentary team were contacted on Facebook by people who thought they had determined a soldier matching his description in the Ocean Terminal Shopping Centre.

He was there regularly, reading the working paper, quite content, they said.

The number 35 stops there so it seemed credible.

In the meantime, I tried to retrace members of the public who acquired Henry’s flat.

In Scotland, any owned left intestate is dealt with by the National Ultimus Haeres Unit.

National Ultimus Haeres Unit

DEATHS REPORTED 01 JULY 2015

SUMMERS, Henry, d.o.b: 16/03/ 1929: place of birth: Leith, who resided at Flat 3F3, 300 Easter Road, Edinburgh, EH6 8JT and who died at Flat 3F3, 300 Easter Road, Edinburgh, EH6 8JT, on 24/06/ 2015. NUHU/ 113/15 – POSSIBLE RELATIVES TRACED

They list unclaimed owned online so that any assertions can be filed.

Henry’s flat had been claimed but they couldn’t tell us who the beneficiary was.

I contacted expert genealogist Dr Bruce Durie and using the Land Register and the census he solved the whodunit of the two Henrys.

Our Henry was born in 1929 and had lived and operated in Leith all of his life.

He was an merely child and lived with his mothers, wet-nurse his fragile mum until her demise.

After that he moved from a flat in Thorntree Street merely round the corner to the flat in Easter Road.

Image caption Henry was said to have taken the 35 bus from his home to Ocean Terminal in Leith

Here was the answer: Henry’s dad, one of nine children, was brought up at several address in Couper Street, Leith.

This street was occupied almost completely by households by the epithet of Summers.

Most of those houses, likely relations, had children called Henry.

The refer ‘Henry Summers’ was as much an integrated part of Leith as tether and drink.

Demographics changed

The only reason I didn’t know that was that Leith has changed so much better over the past 40 times.

It is gentrified now, the docks have slammed, the demographics changed and the vast Summers family have mostly left.

My Henry was a ships’ carpenter, according to his death credential.

This was an extremely skilled job with a long apprenticeship. Henry’s family were labourers, so he had done well for himself.

They must have been very proud of him.

The mystery of the mortgage abode.

Maritime historian Dr Eric Graham supposed that Henry might have been a whaler or laboured long haul.

Those ships would go around the world for months at a time and ships’ carpenters could be paid a lump sum at the end of the voyage.

His name was Harry

It was all guesswork but then our original radio programme was broadcast and abruptly Henry came alive again.

His old pals heard it and contacted us, or the newspapers carrying storeys about him.

He wasn’t even known as Henry, everyone called him Harry.

Harry, it turned out, was a great shriek.

He was a Hibs fan, a bright carpenter and an angler.

His old gaffer told us Harry was beset by a mysteriously intermittent suit of lumbago, which only ever flared up when he couldn’t be inconvenienced doing a particular enterprise.

His work pal, Andy, contacted us.

Image copyright Courtesy of George Brown& Sons

Image caption Harry( on the left) with workmates at George Brown& Sons

They worked together at George Brown’s in Leith the whole way through the 1970 s.

Andy saw the obit in the working paper and was just going Harry’s funeral.

He said Harry was a gent.

In the 1940 s and 1950 s, when Harry firstly began work, men in the high-pitched trades would wear a shirt and tie underneath their overalls. Harry still did this in the mid-9 0s.

Image copyright George Brown& Sons

Image caption Henry toiled at George Brown and Sons in Leith

We received information that Harry was a good guy who didn’t like sexist pranks, which was uncommon in the docks in the 70 s.

Another old effort chum, Robert, be said that Harry would pop in to picture the guys after he retired to regale them with his latest escapades.

Harry was a corroborated bachelor-at-arms, an only son and came across as bit of a mummy’s son, in a really nice room.

He was teetotaller when Robert knew him but their gaffer, Fred, told legends about Harry’s wilder periods when they would all chuckle and Harry would chortle along with them.

Fred was a whaler and Robert never heard them to talk about whaling together, so he contemplated Harry maybe hadn’t said and done. He didn’t think he had ever been abroad.

Image copyright George Brown& Sons

Assistant manager at George Brown and Sons, Steve McIntosh, knew him well.

Harry had retired in the late 90 s and loved river angling for trout.

He was off every weekend to the Tweed and Dalkeith.

Harry didn’t like drydocking the barges in winter or the downpour, Steve said.

If Harry knew a boat was coming in and the weather was rotten, he’d call in sick with lumbago, an rare precondition for someone as active as Harry.

Very extraordinary in ardent flow anglers.

Extraordinarily skilled

Steve said they wouldn’t tell Harry the barge was coming in but Harry would have his avenge: if he knew they’d tricked him he’d call in sick the next day.

Despite this Harry was worth preventing on because he was so good at his responsibility, remarkably skilled and meticulous.

It become apparent that as well as the shipyard, he had been part of a unit who “re-roped” the stage sets at the Churchill and Playhouse theatres in Edinburgh.

When Harry retired he exploited his bus pass to go anywhere – Galashiels, Berwick, Kirkcaldy.

The last-place season Robert learnt Harry was in the St James shopping centre in Edinburgh city centre.

He was fit and active going for a bus. Robert asked him where he was going and Harry said he didn’t know.

Image caption Harry in the back sequence of Rona’s exercise class( wearing a red T-shirt)

He was going to jump on any bus and that would be his destination for the day.

Harry’s physiotherapist went in touch.

Rona operated an exercise group for people with nerve maladies and Harry ever stood at the back with the other guys.

They all started at the same occasion.

The group would go for an annual daylight out at the Botanic Plot and “shes been” recollects Harry at their Christmas Ceilidh.

Image caption Henry( back left) on a trip to the Botanics with Rona’s fitness team

When he stopped coming they were worried about him but Rona bumped into him and he explained he was having trouble with absces paws.

He never returned to the class but was spotted out and about, on the bus and at the bookies.

At the physio class Harry and another man would swap floors about the bookies, how luck or unfortunate they had been.

The mystery of the mortgage remained until “weve heard” this. Harry was a speculator.

Maybe Harry just got lucky.

His Name was Henry will be broadcast on BBC Radio Scotland at 13:30 on Wednesday and is likely to be available on the iplayer .

The post His refer was Henry Summers – but who was he? – BBC News appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[apsbicepstraining]

His refer was Henry Summers – but who was he? – BBC News

Image caption Harry( on the left) with workmates at George Brown& Sons

When I listened the histories of an elderly soul who had lain undiscovered in his flat for three years I wanted to know more about who he was.

It began with an urban horror tale.

In June 2015 police in Edinburgh were called by a GP because an older case named Henry Summers had not been examined for several years.

The police went to Henry’s address in Leith, one of the most densely populated areas in Scotland.

Image caption Henry lived in a top-floor flat in Leith

They went to the door of his top-floor flat on Easter Road and knocked but got no answer.

The police called a locksmith but he couldn’t open the door because the hinges had fused as it hadn’t been opened for years.

When the police knocked the door down they found a mountain of forward in the hallway and Henry Summers was inside, dead.

He had been dead for three years, undiscovered, because all of his greenbacks were paid by direct debit.

Image caption Police beat down the door to amplification entry to Henry’s flat

A few years before that a woman had been found dead in Edinburgh, undiscovered for five years.

The media were full of recrimination and thumb parting.

I used to work with old people and had seen this before. It’s easy to de-personalise older people.

We talk about parents and pensioners as if they are conversation-starters about social issues.

But the method person expires isn’t a summary of their whole life.

Who was Henry Summers?

A year after his figure was seen, I wanted to find out who Henry Summers had been during his 80 -something years of life.

My detective work was for a BBC Radio Scotland documentary and it began with reported cases of the incident in the daily newspapers.

Journalist John Connell had interviewed neighbours at the time their own bodies was discovered.

Image caption Denise Mina started her investigations at the dwelling where Henry was spotcheck

They told him they had last envisioned Mr Summertime three years earlier in 2012.

They understood him being stretchered out of his house into an ambulance.

He was wearing an oxygen mask and gazed very grey-headed.

The neighbours didn’t know that Henry had been discharged and turned over to his house.

Image caption The nameplate on Henry’s front doorway

Later, one of the neighbours knocked on the door. He opened Henry’s letterbox and smelled what he expected was meat departing bad.

They said Henry maintained himself to himself but was very dapper, ever wore a blue-blooded case and a flat detonator and he used to whistle as he was coming up the stairs.

Then a twist: a human being put forward and said that the man were dead in the flat in Easter Road could not maybe be Henry Summers.

Henry Summers of Easter Road was his father and had died and been cremated in 2012.

‘Unfathomable coincidence’

My Henry was 10 year older than the man’s papa.

This meant that two men with the exact same identify had lived in the same street and died in the same year.

It sounds like an unfathomable co-occurrence – but it wasn’t.

Later, formerly we knew who Henry was, it would realize perfect sense.

Image caption Henry lived at 300 Easter Road in Leith

I went to Easter Road and questioned in the neighbourhood caf, the inn, newsagents.

The police wouldn’t release a photograph of Henry so it was difficult to know if they were remembering our Henry.

Some beings thought they’d identified him but he was variously reported under being in his 60 s and his 90 s.

Some said he stood at the bus stop each morning, caught the count 35 and then came back on it in the afternoon.

He bought milk and newspapers every day extremely but the shopkeepers had changed in the three years since he was last identified. He was a difficult soul to find.

Funeral paid for

I had assumed that Henry had been forgotten and would then be interred by the city council.

Public health funerals often happen when a person has died alone and impoverished.

I was completely wrong.

In fact, Henry’s funeral had been organised and paid for and an obituary had been printed in the paper.

I wrote, via the crematorium, to the person who paid for the funeral but they wanted to remain anonymous.

I too assumed that Henry’s flat was leased, perhaps the proprietor would know him, but Henry owned his flat outright.

He had bought it in 1970 and paid his mortgage off wholly in just four years.

It was 1,500. Where on clay did he get that money from? Was he from a rich lineage?

I was deposited so I went on BBC Radio Scotland’s Kaye Adams programme to ask for information.

Left intestate

The documentary team were contacted on Facebook by people who thought they had determined a soldier matching his description in the Ocean Terminal Shopping Centre.

He was there regularly, reading the working paper, quite content, they said.

The number 35 stops there so it seemed credible.

In the meantime, I tried to retrace members of the public who acquired Henry’s flat.

In Scotland, any owned left intestate is dealt with by the National Ultimus Haeres Unit.

National Ultimus Haeres Unit

DEATHS REPORTED 01 JULY 2015

SUMMERS, Henry, d.o.b: 16/03/ 1929: place of birth: Leith, who resided at Flat 3F3, 300 Easter Road, Edinburgh, EH6 8JT and who died at Flat 3F3, 300 Easter Road, Edinburgh, EH6 8JT, on 24/06/ 2015. NUHU/ 113/15 – POSSIBLE RELATIVES TRACED

They list unclaimed owned online so that any assertions can be filed.

Henry’s flat had been claimed but they couldn’t tell us who the beneficiary was.

I contacted expert genealogist Dr Bruce Durie and using the Land Register and the census he solved the whodunit of the two Henrys.

Our Henry was born in 1929 and had lived and operated in Leith all of his life.

He was an merely child and lived with his mothers, wet-nurse his fragile mum until her demise.

After that he moved from a flat in Thorntree Street merely round the corner to the flat in Easter Road.

Image caption Henry was said to have taken the 35 bus from his home to Ocean Terminal in Leith

Here was the answer: Henry’s dad, one of nine children, was brought up at several address in Couper Street, Leith.

This street was occupied almost completely by households by the epithet of Summers.

Most of those houses, likely relations, had children called Henry.

The refer ‘Henry Summers’ was as much an integrated part of Leith as tether and drink.

Demographics changed

The only reason I didn’t know that was that Leith has changed so much better over the past 40 times.

It is gentrified now, the docks have slammed, the demographics changed and the vast Summers family have mostly left.

My Henry was a ships’ carpenter, according to his death credential.

This was an extremely skilled job with a long apprenticeship. Henry’s family were labourers, so he had done well for himself.

They must have been very proud of him.

The mystery of the mortgage abode.

Maritime historian Dr Eric Graham supposed that Henry might have been a whaler or laboured long haul.

Those ships would go around the world for months at a time and ships’ carpenters could be paid a lump sum at the end of the voyage.

His name was Harry

It was all guesswork but then our original radio programme was broadcast and abruptly Henry came alive again.

His old pals heard it and contacted us, or the newspapers carrying storeys about him.

He wasn’t even known as Henry, everyone called him Harry.

Harry, it turned out, was a great shriek.

He was a Hibs fan, a bright carpenter and an angler.

His old gaffer told us Harry was beset by a mysteriously intermittent suit of lumbago, which only ever flared up when he couldn’t be inconvenienced doing a particular enterprise.

His work pal, Andy, contacted us.

Image copyright Courtesy of George Brown& Sons

Image caption Harry( on the left) with workmates at George Brown& Sons

They worked together at George Brown’s in Leith the whole way through the 1970 s.

Andy saw the obit in the working paper and was just going Harry’s funeral.

He said Harry was a gent.

In the 1940 s and 1950 s, when Harry firstly began work, men in the high-pitched trades would wear a shirt and tie underneath their overalls. Harry still did this in the mid-9 0s.

Image copyright George Brown& Sons

Image caption Henry toiled at George Brown and Sons in Leith

We received information that Harry was a good guy who didn’t like sexist pranks, which was uncommon in the docks in the 70 s.

Another old effort chum, Robert, be said that Harry would pop in to picture the guys after he retired to regale them with his latest escapades.

Harry was a corroborated bachelor-at-arms, an only son and came across as bit of a mummy’s son, in a really nice room.

He was teetotaller when Robert knew him but their gaffer, Fred, told legends about Harry’s wilder periods when they would all chuckle and Harry would chortle along with them.

Fred was a whaler and Robert never heard them to talk about whaling together, so he contemplated Harry maybe hadn’t said and done. He didn’t think he had ever been abroad.

Image copyright George Brown& Sons

Assistant manager at George Brown and Sons, Steve McIntosh, knew him well.

Harry had retired in the late 90 s and loved river angling for trout.

He was off every weekend to the Tweed and Dalkeith.

Harry didn’t like drydocking the barges in winter or the downpour, Steve said.

If Harry knew a boat was coming in and the weather was rotten, he’d call in sick with lumbago, an rare precondition for someone as active as Harry.

Very extraordinary in ardent flow anglers.

Extraordinarily skilled

Steve said they wouldn’t tell Harry the barge was coming in but Harry would have his avenge: if he knew they’d tricked him he’d call in sick the next day.

Despite this Harry was worth preventing on because he was so good at his responsibility, remarkably skilled and meticulous.

It become apparent that as well as the shipyard, he had been part of a unit who “re-roped” the stage sets at the Churchill and Playhouse theatres in Edinburgh.

When Harry retired he exploited his bus pass to go anywhere – Galashiels, Berwick, Kirkcaldy.

The last-place season Robert learnt Harry was in the St James shopping centre in Edinburgh city centre.

He was fit and active going for a bus. Robert asked him where he was going and Harry said he didn’t know.

Image caption Harry in the back sequence of Rona’s exercise class( wearing a red T-shirt)

He was going to jump on any bus and that would be his destination for the day.

Harry’s physiotherapist went in touch.

Rona operated an exercise group for people with nerve maladies and Harry ever stood at the back with the other guys.

They all started at the same occasion.

The group would go for an annual daylight out at the Botanic Plot and “shes been” recollects Harry at their Christmas Ceilidh.

Image caption Henry( back left) on a trip to the Botanics with Rona’s fitness team

When he stopped coming they were worried about him but Rona bumped into him and he explained he was having trouble with absces paws.

He never returned to the class but was spotted out and about, on the bus and at the bookies.

At the physio class Harry and another man would swap floors about the bookies, how luck or unfortunate they had been.

The mystery of the mortgage remained until “weve heard” this. Harry was a speculator.

Maybe Harry just got lucky.

His Name was Henry will be broadcast on BBC Radio Scotland at 13:30 on Wednesday and is likely to be available on the iplayer .

The post His refer was Henry Summers – but who was he? – BBC News appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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